Chapter Text
The room was quiet, save for Yunho’s uneven breaths and the faint creak of the wooden floor beneath his knees. A single lamp cast a golden halo over his carefully arranged setup. The doll sat on the chaise, perfectly poised, its delicate frame propped up with precision, every detail immaculate. From its soft skin to the faint gloss on its lips, it was a masterpiece.
Yunho let out a shaky sigh, his gaze trailing reverently over the figure. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice heavy with devotion. His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to clasp one of its lifeless hands, marveling at the craftsmanship. The fingers were supple, the skin warm to the touch. Not for the first time, Yunho thought the doll seemed almost alive.
But it wasn’t. Couldn’t be. And yet…
“I’ve seen so many beautiful things,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over its knuckles. “But none of them come close to you.” The corners of his lips quirked up in a faint smile, as if the doll had somehow responded, though it hadn’t moved a muscle. It never did. That was the beauty of it.
He adjusted his position, the roughness of the floor beneath him a small price to pay for proximity. With deliberate care, he kissed the back of its hand, lingering as though savoring the moment. “Do you know what you do to me?” he asked, his voice dropping into something low and raw. The doll, of course, gave no answer, but Yunho nodded as if it had.
His free hand wandered downward, teasing the waistband of his sweatpants before slipping beneath. He groaned softly at the contact, his hips jerking into his palm as he began to stroke himself. The act was slow at first, measured, like a ceremony meant to be savored. “God,” he muttered, his gaze locked onto the doll’s serene expression. “You don’t even have to do anything, do you? Just sit there looking so damn pretty.”
The doll remained still, its head tilted at the perfect angle, lips slightly parted. Yunho’s breathing grew heavier, his grip tightening as he picked up the pace. “So quiet,” he said, his tone thick with need. “So obedient. You really are the perfect thing, aren’t you? My perfect little doll.”
The words spilled from him unchecked, praise and adoration that teetered on the edge of obsession. He leaned forward, brushing his lips over its knuckles again, a near-reverent kiss. “I should ruin you,” he whispered, voice trembling with the weight of his desire. “Paint you with my mess. Make you mine.”
His hand worked faster now, his movements desperate and erratic. Each jerk of his hips sent a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through him, tightening the coil low in his belly. “I’m going to make you filthy,” he groaned, his other hand coming up to cup the doll’s face as he began standing on trembling legs, hovering over the doll. Its lips were soft beneath his thumb, pliant and warm, as though inviting him to take that final step.
He came with a guttural moan, spilling hot and wet on the pretty thing’s tongue. His grip on the doll’s face tightened slightly as he tilted its head back, pressing into its mouth with his thumb. “Swallow,” he murmured, his voice rough and trembling. “Swallow it all, baby. Be good for me.”
The doll’s head tilted just so, its lips closing obediently. Yunho’s breath hitched as he watched, the sight sending a fresh thrill through him. “You’re so good,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the edge of its jaw. “So—”
“I hate you.”
The voice was small, hoarse, but unmistakably alive. Yunho froze, his breath catching in his throat as his gaze snapped to the doll’s face—no, Mingi’s face. His mouth was twisted into a pout, and his eyes were half-lidded with annoyance. He looked, for all the world, like a very disgruntled doll brought to life.
“You didn’t let me touch you,” Mingi grumbled, his voice petulant as he glared at Yunho. “You said I could touch you this time!”
The spell shattered, and Yunho barked out a laugh, equal parts relief and amusement. “You’re supposed to stay in character,” he chided, reaching up to wipe the corner of Mingi’s mouth with his thumb. “Dolls don’t pout.” He pinched Mingi’s nose, gently, watching it scrunch up in annoyance.
“Dolls also don’t get ignored,” Mingi shot back, his pout deepening. “You’re mean.”
“You love it,” Yunho replied, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. His voice softened, though his grin remained sharp. “And you’re still the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”
Mingi rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “I better get to ruin you next time.”