#taeyong superm

[bydarkfenix]

SUPERM

[limitlesssense]

Taeyong – Moon Tour Taeyong 1st solo concert "TY Track"

[writemekpop]

Stolen Kisses | Lee Taeyong

Summary:  Sneaking off to have sex is tough with a kid in the house.

Genre: Husband!Taeyong, domestic AU, fluff

Word Count: 0.7k

“Yeah, baby, just like that.” 

Taeyong’s breaths were hot against your ear.

With a pre-schooler in the house, you didn’t have a lot of time to be intimate. Whenever you had the chance, you were on each other like teenagers.

He was lying on top of you, arms either side of your head, biceps bulging with the effort. 

You were lying beneath him, stark naked. Only a thin sheet covered you both. 

You secretly loved sneaking around with Taeyong. It made you feel alive. 

His hips were rocking against yours at a sinful pace. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. 

It was crazy to have sex at 5pm, when your daughter was down for her nap – but after Taeyong spent the whole of lunch with his eyes gazing suggestively into yours, winking whenever your daughter wasn’t looking, you couldn’t resist.

Taeyong looked at you like he was a starving man, and your body was the only food.

You turned your head to the side. That’s when you noticed two wide brown eyes staring at you from the dark. 

You yelped. 

Taeyong’s body stiffened. He lifted his head and followed your gaze. When he saw what you were looking at, he swore. 

It was Yumi, your four-year-old daughter. Her purple tie dye pyjamas were crumpled, her face was puffy with sleep, and her black hair was a bird’s nest. 

“Mommy, daddy, what are you doing?” 

You froze. This was your worst nightmare - worse than when you walked out with your school skirt tucked into your panties, with the entire high school sniggering at your exposed butt. 

Taeyong smoothly got up from the bed and wrapped the sheet around his lower half. He pulled the duvet over your naked chest. 

Normally, you were calm in a crisis, and Taeyong was the flustered one, but today, it seemed you had switched. 

Taeyong smiled in a way a schoolteacher might. “Daddy and mummy are having some grown up time. Go to your room sweetie, we’ll be there in a minute.”

The little girl looked at Taeyong, and then at you. Then, she shrugged her shoulders, said “okay”, and padded away. 

You didn’t realise that you’d been holding your breath this entire time. 

You exhaled, feeling dizzy. “Holy shit. Do you think she… saw anything?” 

Taeyong smiled softly. “She’s four. Even if she saw something, she’s not going to know what it means.”

You watched him as he put on his grey sweatpants. You admired his lean yet muscular form, and the many small tattoos that graced his skin. You thought about how much you wanted to kiss them, but then your daughter’s face flashed into your mind’s eye, and you grimaced. 

“How are you so calm about this?” 

Taeyong smiled wistfully, eyes staring off into the distance. “This happened to me once before.” 

You frowned. “When?” 

Taeyong pulled his hand through his silky hair. “Um… my ex’s kid once walked in on us, you know… doing it… on the couch. So I know exactly what to say – it’s a grown-up hug, privacy is important, it’s not your fault, blah blah blah.”

You scowled. You knew Taeyong had had lovers before you, but you didn’t like to be reminded of it.  

Taeyong grinned and stroked your arm reassuringly. It was like he could read your mind. He always knew when you were jealous. 

“Come on, momma.” He purred. “Let’s go and reassure our girl, then we can finish what we started.” 

You bit your lip. Taeyong was a hard man to resist.

--- 

After twenty minutes of comforting your daughter, she finally went to sleep. 

You and Taeyong went back to your bedroom, hand in hand.  

You groaned and leaned your head against his sculpted shoulder. “That was so embarrassing. We are never having sex again, like ever.” 

Taeyong chuckled, deep and manly. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and placed long, opened mouthed kisses on your skin that made your entire body buzz. 

“I’m sure I can convince you.” 

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[keehomania]

taeyong is a sub and i will die on this hill ngl!!

LEE TAEYONG led a double life, one that he was well aware of, one that he was absolutely proud of. on stage, he was a beast. he made sure to emphasize his charisma, the energy he radiated as he danced and rapped. he made sure to perform, to put on a show. he held himself together, his composure strung by threaded lies that made those who watched him perform believe that he was a force not to be reckoned with. it was exactly what he was good at, it was his job to put on a show.

when the lights were dimmed and the cameras turned off, that was when he let his true colors show. it was a gradual process, baby steps that eased those around him into the light of his personality. when he wasn’t performing, he was giddy. smiling with his members like a little kid, or entertaining his fans during his lives. it was a way for everybody to dip their toes into the water, to get a glimpse of what taeyong was really like. however, despite those glimpses, nobody would get to see him at his realest. nobody but you.

he was able to perform in front of everybody, just not in front of you. no, it was different with you. he was raw, vulnerable. instead of towering, he crumbled, he was completely and utterly at your full disposal. you could do whatever you wanted to him and he would take it. in fact, he would beg for more, that was how much he trusted you. he knew you could look into his soul and recognize his most twisted, sick thoughts, and still love him the same. it was exactly what you were good at.

“please,” he whimpered, his voice shaking with every breath he took. “hurts so good.” he was a mess, he always was, yet he managed to look perfect. in your eyes, he was always perfect. his pale, porcelain skin was glazed with sweat and spit, his lips red and swollen from being kissed by you and chewed raw by him, his eyes were glazed with the same tears that stained his cheeks, and his fingers wrapped around the stained bedsheets beneath his naked, bruised body. yes, he was absolutely perfect.

you cooed at the sight of him as you worked your fist, jacking him off at a ridiculously fast pace as more tears slid down his cheeks. “you want me to stop, tae?” your tone was condescending, low and mean, but he couldn't control the way it made his cock twitch in your hand. he knew it, and you did too. “want me to stop when you’re so close?”

there were no lies told, he was close, on the brink of cumming. again, for the fourth time in a row. he wasn’t sure how much more he could take, but he wanted to take as much as possible for you. he was willing to stain the sheets a fourth time and let his mind shut off for a few seconds if it meant you’d be pleased with him. “no,” he whimpered, his trembling hands wiping away the stray tears before latching onto your wrists. “i can take it.” it was a lie, if the way his thighs quivered were any indication, but you knew you could coax one more out of him.

“that’s a good boy, so good for me, yeah?” you cooed before spitting some more on the tip of his dick, smearing it all over and mixing it with the precum that had oozed out a while ago. if the way you praised him wasn’t enough to send him towards the edge, the way you spat on him definitely was. he chewed at his lip to bite back a moan as he bucked his hips into your fist, desperately chasing the high he was so afraid of. “so needy, thought you couldn't take it anymore.”

he shook his head as he clutched the bedsheets, knuckles whitening as he held onto the still slippery sheets. “i can take it,” he repeated softly. the sheets were slick with his cum, alongside your juices that had come together. you reached over with your free hand and ran it alongside his chest, the feather-like touch sending shivers down his spine. you smiled at the feedback, running your fingers alongside his nipples just to hear his sweet little gasps before pinching them ever so softly.

his mouth hung open at the sensation, spit trickling down his chin as he continued to buck his hips, so close to cumming. you noticed the way his fingers probed at the wet sheets, a smile gracing your face at the sight. “got your fingers dirty from the mess we made, yeah?” he nodded weakly as he traced the sticky mess. “clean your fingers, baby. can you do that?” it was over for him, absolutely over. he nodded once more as he brought his fingers to his lips, sticky with your arousal and his seed. it wasn’t gross to him, it never was. he was quick to comply, wrapping his bruised lips around them and taking them whole as he sucked the sweetness off.

the sight only encouraged you to show less mercy, your eyes darkening as you fisted his cock harder, your thumb coming up to probe the tip of his hard, red dick. your other hand remained steady on his chest, toying with his nipples as you leaned forward to make a bigger mess of him. his eyes widened as you attached your lips to his balls, gently suckling and probing at the sturdy flesh. he had opened his mouth to say something, but a silent scream fell from his lips. he saw white as he came, his entire body quivering under your touch. you didn't stop, not even as he shot ropes of sticky white for the fourth time, coating his stomach and the sheets with his seed once more.

tears streamed down his cheeks once again, sobs wracking his body from the overwhelming pleasure. you met his teary gaze as you finally brought yourself up, planting kisses all over his face. “don’t cry, baby, you did so good,” you assured him as you brushed away the sweaty strands of hair plastered to his forehead. he sniffled as you wiped his tears away, his face softening only for a second. he let himself calm down, savoring the moment while it lasted, until you spoke once more. “you can give me one more, can’t you?” of course he could, he always could.

[taelliminado]

HIP-HOP FIGHT CLUB ✦ projeto pessoal

essa capa foi uma dor de cabeça porque a ideia era fazer uma colagem, mas capa estilo colagem é um problema pra mim desde a época que a @fellegekben-jar me influenciou com o estilo dela (e fracassei com todas as tentativas). então isso aqui é uma mistura do meu estilo, e inspirações...

✦ inspirações: @mellodramazip (🧡) + @busanpng (🔥)

[leejenoenthusiast]

What we’re not gonna do is forget that this absolutely mouthwatering performance exists

(Baekhyun being told to sit up gets me every time)

[multifandom-re-write-01]

Stuck In Time

Summary: What if Taeyong and Nari were cursed by a witch to be separated in every reincarnation of Nari's life while he lived as an immortal, constantly seeking for her? Based on Taeyong's drama from SuperM's 'As We Wish'

Many, many, MANY Years Ago...

“Taeyong,” she gasped out as they ran through the forest. “Taeyong, I don’t think I can go any further -”

“We’re almost there, I promise,” the young man assured the female, looking over his shoulder briefly to send her a weak smile. They continued to run, the sound of people yelling and chasing after them slowly fading away. “Okay, let’s rest...”

The two arrived at a clearing in the forest, where the full moon lit down onto them gently. The two collapsed to the ground panting, but otherwise relieved they were able to escape the grasp of the angry crowd that wanted them dead or alive.

“This is all my fault,” she eventually spoke up amongst their silence, staring down at the grass guiltily. “It’s all my fault...”

“Hey, don’t say that!” Taeyong chided, shuffling so he now sat across from her, grabbing her hands gently in his. “It’s not your fault.”

“But if I didn’t bump into you in the markets...”

“I wouldn’t have met the love of my life,” he finished her sentence before she could. “I’m glad to have met you, Nari. Life without you now would be meaningless. We’re not going to let some jealous woman stop us.”

“She’s not just any woman, Taeyong,” she scoffed, pulling her hands away from his much to his dismay. “She’s your fiancée.”

“Not by choice!” he retorted. “It was an arranged marriage, not one I agreed to. You’re the one I want to marry. Ever since we bumped at the markets when you were selling those delicious sweets...” She let out a small giggle at the mention of his sweet tooth, making him smile at her fondly. “Nari...we’ll be okay, I promise. No matter what happens to us, we’ll find our way to each other. Okay?”

“Okay...”

* * *

Many, many, MANY Years later...

The bell chimed, signaling a new customer.

“I come to this place everyday...to see her.”

“Welcome,” the woman barely whispered out, entranced by the handsome man before her. “May I take your order?”

“Just...one cup of Americano,” he answered smoothly in his baritone voice, staring deeply into her eyes. She gulped under the gaze, reluctantly looking down to punch in his order, still feeling his heated stare at her.

“Okay...”

Moments later, the mysterious handsome man sat at a window seat, staring out at the nature surrounding the mini forest they were in, taking an idle sip of his Americano. “See?” the woman’s friend cooed from beside her. “I told you, right? He’s interested in you!”

“No way!” the woman waved off, looking away from her friend embarrassed. She hoped her face wasn’t as red as she pictured it. Ever since the mysterious man entered the café, she’s been feeling warm all over.

“I’m envious...” her friend sighed wistfully. “Did you save a country in your past life? For that kind of man to like you...” As if hearing their conversation from his seat across the room, he connected eyes with the woman again making her freeze. She couldn’t help but be stuck in his gaze. It looked so warm, inviting...and yet, sad.

“I went to that place the next day, and the day after...”

* * *

The bell chimed.

He stood before her with the warm smile.

* * *

The bell chimed.

He stood before her with an umbrella, wet from the light rain that was happening outside.

* * *

The bell chimed.

He stood before her with another warm smile.

“...just to see her.”

* * *

“One cup of Americano, please,” he requested the same order from the last couple of days - weeks - he visited.

And that’s when she couldn’t hold in her silence any longer.

“Excuse me,” she spoke up, his eyes catching hers immediately as if on instinct. She ignored the shivers that went down her spine as she peered into his warm chocolate brown eyes that held small signs of surprise.

“Yes?” he replied quietly.

“Can we talk for a little while?”

* * *

The two moved away from the counter to the table he always sat at, the man leaning against the table rather than sitting down. He stared straight ahead, a distant look on his face as if he was deep in thoughts. She stared at him nervously from beside him, eventually having the confidence to speak up again. She already spoke to him, so there was no going back from it now.

“Excuse me...” she started. “By any chance, is there a reason why you are here everyday?” Actually, it wasn’t really everyday, just whenever she had a shift, basically. Her friend told her that he would only appear when she’s on shift.

A forlorn, melancholy expression crossed his face, twisting his body so he faced her completely. She felt herself hold in a breath as he gave her his undivided attention. “Shall I tell you something?” he proposed quietly. She barely nodded her head. He smiled at her charmingly. “Let’s sit down first, shall we?”

“Ah,” she faltered, glancing to the counter momentarily where she’s meant to be. “I have -”

“It’s okay,” he waved off, looking at someone over her shoulder. “You’re allowed to be with me.”

She followed his gaze to see him looking at the owner of the café who happened to be an elderly woman. Said woman smiled at the two warmly, though sadly, speaking to the customer who approached the counter.

What is happening?

Slowly, she sat across from the man who waited for her patiently. “Okay,” she murmured. “I’m listening...”

* * *

Many, many, MANY years ago...

He stared down at the list of groceries he needed to buy for the upcoming dinner his family were planning to have with his older sister and brother-in-law, pouting when sweets weren’t listed on the paper before him.

With a sigh, he tucked the paper away, planning to walk deeper into the busy market when he was knocked off his feet by a small force. With a grunt, he landed on the ground, a body falling on top of him.

“I’m so sorry!” a light, feminine voice exclaimed, the weight on top of him disappearing, replaced with a hand in his line of sight. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry...”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he assured, slowly getting up with the help of the small hand. He dusted himself off, not once making eye contact with the person in front of him. “I should have watched where I was...” When he finally looked up at the person in front of him, he felt his heartbeat stop. There, before him, was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. “...going,” he finished lamely.

“I’m really sorry,” the woman fussed, unaware of his dazed expression. “I will make it up to you, I swear! Here! I have sweets!”

“Sweets?” that snapped him out of his daze, looking at the basket that were full of sweet, sugary breads. He felt his mouth water at the sight. “Well, I can’t say no to delicious food...”

The woman giggled cutely as he grabbed a bread from her basket, smiling at him gently when she realised how handsome he was. He was about to take a giant bite of the bread when he noticed her gaze on him, flustering him. “I’m Taeyong,” he introduced shyly, lowering the bread from his lips.

“I’m Nari,” she replied back. “Nice to meet you...”

* * *

“Taeyong, we have some wonderful news for you!”

“Really?” Taeyong peered up from his dinner curiously. His parents and sister glanced to one another excitedly before facing him with bright smiles.

“You’re getting married!” his mother exclaimed. He leaned back in his chair in surprise.

“With who?” His mind flickered to the woman he fell in love with after a year of hanging out with each other.

“With the blacksmith’s daughter, of course!” his father chortled. “The fairest maiden out there in our town!”

“Her?”

She wasn’t Nari.

* * *

“Taeyong, I don’t think this is a good idea -”

“Nari, I would rather be disowned from my family than marry a woman I don’t love,” Taeyong shook his head, grabbing hold of her hands so he could press a chaste kiss to her knuckles. Although it made her cheeks flare up, she didn’t let that affect her at that moment.

“Taeyong, this is serious. I can’t let you leave your family because of me - and when Meredith finds out you don’t want to marry her -”

“She already knows.”

“What!”

“I don’t care about her opinion! She’s just a spoilt bully anyway!”

“Taeyong, we can’t!” Nari sniffled. “We can’t...Your family...”

“Nari...” He leaned his forehead against hers, making sure they held eye contact despite the tears that were making their sight blurry. “Marry me. Run away with me. Please. Let’s start somewhere new like we always dreamed of. A new town, a new start. Please...be with me.” With the overflowing love he was expressing through his heated gaze and words, how could she not fall for him over again?

* * *

“Taeyong,” she gasped out as they ran through the forest. “Taeyong, I don’t think I can go any further -”

“We’re almost there, I promise,” the young man assured the female, looking over his shoulder briefly to send a weak smile her way. They continued to run, the sound of people yelling and chasing after them slowly fading away. “Okay, let’s rest...”

The two arrived at a clearing in the forest, where the full moon lit down onto them gently. The two collapsed to the ground panting, but otherwise relieved they were to escape the grasp of the angry crowd that wanted them dead or alive.

“This is all my fault,” she eventually spoke up amongst their silence, staring down at the grass guiltily. “It’s all my fault...”

“Hey, don’t say that!” Taeyong chided, shuffling so he now sat across from her, grabbing her hands gently in his. “It’s not your fault.”

“But if I didn’t bump into you in the markets...”

“I wouldn’t have met the love of my life,” he finished her sentence before she could. “I’m glad to have met you, Nari. Life without you now would be meaningless. We’re not going to let some jealous woman stop us.”

“She’s not just any woman, Taeyong,” she scoffed, pulling her hands away from his much to his dismay. “She’s your fiancee.”

“Not by choice!” he retorted. “It was an aranged marriage, not one I agreed to. You’re the one I want to marry. Ever since we bumped at the markets when you were selling those delicious sweets...” She let out a small giggle at the mention of his sweet tooth, making him smile at her fondly. “Nari...we’ll be okay, I promise. No matter what happens to us, we’ll find our way to each other. Okay?”

“Okay...”

“Good luck with that.”

The two gasped, whirling around to see the woman Taeyong was meant to marry, seething with jealousy and fury. “Meredith!” they gasped, struggling to their feet. Taeyong pushed Nari’s body behind him, making sure she was covered by his body.

“You dare reject me for some peasant like her!” Meredith screeched, approaching the two slowly as they backed away from her. Suddenly, fire emerged from the woman’s hands making them gasp.

“You’re a witch!” Nari gasped, peering over Taeyong’s form fearfully. “You should be the one chased after, not me!”

The reason why the couple were running away from an angry crowd was because Meredith had caught the two in their alone time one day, and furious and jealous, Meredith had spread news to the town that Nari was a witch, and that she had bewitched Taeyong to fall for her.

“Meredith, no...” Taeyong warned. “I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you.” He looked behind him at Nari, giving her a small but loving smile. “I’m meant for Nari. We love each other.”

“That’s what you think...” the fire disappeared from the woman’s hands, replaced instead with a dark purple swirl of smoke. She threw it at the two of them - specifically, at Taeyong. A different coloured smoke was thrown towards Nari when Taeyong was distracted. “From now on, Taeyong, you will be stuck in time, chasing after the woman you so-call love.”

“No!” Nari gasped, grabbing Taeyong just in time before he could fall to the ground for the curse cast upon him.

“And you!” Meredith’s fiery gaze turned to the other woman. “You will not remember him in the next future lives until too late!” She gave the couple a leering smile. “Let’s start this curse, shall we?” On cue, the angry crowd they had ran away from appeared, separating the two.

“Nari!”

“Taeyong!” the two cried out for one another, struggling to run back into each other’s arms.

“Nari!” he called out through his struggle, looking at the crying woman from a small distance. “No matter what, I will find you, and we’ll be together, I promise!”

“Taeyong!” she cried, trying to reach him to no avail.

“I’ll find you!” he repeated over the chaos that surrounded the two. “No matter where we are in the future, I will find you! I promise!”

* * *

“There was a man who went to a café everyday because he fell for a woman...”

* * *

1960

“What would you like to order?” the woman asked the young, mysterious man. He didn’t answer her, trapped by her beauty despite having visited the place numerous times to see her. Despite seeing her every day, he could feel himself fall all over again for her. Although it pained him to see her not know him, he didn’t mind because in the end, she always found her way back to him.

“She was dazzling...”

Trapped in his thoughts, Taeyong only snapped out of it when she decided to walk away from him. “Excuse me...” he called to her, barely hiding the panic in his voice. She turned to him curiously. “I’ve fallen for you,” he confessed plainly, much to the woman’s surprise. “I like you.”

Although she only spoke to him to get his order every day, she couldn’t help but fall for him as well as the days went by. The thought of the handsome, mysterious man that all women were pining over fancied her? Sounded like a dream.

She couldn’t help the bright smile that crossed her lips, her eyes almost closing from the smile that Taeyong always fell throughout the different eras that passed during his time of walking the Earth. “We’re on the same page, then.” she stated happily.

* * *

“We’ll find our way back to each other, okay?” he promised to the dying woman before him. “Just like the many times before...I will always find you.”

“You must be tired,” the sick Nari whispered. “Always searching the planet for the next me...”

“Never,” he shook his head, pressing a kiss to her cold knuckles. “I will never give up on you. On us.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this...” she sniffled, her heart breaking for the man that chased for her over and over again throughout the many eras. “Now cancer is taking me away from you...”

“It’s okay,” he assured, her leaning forward to kiss her temple. “I’m just glad to have found you again.”

“Surely, there must be a spell to break this curse? To have us reunite finally without any memory loss, without any deaths?”

“I will find the spell to break our curse, no matter what,” he vowed. “I will find a way for us to be together at last. But for now, rest, okay? You’re tired, I can see that. Rest, my love, and I will see you soon.”

“Don’t keep me waiting,” she joked lightly, making him laugh through his tears.

“Never,” he repeated his word from earlier, giving her one last kiss to her lips before she slept forever.

* * *

“For the past 600 years, I only live in the present.”

* * *

He smiled at her lovingly, reuniting with her again for what seemed like the millionth time in his life.

* * *

“Even though I can’t go back...”

* * *

He entered the familiar café that continued to stay despite the many years that passed, connecting eyes with the next version of the love of his life.

* * *

“I don’t regret my decision.”

* * *

2020 - Present time

He smiled at the woman before him, watching as she slowly started to gain her memories from the many generations that passed for the two.

“Now I will...protect her until the end.”

He sat up straighter in his seat once he saw her eyes clear up from it’s temporary glazed expression, his brown doe eyes staring into her watery ones.

“Nari?” he hesitantly called out.

“Oh, Taeyong...” She remembered him. “How long has it been?”

“It’s only been twenty years the last time we reunited,” he relayed to her, leaning forward to reach across the table for her hands. “The time span is getting shorter.”

“Does that mean something? Do we not have anymore time?” she asked concerned.

“The opposite, my dear...” He gave her a wide smile, leaning down to kiss her knuckles like usual. “I found it, Nari, I finally found the spell that will break our curse and bring us together.”

“Really?” she beamed, a tear managing to escape her eyes. He stretched out to wipe it away gently with his thumb.

“Really,” he confirmed. “I told you we would finally have our happy ending, didn’t I?”

And a happy ending they received.

* * *

5 years later...

“-and they lived happily ever after,” the elderly woman finished, smiling softly at her granddaughter who stared into the distance with a wistful look.

“Wow,” said granddaughter sighed as she leaned against the counter, “Although I’ve heard this story numerous times growing up, I never heard that last bit of the story before...” She turned back to her grandmother curiously. “So what happened? How did they get their happy ending?”

“Well, they visited the witch that Taeyong found during his adventures, who was able to break the curse on the two,” the grandmother recited. “The witch was able to make Taeyong grow old with the love of his life, the dream they always wished for. Do you want to know a secret?” The grandmother leaned closer to the younger woman to whisper into her ear. “They still visit the café where they would always reunite throughout the years.”

“Really?” the woman gasped. “Wait...how? Isn’t this just a story?”

“Oh, my dear, you didn’t listen to the story carefully,” the grandmother chuckled. “I mentioned earlier, they met in the present time now...” 

“Present time now?” she echoed. “I don’t...”

The bell chimed, signaling a customer.

“Ah, hello, dears!” the grandmother chirped happily. “The usual for you two?”

“Yes, please,” a baritone voice chuckled from near the granddaughter. “One cup of Americano for me, hot chocolate for the Missus, and banana bread.”

“But add an extra slice of your lovely banana bread, please?” a light soprano voice chimed. “Our little boy here is craving for some sweets. Just like his father...” The granddaughter turned her head to see a beautiful couple, the woman holding an adorable five-year-old boy who looked like a perfect mix of his parents. They were simply glowing with happiness.

“Of course!” the grandmother chuckled. “On the house like usual, my dears.”

“Thank you!” 

“The three of you are simply glowing,” the grandmother complimented them. “I’m glad you guys are happy now.”

“Thank you,” the couple chorused happily. After ordering, the family of three walked to a table beside the window, the grandmother and granddaughter watching the three.

“Darling,” the granddaughter tore her attention away from the family to look at her grandmother’s knowing gaze. “Have you connected the dots yet?”

“The dots -?”

“Mama!” she heard the boy call from behind her. “Story! Story!”

“Ah, our story?” the mother giggled. “Well, as you know, this café holds a special meaning to us...”

“No matter how long it’s been, I would always find your mother in this beautiful, small café that was surrounded by the very forest where our love grew all those years ago...” the father added on.

She connected the dots.

“No...” the granddaughter’s jaw dropped, her head snapping to the happy family again, eyes wide in disbelief. She faced her grandmother’s amused expression. “Are they - are they - really?”

“How else would I know the ending to the story?” the grandmother retorted. “Like you said, you grew up with this story that was told from generation to generation, with no complete ending...”

“And this café has been opened for many years and passed down from our family...” the granddaughter finished. She whipped her head around to face the family again who were now looking at her, smiling softly. Their eyes...they were so warm, but held a certain gleam that showed they were older than they seemed, as if they’ve experienced a lot in their life...

“They really got their happy ending,” the granddaughter exclaimed in disbelief. “You-You saw their happy ending!”

“Yes, now stop staring at them!” she was whacked on the back of her head by a wet rag from her grandmother. “You know staring is rude! Back to work now!”

“But-But!” the granddaughter protested, following after her retreating grandmother. “But it’s them! I grew up listening to their story, and they’re here right now! Does Mum know?”

* * *

The two giggled as they watched the owner of the special café talk with her granddaughter, the couple sending each other knowing looks.

After staying in the cafe for a few hours, in sync, the two stood up, Taeyong grabbing their son this time as they returned to the counter to return their empty dishes.

“-but it’s them -!”

“Thank you for the hospitality, like always,” Taeyong spoke up, interrupting the granddaughter mid-sentence. Said woman snapped her mouth shut, staring at them with awe. “We’ll be back next year like usual.”

“You’re welcome,” the grandmother nodded warmly. “And I say congratulations again for your happy ending on behalf of my ancestors who watched the two of you in your journey. You deserved it.”

“Thank you for looking after this café until now,” Nari added. “We’ll always visit.”

“I’ll see you three next year, then. Hopefully with the new addition?” Nari blushed, staring down at her still flat stomach. Nari wasn’t glowing just because she was happy, as it turned out. Once a mother, you would always know the signs. Taeyong beamed happily from beside the love of his life, leaning forward to kiss Nari on the temple.

And with that, the happy family walked out of the café.

“Now,” the grandmother grinned at the shell-shocked woman beside her. “This is quite a story to tell your children, eh?”

The End

Main Masterlist // 'What If...' Masterlist

[femdomlieeh]

Key (m)

Obedient!Sub!Taeyong ✧ Bratty!Sub!Jungwoo ✧ Pervert!Sub!Mark ✧ Dom!F!Reader

WC—5.1 ✧ k

WARNING—three/foursome ✧ ambw ✧ semi-public sex (office) ✧ brief mxm ✧ voyeurism (m) ✧ pegging ✧ masturbation (m) ✧ slapping (face) ✧ light bondage ✧ light bdsm ✧ brief spanking ✧ light name-calling ✧ jealousy ✧ praise ✧ degradation ✧ mistress & mommy kink ✧ baby boy kink

THEMES—smut ✧ manager au

NOW PLAYING—Bad Boy ✧ Red Velvet

[A/N.] 누나 (nuna) = older sister, 형 (hyeong) = older brother

Old Nct dream version (Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun)

M.LISTS—nct 127 ✧ nct dream ✧ nct u ✧ superm ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp

All rights reserved © femdomlieeh

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

Loud clangs of high heels echoed behind the door to the meeting room, breaking up the wild discussion the 127 boys just had on whether there's one butt or two. NCT 127 had gotten a new manager a few months back and the members had different reactions and had adapted differently to her but by now all of them had developed good work relationships with her with some of them having gotten closer to her. They had gotten close and comfortable enough to call her 누나 (after she told them she was ok with that) instead of using distancing terms they would use religiously with the previous shitty managers.

Taeyong felt very comfortable around her and how she led him and the team. Jungwoo found himself liking how she told him to be quiet when he started talking off track during meetings and times when she would speak sharply and order him around. Haechan absolutely loved her since she would take care of him and check in on his health from the very beginning of the job. Mark would always try his best to make her laugh (when appropriate) but, even after laughing for many months together, at the end of the day he was still awkward with her because that's just how he is.

____ had already made it clear that she puts her trust in everyone but she especially trusted Mark since he's been doing such a good job in like 50 groups and, as a result of her trust (expectation) in him, Mark felt pressured to never do anything wrong since he cared about her opinion weirdly much. But overall, the 127 guys were happy with the change — not just because they generally loved attention from not men — but because she gave different ideas and led them in a way that they felt comfortable and safe with her.

They turned their heads towards the sound and saw the door opening, "Good day, 누나," the nine men greeted her in harmony.

"It has been brought to my attention that a few of you boys have been acting rather inappropriately," ___ was quick to shut down whatever bullshit any of the boys had to say (she was irritated because of whatever had happened). Most of them were curious who she was talking about although most of them had a clue who. Others were a little intimidated by her dark tone although they knew they had done nothing wrong and that they weren't the ones that were going to get scolded at. Taeyong gulped and stared; he liked it when she was mad at them, scolded them — all of that. Haechan was just sitting comfortably, knowing he hadn't misbehaved or done a single mistake for a whole week (surprisingly). Mark had showed up to every practice on time, had killed when recording vocals with NCT 127 right after his one day and four hour break from his NCT DREAM comeback. Like always, he hadn't disappointed her. Jungwoo smirked, knowing what was going on and what was going to happen.

"It has been brought to my attention that a few of you boys have been acting rather inappropriately," ___ was quick to shut down whatever bullshit any of the boys had to say (she was irritated because of whatever had happened). Most of them were curious who she was talking about although most of them had a clue who. Others were a little intimidated by her dark tone although they knew they had done nothing wrong and that they weren't the ones that were going to get scolded at. Taeyong gulped and stared; he liked it when she was mad at them, scolded them — all of that. Haechan was just sitting comfortably, knowing he hadn't misbehaved or done a single mistake for a whole week (surprisingly). Mark had showed up to every practice on time, had killed when recording vocals with NCT 127 right after his one day and four hour break from his NCT DREAM comeback. Like always, he hadn't disappointed her. Jungwoo smirked, knowing what was going on and what was going to happen.

"It has been brought to my attention that a few of you boys have been acting rather inappropriately," ___ was quick to shut down whatever bullshit any of the boys had to say (she was irritated because of whatever had happened). Most of them were curious who she was talking about although most of them had a clue who. Others were a little intimidated by her dark tone although they knew they had done nothing wrong and that they weren't the ones that were going to get scolded at. Taeyong gulped and stared; he liked it when she was mad at them, scolded them — all of that. Haechan was just sitting comfortably, knowing he hadn't misbehaved or done a single mistake for a whole week (surprisingly). Mark had showed up to every practice on time, had killed when recording vocals with NCT 127 right after his one day and four hour break from his NCT DREAM comeback. Like always, he hadn't disappointed her. Jungwoo smirked, knowing what was going on and what was going to happen.

Everyone of them made mistakes sometimes, whether it was showing up late to practice for a whole week or being so late to an interview they had to get their makeup done in the car. Haechan and Jungwoo often misbehaved and knew the consequences of it. Actually, knowing what awaited them after behaving bad was why they did it in the first place. The biggest brats were 100% Haechan and Jungwoo. Sometimes Taeyong did small mistakes on purpose just for ____ to scold him. But he was mostly obedient and only chose to defy her when he was desperate for her attention (the attention that she always prioritized for the others). For the past month those three boys had gotten a taste of the consequences once a week. Every. Damn. Week. Except for one week when Haechan was feeling extra bad and got to taste it. Every. Damn. Day. Lucky him.

"Taeyong, you're the leader and you're supposed to set a good example for your members, right?" she stared at him sternly, giving him the chills.

"Yes, 누나," he answered looking innocent with his big eyes when he in reality was so excited.

"Yet you get dragged into troubles with Jungwoo instead of helping him correct himself," she spat.

"Yes, 누나."

"My office after this."

There it was. That sentence. The sentence he wanted to hear. She turned her attention away from Taeyong to Jungwoo, "You too, don't think I'm only gonna scold Taeyong because he's the leader. I didn't forget that you were involved too."

"Okay, 누나," Jungwoo smiled, excited for what was about to happen. Mark looked at Jungwoo a bit shocked. Why is he smiling? He like this? Why? Why does he and Taeyong like it when 누나 scolds them?

The members didn't know what they'd done but they assumed maybe dispatch had found them smoking or something.

"Haechan?" she said as she hadn't forgotten about him either.

"Yes, 누나," he answered with a cute tone and sent her an innocent smile, contrary to the thoughts clouding his head.

"Good job! You actually didn't act bad for once," she praised him with a tint of degradation — just how he liked it.

He kept eye contact with her and put his chin on his hands as an attempt to keep the innocent boy act, "Thank you, 누나."

Considering his nickname sometimes was Little Devil, he was very mischievous and not-so-much innocent. The fact that he didn't have anything to do with the misbehaving this time was mind-blowing to both her and the rest. But the fact that he had another plan in mind wouldn't be shocking to ____. But she would find out later.

"You guys — except for Taeyong and Jungwoo — can go to back to the dorms, I'm sorry you guys had to waste time here. Let this be a reminder that what one member does can affect the whole group. Anyway, have a nice day and see you tomorrow at six!" she waved them away.

Everyone except for the three left.

"Care to explain yourselves?" she asked the boys that were sat in front of her and crossed her arms.

✧ ✧ ✧

Mark was on his way to hide from SuperM or Dream or U schedules when he felt an arm around his waist. He turned his head to find a smiley Haechan. "How are you, 형?"

"Um, I'm good, but bored now because I was gonna watch Netflix with Jungwoo," he answered, oblivious to the younger's intentions with this not coincidental rendezvous.

"What if you don't need to be without him?"

The older's brows scrunched up in confusion, "Huh? What are you saying?"

"Have you ever wondered what happens in the office when Taeyong 형 or Jungwoo 형 or I have misbehaved?"

Now that Haechan mentioned it, Mark had never actually thought of that. He was too busy being an overworked angel that he hadn't even thought of why he was one. What could be so bad with misbehaving if they kept doing it?

"Here," the Little Devil said and extended out his hand, revealing a silver key.

"What's this?" the Little Angel questioned, eyeing the metallic object in front of him.

"It's the key to her office."

"And why do you have that?" Mark's mouth turned into an O, thinking the younger had taken it from her.

"She gave me this key since I visit her office so often," he beamed, threw it in the air and caught it as if the key were a symbol for luck. "She doesn't wanna bother bringing you guys into a small meetings every time I do something bad. So thoughtful."

Mark was shocked, "Do the other guys have keys too?"

The younger dramatically gasped and lightly hit the loser's shoulder, "No I only I have one," he whined.

He shook his head, "Here. Go and hide in the office and you'll see what goes on when 누나 takes us there."

The older stood still in a trance, not sure of what to do so the younger physically grabbed his hand and put the key in it.

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I'm the only one who owns one of these and I don't like sharing!" Haechan said sassily and skipped away like a five-year-old.

Mark looked down at his palm. The key was shining. It was calling for him...and he chose to listen to its calls and follow the melody all the way to his favorite manager's office.

He started walking rapidly towards the place he'd only visited for normal reasons before. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this shit. But that didn't stop him from taking big steps towards the desired destination his curiosity had taken him to.

After dodging the attention of fellow members and trying not to stutter when greeting superior girl group members, he finally was standing in front of the shining wooden door, breath hitching. Fuck. Should I really do this?

"But 누나~" Taeyong's cute whining was heard from circa 30 meters away.

They were on their way to the office — and they were already so close! If Mark stayed in front of the door, he'd have to explain why he was there in the first place and if ____ caught a glimpse of the key in his hand she'd know what his true intentions were and never trust him the same way.

Therefore, he deemed the most logical solution to be to shove the key into the keyhole, turn it around, get in the office and hide fast. He closed the door and locked it after as he didn't want to leave a trace of his unplanned visit. He looked around the room and tried to find a decent hiding spot. There were no huge furnitures to hide behind like a true pervert so his only option was the most stupid and typical thing ever. Hide under a desk. It was like a ticket to hell.

"When am I gonna get my key, 누나?" Jungwoo whined loud enough to be heard from the other side of the closed door.

The sound of something hard being put into the hole alerted Mark that he didn't have much time left, having to choose between being caught and no longer being a Little Angel or decreasing the possibility of being caught and get info on why his best friends love being so bad.

He knew he had no other choice than to slide under the table and pray she wouldn't catch onto his not-so-angel-like act. They wouldn't be able to see him under there because of the wood covering the front. Hopefully ____ didn't choose to sit on the chair in front of it where she would see him, which is exactly where she normally would sit when Mark went to her office for a meeting...

"Yeah, 누나~ Haechan keeps bragging about his key~ It's unfair." Taeyong complained, whining like before but louder.

Click! And so, the door was unlocked. Mark felt his heart beating with each step he heard on the other side of the room. ____'s only response to the boys' complaints was one word: "Sit."

At that, Little Angel's heart dropped. Holy shi— But God decided to have mercy and save Mark from embarrassment for another time so instead of walking to the chair that was right by Mark, ____ walked to a big leather sofa that was in a corner on the other side of the room.

"Good boy, Taeyong," ____ said.

"Thank you, Mommy."

Mark's eyes grew bigger at that. Wait wha—

"Bitch, sit down," ____ said to Jungwoo.

Oh wow—

"Yes, Mommy," the boy did as he was told, taking a seat on the right side of her.

Mark blushed. How could they call her that word so normally, as if it were 누나 and not a kinky title? the innocent boy hiding under the table wondered. He was expecting her to scold them both for talking inappropriately with her. But instead, he heard a sentence that made his pants a bit tighter.

"Why have you boys been acting so naughty?"

Mark heard Taeyong apologize and say "I'm sorry, Mommy."

____ turned her gaze to the one she knew had started it all.

"Why did you touch yourself without Mommy's permission?"

Oh wow they are into some freaky shit, Mark thought, his breathing quickening.

"I wanted Mommy to touch me, but Mommy was busy," Jungwoo pouted.

"Then why did you make Taeyong touch you too?"

"Taeyongie wanted my cock."

Clap! Mark heard the sound of a high five.

____ had slapped Jungwoo (kinda lightly) across the face, "Use your manners."

"I'm sorry, Mommy," he looked her in the eyes.

"It's Mistress when you're being a brat," she corrected him.

Mark gulped.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," Jungwoo was turned on by the authority in her voice (he was such an easy slut).

Now Mark understood why Haechan acted bratty all the time. He just wanted her attention. The Little Angel didn't want to admit it, but he thought it was sexy. For the first time ever, he got the urge to do something bad so he could get in trouble with 누나 too. Or more like M-Mo... But he wasn't bold enough and he didn't know if he wanted to risk losing his reputation of being perfect either.

"Now can you explain why you two did this in the practice room? You could've gotten caught."

Jungwoo still kept strong eye contact, wanting to look like a brat, while Taeyong was looking at the floor ashamed.

"Imagine if Mark came in and saw you sucking Jungwoo's dick, Taeyongie."

Mark's ears perked up at hearing his name. Did he really come across as so innocent that he's used as the example of the worst possible person to witness a blowjob in a practice room? Damn. Wait omg does she think he's a vir—

"Or maybe you wanted something like that to happen," she continued.

Maybe the boys had a tingling feeling about seeing Mark non-pure for once. And he was always so obedient already surely he would be up for submitting to his partner right.

"He's too much of an angel to be here, Mommy," Taeyong said.

"Yeah, he is indeed a good boy."

His face faltered a little at her agreeing a little too enthusiastically, "But I'm a better boy though, right, Mommy?"

"Do good boys suck cock in practice rooms?"

"N-No, Mommy."

He felt the need to make himself look better for her.

"But Jungwoo is the bad boy!" he tried to defend himself.

"Yeah! I'm the bad boy who deserves a key!" Jungwoo agreed.

"So that's why you did it? To prove a point?" she started caressing his cheek gently this time.

"Mmm, yes, Mistress," he lowered his gaze, blushing at her tender touch.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

He did as said and looked her in the eyes. She slapped him. Not too hard, but hard enough to leave a slight sting. He moaned. Pain to him was like cats to a single lady.

"You wanted to be a bad boy for a key? Let's see if you're worthy of it."

He gulped. This was his chance. She turned her attention to Taeyong, who was getting impatient looking at them.

"And you, baby, did it because you wanted my attention or a key?"

"I wanted your attention, Mommy. But a key would be nice too," he answered honestly and pouted.

"You're getting spanked—"

A smile tugged at his lips at the victory.

"—by yourself."

The smile disappeared and was replaced with a frown. He held her hand.

"But, M-Mommy, aren't you supposed to do it?" he asked, not wanting to question her, but at the same time wanting to question his ridiculous punishment.

"Do you want to get punished or not?"

"Yes, I do, Mommy," he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Oh how he wished he was getting spanked by her instead.

She ignored his sweet gesture and turned her attention back to the boy on her right, "Take off your pants, Jungwoo."

No matter how many times _____ had seen him naked, Jungwoo always had a few seconds of nerves before she'd see him again. Said boy's cheeks reddened slightly, and his hands shakily went down to unbuckle his belt. Mark did the same. He blushed and unbuckled his pants quietly until his hand could fit in them. It wasn't his fault that he was feeling turned on and like a 'bad boy'. What day was it today? Saturday? OK he can't skip going to church tomorrow after this.

_____ started stroking Taeyong's thigh with one hand to give him some affection before she'd give all of it to Jungwoo. "Remember our safe word?"

"Yes," they answered as they were undressing.

"What is it?"

"Red."

"Correct. Good job, both of you."

She looked at Taeyong, "Get naked you too, baby."

Said boy quickly took off his over-sized shirt and threw his bucket hat across the room, making Mark flinch as it landed two meters away from him. Jungwoo had decided to wear tight jeans today and he was now regretting it. The jeans perfectly showed off his curves, but it was the wrong idea to wear them on a day like this when he wanted them off as fast as possible. While Jungwoo awkwardly struggled, Taeyong decided to take off his baggy pants together with his underwear in a split second, kicking them to the side so nobody could trip on them.

In an instant Taeyong was on her lap, butt naked. "Mommy, can you please, please, please spank me?" he pleaded prettily and folded his arms behind her neck.

The two were only a few centimeters away from touching noses. Her hands made their way to his soft butt. He hummed in content. "Please, Mommy," he looked her in the eyes.

She kneaded his ass slowly before slapping it loudly enough to send a wave of arousal to everybody in the room, including Mark. A short moan escaped his mouth at the harsh touch he fancied so much. Jungwoo was frustrated, he knew he was going to go to her office, yet he still decided to wear the damned jeans. He was supposed to be the centre of attention, not Taeyong.

Mark had started touching himself. He felt bad that it felt so good and didn't want to stop. He wondered if he wanted them to hear him misbehaving or if he wanted to remain as ____'s Little Angel but ultimately decided to go for the predictable route and just be quiet and never to be discovered as a pervert.

"Mommy, I want you so—" Taeyong whispered in her ear.

"Mistress, I'm ready for you," Jungwoo interrupted the attention thief as his annoying jeans were finally on the floor.

"Mommy~" the boy on her lap whined cutely.

"Get off, Babyboy," she ordered.

"But Mommy—"

"Now."

"Okay, Mommy," he groaned and, jealous, turned his head to Jungwoo.

Taeyong whined. The leather was cold against his ass, and he just wanted to sit or lay on Mommy's warm, soft lap and get spanked, was that too much to ask for?

Although Jungwoo had proved that he was a really bad boy already, he felt the need to try harder. "We don't need a condom," he said boldly.

"You're right, we don't need a condom. Ass up," ____ said.

Jungwoo's eyes got big, clearly not expecting that response. Without saying anything ____ got up and pulled off her clothes in front of him. She was wearing a strap-on (how the fuck it wasn't visible before was a mystery). He had never seen one in real life, so he didn't expect it to be that big.

"Ass up, Baby, or do I need to say it a third time?"

With a gulp he turned onto his covered abs and obeyed her.

"Go to the desk, Babyboy. I want to see you," she ordered Taeyong as her fingers teased Jungwoo's hole after she spat on it.

Taeyong obeyed, feeling sexy because she wanted to look him. Mark, on the other hand, was fucking panicking. He still hadn't cummed and he was afraid he would get caught. The desk was covered with a wall of wood on one side, so he wasn't afraid of being caught that way, instead he was afraid he'd get caught because of the sound of his wet dick.

Taeyong leaned against the desk and showed his hole off to Mommy. With an arched back he clenched and unclenched air for her. He wanted her to see how good he looked. He was smirking, knowing she was looking at him.

With confidence he spanked himself.

It didn't feel as good as when she did it, regardless he moaned. He wanted her to hear how sexy his moans were. The past times he had gotten spanked she had done it till he was tired and never given him a number of spanks he deserved, so he assumed that the same rule applied now when he was the one spanking himself. He kept on spanking himself and moaned after every one of them.

Taeyong hugged the armrest needily, wanting _____'s attention back.

"Mommy—"

"That's Mistress for you, brat," she quickly corrected him.

"Aren't you gonna punish me, Mistress?" he looked back at her.

She turned his head away from her and positioned herself behind him. He felt relieved that she was finally focusing on him and him only. Excitement filled his veins and his cock. It was so hard, wanting to be touched by her all week. He had even woken up hard this morning because of a dream he'd had about her. She positioned the tip of the strap by his entrance.

"Are you ready, Baby?" she asked him to make sure he was comfortable.

"Yes, Mistress. Just fuck me."

She didn't need to hear him say anything else to thrust into him. He whine long and loudly. His hole wasn't prepared for the big stretch but he wanted it rough; he wanted to be treated like the bad boy he had tried to be this week, and he wanted to be worthy of a key so she could fuck him every day like Haechan got the pleasure of. (a/n. we know that lube and prep is crucial but this is tumblr universe✌️)

Hearing how sensitive Jungwoo was made Mark go faster on his private part. ____ stayed inside to make him more accustomed to the strap since it was kind of big for a beginner, and she wasn't completely sadistic.

"Fuck me, Mistress," he whined into the armrest of the couch.

She went in deeper, and Jungwoo couldn't help but omit light moans he would be embarrassed to let out in front of Taeyong if he weren't so desperate for this punishment.

"Mommy!" Taeyong moaned out to try to get _____'s attention back. It worked. She looked at Taeyong, admiring his figure pretty butt and tattoos that decorated his skin.

"Mistress, fuck me h-harder," Jungwoo didn't want a second of her attention to be away from him. Fuck Taeyong. (Not literally tho) Her attention was back at the boy in front of her.

"Tell me when I get too rough, Baby."

And that was the only sentence she said before ramming his hole. Her thrusts were so powerful and left him open-mouthed. His eyes were closed, and his back was arched at the pleasure he'd never felt before. He really didn't want to moan and sound like a slut like Taeyong. But the new feeling inside was making it hard for him. She didn't go easy on him. His first time being pegged was going to be memorable and she was going to make sure of it.

"Oh God, Mistress," he whimpered, holding back a slutty moan that nearly escaped.

The sounds of skin-slapping and lewdness made Mark determined to hold back his orgasm until any of the others were going to so he could cum with them. Refraining from orgasming was what he thought would be the closest he'd ever get to being punished by ___. Oh shit he was not innocent at all.

Taeyong was shamefully moaning as he slapped his ass cheeks. His high-pitched moans were littering the air, but it was like music to Mommy, so he kept on moaning.

"Mistress," Jungwoo kept whimpering out over and over again.

"Don't be shy, Baby. I want to hear you," she encouraged him to let go and be free, aware that he was holding back.

"M-Mistress— Mmmhm." It was hard holding back everything when she was fucking into him mercilessly, so he let go and moaned loudly. That motivated her to go harder and to find his most sensitive part. She gripped his hips to the point where they would leave bruises. And he was more than happy about that. Taeyong wished he could be bruised by Mommy too.

"Mistress! Oh my—" he cried out.

She adjusted the strap in a different angle and felt him tense up. She had found the bundle of nerves she was searching for. His moans couldn't be held back. The loud moans made it harder for Mark to not cum. Who knew his Netflix binging partner had such pretty moans

_____ rammed Jungwoo in the same angle as fast as she could to make him scream her name. He arched his back deliciously, mouth agape. How could he not when he was being fucked so damn good? The way he moaned 'Mistress' sounded like a vulgar whine from cheap porn CDs that were popular in the '80s. Her name became a chant and pushed both of them closer to their brink. His hair was sticking to his forehead as beads of sweat were covering the rest of his body. She pushed his hair out of his face and kissed his neck soothingly.

"Do you want to cum, Baby?" she asked gently in his ear.

"Yes, please, Mommy," he whimpered back as an answer.

Mistress was her title when any one of her boys was being a brat, but right now it didn't matter; he was so fucked out he didn't even notice he started calling her Mommy instead of Mistress.

"Cum for me, Baby."

Jungwoo came with a lewd moan and made a mess on the now-warm couch and Mark came into his hand and bit his lower lip to prevent any dirty sound from exposing his presence. He was so happy to cum when he heard Mommy's permission although it was meant for Jungwoo and not him.

"Thank you, Mommy," Jungwoo breathed out and plopped on the armrest, exhausted. She placed many kisses on the side of his face, keeping the strap inside him for a little more. He whimpered as ______ emptied Jungwoo's ass, but quickly went back to resting after she massaged his cheeks for a little more.

"Mommy!"

______ looked back at the desk and saw how Taeyong was still spanking himself, almost crying. Babyboy's cheeks were red and hot because of it.

"You're such a good boy; so obedient. You can stop now, Baby," she praised him as she made her way to him.

"Only for you, Mommy," he said and turned around, placing his red butt on the edge as he leaned back with his hands.

"You deserve a reward, Babyboy."

"I want Mommy to tie me, please," he smiled.

"What a good boy wants he can get," she went back to the couch to get Jungwoo's belt.

Taeyong's eyes brightened up at the sight of it. He brought his hands out for her to tie. "Such a good boy, Taeyong," she praised him.

She tied his wrists together tightly with the belt. She knew how much he liked them tight since he once complained that she probably could fit in one finger between the tie and his wrist so she tied his hands tightly.

Normally Taeyong is not jealous at all as he's mature and very secure in his skin but since he was used to being such a good boy — or a bad boy who takes punishments well — he never thought any of the other guys were competition. But he noticed the way she talked about Mark was in such a different way and that made him a bit needier for her attention and praise than usual... which is why he said, "Better than Mark, right, Mommy?"

As Mark was calming down after his orgasm his focus was solely on what she'd say. He wanted, more than anything in that moment, to know if he really was her best boy. ______ giggled instead of answering Taeyong's question, making his smile falter a little at her non-answer while Mark's smile grew. In a few seconds, however, Taeyong's smile was back as he knew exactly how to prove he was a gooder boy than Mark.

"Mommy, since I sucked Jungwoo, can I get sucked off too?" he asked softly.

"Since you've been such a good boy, of course. Sit down, Babyboy."

That's when Taeyong dragged out the chair to the desk with his tied wrists, startling the Little Angel.

"I want to be sucked by Mark," he said as if Mark hadn't secretly been hiding under the desk all along.

Taeyong had known he was under there ever since the moment he moaned out 'Mommy' for the first time. How? He knew what Mark sounded like when he masturbated, he lived in the room next to his after all. ______ made her way around the desk and smirked, "Who do we have here?"

"I told you I'm Mommy's goodest boy," Taeyong said and leaned his head on her shoulder.

"누— 누나... I-I can explain—" he stuttered as he tried to think of a justification for his actions.

"How did you get in?"

He couldn't act like he was an angel anymore. "Uhm, Haechan gave me a key."

"Thank you for telling me. Tell him to come to my office after this."

Mark gulped and looked down at the ground.

"Can you suck me, please, Markie?"

Haechan indeed was a little devil and his plan worked. That was the quality a boy bad enough to be worthy of a key. Now Haechan would get the worst punishment.

Lucky him.

Come a little closer, bend over and make yourself shorter (ooh)

Don't pay attention to anything else

Focus on my voice )

—son seungwan & kim yerim; 2018

[retroneo]

[editsty]

Happy 10 years with our precious, talented , handsome, cute, sexy, kind, best boy Taeyong 💚

[taebaelee]

✧ Happy Birthday, TAEYONG ✧  ↳  07 / 01 / 1995

[limitlesssense]

Taeyong x Ten – Call D

[writemekpop]

Doctor’s Orders | Lee Taeyong

Summary: Your sexy but stern boyfriend Taeyong turns playful when he's sick...

Genre: Established relationship AU, boyfriend!Taeyong, fluff

Word Count: <0.5k

You held a thermometer in front of your boyfriend Taeyong. “Open wide!” 

His cheeks were flushed a dark red, and a light sheen of sweat coated his angular face. Taeyong dived under the covers. “Nuh, uh, don’t wanna!”

Your normally stern boyfriend became silly and playful at the first sign of a fever. He had to be sick, you just knew it. 

You whacked the duvet over his butt, earning a yelp. 

His handsome face peeked out from under the covers. 

You scowled playfully, waggling the thermometer at him. 

“Stop messing around, Yong, or I’ll stick this somewhere else!” 

Taeyong laughed, scrunching up his face. He shuffled closer to you, and obediently stuck his pink tongue out. 

You placed the thermometer under his tongue. 

The number flashed up - red hot. 

“I knew it!” You gasped. 

You tucked Taeyong back in the blanket. “It’s strict bedrest for you. Let me give my baby a cool towel.”

You turned away, but Taeyong grasped your wrist before you could leave. 

“I like you playing doctor,” Taeyong said, smirking. “It’s hot. Remind me to do this again when I’m better. But with less clothes.” 

You chuckled. “You got it - my favourite patient.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[keehomania]

therapeutic (테라퓨틱) — lee taeyong (이태용)

✧.* 18+

the mind, a vast labyrinth, held within its delicate folds the secrets of every human experience. it was a realm both familiar and foreign, a place where memories danced like shadows on ancient walls, where emotions ebbed and flowed like the tides, and where thoughts wove themselves into the fabric of reality. in that particular domain, the boundaries between the conscious and the unconscious blurred, creating a landscape that was as treacherous as it was beautiful.

for centuries, humanity had sought to understand the mind's inner workings, to decipher the language of neurons and synapses that whispered the truths of existence. yet, despite all the knowledge amassed, the mind remained an enigma, a force capable of both creation and destruction. it could be a sanctuary, a place of solace where dreams flourished, or a prison, where fears and anxieties festered in the dark corners, unbidden and unwelcome.

why do i think the way i do? why do i behave the way i do? why do we find ourselves begging the question, that three-letter question—why? too long has it been a double-edged sword, that question. those who ventured too close to the edge found themselves lost in a labyrinth of their own making, searching for a way out that sometimes seemed impossible to find.

the mind was both a protector and a betrayer. it could shield one from the harshness of reality, crafting illusions and fantasies that soothed the soul. but it could also turn against its owner, unraveling the very threads of their being until they were left exposed, vulnerable to the relentless onslaught of their inner demons. the mind could be a gentle guide, leading one toward healing and self-discovery, or a merciless tormentor, dragging them deeper into the abyss.

the path to mental well-being was not a straight one; it twisted and turned, often doubling back on itself in a confounding maze. it required courage to traverse, or facing the darkest parts of oneself, the fears and doubts that lay hidden beneath the surface. it meant confronting the wounds of the past, allowing them to bleed so they might eventually heal. and it meant accepting that some scars would never fully fade, that they were as much a part of the self as the mind that bore them.

the office you called your own was a home of sorts, a place where the issues of the outside world were left at the door, and the echoes of troubled minds found solace. it was a space curated to ease the burdens carried by those who sought your counsel. the walls were painted in soft, muted tones—an earthy beige that mimicked the comforting embrace of nature. sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a gentle glow that softened the edges of the room and made it feel safe, inviting.

your desk, though functional, was devoid of the sterility one might expect in a clinical setting. instead, it was adorned with books—volumes on psychology, philosophy, and the occasional novel that you found particularly stirring. there was a small plant, a gift from a patient who had once come to you in a state of complete disarray, now thriving under your care much as she had under your guidance. everything in the room was carefully chosen to exude warmth, from the plush armchairs that encouraged relaxation to the subtle scent of lavender that lingered in the air, a calming presence in and of itself.

patients came to you from all walks of life, each bringing with them a story woven from the threads of their experiences, traumas, and desires. there were those who arrived at your doorstep with their defences up, their walls built high. but you had a way with people, a way that transcended the clinical distance that often characterized the relationships between psychiatrist and patient. you didn’t just listen to them—you heard them, truly, deeply. you took in not only their words but also the silences between them, the unspoken fears that hid behind carefully chosen phrases, the way their eyes darted away when a subject became too painful to confront.

your reputation had spread quietly, almost organically. it wasn’t that you were a miracle worker or that you possessed some mystical ability to cure what ailed them. rather, it was your presence, the way you made people feel seen and understood without judgment, that drew them in. you never approached a session with preconceived notions or diagnoses waiting to be confirmed. each patient was a blank canvas, and it was your role to help them paint the picture that best represented their truth, no matter how fragmented or abstract it might be.

pills had always been a contentious issue for you. the pharmaceutical industry, with its glossy advertisements and promises of quick fixes, had never sat well with you. to you, the mind was not a machine that could be fine-tuned with a simple dose of chemicals. it was a complex, ever-evolving entity, influenced by experiences, environment, and relationships. you believed that true healing came not from numbing the symptoms but from addressing the root causes, from understanding and untangling the web of emotions and memories that led to a patient’s distress.

when the need for medication arose—and it did, at times, arise—you approached it with the utmost caution. you prescribed only the smallest doses necessary, believing firmly in the principle of ‘less is more.’ and even then, you coupled any prescription with a robust plan of therapy, ensuring that the medication was merely a tool to assist in the journey, not the journey itself. the low dosages you recommended rarely led to backlash, and your patients appreciated your restraint, knowing that you were not one to dole out pills like candy but rather used them as a last resort.

it was in your interactions with your patients that your true skill shone. each session was a dance, a delicate balance of guiding and listening, of leading without forcing. you never rushed them, never pushed them to confront more than they were ready to face. instead, you let them set the pace, allowing the conversation to flow naturally. and when the time came to delve deeper, you did so with a gentleness that put them at ease.

park minhyuk, a man in his early forties who had walked into your office carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. his face was lined with the stress of a life lived under constant pressure, his eyes betraying a deep-seated weariness. he had been referred to you by a friend who spoke highly of your methods. the first time he sat across from you, he looked hesitant, almost skeptical, as if he didn’t quite believe that talking could help him.

“i’m not sure this is going to work,” he had said, his voice heavy with doubt. “i’ve been to therapists before. they all just tell me to take some pills and come back in a few weeks.”

you leaned back in your chair, studying him with a calm, measured gaze. “i’m not here to force anything on you, mister park,” you replied softly. “i’m here to listen, and we’ll move at a pace that feels right for you. there’s no rush.” he had looked at you then, really looked at you, as if searching for something, some sign that you were different. you met his gaze steadily, offering nothing but the quiet assurance that you were there to help, not to judge.

over time, he began to open up, slowly at first, testing the waters. he spoke of his job, the immense pressure to succeed, the constant fear of failure that gnawed at him day and night. he talked about his family, the wife and children he loved dearly but felt disconnected from, the guilt that weighed on him for not being more present in their lives. as he spoke, you listened—not just to his words but to the pain behind them. you noticed the way his hands clenched and unclenched when he talked about his work, the slight tremor in his voice when he mentioned his children. and when he finally began to talk about the darker thoughts that sometimes crept into his mind, the moments when he wondered if it would be easier just to disappear, you didn’t react with shock or alarm. instead, you nodded, acknowledging his feelings without judgment.

“i understand that it feels overwhelming,” you said gently. “but it’s important to remember that these thoughts, as heavy as they are, don’t define you. they’re part of what you’re going through, but they don’t have to be the end of your story.” he looked at you then, a flicker of hope in his tired eyes. “you really think i can get through this?”

“i do,” you replied, your voice steady and sure. “and i’m here to help you find the way.” his journey wasn’t easy, and there were setbacks along the way. but he returned week after week, drawn not just by your words but by the genuine care you showed. and slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he began to heal. he started taking more time for himself, reconnecting with his family, finding ways to manage the stress that had once consumed him. the transformation wasn’t immediate, but it was real, and it was lasting.

your practice grew, not because you advertised or sought out patients, but because word of mouth spread. people spoke of you with a kind of reverence, not because you were a miracle worker, but because you offered them something rare in the world of mental health—a safe space where they could be themselves, where they could speak without fear of judgment, where they knew they would be heard.

even those who had been through the harshest of environments—prisoners, veterans, people who had been hardened by life—found solace in your office. they recommended you to others, saying, “you should see her. she’s different. she cares.” and they weren’t wrong. you had found your calling, not in the pills or the textbooks, but in the people who sat across from you, day after day, baring their souls in the hope of finding some relief from the burdens they carried. and you met them with compassion, with understanding, with a quiet strength that reassured them they were not alone.

despite your skill in navigating the landscapes of other’s minds, there was a vast, uncharted territory within your own that you could not seem to traverse. you could guide others out of their darkness, yet when it came to your own, you were perpetually lost, stumbling through a fog that only seemed to thicken with time. it was a darkness that you couldn’t quite pinpoint, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to have no origin, no clear beginning. you often wondered when it had all started, but the truth was as elusive as the peace you sought.

perhaps it began when your father left. you could still remember the day he walked out, his shadow stretching long across the floor as the door closed behind him. the silence that followed was deafening, a silence that you had been trying to fill ever since. you were young then, too young to understand why he was leaving, too young to grasp the implications. but the abandonment had left a scar, a deep, festering wound that never quite healed. you wondered if that was where it all began, this relentless feeling of being untethered, of floating aimlessly in a vast, empty space.

maybe it was when your mother overdosed, her lifeless body found slumped over in the bathroom, surrounded by the remnants of a life that had spiraled out of control. you had been the one to find her, a memory that still haunted you, that still woke you in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. the sight of her pale, lifeless face was seared into your mind, a constant reminder of the fragility of life, of how easily it could slip through your fingers. you had been left to pick up the pieces, to make sense of the senseless, and in doing so, you had buried your own grief, your own pain, deep within you, where it festered in the dark.

there were your grandparents, the last anchors in your life, the last semblance of stability. their deaths had come like a storm, sudden and unforgiving, leaving you alone in a world that seemed to be crumbling around you. they had been your safe haven, the only ones who understood the weight you carried, and when they were gone, it felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath you. alone. that word echoed in your mind, reverberating off the walls of your empty apartment, a constant reminder of your isolation.

you hated being alone. it wasn’t just a dislike; it was a deep-seated fear, a terror that clawed at you from the inside. when you were alone, your mind became a labyrinth of dark thoughts and memories, each corner hiding another shadow, another demon waiting to pounce. the silence was unbearable, suffocating, so you filled it with noise, any noise that could drown out the voices in your head. you couldn’t stand the short sessions with your patients, craving more time with them, more connection, more distraction from the void inside you. the hour would pass, and you would find yourself wanting to reach out, to extend the session, to hold on to the connection a little longer, just a little longer. but you never did. you were their healer, not the other way around.

housework became a ritual of distraction, each chore accompanied by the blaring sound of music that reverberated through the walls, filling the empty spaces with melodies that drowned out the silence. without music, the house felt too big, too empty, too full of memories you didn’t want to confront. you couldn’t sleep without a movie playing in the background, the flickering light and the familiar voices lulling you into a false sense of security. the thought of lying in bed in complete silence, left alone with your thoughts, was unbearable. so, the movies played, one after another, their comforting narratives keeping the darkness at bay for just a little while longer.

but at the end of the day, when the music stopped, when the movies ended, you were left with nothing but the quiet hum of the empty apartment and the stark realization that you were alone. no parents to comfort you, no friends to lean on, no boyfriend to share your life with. just you. and it wasn’t enough. you had poured so much of yourself into your work, into helping others heal, that you had neglected your own wounds, your own needs. you had become a vessel, emptying yourself for the sake of others until there was nothing left for you.

your patients were the only ones who filled that void, the only ones who made you feel needed, wanted. they confided in you, trusted you, relied on you, and for a while, it was enough. but they were temporary, each one coming to you broken and leaving whole, while you remained the same, a healer who couldn’t heal themselves. when they got better, when they no longer needed you, it broke your heart a little more each time, even though you knew it was coming. it was the nature of your work, after all, to help them, to guide them, and then to let them go. but the letting go was the hardest part because it meant returning to the silence, to the emptiness, to the loneliness that gnawed at you, growing stronger with each departure.

you were sitting in your office, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room as you sifted through patient files and prescription bottles. the clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, but you barely noticed. the weight of the empty office felt like a cocoon, enclosing you in a familiar, if not comforting, solitude. the sterile smell of paper and faint traces of disinfectant mingled in the air, a scent that had become as much a part of your life as the darkness that you couldn't seem to shake.

the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing louder as they approached your door. you knew who it was before she even knocked—a gentle, almost tentative rap on the door, followed by the soft creak as it swung open. “still here?” your manager’s voice was gentle, but there was an underlying note of concern that she couldn’t quite mask. hara stepped into the room, her eyes sweeping over the scattered files and the bottles of pills lined up in neat rows on your desk. the look she gave you was one you’d seen many times before—a mix of empathy, perhaps a touch of pity, and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

you didn’t look up immediately, your eyes fixed on the file in front of you as you made a show of scribbling a note in the margins. “just wanted to get as much work done as i could,” you said, finally glancing up with a smile that felt foreign on your lips, a practiced expression that you’d perfected over the years. she didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with those knowing eyes of hers. then she moved closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. the touch was warm, grounding in a way that made you want to lean into it, to close your eyes and let the world fall away. but you didn’t. instead, you stayed still, your smile frozen in place.

“you need to rest,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that made something in your chest tighten. she squeezed your shoulder gently before letting her hand drop back to her side. “i will,” you assured her, the lie slipping out as easily as all the others. it was what you were supposed to say, after all, what she expected to hear. but you both knew the truth, didn’t you? you weren’t planning on resting, not anytime soon. rest meant being alone with your thoughts, and that was something you couldn’t bear.

she sighed, a soft sound of resignation, and you could see the conflict in her eyes. she knew she should insist, should tell you to go home and take care of yourself. but she also knew what you would say, how you would deflect with that same smile and those same empty promises. so she didn’t push. instead, she gave you a small nod and fished a set of keys out of her pocket. “lock up when you’re done, alright?” she said, holding the keys out to you.

you reached out to take them, your fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment before she pulled her hand back. “i will,” you said again, and this time she didn’t bother to respond. she just nodded, casting one last glance around your barren office—the empty desk devoid of personal touches, the phone that never rang—before turning and walking out of the room. the door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone once more. the silence was palpable, pressing in around you, but you welcomed it. it was better than the alternative. you turned back to the files, flipping through them with the pretense of work, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the fog that seemed to constantly hover just at the edges of your consciousness.

you let the minutes tick by, the hours bleeding into one another as you went through the same files, the same bottles, over and over again. you knew there was nothing left to do, nothing left to distract yourself with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. not yet. not when you knew what awaited you outside—the cold, unwelcoming night, the empty apartment, the silence that you couldn’t drown out. but eventually, the futility of your actions became impossible to ignore. the same patient files stared back at you, the same labels on the bottles mocking you with their uselessness. you sighed, a long, drawn-out exhalation of breath that carried with it all the weariness you felt but couldn’t show. there was nothing left to do, no more excuses to stay.

reluctantly, you gathered the files and put them back in their proper place, the routine motions bringing you no comfort. the click of the lock on the file cabinet echoed in the empty room, a finality that made your heart sink. you picked up the keys your manager had left you, your fingers curling around the cool metal, and stood up. the room was dark now, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamps outside. you turned off the desk lamp, plunging the room into shadow, and made your way to the door. the hallway was just as empty as it had been when she left, the building silent save for the occasional creak of the floorboards. you locked the door behind you, the keys jingling in the quiet as you slipped them into your pocket.

the night air was cool when you stepped outside, unlike the stale, sterile atmosphere of the office. you tucked your hands into your pockets, your breath misting in the air as you stood there for a moment, letting the city’s sounds wash over you. it was late—nearly two in the morning—but the city was still alive, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional shout from a passerby reminding you that you weren’t completely alone.

but it didn’t bring you any comfort. if anything, it made the emptiness inside you more acute, unlike the vibrancy of the world around you. you weren’t tired, though you wished you were. exhaustion would have been a mercy, a way to escape the thoughts that clawed at you in the quiet. but sleep was as elusive as peace, and you knew that returning to your empty apartment would only make things worse.

so you let your feet carry you down the street, the familiar route to the small bar that stayed open late. it wasn’t much, just a hole-in-the-wall with dim lighting and a jukebox that played old songs, but it was something. a place where you could lose yourself for a little while, where the music and the people could drown out the noise in your head. the bar was nearly empty when you walked in, just a few regulars nursing their drinks and the bartender wiping down the counter. you slipped onto a stool at the far end, nodding in acknowledgment as the bartender approached.

“just a whiskey,” you said, your voice low, and he nodded, pouring you a glass without a word. you downed the first drink quickly, the burn of the alcohol a fleeting comfort, and ordered another. the jukebox played a song you didn’t recognize, the melody soft and haunting, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it. the chatter around you faded into the background, the clink of glasses and the murmur of voices becoming nothing more than white noise.

but the comfort was temporary, as it always was. the bar was closing, the bartender giving you a sympathetic look as he handed you your tab. you paid it without complaint, sliding off the stool and making your way to the door with a wave of thanks. the night was colder now, the wind biting at your skin as you walked back to your apartment. the streets were emptier, the city slowly falling asleep, and you found yourself wishing you could do the same. but as you reached your building, the familiar weight of dread settled in your chest. you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the silence immediately enveloping you, as it did every night.

you moved through the motions mechanically—kicking off your shoes, tossing your keys on the table, flicking on the lights. but the apartment felt as cold and lifeless as you did, the emptiness pressing in on you from all sides. you thought about turning on the television, letting the sound fill the void, but you couldn’t muster the energy. instead, you stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing in particular, feeling the weight of the silence bear down on you.

it was suffocating, this loneliness, this isolation. it was a constant companion, one that you couldn’t escape no matter how hard you tried. and as you finally collapsed onto the couch, pulling a blanket around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it would always be. if you were destined to live your life in this void, surrounded by silence and shadows, with no one to share it with. the night stretched on, the city outside your window slowly quieting as it finally succumbed to sleep. but sleep didn’t come for you, not easily, not with the thoughts that swirled in your mind, the memories that haunted you. so you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the darkness close in around you, wondering if there would ever be a way out.

the morning sunlight streamed through the narrow gap in your curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. you stretched awake, the familiar feeling of weariness hanging heavy in your limbs, but there was something different about today. it was as though a thin veil had lifted, allowing a sliver of anticipation to seep in. you had always been a person of routine, and the thought of returning to your office, of delving back into the rhythm of your work, brought with it a semblance of comfort, a fleeting escape from the solitude that plagued you.

you moved through your morning routine with efficiency, the motions almost automatic. the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as you prepared a simple breakfast—toast and jam, with a cup of strong coffee to wake your senses. the radio hummed softly in the background, a familiar companion that provided a semblance of normalcy. you dressed with deliberate care, choosing a crisp, tailored suit that made you feel professional and polished, ready to face whatever the day might bring.

the trip to the office was a brief but pleasant ritual, the city streets bathed in the soft morning light, the air carrying the promise of a new day. you relished the routine, the predictable patterns that offered a sense of control. as you approached your building, you caught sight of the familiar facade, the reassuring solidity of it grounding you.

but as you walked through the entrance, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. hara stood waiting in the lobby. her presence was unusual at this hour, and her expression was more serious than usual. you offered her a friendly smile, but she didn’t immediately return it. instead, she gestured for you to follow her to a quiet corner of the building. “you’ve been working hard,” she began, her tone carrying a note of cautious warmth. “and i wanted to have a word with you.”

you paused, a twinge of apprehension flickering in your chest. “am i in trouble?” you asked, the question escaping before you could second-guess it. hara shook her head, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “no, not at all. well, not yet,” she said, inhaling deeply as if gathering her thoughts.

your heart skipped a beat. “what do you mean?” the uncertainty in her voice sent a ripple of unease through you. “what’s wrong?” she took a moment to collect her thoughts, her eyes meeting yours with a look of barely concealed concern. “you have a new patient,” she said finally, her tone shifting to one of subdued excitement as she watched your eyes light up at the news.

“really?” you asked, a spark of enthusiasm igniting within you. it had been a while since you had taken on a new case, and the prospect of diving into a fresh challenge was invigorating.

hara held up a hand, her expression turning more serious. “don’t get too excited,” she said, her tone taking on a warning edge. “he’ll be your project patient for your internship at the asylum.” the words hit you like a cold splash of water. “the asylum?” you repeated, the dismay clear in your voice. “but i love working here. this office, this environment—i don’t want to leave.”

hara’s face softened, and before you could fully process what was happening, she stepped forward and enveloped you in a hug. the gesture was unexpected, her arms wrapping around you with a warmth and sincerity that contrasted sharply with her usual professional demeanor. for a moment, you let yourself sink into the embrace, the human contact a rare and precious balm against the isolation that had become your constant companion.

“i know,” she said, her voice muffled against your shoulder. “i know how much you love it here. but this is something you have to do for your career. it’s a good opportunity, and it’s important for your development.”

you barely registered her words, too caught up in the comforting proximity of another person. the embrace lasted only a few moments, but it was enough to stir something deep within you—a longing for connection, for understanding, for more than just the superficial interactions of your daily life. when she finally pulled away, you nodded, a sense of reluctant acceptance settling over you. “okay,” you said softly, the word carrying more resignation than agreement.

she gave you a reassuring smile, her eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and encouragement. “i’ll call a taxi for you,” she said, guiding you toward the building’s entrance. “it’s best if you head over there now. and remember to keep an open mind. this could be a valuable experience.” you followed her outside, the cool morning air brushing against your face. she hailed a taxi and handed you the keys to the office, reminding you to lock up when you finished. you took the keys with a grateful nod and watched as she walked back inside, her figure disappearing into the building.

the ride was a blur of anxious anticipation and reluctant acceptance. the city passed by in a series of shifting scenes, the familiar streets giving way to more industrial landscapes as you neared the asylum. it was a place you had heard about in passing but had never visited—a cold, imposing structure that seemed to loom on the horizon, its architecture stark and unwelcoming.

the asylum loomed before you like a cold, implacable sentinel against the sky, its grim, grey façade cutting through the morning mist. you stood before it for a moment, taking in the sheer scale of the structure—an imposing monolith that seemed to absorb the light, casting long shadows that stretched over the cracked pavement. the windows were narrow, barred, and the walls bore the harshness of age and neglect. there was something distinctly unwelcoming about it, so unlike the warm, inviting atmosphere of your office.

you pushed open the iron door, and a chill seemed to emanate from the very core of the building. the foyer was austere and utilitarian, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant and something else—a faint hint of despair that clung to the walls and floors. the reception area was starkly lit, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare over the sterile surroundings. it was a far cry from the soft lighting and cozy furnishings you were accustomed to.

the receptionist sat behind a high counter, her demeanor as frosty as the environment. she looked up as you approached, her gaze assessing you with a detached scrutiny. her uniform was crisp and immaculate, adding to the air of clinical precision that pervaded the space. “name and business?” she asked, her voice flat and devoid of warmth.

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the chill that seemed to penetrate your bones. “i’m (y/n) (l/n), here for an internship as the asylum’s psychiatrist,” you said, your voice steady despite the uneasy flutter in your stomach. the receptionist’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her lips twisted into a thin, humorless line. there was something almost predatory in her gaze, a faint glimmer of disdain or perhaps even pity. “follow me,” she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

you trailed behind her as she led you through the labyrinthine corridors of the asylum. the hallways were long and narrow, lined with peeling paint and heavy metal doors. the air was heavy, laden with the echoes of distant voices and the occasional clank of metal on metal. you could hear the shuffling of feet, the murmurs and cries of the patients—a cacophony of sounds that was jarringly different from the calm and composed demeanor of your previous office.

as you walked, you noticed the guards stationed at regular intervals. they were stern-faced and vigilant, their uniforms dark and imposing. their presence was a constant reminder of the control and surveillance that permeated every corner of the asylum. you felt their eyes on you, a silent assessment that made you self-conscious. you passed by several cells, their occupants visible through the narrow windows set into the doors. the patients inside were much unlike the composed individuals you were used to. they paced restlessly, their eyes darting with a wildness that spoke of untamed thoughts and unspoken fears. some shouted incoherently, while others simply stared blankly at the walls. the sense of chaos was eerie, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

eventually, the receptionist stopped in front of a heavy door marked with a simple brass plate that read “psychiatrist.” she unlocked it with a practiced twist of the key and pushed it open, revealing a small, spartan office. the room was a stark departure from the warm, inviting space you were used to. the walls were a dull, institutional green, and the furniture was minimal and functional. there was a plain wooden desk with a single chair behind it and a couple of metal filing cabinets against one wall. a solitary window, heavily barred, provided a view of the bleak courtyard outside. the light that filtered through was cold and uninviting, casting long shadows across the room.

the receptionist stepped inside and placed a folder on the desk. “this is your workspace,” she said, her tone as unfeeling as ever. “you’ll be lucky to make it out alive.”

her words were delivered with a chilling finality, and before you could respond, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone in the sterile, unwelcoming space. the door clicked shut behind her, and you were left standing in the midst of the clinical bleakness that surrounded you. you stood there for a moment, absorbing the reality of your new environment. the emptiness of the room mirrored the uncertainty that was swirling within you. the asylum was a world apart from the comforting familiarity of your office, a place where every detail seemed designed to unsettle and disquiet. as you took in the surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for the warmth you had left behind and a growing apprehension for what lay ahead.

you turned your attention to the stack of files on your desk, organizing them with methodical precision. the papers were a jumble of case histories, treatment plans, and patient backgrounds. as you sorted through them, the muted rustle of paper was the only sound breaking the silence of the room. you had just begun to lose yourself in the paperwork when a sharp knock on the door startled you. the sound echoed in the otherwise still space, cutting through the quiet like a sudden gust of wind. you looked up, but before you could respond, the door swung open with a slow creak, revealing two guards.

the guards were as imposing as their environment, their uniforms sharp and unyielding. they moved with an air of efficiency, each holding an arm of the man who followed them into the room. your gaze fell upon him, and despite your initial wariness, you were struck by an unsettling calmness that seemed to envelop him. he didn't resist; instead, he walked with an eerie composure, his movements measured and deliberate.

the man was restrained in a straitjacket, his arms bound tightly and secured with a belt around his torso. the sight of the straitjacket, with its bold white fabric and heavy buckles, seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of the dull office. the restraints were a harsh reminder of the severe nature of his condition, yet his demeanor was unexpectedly serene. as he was guided to the chair across from your desk, you took the opportunity to study him more closely. he was a tall man, his frame lean but solid. his features were striking—a sharp, prominent jawline and high cheekbones that gave him a distinctly aristocratic appearance. his brown eyes, though calm, carried an intensity that seemed to pierce through the confines of the straitjacket, a depth that hinted at complexities beneath the surface.

there was an unsettling grace to his presence, an almost magnetic quality that drew your attention despite the circumstances. his hair was dark and neatly styled, falling in soft waves that framed his face. the contrast between his physical appeal and the harsh restraints was jarring, creating a dissonance that was difficult to ignore. the guards remained by the door, their expressions guarded and unreadable. they exchanged a brief, knowing look before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone with the restrained man. their departure was marked by the soft click of the door as it closed behind them, and the silence that followed was thick and heavy.

you were left in the room with the man, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. the office, with its cold, clinical ambiance, seemed suddenly smaller and more confining. you took a deep breath, trying to center yourself as you prepared to begin the session. the man’s calmness was a definite contrast to the environment of the asylum. he patient’s eyes remained fixed on you, a quiet challenge in their depths, as if he were assessing you as much as you were trying to understand him. you could sense a subtle tension in the air, an undercurrent of anticipation that was almost overwhelming.

you took a deep breath, the silence in the room amplifying the subtle rustle of papers as you mentally prepared yourself for the interaction. the restrained man sat calmly in front of you, his demeanor a striking contrast to the harsh confines of his situation. you cleared your throat, attempting to steady your voice as you introduced yourself.

“hello, i’m doctor (y/n) (l/n),” you said, your tone measured and professional. “i’ll be working with you during this internship.” as you spoke, the man’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. it was a smile that seemed to hold secrets, one that both intrigued and unsettled you. Hhs eyes glinted with an unsettling mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“lee taeyong,” he said, his voice smooth and articulate. the name struck you with the force of a thunderclap. you hadn’t recognized his face immediately, but his name was unmistakable. lee taeyong—an infamous figure known for his involvement in shootings and robberies. his notoriety had led to his confinement in a correctional facility after being deemed mentally unwell. your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your face go pale, the realization dawning with a cold, unwelcome clarity. taeyong’s keen eyes caught the shift in your expression, and a dry chuckle escaped his lips.

“have you heard of me?” he asked, his tone laced with a subtle taunt. you nodded slowly, trying to mask the tension that was creeping into your chest. “yes, i have.”

his laughter was dry and devoid of genuine mirth, a sound that seemed to echo with a dark undertone. “so, are you gonna cure me, doctor?” he asked, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. you squared your shoulders, forcing yourself to meet his gaze with a confidence you didn’t entirely feel. “there isn’t anything i can’t cure.”

his response was immediate, and he leaned in abruptly, causing you to flinch involuntarily. the sudden movement was unsettling, and you found yourself instinctively retreating. taeyong smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. “are you afraid, doctor?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. you steadied your breathing, forcing a calmness into your voice as you responded, “i’m not.”

his eyes widened slightly in surprise. “you’re too pretty to be a doctor,” he remarked, the compliment carrying an edge of mockery. you raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the conversation on track. “why do you think you’re unstable?”

taeyong’s expression shifted slightly, his demeanor becoming more contemplative. “i don’t think i am,” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “but everybody else does. they think my urges are abnormal.” intrigued, you leaned forward slightly. “what kind of urges?”

his eyes darkened with a certain intensity as he spoke. “i like the fear and the thrill,” he said, his voice carrying a chilling calm. “the screams, the way everyone is powerless against me. it’s exhilarating.”

your mind raced as you processed his words, but you decided to take an unexpected step. you reached for the straps of his straitjacket and began to unfasten them, freeing his arms. taeyong’s eyes widened in surprise. “what are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

you smiled, trying to project a sense of ease despite the underlying tension. “i thought you might be more comfortable without the restraints.” his gaze remained fixed on you, his expression a blend of astonishment and wariness. “aren’t you afraid i’ll kill you?”

you met his gaze steadily, feeling a strange sense of calmness despite the gravity of the situation. “i don’t think you will.” his brows knitted together in confusion. “how do you know?”

“because,” you said softly, “i don’t believe you’re a bad person.” the sincerity in your voice seemed to take him aback. his eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked genuinely disoriented by your kindness. the atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, a tentative bridge forming between the two of you.

taeyong leaned back, his posture relaxing slightly as he began to open up in a way that was both fascinating and ominous. he spoke of his past, his thoughts, and his perceptions with a raw honesty that was unsettling yet compelling. his words were a tapestry of dark desires and twisted logic, but there was an underlying vulnerability that made it clear he was grappling with his own demons.

as the session drew to a close, he looked at you with an unsettling blend of anticipation and something akin to respect. “i look forward to seeing you again, doctor.” he said, his voice carrying an eerie calmness. to your surprise, you found yourself looking forward to it as well. there was something about the interaction, the unexpected connection, that left you both unsettled and intrigued. as you watched him being escorted out by the guards, the weight of the session settled on your shoulders.

the morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of your apartment, casting a warm, gentle glow over the room. yet, despite the comforting start to your day, your mind was occupied with a singular thought—your next session with taeyong. the anticipation was a new and curious sensation, one that both thrilled and unsettled you. there was something compelling about his presence, a magnetic pull that made you eager to continue your interactions with him.

as you prepared for work, you found yourself contemplating how to make the next session more engaging, more comforting for him. the idea of a small gesture—something that might break through the cold walls of the asylum and create a connection—seemed to be the right approach. you decided to get him a gift, a symbol of the positive interaction you hoped to foster.

you ventured out to a small, quaint shop that morning, one filled with charming trinkets and comforting knick-knacks. your eyes scanned the shelves until they fell upon a small, stuffed kitten, its plush fur a soft, inviting shade of cream. it was delicate and unassuming, a small source of innocence amidst the reality of the asylum. you picked it up with a sense of purpose, imagining how such a simple object might ease the harshness of taeyong’s environment.

when you arrived at the asylum, the day’s routine felt different. the walls seemed colder, the atmosphere more oppressive, but the small stuffed kitten in your bag provided a small spark of warmth. as you approached your office, you were taken aback to find taeyong already seated in the chair, an unexpected sight. his presence there, so much earlier than anticipated, stirred a peculiar flutter in your chest. “you’re early today,” you remarked, trying to keep your tone light and neutral.

taeyong looked up at you, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “i couldn’t wait to see you,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement that made your heart skip a beat. the sincerity in his words resonated deeply with you, and a small, inexplicable connection seemed to click into place. you felt a warm flush creep up your neck, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside, focusing on your planned gesture.

“i have something for you,” you said, reaching into your bag and pulling out the stuffed kitten. taeyong’s eyes widened with surprise and curiosity. “what’s this?” he asked, his tone a mix of intrigue and amusement.

you extended the kitten towards him, a smile playing at your lips. “it’s a little gift. i thought it might help make things a bit more comfortable here.” he took the kitten from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief, electrifying moment. as he cradled the stuffed animal in his hands, a look of genuine appreciation crossed his face. “i’m honored,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on the kitten.

you watched as he examined the plush toy with a sense of fascination. “i want you to take good care of it,” you said, your voice gentle. “if you can fight the urge to hurt it, then maybe you can fight the urge to hurt anything.” his lips curved into a mischievous smile as he toyed with the kitten, his fingers brushing over its soft fur.

“is that your way of challenging me, doctor?” he asked, his tone light but edged with an underlying seriousness. you nodded, trying to maintain a composed demeanor. “something like that,” you replied.

the session began in earnest, the conversation flowing with a new ease as taeyong’s attention seemed drawn to the small stuffed animal. he spoke of his past, his feelings, and his thoughts with a candor that was both unsettling and revealing. his insights were intertwined with moments of dark humor and cryptic reflections, making it clear that he was a man of contradictions. at one point, as you listened intently, his hand, still holding the kitten, brushed against a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face. the touch was fleeting but intimate, a gesture that caught you off guard. you looked up to meet his gaze, finding a depth in his eyes that was both intense and vulnerable.

“i meant what i said earlier,” taeyong said, his voice softening. “you’re too pretty to be a doctor.” you blinked in surprise, trying to process the compliment amidst the complexity of the situation. “what do you mean?” you asked, genuinely curious.

his expression remained earnest, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that was rare in such an environment. “you just don’t seem like someone who should be confined to this place. there’s something different about you.”

the moment lingered between you, charged with an emotional undercurrent that was difficult to define. despite the oddity of the situation, you felt a surprising warmth in his words. it was an acknowledgment of your humanity amidst the dehumanizing environment of the asylum. as the session drew to a close, you gathered your things, the small stuffed kitten resting on the desk between you. taeyong’s gaze followed you with an almost reluctant admiration, and there was a sense of anticipation in the air as you prepared to leave.

“i look forward to seeing you again,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of genuine hope. you nodded, a small smile touching your lips. “i look forward to seeing you too.”

with that, you watched as taeyong was escorted out by the guards, the connection between you both lingering like a faint but persistent echo. the asylum, with all its harsh realities, seemed momentarily softened by the unexpected bond that had formed. as you left for the day, the small stuffed kitten seemed to symbolize a fragile bridge between your world and his. you just weren't aware of how sturdy, nor how fragile, the bridge really was.

the weeks that followed your initial session with taeyong felt like a delicate dance, a precarious balance between professional distance and the growing, unspoken connection that had begun to develop between you. each session became a complex interplay of emotions and revelations, and you found yourself increasingly invested in his progress.

you had begun to believe, with a cautious optimism, that taeyong was making strides. the sessions were marked by moments of genuine insight and self-reflection from him, which seemed to indicate that he was grappling with his inner turmoil in ways that were both constructive and revealing. there was an undeniable progress, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope every time you saw him approach with that enigmatic smile.

during one particular session, you found yourself immersed in a conversation about his past, his regrets, and his aspirations. taeyong, with his characteristic curiosity and sharpness, suddenly shifted the focus of the conversation. “what about you, doctor?” he asked, his voice carrying a tone of genuine interest. “what do you struggle with?”

the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you hesitated. it was unusual for a patient to turn the spotlight onto you, especially someone like taeyong, whose own issues seemed so consuming. you took a deep breath, searching for the right words to encapsulate the truth.

“i suppose,” you began, struggling to find a way to articulate your feelings. “i've been lonely my whole life.” taeyong’s eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, the hardness in his gaze seemed to melt away. “no woman like you should ever feel lonely,” he said softly, his tone laced with an unexpected gentleness.

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you felt a sudden, almost overwhelming rush of emotion. you looked up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity. before you could fully process the weight of his statement, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “do you feel lonely with me here?” he asked, his voice a low whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

your heart pounded in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears as if to drown out the rest of the world. the proximity of his body, the intensity of his gaze, and the warmth of his breath combined to create a heady cocktail of sensations. you fought to maintain composure, but the answer came out more as a breathless confession. “no,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

taeyong’s fingers, moving with deliberate slowness, traced a path along your neck. the touch was light but electrifying, a sensation that left your skin tingling and your breath catching in your throat. “you shouldn’t,” he said, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible note of possessiveness.

the weight of his touch, the intimacy of the moment, and the raw honesty in his words created a potent mix of emotions that overwhelmed you. as the session drew to a close, you found yourself grappling with a tumult of conflicting feelings. the professional boundaries that had once seemed so clear were now blurred, and you were left with a gnawing sense of guilt for finding comfort in a connection that was fundamentally inappropriate.

the room seemed colder as you watched him leave, the reality of the asylum returning with its harsh, unyielding presence. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the echo of his breath in your ear, and the weight of his words in your heart. the session had brought a confusing mixture of warmth and unease, and as you locked up your office and walked out into the night, the loneliness you had tried so hard to combat felt more intense than ever.

as the days turned into weeks, the asylum’s sterile corridors and echoing chambers seemed to shrink in comparison to the burgeoning world of emotions you experienced during your sessions with taeyong. each encounter with him became a delicate interplay of professional duty and personal connection, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that you struggled to fully comprehend.

the sessions grew more intense and revealing, both for you and for taeyong. you could no longer ignore the way your heart would race in anticipation of each meeting. the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his presence seemed to fill the room with a bright energy—it was impossible to deny the deepening bond between you.

in one particular session, taeyong sat across from you, the small stuffed kitten now a constant companion in his hands. the stuffed animal had become a symbol of the connection you shared, its presence a silent witness to your evolving relationship. “you know,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of introspection, “i’ve been thinking a lot about what we’ve talked about. you’ve managed to get me to see things differently. i never thought i’d say this, but i think i owe you more than just my progress.”

you looked at him, your heart skipping a beat at his unexpected confession. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice steady but filled with curiosity. his gaze was intense, his eyes searching yours with an earnestness that was both disarming and endearing. “you’ve been patient with me, more patient than anyone else ever has. i think,” he paused, choosing his words with care. “i think you’ve made me feel things i didn’t know i could still feel.”

you could feel the weight of his words settling over you, a mix of excitement and apprehension. “and what is it that you feel?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. he took a deep breath, his fingers absently stroking the kitten. “i feel understood. cared for, in a way I never thought i’d experience again. it’s strange, but i think i’m beginning to look forward to these sessions more than i should.”

the admission struck a chord within you, and you felt a mixture of joy and sadness. joy at the progress he was making and sadness at the realization that your growing affection for him might blur the lines of your professional role. during another session, you found yourself struggling to maintain your composure as taeyong’s attention shifted to you in a way that felt increasingly personal. he leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

“you know,” he said, his voice low and intimate, “i’ve noticed something about you. you seem different when we talk. there’s something in the way you look at me. something more than just concern.” you felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement swirling within you. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

his eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours. “i think you care about me more than you let on. and i can’t help but feel the same way.”

the admission hung in the air, charged with an electric tension that was impossible to ignore. you felt a surge of emotion, a tumult of conflicting feelings as you tried to process his words. it was both thrilling and terrifying to acknowledge that your feelings for taeyong had grown beyond the boundaries of professional detachment.

as the session continued, his demeanor shifted. he seemed more relaxed, more open, and the connection between you felt more tangible than ever. the way he would smile at you, the way his eyes would linger on yours—it was clear that the emotional bond between you was deepening. you struggled with the guilt and the moral conflict of your growing affection for him, knowing that it was inappropriate yet feeling a profound, undeniable connection.

the day you arrived for your next session with taeyong, you felt an unusual sense of anticipation. the asylum's cold corridors seemed to blur as you walked briskly toward your office, your mind already filled with thoughts of the conversation you hoped to have. but as you reached the familiar door, a pang of anxiety hit you when you noticed the room was empty.

your heart sank as you turned to the guards stationed outside the office. “where’s taeyong?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm despite the growing concern. the guards exchanged uneasy glances before one of them responded. “they’ve decided to test their luck with another psychiatrist today. wanted to see how he’d react.”

a cold wave of dread washed over you, and you felt a sharp pang of heartache. before you could ask for more details, the silence of the corridor was shattered by a deafening crash. your heart raced as the sound of shattering furniture and frantic shouting reached your ears.

without a second thought, you sprinted down the hallway, your footsteps echoing in the sterile space. as you rounded the corner, you saw the scene unfolding in your office. taeyong, his face a mask of determination, was wielding a chair above his head, his muscles tensed in a show of raw strength. the psychiatrist lay sprawled on the floor, his face a picture of shock and pain. the guards were shouting, their voices a blur as they rushed toward taeyong. “what happened?” one of them demanded, their tone filled with both anger and concern.

his gaze, sharp and intense, found yours amidst the chaos. “i told you,” he said, his voice carrying a fierce determination, “i wanted to see doctor (l/n).”

the room seemed to freeze for a moment as his words sank in. he was swiftly restrained and escorted back to his cell, leaving you standing in the doorway of your office, your heart aching at the sight of the broken scene before you. the guards, now dealing with the aftermath of his outburst, left you waiting alone in the hallway. time seemed to stretch endlessly as you stood there, your mind racing with a tumult of conflicting emotions. when taeyong was finally brought out again, his demeanor was calmer, though his eyes held a deep, unfathomable intensity.

he looked at you with a mix of curiosity and something more personal. “what were you doing there?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with an edge of disbelief. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze. “i was waiting for you,” you admitted, your voice soft but earnest.

his eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features. “seriously?” you nodded, feeling a strange blend of relief and apprehension. “yes, seriously.”

once back in your office, the atmosphere felt charged with an electric tension. you sat across from him, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of the events. “why did you crash out like that?” you asked, struggling to keep your voice steady. “you were making so much progress.”

taeyong’s expression softened slightly as he reached for the small stuffed kitten that had become a symbol of your sessions. he held it up, its soft fur unmarred by the recent issues. “because,” he said, his voice softening with an intensity that made your breath catch, “i’m in love with you.”

the confession hung heavy in the air, and you felt a surge of conflicting emotions—shock, confusion, and a deep, aching resonance. you stared at him, unable to fully process the gravity of his words. “i am too,” you said finally, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission.

without another word, he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on you with a fierce, unyielding intensity. his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. it felt wrong, a violation of every professional boundary you had sworn to uphold. yet, the raw, desperate need to connect, to feel something beyond the crushing loneliness that had plagued you, overpowered your sense of propriety.

the kiss was intense, filled with a mix of longing and desperation that made your heart race. his lips were warm against yours, his touch both gentle and insistent. every brush of his mouth, every caress of his fingers, seemed to echo the depth of the emotions you had both been struggling to contain. as the kiss deepened, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions—guilt and exhilaration, fear and desire. the world outside faded away, leaving only the overwhelming intensity of the moment. the walls of the asylum, the rules you had so carefully adhered to, and the boundaries you had maintained all seemed to crumble in the face of the unexpected connection.

taeyong’s hands slid up your body, cupping your tits over your blouse. his thumbs brushed against your nipples, which hardened immediately under his touch. you gasped into his mouth, your body responding with a fiery hunger that was impossible to ignore. his touch was rough, yet tender, as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile bond that had formed between you. his words from earlier played in your mind, and you felt a thrill of arousal that was as surprising as it was undeniable. you pushed back from the desk, the chair scraping against the floor as you stood to face him. your hands found the hem of your blouse, lifting it over your head to expose your bra. his eyes raked over your body, dark with desire. “you have no idea,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “how long i’ve wanted this.”

you stepped closer to him, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. it fell away, revealing your full, round tits. taeyong’s gaze was glued to them, his pupils dilating as he took in the sight. he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he licked one nipple, then the other, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were moaning with need. your hands found his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard.

his hands moved to the button of your pants, and with trembling fingers, he unzipped them. you stepped out of them, feeling a sense of vulnerability that was both terrifying and thrilling. he pushed you back onto the desk, his mouth moving down your body as he kissed and licked a trail to your center. his fingers found their way inside your panties, stroking your wet folds.

his tongue darted out, tasting you for the first time. you moaned, arching your back as he explored you with a fervor that left you breathless. he was rough, yet precise, his touch speaking of a hunger that matched your own. you could feel his erection pressing against you through his pants, and the thought of his big dick inside you made you wetter still. his fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that had you panting. your hips rocked against his face, desperate for more. “please, taeyong,” you begged, your voice needy and wanton. “fuck me. make me feel alive again.”

his only response was to stand up, his eyes never leaving yours as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of it. he stepped closer, positioning himself between your legs, and without preamble, he pushed into you.

the sensation was overwhelming—he was so much bigger than any man you had ever been with. it was a stretch, a burn that bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense that you didn’t care. you gripped the edge of the desk, your nails digging into the wood as he began to thrust, hard and deep. his strokes were punctuated with dirty talk that made you feel like a whore, but it only served to make you wetter, to make you want him more.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, feeling his cock fill you completely. his breath was hot and ragged against your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. “you’re mine, doctor,” he growled. “no better cure than this pussy, fuck.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew that this was a line you could never uncross. but in that moment, as you felt him thrust inside you with a roar of pleasure, you didn’t care. he was close, his thrusts sloppy as his fingers pulled your hair, your whimpers making his dick twitch.

his hand slid down to cup your ass, his grip tightening as he pounded into you. your tits bounced with every impact, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin as he whispered obscenities in your ear. it was a symphony of degradation and lust, and you were the eager conductor, urging him on. your pussy was tight around his cock, gripping him with every stroke, and you knew you were close to the edge.

suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and needy. you looked up at him, your eyes glazed with passion, and he smirked. “turn over,” he ordered, his voice gruff. you complied, turning onto your stomach and spreading your legs, the cool desk against your burning skin. he stepped behind you, his cock nudging at your entrance again. without warning, he slammed back into you, making you cry out.

the new angle was exquisite, his cock hitting deeper, reaching parts of you that had never been touched before. you pushed back against him, your body begging for more. his hands gripped your hips, his nails digging in as he picked up the pace. “yeah, take it like that, like the slut you are,” he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and command. your cheeks flushed at the words, but you found yourself pushing back even harder, eager to prove his words true. with every thrust, he whispered filthy compliments about your body, his grip on your hips tightening as he fucked you like he owned you.

his hand reached around to play with your clit, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. your moans grew louder, filling the room. the sound of skin slapping against skin was the only music in the air, a rhythmic crescendo that grew more intense with every second. you felt your orgasm building, your pussy clenching around his cock. “that’s it, doctor. cum for me,” he encouraged, his voice hoarse with lust. and with a final, brutal thrust, you did, your body shuddering with the force of your climax. he followed shortly after, his seed spilling into you, marking you as his.

once the tremors had subsided, he pulled out, leaving you gasping for air. you felt the stickiness between your legs, a reminder of what had just transpired. as you looked back at him, you saw the smug satisfaction on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger. but it was quickly drowned out by the addictive thrill of the power exchange. you had never felt so alive, so desired. it was therapeutic. and as he stepped closer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, you knew that this was far from over. there was an unspoken promise in his eyes, a challenge for you to come back for more. and you knew, without a doubt, that you would.

as taeyong straightened his clothes, his gaze never left you, the intensity in his eyes as present as ever. he was murmuring something under his breath, and you had to strain to hear his words amidst the whirlwind of emotions you were trying to process. “i feel as if you’ve cured me,” he said softly, his voice carrying a sense of genuine relief.

you blinked, taken aback by his declaration. “are you serious?” you asked, your voice a mixture of disbelief and hope. he nodded slowly, a small, almost serene smile playing on his lips. “yes, i am.”

the room seemed to hold its breath as he began to dress himself, each movement deliberate and composed. your own heart raced as you grappled with the weight of his words. the promise of cure and the possibility of something more twisted together in your mind. he turned to you, his expression serious yet tender.

“i need you to do something for me,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “anything,” you replied without hesitation, your voice firm despite the storm of emotions brewing within you.

taeyong’s gaze softened slightly, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “i need a machine gun.” the request hit you like a jolt. “a machine gun?” you repeated, trying to comprehend the gravity of what he was asking.

“yes,” he confirmed, his voice steady. “if you don’t want to help me, i understand, but i need one.” you were silent for a moment, the enormity of his request settling over you. the ethical and legal implications were enormous, yet the urgency in his tone and the trust he placed in you compelled you to respond. shaking your head, you met his gaze with determination. “i’ll do it.”

taeyong’s eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and gratitude. he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “thank you for curing me.”

the warmth of his touch lingered long after he had left. that night, the enormity of hia request weighed heavily on you, but you were resolute. if this was what he needed, then you would find a way. the loneliness that had plagued you seemed to intensify with the knowledge of his needs, but it also spurred you into action. you spent the evening making discreet, cautious inquiries, your mind racing with worry and determination. you knew the gravity of what you were doing, the potential consequences, but the promise of alleviating your own profound sense of loneliness and his plea drove you forward. finally, after hours of careful navigation through back channels and clandestine meetings, you acquired the machine gun. it was a heavy, ominous object, wrapped in layers of secrecy and dread.

you stored it securely in a hidden compartment of your bag, the weight of it pressing down with a disquieting sense of finality. the next morning, you arrived at the asylum with a mix of dread and anticipation, knowing that the day’s session would be unlike any before. entering your office, you saw taeyong already seated, a patient yet expectant look on his face. your heart skipped a beat as you approached him, the hidden weight of the machine gun in your bag seeming almost to pulse with your anxiety.

“good morning,” you said, forcing a smile. “good morning,” he replied, his eyes immediately catching the glint of anticipation in yours.

you sat down across from him and carefully extracted the machine gun from your bag. his eyes widened in surprise and then satisfaction as you laid the weapon on the desk before him. “i didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and approval. “you said you needed it,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “i wouldn’t let you down.”

taeyong’s gaze softened as he reached out to touch the machine gun, his fingers brushing over the cold metal with a sense of reverence. “thank you,” he said quietly. “i knew you were the right fit for me.” the session continued with a shift in atmosphere. taeyong seemed more at ease, his demeanor less guarded and more open. the conversation flowed with a new ease, and you felt a strange sense of fulfillment. the machine gun, despite its ominous presence, seemed to be a catalyst for something deeper between you.

as the session drew to a close, you found yourself reluctant to leave, savoring the brief moments of connection and understanding. you had made significant strides with taeyong, and the realization that he trusted you so deeply was both exhilarating and unsettling. the rest of the day was spent in a haze of reflection. you sorted through files and paperwork, your mind frequently drifting back to him and the connection you shared. the solitude of your office seemed less oppressive, the quiet punctuated by thoughts of him. each task felt like a distraction from the growing realization that, in taeyong, you had found a source of profound connection.

in the quiet of your office, surrounded by the mundane tasks of your work, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had shifted. the loneliness that had once felt so encompassing now seemed to have been touched by the fleeting moments of intimacy and connection you had shared with him. you were less alone than you had been before, and yet, the path you were on was fraught with moral and emotional complexity.

the night fell over the asylum with a chilling, almost suffocating stillness. you were at your desk, sorting through a mountain of paperwork, the dim light casting shadows over the piles of files. the routine of your task offered a semblance of normalcy, a brief respite from the whirlwind of emotions and decisions that had consumed you lately. you were lost in the monotony of sorting and filing when an unsettling noise shattered the silence.

the distant sounds of gunshots, crashing furniture, and frantic screams pierced through the walls. your heart leapt into your throat as the reality of what was unfolding outside became painfully clear. Instinctively, you ducked under your desk, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you tried to stifle the rising panic. the noises outside were chaotic, a cacophony of violence and fear that seemed to grow louder by the second.

taeyong’s plan had taken shape, and the asylum was in disarray. he had enlisted the help of several other inmates, each fueled by the same chaotic energy that defined taeyong himself. the sound of gunfire rang out intermittently, each shot a reminder of the danger that now surrounded you. the air was thick with tension, and you could hear the muffled sounds of struggle and conflict as the inmates carried out their rebellion.

the commotion grew closer, and suddenly, two figures burst into your office. your heart pounded in your chest as they grabbed you roughly by the arms. you struggled against their grip, your cries of protest barely audible over the tumult outside. they dragged you to your desk and, despite your frantic attempts to break free, began restraining you with the belts from straitjackets. the leather straps cut into your skin as they bound your arms and legs to the desk, rendering you immobile.

you pleaded with them, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. “please, don’t do this. let me go. i’ll do anything.”

the inmates remained silent, their faces impassive as they completed their task. the office, once a place of calm and control, was now a prison, its familiar surroundings now oppressive and alien. as the last of the restraints were secured, the door creaked open, and taeyong stepped into the room. his appearance was striking against the backdrop of screams. he was calm, almost serene, despite the mayhem that had unfolded. the sight of him brought a mix of relief and dread. you gazed up at him, your eyes wide with terror as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“taeyong,” you said, your voice quivering. “are you really gonna kill me?”

he walked towards you with an unsettling calm, his expression unreadable. as he neared, he paused, his gaze locking with yours. “i’m not going to kill you,” he assured, his voice soft but carrying a chilling edge. “i just need to hurt you enough to make sure you’ll be mine.”

the words hung heavy in the air, and your heart raced as you watched him produce a small metal device from his pocket. the sight of the electric shock equipment made your blood run cold. it was an instrument of pain, and its presence signaled a new level of cruelty.

to your surprise, taeyong’s expression softened, and he took a step closer. “i know you thought you were helping me,” he said, his tone almost apologetic. “but now it’s my turn to help you.”

the device was cold against your skin as he pressed it to your head. a jolt of electricity surged through you, and your body convulsed involuntarily. the sensation was overwhelming, a harsh intrusion into your consciousness. you felt your mind slipping away from the present, a series of fragmented images and memories flashing before your eyes.

your mother’s face appeared, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow. then, your father, followed by your grandparents, each visage a poignant reminder of loss. the images shifted and morphed, replaced by a vision of yourself with taeyong. you were working together, your roles reversed, with him now a cured man, living with you in a semblance of normalcy. the visions continued, showing a future that was both alluring and terrifying. you saw yourselves speeding down a highway, the police in hot pursuit. the trunk of your car was filled with money, a symbol of the danger and thrill that had become intertwined with your relationship. the exhilaration of the chase was intense, but it was overshadowed by an undercurrent of dread.

the final image was the most haunting. you saw yourself detached, your love for taeyong twisted into something unrecognizable. the thrill had turned into a grim reality, the danger of your actions reflected in the cold, hard truths of your choices. the vision was a cruel reminder of the consequences that awaited you, the stark reality of a future bound by the darkness you had embraced.

as the electric shock subsided, your body trembled uncontrollably. your mind was a whirlpool of conflicting emotions and revelations. you felt a profound sense of numbness, the shock leaving you disoriented and frightened. the room seemed to close in around you, what used to be a familiar space now a prison of your own making. in the end, you wished it had killed you. death seemed more reasonable, more promising, than what the future had in store for you.

✧.*

a/n: requested fic!!! the smut part at least i really dk where i was going with this plot lol

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Taeyong insta update December 23rd '23