underbelly

by angelmist

Summary:

Yeosang had long since developed a habit of sticking his nose where it didn't belong, and he should be as grateful as he is equally terrified that such a habit has only just now come back to bite him once he's left tied above the mantel in a hardened hunter's home - put on living display as Song Mingi's most recent and most coveted prize yet.

Alternatively; Yeosang knew better than to bite the hand that feeds him, but rather than being given the grace of showing Mingi his gratitude for sparing his life on his chosen terms, it becomes increasingly apparent that the hunter has his own ideas in mind for how Yeosang should be made to pay back his newfound debt.

Notes:

details on tags

- inaccurate deer things ahead - yeosang is referred to as a buck and has antlers that are described but he also has a pussy because. why the hell not
- tagged as dubcon since explicit consent is never exactly stated nor are any of the kinks featured in this fic ever discussed before they occur, though all parties do enjoy themselves
- a brief mention of piss does happen in this part, but the actual kink element (as well as yunho’s appearance entirely) takes place in the second chapter.
- obligatory reminder that this is indeed fiction and therefore not a how-to guide on safe (or sane) sex and kink. please make sure you understand the tags before proceeding.

Chapter 1

Yeosang would love to argue that he didn’t try to look for trouble - rather, it was just that trouble had an insatiable knack for actively seeking him out.

It wasn’t that he had a nose inclined to snooping yet incapable of sensing danger, or even that he yearned for adventure outside of his rather monotonous neck of the woods as San would wholly accuse. While certainly not completely risk-averse, and perhaps less tuned in to his self-preservation skills as a prey hybrid like him probably should be, Yeosang would earnestly say he never does anything less than his best to keep himself out of harm's way.  

Whether or not he falls short of this goal more often than not would be a completely separate issue entirely.

Yeosang can’t exactly plan for the way he occasionally gets separated from the herd - an evolutionary inclination to finding safety in numbers seemingly having skipped him altogether, as his ever-wandering mind usually leaves his physical being to meander along with it. No destination notably in sight for his more conscious understanding to make sense of it, carrying with him a habitual absentmindedness, he would surely be chewed out for later.

Sometimes, Yeosang has the wherewithal to accept just how far out of the wheelhouse of his realistic capabilities he is when he finds himself once again, for all intents and purposes, lost. Perhaps enough to even plop himself at the base of a large tree to wait out the inevitable search party that will come back for him, his herd never having to travel much further before they notice the missing deer separated from their bevy. Seonghwa would eventually be the first to stalk up to him with his features set into one of genuine annoyance, any worry he could possess having dissipated the moment his eyes landed on a thankfully untouched Yeosang, and the beginnings of a lecture on danger preemptively curling his lips that Yeosang would pay little mind no matter how the older deer hybrid tries to spin his unintentional departure.

Because on those other days, occurring significantly less in frequency as he would continue to defend, when Yeosang feels as though he’s simply had it with monotony for routine’s sake, slipping away unnoticed served more closely to a deliberate act of small rebellion. One Yeosang got away more times than he could count with nothing more than a non-literal slap on the wrist and a grumble of always be aware of your surroundings gritted right by his ear.

Yeosang wasn’t nearly as naive as he might let on - knowing very well the risk of peril the brief, deviated path they took across a long stream cut scarily close to hunter’s territory. The specific hillside they tend to favor is one of rather rocky terrain, just uneven enough and too much of a hassle for many humans to thankfully attempt to traverse. 

For that reason, it was deemed generally safe for the routine travels they frequently left on, albeit not fully able to be guaranteed where the natural unpredictability as well as daringness of humans could still be called into question. Especially for someone as prone to upkeeping caution as Seonghwa tended to be.

“Stay close,” the older hybrid had all but barked as they descended a particularly problematic patch of mountain, sparing a pointed glance to his right at the deer struggling to untangle a thin vine from his unbranched antlers.

The message is purposeful in what it intended to imply; that being, it was meant for no one but Yeosang himself to take to heart. The firm tone was certainly not reserved for San, who had seemingly never gone against a direct order in his life, and definitely not for Hongjoong - who, while inclined to also preferring a very much his way or no way approach to most things, probably knew this particular forest better than the other three members of his bevy combined.

Yet again, another instance is presented in which Yeosang doesn’t intend to consciously disobey - but all he can reconcile is that one minute, his eyes are unmovingly on the back of Hongjoong’s head, and the next, he’s too distracted by trying to match his swift pace that he completely forgoes paying attention to where it is he’s actually walking. From the second Yeosang steps on a damp rock covered in a growth of fresh moss, it’s a given that there’s no remaining hope for him to scramble and refind his footing.

All too quickly, Yeosang is falling, positively tumbling more befitting, along the hillside he’d been up until then been carefully following his herd down. Despite Yeosang’s best attempts to stay watchful, his unwitting tendency towards clumsiness would always come back to bite him as he belatedly yelps during his drawn-out stumble, blindly reaching his arms out while fruitlessly trying to hold onto any of the weak foliage he passes on his accidental way down for support.

The overgrown brush that manages to significantly soften his fall does little to curb Yeosang’s irritation when he finally does stop rolling, pushing himself up on sore arms with a huff as he begins to blink away the dizzied swirling of his vision.

Even with the impact of his slip-up being eased by the plentiful greenery cushioning most of the hillside - equally having been the cause of why he had slipped to begin with while still being the main reason he’s only just aching all over - a glance down as his vision slowly comes back into focus reveals scattered marks of surface level scratches and cuts all over his arms. Thin, red lines of minimal injuries beaded with the earliest signs of blood are what greet him, and the buck’s head falls back with a groan.

“Just my luck…” Yeosang grumbles to himself while dusting off his dirt-covered knees, already preparing for the once in a life time scolding he’ll surely be getting from Seonghwa just as soon as he’s found again.

Though it hadn’t been close to Yeosang’s fault this time around - his point noticably proven as he attempts to stand back up with the help of the unknowingly mossy rock at his back, yet again slipping on the damp surface - his particular bunch would still surely have a lot to tell him about doing as he’s told and keeping a careful eye out.

The deer hybrid knew, objectively so, that it only came from a place of care between friends, or a group bonded much closer than even that; with how tight-knit the four had been for the majority of their lives. Yeosang had only been a tiny, frail thing when Seonghwa had first brought him into his herd, overly eager to prove himself and all he was truly capable of.

It hadn’t come easy, and Yeosang still didn’t currently stand as much to show for it; although, his muscles had started to define from the constant intricate travel as well as the roundabout paths they preferred to stick to. And regardless of even that, uncaring of if he would stay the largely helpless fawn he appeared to be at first, Seonghwa’s bevy had happily accepted Yeosang with open arms. Hongjoong and San were equally as kind as the first deer to help him to initially stand on his own shaky legs and brush off his dirtied knees.

While Yeosang appreciated the gentle care and kindness they showed him, often enjoying their special way of doting on him more than he’d ever care to fully admit, he was still capable of resenting how similarly trapped he was sometimes made to feel. Always one step behind the rest, literally and figuratively, a steadying arm constantly at the ready to reach out for him if need be, and a watchful eye never quite leaving his unpredictable figure.

The buck hated how he almost couldn’t be trusted, and definitely not counted on to fend for himself. It went without saying that no one would believe in him to make it on his own, and try as he might to fight his naggingly insecure thoughts, Yeosang also couldn’t help but wonder on occasion if that was the only reason the group kept him around. Assuming it would weigh too heavily on their consciences to leave an otherwise incapable hybrid all on his own, where he’d solely be promised to fail.

Tears stinging the back of his eyes, Yeosang attempts to shake away the unfounded worries from his mind. He felt pathetic enough as it is without letting his other insecurities add fuel to the blazing fire that was his actively unfolding and unfortunate situation, glancing around where he still hasn’t moved from the forest floor to only see miles of trees surrounding him. It’s startlingly silent too, aside from the every now and again curt squeaking of bugs and even more infrequent chirping of birds flying between said trees. By now, Yeosang’s herd had surely noticed him missing from their group, and were very likely working on their significantly safer path down the mountain to come search for him. A situation they’ve all been in more times than anyone would care to count.

Despite this, Yeosang thinks he can’t simply stay here. Spurred on by the slight unsettlement ever-present in his lower gut, and perhaps the smallest bit of aforementioned petty rebellion, he pushes himself up on wobbly legs, this time trusting the barely less slippery decaying leaves under him for support. Yeosang has little in mind for where he’s even meant to go, glancing around himself helplessly once he begins heading in no particular direction.

This is a bad idea. A grandiose, awful one at that, has a heavy dread pooling in Yeosang’s stomach along with the already established nerves from every noisy step he takes deeper into this unknown area of the woods. He realizes, maybe far too late, that he’d completely lost track of which side of the forest directly bordered hunter’s territory, and more specifically, the designated property line of the one human rumored to share the woodland area with them.

Perhaps more myth than actual man, Song Mingi was a name only whispered about amongst hybrids in the grove. Tales passed around about a rugged and ruthless hunter who was so dedicated to hunting for game, he settled for living off the land of the woods his chosen prey was known to largely inhabit.

Some of the stories that came around to Yeosang were so dramatized that he didn’t know what to believe, but there was absolutely no question what his particular bevy chose to put their trust in. Being better safe than sorry were more than just words to live by, but a mentality that had always kept them exactly that - safe. Even if Yeosang could logically argue that the hunting of hybrids, for sport or sustenance alike, had been outlawed long ago, Hongjoong would always counter with the same argument.

“Laws created by humans only confine so much inhumanity,” he would explain, causing Yeosang’s eyes to roll from having heard the tired speech for the uptenth time. “And man is the cruelest of them all when it comes to all things, whether they deem them close to human or not.”

Yeosang, [potentially more inclined to skepticism than he would’ve once assumed, couldn’t help but mentally compare how none of their other natural predators would care at all about if they were hybrids instead of full-blooded deer. Humans were surely no different than every other contributing part of the given food chain, societal expectations and individual morals be damned.

This certainly wasn’t to say Yeosang had a blind trust in humans to be more merciful by any means - rather, the opposite. His fear of all things unknown ran mostly the same, and humans were arguably the least he knew anything about in having never seen one up close. Although, he would be lying if he said hearing the name Song Mingi just in passing wasn’t enough to turn his head, his insatiable curiosity once again piqued by said things impossible to be known for sure.

He’d heard talks over the years of a quaint cabin the hunter had supposedly built himself, stationed dead center of a small opening in the woods, with the structure solely big enough for one man to live in. Rumors existed with varying levels of detail about the parting of the trees around his property allowing just enough sunlight to reach the various crops he had planted behind his house to decrease his need to drive back and forth to town for produce. Trips that were supposedly happening less and less the more Mingi became entirely sufficient on his large patch of land.

His actual appearance was where more of the different sources’ accuracy came into question - many describing him as the picture definition of a terrifying hunter with his broad stature and hardened expression, occasionally seen out chopping wood with a strength and ease that could only speak to how physically capable he truly was. While others claimed he looked much better suited to be constantly tending to the garden he was often found in, detailed as having plush lips and surprisingly pretty features on someone described to be so otherwise callous.

Yeosang had taken each and every story he’d heard with a grain of salt, nowhere putting in the amount of wide-eyed and unquestioning belief San had in them, while resigning himself to concluding he’d only ever find out the truth if he were to see such for himself. The thought alone has his uneven steps stuttering, a distant fear crawling down his spine at the notion alone.

He’s content to remain blissfully ignorant for the time being - walking with no single destination in mind, keeping close to fleeting hope that wasn’t heading straight into the line of danger. But before Yeosang can be left to wallow in more of his ever-racing thoughts, he barely catches sight of an unfitting sight among various hues of browns and pine greens.

A smaller line of trees proves to be what caught Yeosang’s attention as he turns his head, making a quick note of the vibrant leaves he knows must solely lead to one thing; mulberries.

Against his better judgment, if Yeosang could even say he had such to begin with anyway, the deer rushes forward, caring little about the noise he makes in the process to stand in front of the various trees. Sure enough, bunches of the dark fruit are ripening on the very branches they're growing out of, some already having fallen to the ground as they approach the end of their season. Scattered new growths of the berries are also in their early stages, a bright red and not yet ready for the picking.

Yeosang’s eyes widen at the sight, not having expected he would accidentally stumble across his favorite fruit in the midst of his unplanned trek, now left to similarly question just how far he had wandered off from the route his bevy was meant to be taking.

Nonetheless, with his chest still heaving and limbs a bit shaky from the foraging trip he was missing out on right about now and all the energy he exerted to take him this far, finding this mulberry tree couldn’t have come at a better time. Reaching out to pluck a ripe berry from its stem, the sweetness of the fruit almost serves to melt in Yeosang’s mouth, the familiar tang causing his shoulders to sag along with it in appreciation.

Greedily, he takes more and more mulberries, scarfing them down with a hurry he doesn’t need to possess, seeing as he likely won’t need to leave from where he stands currently. It’s as good an open spot as any for his bunch to spot him easily, connecting to a small clearing in the woods with no trees big enough to completely shield him. It should be at least a little concerning leaving his back as open as he actively is, but Yeosang is much too distracted by stuffing his cheeks full of all the sweet berries he can manage to truly weigh the risks of his position. So lost in his own world in fact, he almost misses it.

His usual absent-mindedness could easily be explained away if he were looking anywhere else, even if just as closely and solely as a means to an end to see where the next batch of freshly ripe mulberries began for his taking. Yeosang also can’t chide himself for not noticing it sooner, as his present angle gives him the best view of the outstretch of land as it continues on.

Without the small gap between the mulberry trees on his either side, Yeosang certainly wouldn’t have been able to catch the sliver of a glimpse he does at a cabin stationed a couple hundred yards off yet directly across from him.

Yeosang swears his previously racing heart stops all at once, his breathing following suit, as his already questionable survival instincts seem to choose freeze over anything remotely more useful. When his heartbeat returns, the hybrid can hear it in his ears, the usual sounds of various creatures in the forest falling to the back of his mind while he only stares straight ahead in stunned silence.

The longer he stands entirely still, the more he begins to relax at the complete lack of signs of life outside of the cabin. If someone, be it Mingi or another hunter entirely, was really staying there, it appeared that they weren’t outside. Whether that then implied they were inside the house or somewhere else altogether remained to be seen, but the buck didn’t intend to stick around to find out.

However, even in his earnest and growing desire to flee, Yeosang finds his feet almost feel as though they’re weighted to the ground, rooted firmly to where he’s standing. The danger he had unknowingly been walking towards could’ve been a lot worse than just scaring the daylights out of him as it had accomplished, but he isn’t given much time to be grateful for the small semblance of relief at so close a call when a voice sounding from behind him startles him even further.

“Yeosang!” It unmistakably belongs to that of Seonghwa, Yeosang can confidently determine even before he turns around to confirm it, although a wave of comfort does roll over him the second he does spin around to catch sight of his approaching figure. “Why did you wander off so far from the hillside? I was terrified you got hurt!”

Yeosang does curl in a bit on himself at that, his short-lived gratitude morphing into a soured shame at having made his herd worry, as San and Hongjoong, trailing not far behind the other deer with similar expressions of distress creasing their features. As much as the hybrid might want to playfully and sometimes more pointedly reject how doting his friends could be when it came to him specifically, he never wanted them to genuinely fear for his safety.

Although, Yeosang is less inclined to rush to reassure the older as he usually would that he’s completely fine as he grimaces, torn between wanting to shush Seonghwa on the off chance the distantly stationed hunter might be able to hear his booming voice and equally not making any references to an impending risk in favor of not scaring him even more.

Lowering his own tone to a near whisper, Yeosang can only fleetingly hope his message is received, “I was just—”

“Look at you,” Seonghwa quickly cuts him off with a frown, taking Yeosang’s wrists gently in his hands as soon as he’s close enough to reach out to turn his arms over with a concerned look over. “You’re bleeding.”

He falters yet again, guilt choking him at the feeling of Seonghwa’s warm and forgiving embrace when it comes to finally wrap around him. Even in all of Yeosang’s flaws and tendencies toward making the same repeated mistakes, he was still unconditionally cared for as he was. He was wrong for having doubted that very indisputable fact.

It becomes immediately easier not to mention the unexpected sight he had stumbled across as Seonghwa begins to drag him away from the mulberry trees. Although Yeosang tenses slightly once his back his turned to the area, but remains firm in fighting every instinct within him not to look back reactively and have the other hybrids catch on to his distress. Hongjoong, consistently the one in tune with each of their emotions, reaches forward to place a consoling hand on Yeosang’s lower back. The latter is simply glad he managed not to flinch in response to the unannounced touch.

“Do you have any idea how close you were to the hunter’s territory?” He chides, his tone soft despite the blatant accusation underlining it. Yeosang would continue to cower if he didn’t glance over right then to find the pure and unfiltered fear in Hongjoong’s eyes, paired with the way he purposefully kept his own voice soft. Yeosang feels his heart sink impossibly more.

“I… I got all turned around after I fell,” he slowly explains, bottom lip wobbling slightly. “I just started walking in a random direction, hoping it’d help you find me better. I’m sorry.”

Hongjoong sighs, never able to stay upset with Yeosang for long (even if not directly at him to begin with), as he reaches up to pluck a rogue leaf from his messied hair.

“Next time, just stay where you are,” he orders, no less stern. “No matter what, okay? We’ll always find you.”

Yeosang nods, trying his best to blink away the gathering wetness in his eyes. He has little idea when exactly he started shaking, only taking notice of the quivering of his form in that moment, but as the reality of what he just experienced begins to set in, Seonghwa comfortingly covers the back of his hands with his own.

“Let’s just get you back to the cave first, yeah?” San speaks up, drawing Yeosang’s attention his way as he throws an arm over Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Then we can properly get onto you for being such a klutz.”

The deer hybrid huffs a laugh at that, the jab earning San a small smile just as he had presumably intended. Being reunited with his herd does somewhat reassure Yeosang that all had fortunately turned out well this time, but the further they walk away from where things could’ve gone significantly worse, his thoughts practically have no choice but to be left lingering with the mysterious human living a solitary existence out in the middle of the dense wooded forest.

.˚ᨒ↟ 𖠰˚.

The next time Yeosang is out in the same neck of the woods that gave him the still-healing scratches on his arms, he unfortunately finds his curiosity in the elusive hunter has yet to leave.

His mind quickly starts to drift away from him the moment his eyes land on the offending patch of disturbed moss that had been the start of nothing good for him, the memory of his tumble and subsequent uncovering of what he presumed to be the mythical Song Mingi’s spoken of cabin striking him all at once.

Yeosang’s interest had been piqued more than he’d ever care to admit; his intrigue paired with a healthy fear at the prospect of something so new and unknown growing equally undeniable. He would also be reluctant to confess just how his newfound heed led him to seek answers from San of all people for the stories he himself had only ever paid half a mind to previously.

("That hunter?” San had tried to clarify, his head tilting slightly as he spared Yeosang a swift look over his shoulder. “What about him?”

Yeosang had shrugged, attempting to play up every bit of a faux disinterest, “Just… what are some of the stories you’ve heard about him?”

A lull of silence hung heavily between them, the sound of the beginnings of rain droplets on top of their temporary cave being the only thing to fill it. Yeosang had frowned at the noise, hoping Seonghwa and Hongjoong would be able to make it back before they got completely drenched by the rainfall that had abruptly begun without warning.

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” had been San’s quick and entirely all too expected counter, his monotonous deshelling of chestnuts briefly stopping in favor of turning his full body toward Yeosang.

Shaking his head as if to brush off the question, and any unspoken allegations that came along with it, Yeosang was eager to almost defend, “I’m curious, is all.”

It hadn’t been a lie. A grand understatement, maybe, but certainly not far from the mark in terms of the inarguable truth.

“Curious,” San repeated, breathing a soft puff of air in the form of a laugh. “You know, that nose of yours—”

“Will get me into trouble one day, yeah, yeah,” Yeosang had cut him off to finish, rolling his eyes while adding as a grumble. “You sound just like Seonghwa.”

His gaze dropped down as he, too, returned to their routine shucking of chestnut shells, lips tugging downward into an even harsher frown that was directed at no one but himself. For being seen as so dependent, for being such an unintentional troublemaker for those he cares about. He really didn’t try to cause more problems than he was worth; it simply seemed to be an unfortunate side effect for whoever unluckily decided to keep him around.

Another sigh left San as he slid closer to Yeosang over the rough cave floor, stopping only once their knees bumped together from his intended closeness.

“I barely know as much as you do,” San eventually relented, unable to stand the dejected look on Yeosang’s face for long. “Just the same stories that have been passed around the last few years. Apparently, the guy is a complete recluse and built his house entirely by himself. Cleared out his patch of land by cutting down his own trees for it and now lives completely self-sufficient.”

Yeosang had tried not to let his disappointment show, but must’ve failed horribly if San’s next suggestion was anything to go by, “Sorry, Sangie. Maybe we can ask Hongjoong if he’s heard—”

“No!” Yeosang rushed to interrupt, a whole separate kind of fear hitting him with enough force to almost leave him winded. The mere notion of confessing to either of his two other friends his unforeseen curiosity would certainly warrant nothing beneficial. Especially not something close to even the partial, however small, understanding San was gracing him with at that moment. “I mean… it was a silly question anyway. All that matters is we know roughly where he supposedly is to stay away from that area, right?”

San had plainly hummed, a contemplative look washing over his face as he playfully reached over to snatch the most recently shucked chesnut from the other hybrid’s hand. Popping into his mouth faster than Yeosang could react to, the other only huffed in exaggerated defeat, despite not being all that earnestly upset, even as San’s silent apology came in the form of offering the second half to him by holding it up to Yeosang’s lips.

Watching the deer eventually accept the nut after some prolonged teasing reluctance, San chuckled slightly, “Now who’s starting to sound like Seonghwa?”)

Yeosang feels largely like a liar, and mostly like a terrible friend, as his own words about staying away come back to pointedly bite him just days after that very conversation. He looks every bit of both of those things as the intrigue he’d attempted to downplay with San before is what ultimately motivates him to slip away from his herd, only this time done entirely on purpose.

His stomach swims with guilt once he specifically waits for them to reach the bottom of the mountain, offering a tight-lipped smile in response to Seonghwa’s instinctive glance over his shoulder. The nod of acknowledgement he gets in return simply adds to the burning pile of Yeosang’s growing shame, his heart jumping to his throat as he takes the chance to dart away unnoticed - fully aware of the fact that his bevy won’t feel the need to insistently check on him now that they’re on even ground and seemingly out of harm’s way. Furthermore, notably distanced from the hunter’s territory that Yeosang turns around toward.

The brief window of opportunity will realistically only give him a few minutes before someone makes note of his disappearance, and the search that would then follow would surely end even quicker than his last. So his mission is simple; stick to one straight path and simply hope he’ll come across a line of familiar mulberry trees. Or, rather, any trees that look even in the same vein of familiar in having seen them before, yet separate from any of the many trips his group has taken through these particular woods.

Yeosang doesn’t have much faith in himself to tell apart the difference, but his conviction had apparently moved to set in stone before he even so much as realized it.

The mulberries are certainly part of his selfish motivation, he would defend till kingdom come. Just the passing thought alone of their undeniable sweetness has his tongue darting out to wet his lips, despite knowing how ridiculous such a reason was to risk putting himself in danger all on its own. His ever-grating need to always see things for himself could be traced back to the most blatant probable cause, his stubbornness equally, if not more, irritating to himself as well.

Still, Yeosang’s stride remains determined once it falls to a brisk walk from the cautious sprint it had all but started out as, attempting to continue forward uninterrupted without taking any unnecessary twists and turns that would only serve to confuse him more.

He has no way of knowing how long it is he walks for, though he would choose to believe - if not being slightly biased - that the sun doesn’t move from its place high up in the sky during his travels, and his breathing has only just started to grow uneven when he finally sees it. This time, with the cabin being undoubtedly the first thing to catch his attention, even over the fruit trees he had just highly praised. As the realization of his successful pursuit dawns on him, Yeosang’s feet kick up dirt from where he comes to a complete and abrupt stop, and his tail moves to raise in preemptive alarm behind him.

Now would be a good time as any to come to his senses - albeit, doing so much sooner than the very moment he’s in the line of potential danger would’ve been much preferred. From where Yeosang stands, if not a bit farther away than he had been days ago, the dark log cabin straight ahead of him seems to loom with the weight of uncertainty. He has no way of knowing if it’s actively being occupied, if the rumored hunter is currently on one of his rare trips to the closest town, or if the home has actually been abandoned entirely with the possibilities for each being equally distributed.

However, his first confirmation of the final assumption is notably disproven as he takes careful steps toward the structure, his heart feeling as though it might beat out of his chest from equal amounts of fear and unwarranted adrenaline, the change in perspective slowly revealing the sight of many planter boxes lining what appears to be the backyard of the property. At least, the area closest to the actual cabin rather than the actual starting line of said property that Yeosang has undoubtedly since crossed by now.

The wooden boxes, appearing also to be manmade, are separated intentionally and seem to be spaced apart with ultimate precision. As Yeosang surges closer, the various colors begin to stand out, vibrant hues of greens and yellows and reds from the many solely visible fruits and vegetables planted in them. Some he’s less familiar with than others, more used to the wild variants of those he might come across more often, but his steps stutter slightly when his eyes land on one in particular that stands heads above the rest in capturing his interest.

“Is that…” he starts to whisper to himself as he continues forward, head tilting slightly.

He doesn’t doubt his vision for a second - Yeosang has always had a preference for strawberries, a sweet tooth in general for everything that promised sugar if Hongjoong were to have a say in the matter, and it only makes sense that they are the first to fully catch his eye. While wild strawberries tended to have a stronger flavor than those more intentionally grown, they were significantly smaller, requiring a good amount of foraging to satisfy Yeosang’s particular craving. Not to mention, he didn’t often have the patience to graze large patches of green for the minuscule pops of red. 

The strawberries growing in this homeowner’s, whoever that might be, meticulously planted garden were colorful and multiple times the size of any he could find out on his own. Spurred on by a heedless appetite he wouldn’t be able to otherwise quell, Yeosang slowly moves to kneel by the garden bed, his hand swiftly reaching out for the all intents and purposes forbidden fruit before he’s even fully shielded himself behind one of the wooden walls surrounding them.

The planter box itself doesn’t offer him much coverage from any potential predator or, worse, hunter, he realizes, but Yeosang has little left in him to care about anything else but the fruit between his teeth as he finally bites into the strawberry. The taste is even better than he remembers, the rich tang causing him to hum in content. There aren’t many completely ripened ones to choose from, he makes note of with a small pout, as the small plant providing them offers rather slim pickings. Regardless, Yeosang reaches for another, any remaining caution he could even fleetingly hope to have shamelessly thrown to the wind yet again.

This human - be it Song Mingi, another hunter entirely, or someone completely removed from the tales Yeosang has heard about for years - was certainly a talented gardener if absolutely nothing else. Not that he could yet speak for the other foods this person appeared to be growing, too stuck on his favorite fruit of them all to pay mind to any others, these specific berries were easily some of the best he’s ever had.

Between eager bites of strawberries, the deer hybrid’s eyes curtly glance up in the direction of the cabin right across from him. Yet another thing to add to the growing list of mistakes and things he should’ve been paying much closer attention to - as he hadn’t even thought to consider how close he now was to the building in his daze to get a better look at the vegetation he’d gotten thoroughly distracted by.

Where he had only been able to gauge its general shape and size from a few hundred feet away before, now up much closer, he could distinctly see where each log was stacked on top of one another, the corners notched to interlock firmly together. The wood stain used to coat them is darker than Yeosang can tell the original wood must’ve been, helping the otherwise out-of-place structure to blend in seamlessly with the dark forest that surrounds it.

The two windows spaced evenly apart on the wall Yeosang is in clear sight of are the next thing he notes with a heavy heart, his next swallow of a mouthful of strawberries going down with a rather harsh gulp. Squinting his eyes, he can just barely make out the existence of a white cloth covering them from the inside, the acknowledgement of curtains causing his shoulders to sag in presumptuous relief.

It’s entirely misplaced, he can admit, seeing as he has no right to begin feeling safe solely because no danger is seemingly not yet visible. The heightened risk was still undeniably there, looming over his head in the form of a dark storm cloud, uncaring of the actual clear skies above the clearing he’s in.

Such a beautiful early fall day wouldn’t speak for the mercy Yeosang would be shown should he be caught red-handed in the position he is now - his hands, and surely his face too from where he’s always been a messy eater, covered in the indisputable evidence of what exactly he’d been up to.

No good, if stated so simply.

Despite his acknowledgement of all things done wrong in the past hour at most, or days perhaps more befitting, the hybrid reaches out yet again, not quite done greedily taking more than he’s earned, when a sudden sound manages to stop him. Rather than flinching instinctively, the ice-cold fear that rushes over him, much like a bucket full of water with the same effect causes Yeosang to freeze once more. His eyes are apparently the only part of him that chooses to keep operating properly, darting around hurriedly in an attempt to locate the source of what sounded to be metal scraping against metal.

Although, as soon as Yeosang’s eyes catch the slightest bit of movement, it’s as if all his faculties kick back in at an instant. Gratefully, he can finally move only when alarm bells have already started blaring in his mind and his breathing threatens to stop completely, though the latter serves as little to deter him when he begins scurrying away as if the chance to do so might just be stripped from him before he even knows it - because truthfully, it very well could be.

Scampering away to the best of his abilities, while making much more racket than is at all helpful to his current situation, Yeosang runs as far as he can to the first somewhat out of the way hideout he can reach - that being, a large rock sat just some leaps and bounds away from the planter boxes.

If absolutely nothing else, it offers him some protection against who or what was apparently coming, a small grace in perhaps the best-case scenario being if he truly managed to get away without being heard or seen. It’s a rather pitiful hope to cling onto, given how unintentionally loud Yeosang had been while trying to hurry away, but one he can only count on regardless.

His knees begin to buckle the very second he rounds the boulder, gratefully being shielded as he clambers along the ground, rushing to press his back against the cold stone. Temporary refuge fills him, but it isn’t made to last when the huffing of his strained breathing is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of footsteps. He could almost believe they shake the very ground his sprawled out hands rest upon from the sheer force of the stomps, echoing with the thump of heavy boots on wood until it fades into the slightly softer crunching of leaves.

Yeosang presses himself impossibly harder against the rock at his back, as if he can count on it to single-handedly save him should the person walk straight over to him. It’s hopeless, he knows - seeing as if he had been seen, only now choosing to fight would certainly prove fruitless. He’s unequivocally stuck, at least until he can consider another course of action that so much as sounds any bit more appealing.

He sinks further and further to the ground with every step he hears thud against it, the person similarly not even trying to be quiet as their strides clearly reflect an undeterred confidence. Presumably, from having every right to be where they are - which could only leave Yeosang to assume this must be the owner of whoever’s cabin this actually is.

There’s another audible thump from what sounds akin to an object being dropped onto the ground. The stranger sighs as their languid pace comes to a halt, and the crunching of leaves also stops after another tense moment. Gone now are the most jarring of noises, leading Yeosang to suspect that the person isn’t actively approaching him as he slowly uncoils at the calmer rustling of vines.

If he had to guess from his own extensive experience foraging, and solely without actually seeing what’s going on behind him, the buck would deduce that the homeowner must be harvesting their crops. Plucking their vegetation straight from the soil they’re growing in, if not the vines themselves. It should be enough for Yeosang simply to gain some peace of mind from that, banking on the fact he barely evaded being found, while preferably enough to aid him in now thinking of a better way to get out of such a predicament hopefully unscathed - but for a reason he can’t exactly pin down, Yeosang finds that same grating curiosity crawl to the front of his mind once more.

It’s truly pointless. Also, entirely reckless, that the hybrid is genuinely considering risking compromising his position for the sole sake of catching a glimpse of the stranger. He has little idea of how to better explain why he’s suddenly so set on potentially proving the countless rumors he’s heard about the mysterious hunter inhabiting their woods for so long now. The least he knows is that his unwavering desire to see for himself is one purely selfish, driven by a new need for adventure, far from one Yeosang had ever thought he’d possess. Still, even with his mind flashing an angry red in alarm at the danger he’s willingly continuing to put himself in, he slowly moves to peek around the rock obscuring his vision.

And as soon as the hybrid’s eyes land on the stranger, he’s left partially winded for an entirely new reason.

The man is both everything and nothing of what he had pictured. Undeniably, recognition sparks alive inside of him despite never having been able to put a face to the name that’s plagued his every waking thought for the past few days. Yeosang simply knows this can only be Song Mingi, the supposedly merciless hunter he’s heard so much about in the past few years.

The stories having described him as tall and dauntingly broad certainly ring true - and Yeosang distantly wonders if the lingering fear churning in his gut speaks for how genuinely huge he perceives Mingi to be, not at all helped by his lowered viewpoint of him from the forest floor. Though, unlike the same tales that referred to him as rugged and visibly looking every bit as cruel as he apparently was, was where Yeosang hesitated to agree. Rather, he already sided with the half he’d heard mention how unfitting of a hunter title seemed to pair with such an unfairly beautiful human.

He’s irrevocably stunning, too. Pretty in a way the deer might describe a vibrant sunset behind a densely forested mountainside or a dark blue lake twinkling during its calm movements under the moonlight’s reflection. Mingi’s overgrown raven strands of hair fall in front of his eyes as he works, swiftly with a learned kind of haste rather than a desire to rush through his mindful harvesting of his very crops. He shakes the hair from his face while in the midst of his gathering, the pause he takes to examine the carrots in his hand giving Yeosang the time to admire his high nose bridge and full lips that are slightly pursed in concentration.

Mingi is entirely in his own world, just as Yeosang is while simply admiring the wonderful picture he makes within it, completely unaware of his unannounced visitor. Throwing the vegetables from his hand into the basket at his side, the human reaches for its handle as he moves to stand. Reactively, Yeosang goes to hide further behind the rock separating them as Mingi moves, before his eyes all at once latch on to the glimmer of metal running down the entire length of his back.

He could’ve gotten thoroughly distracted by the mole on the left side of Mingi’s face to not notice it, and must’ve been paying too much keen attention to the other one under his eye to take note of the telling strap wrapped around his front, but it’s only in that very moment that Yeosang finally acknowledges the large shotgun wrapped around Mingi’s person.

He gasps softly at the sight of it, his hand quickly coming up to clamp over his mouth to hold any more unwitting sounds back once he starkly recalls the fear he would be justified in having. The silver barrel of the weapon peeks out just above Mingi’s shoulder, the rest of its body extending behind him, where the butt of it rests close to his hip. Dramatic in size and presumably power as well, Yeosang harshly swallows at the gun’s pristinely kept condition. Its mix of metal and wooden components is clearly taken care of well for a man who definitely relies heavily on the weapon, discomfort prickling the deer hybrid’s skin from the much-needed reminder of what Mingi was. Still a hunter at the end of the day.

It’s as Mingi gets closer to his cabin that Yeosang belatedly remembers his last chosen option of flight - the last one he’d pointedly forgotten while lost in an odd mix of trepidation and admiration in Mingi’s contradicting presence. Sensing his slightly safer window of opportunity, and crossing his fingers that the hunter would either be too preoccupied or unconcerned with Yeosang’s existence entirely if he were to see him now, he pushes himself up on shaky arms and takes off.

Yeosang runs like he’s never run before. Runs as if the earth is crumbling behind him, and the falling ground is quickly gaining traction on him. He runs as if Mingi is also hot on his tail with his shotgun in hand because, as far as he knows, not quite having the courage to spare so much as one single look behind him, he very well might be.

He can’t hear anything over his quivering breathing, the near-painful beating of his heart against his ribcage, or the twigs occasionally snapping under his hurried strides. Yeosang can only pray that his rapid leave goes as unnoticed as his initial arrival had been, and that he’s able to get away, if only to say he lived to tell the tale of having also survived catching a glimpse of the ever-elusive hunter.

All whilst, in the best-case scenario that Yeosang wasn’t being actively pursued, he carried with him the unspoken understanding that no word could ever be uttered of what he’d truly gone out in search of, much less what he had actually managed to prove. Regardless of whether or not his chances of finding such would be believed even then.

Once his legs begin to burn from exertion and the pounding of his heart feels as though it reaches his throat, Yeosang finally decides to risk a glance behind him. The truest forms of relief must be hard to come by, however, seeing as not long after the welcomed emotion rushes over him at the sight of completely empty woods behind him, an unfiltered terror racks the buck’s body when he blindly runs into the chest of another body, and arms move to easily wind around him in a tight hold.

“Thank goodness it’s you,” San’s voice reaches Yeosang’s ears just as a scream stifles itself in his throat, the other hybrid surely feeling him all but melt into his friend’s arms. “You almost gave me a heart attack! What happened?”

Yeosang heaves for air, turning sharply in San’s strong embrace to survey the woods behind him. Paranoid, his eyes dart between every shadowy corner he can see, his posture still stiff as a board.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he rushes to say as he turns back, the words leaving a sour tang on his tongue right when they fall from his lips. He’s developing an awful habit of apologizing for entirely avoidable things as of late - and is beginning to worry that when, assuming they hadn’t already, the admission will lose its meaning altogether. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Sangie, it’s okay. Just catch your breath first,” San starts, his tone a touch more stern while his hand starts to comfortingly run up and down Yeosang’s lower back to placate him. Yeosang only feels his chest stutter more at the distress shining in San’s eyes while he exaggerates a deep breath for Yeosang to follow, leaning slightly back to give his trembling figure a once-over. “Are you alright?”

He exhales shakily, eventually refinding his footing and easing some of his weight off of San. Feeling the sudden tiredness that begins to seep into his legs, Yeosang briefly wonders how long it’d actually been since he got intentionally separated from his herd.

“I, um, got scared,” he starts to explain after a beat, steadying himself with another drawn-out inhale. “I thought I saw someone - or, something, following me, but it looks like I lost it.”

San’s gaze travels thoughtfully over Yeosang’s face, seeming to be in search of any signs of deceit. The deer hybrid truly has never been a gifted liar, not even a naturally embellisher, but whatever San finds in his expression must be enough for the time being as he releases a small huff of air through his nose.

“Seonghwa is going to tie your guys’ arms together the next time we head out at this rate,” he somewhat jokes, although Yeosang also doesn’t dare doubt the validity of such a claim. Stepping back shortly, albeit not far enough to release his hold on Yeosang entirely, San jerks his head in the direction he had presumably come from as an unspoken instruction. “Come on, I’m sure Hongjoong is getting sick of consoling his worrisome ramblings right about now.”

Wordlessly, Yeosang nods his readied agreement, fully allowing himself to be tucked securely into San’s side as they begin on their long trek back. Even with the comforting warmth San so easily provides, he despises the way his mind still manages to wander unproductively back to the adrenaline that was only just pumping through his veins, igniting a certain fight for survival inside of the hybrid unfamiliar to anything he’s ever known in always having played things relatively safe.

More than solely hating how uncharacteristically reckless he has recently become, Yeosang also particularly loathes how he already knows this fruition of his curiosity won’t be his last.

.˚ᨒ↟ 𖠰˚.

A certain someone is really growing too fond of pressing his luck.

Yeosang isn’t the type to point fingers, regardless of how much he might feel it isn’t needed, as his solemn expression stares back at him in the undisturbed stream at his feet. He toes at the water purely to cause a ripple effect and distort the sour reflection from his view, not in the mood to so much as deal with his own nagging thoughts.

Thus far, they’ve only managed to cause trouble for him anyway, just as he’d been pointedly warned they eventually would his entire life. Hence also why Hongjoong had been effectively put on guard dog duty over him for the day, while Seonghwa and San had started out on a trip that Yeosang couldn’t otherwise be trusted to complete if allowed the grace to join them.

“Do you just plan to sit there and sulk all day?” Yeosang’s enforced supervisor asks after presumably growing tired of the silence they’ve been sitting in, as well as his occasional splashing around in the crystal clear river all by himself.

It’s a bit chilly out for a float in the stream, too windy for Yeosang himself to even dip more than just his feet in, so he has little idea how Hongjoong is managing a full body submerge without so much as shivering.

“Preferably,” comes his curt response, similarly not bothered to listen to any excuse Hongjoong could pass along his way for his current, as it were intended, punishment.

Despite this being undeniably the case, as Hongjoong starts to languidly swim over to him, Yeosang knows he’ll be getting an unnecessary explanation either way.

“You know Seonghwa is just worried, right?” He starts once he’s close enough for his tone to tilt a touch softer, not quite a whisper, but effectively delivered only loud enough for Yeosang to hear if anyone else were to be around them. “Hell, we all are. You seem so… faraway, these days.”

Yeosang scowls slightly from the bitter reminder Hongjoong’s words bring of the otherworldly scolding he’d received from Seonghwa the day before. He’d been left genuinely stunned by how angry the other hybrid was able to get at him - certain he’d only been minutes away from the vein in his neck popping or witnessing proper fumes coming out of his ears before Hongjoong dragged him away to cool down. Reaching up a hand to rub at the suddenly hot skin at the base of his neck, Yeosang still struggles to fully shake the shame that had rolled over him in waves at Seonghwa’s verbalized and otherwise heavily implied disappointment in him.

“How can I be faraway when I’m constantly being coddled like some misbehaving fawn?” Hongjoong’s head tilts to the side before Yeosang even finishes, his eyes narrowing challengingly and only letting up once the younger corrects. “Well… when I’m not accidentally separated from the herd, that is.”

Not a complete exaggeration of the truth this time, although it’s not even a thought in Yeosang’s mind to even partially reference how yesterday’s incident had been anything but an accident, no matter which way he could scramble to try to spin it now.

Even with how unimpressed Hongjoong still appears, he relents on that front, “I don’t mean physically - most of the time, at least. You’re just so lost in your own head recently, even more than usual. I only figured you would’ve told us by now if something was truly bothering you.”

As Hongjoong comes to rest his arms on the bank Yeosang sits on, his features a bit downturned into earnest disquiet, Yeosang once again is left to chide himself for being the direct cause of such concern. His bevy simply cares, he knows, much more than he honestly feels deserving of in this moment. Especially as the scattered dots on Hongjoong’s bare arms serve to remind Yeosang of all the moles sparsely marking up a particular hunter’s skin, of which he hadn’t been given the chance to wholly admire before he was spooked away.

Such a realization stands noticeably as more missed opportunities he undoubtedly wouldn’t get the chance to rectify if his actively ongoing grapple with admitting to his plentiful wrongdoings was anything to go by.

“I’m—” Sorry already wasn’t going to cut it in anymore - not in his mind, and surely not Hongjoong’s either. Reassurances could perhaps be worth settling for instead. “Nothing is troubling me. But I guess I have been letting my mind get away from me more often than not lately.”

Again, it’s not a lie. Albeit, Yeosang is beginning to suspect that getting the entire truth out of him any time soon simply shouldn’t be counted on anymore.

“I’ll say,” Hongjoong huffs his form of agreement, and Yeosang’s shoulders relax slightly. Just because he wasn’t lying through gritted teeth to one of his friends didn’t mean that doing so made him any less tense. “I guess what I really want to tell you is just to let us in, yeah? When you start to wander off in any sense of the word, all you have to do is say so.”

This time, Yeosang’s teeth clamp firmly together in his mouth as he has to forcibly speak past them, “Okay. I will.”

To absolutely no one’s surprise, including Yeosang’s own, he notably doesn’t.

He’s left staring at Hongjoong the same way he had while watching the hybrid push himself out of the frigid waters, now eyeing the lax figure he’d become in San’s arms with a saddened crease Yeosang can feel continuously deepening between his eyebrows. San will insist to no end on how he can’t sleep without something in his arms, and with Seonghwa having pointedly stolen (the buck’s words) his chosen cuddle buddy for himself, Hongjoong had been the next viable, even if rather unwilling, option. 

He shockingly hadn’t put up much of a fight in San’s velcro grip that would have refused to let up either way, going noticeably limp soon after the larger hybrid himself did. Though, Yeosang would note it as significantly less unbelievable where Hongjoong’s unspoken appreciation for the additional provided body heat on such a rather cool night could be argued, as much as he would otherwise vehemently deny such if awake.

Yeosang himself had been similarly wrangled into Seonghwa’s excitable arms so soon as he and San arrived back just at the start of sunset, allowing himself to be manhandled to the mossy cave floor until the older fell asleep in quick succession of the rest of their bunch.

While not their heaviest of sleepers by any means, it seemed today’s foraging trip had really taken it out of Seonghwa for Yeosang to manage slipping out of his hold unnoticed, the deer not so much as stirring at all. Gaze traveling over the three remaining members of his herd resting so peacefully, Yeosang genuinely takes a second to further mull over whatever it is he hopes to gain from sneaking away yet again - this time with absolutely no warning for his bevy currently at their most vulnerable.

In the same breath, he wishes to convince himself that such would be the significantly lesser of two evils. His friends could catch up on much-deserved rest peacefully without the unneeded stress his unpredictable presence brings, and Yeosang could make it back before this disappearance would ever be made note of.

What he even yearns to go searching for is a more pressing question he can’t so much as begin to pick apart now. As he starts toward the opening of their cave, Yeosang himself struggles to make sense of precisely why he’s become so intent on putting himself in active danger, a one-sided game of cat and mouse that would end terribly for him should his competition actually take full advantage of their clear upper hand. In which case, with the heightened stakes put in place, Yeosang would be the only one losing anything at all with the great risk and much lesser reward he was pining for.

He should’ve learned his lesson the very moment his life all but flashed before his eyes at the sight of Mingi’s sturdy shotgun. Dependable man-made hardware determined to take no more than one singular bullet to fulfill the purpose it was crafted for when placed in experienced hands, ones Yeosang generally expected Mingi to have purely based on the grandeur of the stories passed along about him. He was feared for a reason, he realistically understands - and for a reason unbeknownst to himself, that seemed to be indiscribably what intrigued the deer hybrid impossibly more.

So, he heads out. Guided only by the finicky moonlight sporadically lighting his path through the trees overhead, Yeosang begins on a path he was growing increasingly familiar with at this point. A rocky hillside, followed by an uneven slope of leaf-littered forest floor and roots protruding from the ground, all while keeping a keen eye out for a line of mulberry trees he could count on to prove he’s on the right track.

Yeosang somehow finds it easier to get around the woods in the near pitch black, perhaps aided a bit by his increased night vision as well as not dealing with as loud of a nagging voice at the forefront of his mind reminding him how much unnecessary worry he was causing, since hopefully no one was aware of his departure just yet. Spurred on by that small consolation, and equally a mounting need to chase that same pumping high sensation of adrenaline he’s only felt twice before, Yeosang’s motivation to continue surging forward is unwavering.

Ducking under the occasionally low-hanging branch and trying his best not to trip over any particularly large rocks in his way, his steps begin to slow as he approaches the memorable clearing that hasn’t once left his mind all week. Shakily brushing his hair from blocking his view, a similarly quivering breath leaves the hybrid, taking none of his now fully expected anxiety with it. 

When exactly he had become nothing short of infatuated with the way every nerve in his body seemed to ignite with an ignorant anticipation was beyond him. An otherworldly suspense, arguably for what as well, he couldn’t quite say. The best Yeosang could figure was that the mystery of it all, Song Mingi and the spoken of legends about him alike, were more enticing than they had any right to be. Easily drawing him in, akin to a moth to a flame, just as Yeosang had been to the fruit trees days ago that he could still have the gall to blame for setting him on this downward, reckless spiral. No matter how unfounded such an accusation honestly was.

Stepping in between the slim parting of two of the offending trees, Yeosang curls in on himself while looking around, as if the small act is single-handedly enough to keep him concealed from any potential onlookers. His eyes shortly scan the open area of the woods until they fall unmoving on the rough outline of Mingi’s log cabin. 

The form is indeed all he can manage to make out of it in the low light. With the distance and added shadows provided by the much taller trees surrounding its other side, the vaguest outline of the structure is the most Yeosang can see. That, paired with how every light inside of it appears to be off, offers him no more tells as to where the hunter could be. If even inside his cabin at all.

Regardless, the buck is able to lower his guard carelessly further at that, gathering that such must mean Mingi is asleep, comparable to how nearly every other creature inhabiting the woods is meant to be at this hour. Yeosang actively stands as an unfitting, pointed exception, as his own selfish desires led him to creepily wander around the forest well after dusk with no sole intention in mind.

Because, in earnest, what was he meant to do now? Walk up to the daunting cabin and risk peeking through the hunter’s windows purely on the off chance of catching a glimpse of his sleeping form? It was becoming increasingly apparent that Yeosang hadn’t thought even a single step ahead of himself and his ridiculous plan, if it could be called that, and clearly hadn’t been prepared for this outcome of the many he’d also never considered.

He could almost facepalm at his own stupidity, not to mention his repeated heedlessness, but settles simply for shaking his head at himself with a small scoff. He wasn’t lying when he finally confessed to Hongjoong that he truly had been letting his mind get away from him as of late, but he definitely had grossly underestimated just how justified the other hybrid was in finding it uncharacteristic of him. 

Yeosang struggled to reconcile on his own terms just how he’d become too keen to risk taking all of a sudden, seemingly without a cause other than what he could potentially trace back to a previously untouched fascination with the mysterious hunter living invisibly among them, along with a perhaps recently uncovered physical attraction toward the human. No matter how fleeting, Yeosang would be remiss not to note the faint excitement that had been simmering in his gut for as long as the poorly thought-through idea of sneaking off just for another glimpse of Mingi came to his mind.

Resigning himself to cutting his losses, Yeosang decides he can at least attempt a quick glance through the window closest to him, even if still a ways away from where he currently stands, at least to say he tried. Silently, that is, as this unannounced trip would be one of many Yeosang would take to his grave rather than so much as ever telling another soul about it.

For certainly not better and only worse, Yeosang begins to step forward before he can ideally come to his senses. Albeit, a few feet must be all he manages to make when the weight of something remarkably heavy is dropped over his figure and effectively knocks him down to the forest floor.

The deer hybrid falls to the ground with a shocked yelp resounding from his throat, more cries of genuine distress soon following suit as Yeosang fights against whatever material is greatly restricting his struggle. Reaching a hand behind himself while attempting to rotate his position to be anything better than actively eating the dirt he is now, a larger panic threatens to rip through him at the tactile yet distinct sensation of knotted nylon rope between his fingers.

Undoubtedly, Yeosang has been successfully caught in a hunter’s drop net.

“No, no, no—” He begs to no one in particular while continuing to thrash around wildly, feeling his hot breath against his own face with every greedy gulp of air he tries to force down to his lungs.

Yeosang is starting to hyperventilate, that much is obvious - not helped by his alarmed wrestling of the net that was keeping him firmly pressed to the ground with no real rhyme or reason put into his fight. He knows he should try to be smart about exerting his energy, regardless of how belated such sense is finally (and literally) being shaken into him was truly needed, but in Yeosang’s muddled and terrified mind, all he can process is his all-consuming desire to break free. 

The ringing in his ears distracts him from all the attention his noisy flailing could potentially draw towards him, clearly unwanted, especially by whoever had managed to capture him. He notes the distant sensation of his lungs beginning to burn as his battle for air fruitlessly continues, his fingers darting out on his either side in a valiant effort to find the weighted-down edges of the net trapping him.

While his fear mounts tenfold at his concerningly inescapable predicament, so does the hot pooling of dread simmering low and steadily in Yeosang’s gut. As if trying to leave him by any means necessary, equally wishing to flee, a choked sob shakes the deer hybrid’s body once a startling warmth begins to pour out of him and coat the skin of his tightly pressed together thighs. His face burns in shame that the last-ditch effort to forcibly hold back the physical manifestation of his anguish hadn’t helped in the slightest, sniffingly pitifully in his lonesome humiliation.

Not only had Yeosang fallen directly into one of the most predictable traps imaginable, he also managed to wet himself in the midst of pure and utter fear.

“Well, what do we have here?” A gravelly yet calm voice abruptly speaking up from behind him has every muscle in Yeosang’s body pulling taut in anticipation, his tail flicking once behind him. Even in knowing he’s being actively approached and is in absolutely no position to hide, quite blatantly laid out bare just as he was intended to be by the weighted net, Yeosang still has to slowly build up his courage to attempt a glance behind him. “Can’t say I expected you to come back so soon.”

Surely due to the heightening of his crippling nerves, Yeosang hadn’t exactly ever stopped to consider that the trap prepared on Mingi’s property would have assuredly been put in place by Mingi himself - the realization genuinely only dawning on him once his heart positively stops for multiple beats after making eye contact with the hunter over his shoulder. Eyes surely doubling in size, Yeosang’s cowering form begins visibly quivering, his fingers clenching at the dirt under his palms helplessly.

“I’m so sorry!” Yeosang blurts, too taken by his newfound desire to plead his case, already concerned by how much he may need to embellish for it to notice the weighted implications of Mingi’s words. “I-I got lost, I don’t even know where I am. If you let me go, I promise I wouldn’t even be able to find my way here again.”

It has to be the closest thing to a blatant lie from him yet. Still, the deer hybrid thinks he’ll do whatever it takes to convince the hunter of their initial truth, rejecting the lack of earnest they no longer uphold.

“I wish I could say I believed you,” Mingi hums, his tone dipping with the doubt he’s already confessed to. “But if I had to guess, something tells me that’s probably the same excuse you used with that little friend of yours yesterday.”

If Yeosang’s heart hadn’t otherwise been beating irregularly, he’s sure the shock of that statement alone would’ve been enough to jar it back into proper working order. The revelation from such seems to melt the freeze response he’d unconsciously begun to settle for, igniting the hybrid’s desire to fight once more as he goes back to haplessly flailing.

Too focused on his terror as well as his crippling want to somehow prove Mingi’s words wrong, Yeosang pays little actual attention to the modest change in the air, adding to a smell that he doesn’t recognize. It has to belong to the hunter, that much Yeosang is sure of, but his nose faintly twitches at the tinge of undeniable excitement that seems to swirl in it. Paired with another near-tangible tang he can’t quite put his finger on. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yeosang insists between his rough turning, attempting to pointedly ignore the pesky stinging behind his eyes. At times such as this, he really has it in him to wish he couldn’t be brought so easily to tears in moments of large emotion.

Undeterred by his impassioned struggle, the lazy crunching of leaves at Yeosang’s side warns him of Mingi getting even closer. With some difficulty, Yeosang manages to push himself up onto his side to keep his undivided attention turned toward the unpredictable hunter, still clearly questioning his dubious intent.

“Lying your way out of this one won’t work on me, Bambi.” Yeosang’s entire body goes rigid from the nickname alone, unable to process the equal parts embarrassment and interest swirling together unproductively at the forefront of his mind. He tenses impossibly more as Mingi reaches an unannounced hand out to pinch one of the deer’s unbranched antlers sticking out of the net between a few fingers, the tug of them that soon follows pulling a whimper from Yeosang’s lips. “These are quite cute. Nothing compared to the rack on that other buck, that’s for sure, but your antlers would certainly make for a nice trophy nonetheless.”

Frightened, another sort of mewl leaves Yeosang as he squirms, his chest shaking with the force of each laboured breath he takes. The vague references made to his herd and specifically San aids in making him increasingly uneasy, the consequences of his own poor action coming back to bite him now in all the worst ways. Although, if absolutely nothing else, Yeosang is determined to make sure that no one else gets caught in the crossfire of what was adding up to be the messy outcome from his plethora of mistakes.

“No!” He’s long since passed the point of being above begging, pinned down to the forest floor with no hope of escaping all on his own. If he truly wants to get out, the only way it appears he’ll be able to do so is by convincing the human that he’s in any way deserving of mercy. “Please just let me out. No one knows I’m here, or where you live other than me - and I swear I’d never say anything about any of it.”

It’s a dangerous line Yeosang was toeing, not that he wasn’t actively becoming well-versed in such already with the way he acted so uncharacteristically inclined towards risk-taking as of late, in giving away such vulnerable information to someone he hasn’t been shown he can trust. Rather, the complete opposite, as Yeosang remains a sitting duck at Mingi’s will, entirely left to his discretion for what was only to come for him.

He had entirely no reason to believe or so much as hope that Mingi would show him any leniency, even as he continued to hold out for such to eventually happen. 

His pleas falling on presumably deaf ears, Mingi pays Yeosang’s reassurances little mind as he moves to step over the trapped hybrid. Flinching slightly at the unexpected closeness, the short give from the net where Mingi firmly plants one of his boots on Yeosang’s other side allows him to roll entirely onto his back before the hunter straddles him fully. Somehow pressing him down even harder to the ground from their newfound position, with Mingi looking down at him over his nose like something truly below him, Yeosang attempts to blink away the wetness gathering along his waterline. His whole body continues to tremble from the overt way his powerlessness in his current situation was being emphasized. Mingi’s own freedom to do as he pleases, and as he surely intended to, being flagrantly held over his head.

“Look at you,” Mingi voices with an almost disappointed click of his tongue. Yeosang can’t make sense of why the small sound makes his heart sink. “Made such a mess of yourself already.”

Yeosang’s thighs shift to press tightly together as he winces at himself, unable to hide from Mingi’s knowing gaze and even less the evidence of his referenced mess. It was surely visible from the human’s vantage point, the damp substrate Yeosang couldn’t ignore sticking to his skin in all the wrong places, likely having darkened just around his hips from his very piss as well.

On top of his previous feelings of unshakable foolishness, Yeosang also felt distinctly dirty. Not only from lying on actual dirt, but equally as much for the sensation of fervor pumping through his veins, refusing to wean even as he directly stared imminent danger in the eye.

“I can keep a secret.” His voice comes out in an almost whisper as he confesses such, more equivalent to an unabashed offering than anything else. One he desperately hopes Mingi will take him up on. 

Tilting his head to the side, Mingi’s eyebrows lift questioningly, “Why do I doubt that would be more for me than you?” His hands slide down his thighs as he leans over, eyes boring into Yeosang’s own. The latter of whom once again starts to worry for the sake of his anxious heart from the sheer intensity of Mingi’s gaze. “Sounds to me as though you’ve been purposefully sneaking away in search of something you’re not even ready for, or has this just been your intention all along? To be chased, to get caught.”

As far as Yeosang is aware, humans aren’t capable of smelling arousal. At least anything near how well deer can, although Yeosang could be pushed to doubt his admittedly limited knowledge by all of the surprisingly correct assumptions Mingi manages to jump to. Perhaps his accurate reads could be traced back to another heightened sense they possess, one that’s keyed into spotting a blatantly guilty conscience from a mile away.

A guilt of which Yeosang undeniably carried now, obvious in the trap he had practically dived headfirst into, and the slick that was gathering between his legs in a far too delighted response to his own fateful misfortune.

“Please… I’ll do anything you want,” he breathlessly confides, caring little about the weighted implications his words could carry if placed into the wrong set of calloused hands.

Yeosang doesn’t know what to expect. Hasn’t, either, from the very moment he initially became infatuated with the rumored hunter, unknowingly starting himself on a downward spiral that he would’ve never have predicted to land him here of all places.

His eyes blown wide and pleading, and his lips all but begging for the chance to make all his wrongdoings up to Mingi - no better than a pathetic little lamb willingly offering itself up for the slaughter. So long as Mingi served to be his butcher, such would gladly be yet another risk Yeosang was eager to take.

“Careful making promises you can’t keep, Bambi,” Mingi warns, his eyes noticeably darkening. “Or else someone like me might just make you regret it.”

.˚ᨒ↟ 𖠰˚.

Yeosang would love to deny that he has any idea how he ended up in this predicament.

Play up a faux innocence now that he’s found himself tied above the fireplace mantel in Mingi’s home, the thin lines of rope digging deliciously into his skin keep him firmly, if not a bit precariously, perched on the shelf with the remnants of a few pitiful flames still burning below him. Pretend as though he hadn’t all but just literally peered down the barrel of Mingi’s shotgun with a thrilled glimmer in his eye, barely evading certain death and only being left to feel exhilarated by it. 

It was far too late for Yeosang to regret his actions now, much less attempt to downplay his natural reactions to his current circumstances. Even as he shook in obvious fear of the unknown, the part between his legs that he could largely blame for driving him here in the first place throbbed to life at the mere notion of an experience this daring.

Never in his life has Yeosang felt so helpless - physically restricted in such a way that the nylon securing his arms behind his back and tying each of his ankles to their respective thigh was almost tight enough to hurt, while also leaving him in the only possible position of keeping his legs evenly spread and most vulnerable parts on blatant display as not to fall off the mantel. Mingi hadn’t tried to make the bindings pretty by any means, rushing to hitch the restraints presumably not out of concern that Yeosang would put up a fight, but simply out of objective. For a purpose Yeosang had yet to piece together, as Mingi had easily walked back out his own front door without a word the second after he had arranged the deer to stay right where he wanted him.

With his wrists bound tightly together at the center of his back, the messy knot Mingi had tied for it still left conveniently out of reach for Yeosang’s fingers, he similarly couldn’t risk struggling in favor of losing the balance he was already actively grappling with just to stay sitting up straight against the wall at his back. Impotently, he’d been left to his own devices, entirely immobilized and stuck in an anxious limbo of pure waiting.

The only light the buck has is the dwindling fire that barely reveals anything further than a few feet in front of himself, the rest of Mingi’s cabin a dark void his frantic mind can only fill in the gaps of. Staring into it, Yeosang’s simmering dread continues to mount slowly, churning into a worrisome coil in his gut.

He can, at the very least, make out the wooden edge of what appears to be a couch across from him, and an even clearer understanding of the small table in front of that. He has to strain to see the equally dark-stained wood of the floor panelling, and the beginnings of a patterned rug covering a large portion as far as his limited eyesight extends.

Sparing glances toward his either side, he notes that the mantel he’s been placed upon is largely empty aside from two uniformly spaced apart lanterns hung on the wall just above of it, neither currently in use. Yeosang distantly wishes they were, as even with his increased night vision, he can hardly tell much else apart from the vague, shadowed shapes that seem to be cornering him in. With all he is able to see, Yeosang gathers that his limited abilities must be partially due to Mingi’s continued preference for apparently rather dark decor being carried throughout the rest of his home. Leaving the hybrid in yet another variation of the complete dark as he sits in nervous anticipation.

After what feels like much too long of simply quivering in tense silence, and precisely at the same moment Yeosang’s eyes start to droop from his waning adrenaline, the sound of a door squeaking on its worn hinges has him jumping instinctively. Heavy boots vibrate through the floorboards with every languid step the hunter takes while he lets the same door fall shut behind him, his destination undoubtedly in mind.

As he comes into view, Yeosang takes quick notice of the multitude of logs held in his full arms, Mingi’s stoic expression just visible over them. His set features don’t change even when his gaze locks with Yeosang’s own, his stare unmoving until he stands in front of the captive hybrid and lets the chopped pieces of wood in his hold drop to the floor. Yeosang grimaces more and more with the thud of each individual one, though Mingi’s complete indifference might have some to do with his nagging discomfort at the previously extensive silence being disrupted.

“Seems I was right. You do make for a pretty showpiece,” he says casually, as if that’s all Yeosang truly is for him. Nothing more than a pleasing on the eyes prize to be put up on display, one Mingi could be proud of merely if Yeosang is lucky.

Not that he otherwise should be counting his lucky stars in his current situation - albeit, if Mingi’s earlier recollection of San’s impressive antlers was anything to go by, he couldn’t exactly confidently claim the hunter did or didn’t have more aforementioned trophies in his collection. In having just heard offhand all the ways humans enjoyed displaying their successful harvests in their very homes, Yeosang didn’t currently have enough light to assist him in determining if Mingi took to the same showings of his most impressive hunts for decorative purposes as he’d clearly sought to with Yeosang. The one exception being, obviously, that he would serve as the sole living one amongst them if that were to be the case.

Despite not having such confirmation at his ready disposal, Yeosang still felt his heart plummet to his stomach from the short-lived thought alone.

“What are you going to do to me?” Yeosang’s question comes out more akin to a pathetic squeak to his own ears, worry audibly shaking his voice. 

It’s something Yeosang should’ve asked long ago, in all honesty. A concern that has earnestly been at the forefront of his mind since he started on his mindless escapade of pushing the envelope. Continuously daring himself to press further all while lingering with the notion of what would presumably happen if he were to be caught red-handed in sticking his nose where it knowingly didn’t belong.

Regardless of whether such came with a warning or not, it was becoming increasingly apparent that Yeosang was going to find out the hard way all of what that could include.

“We’ve already come too far for you to start doubting me now,” Mingi tells him, truthfully sounding almost bored rather than anything else. “Besides, who in their right mind would keep coming back to the same neck of the woods if they truly had something worth being afraid of there?”

It’s laid out every bit as the callout it intends to be, directed sharply enough to hit the direct center of Yeosang’s chest as the hunter across from him moves to partially kneel on the wooden floor. Yeosang is actively reeling from the jab made at his questionable judgment and decision-making when Mingi begins tossing logs into the slowing fire underneath him, the flames soon roaring back to life from the needed fuel being added to it. 

The rush of sudden warmth is one Yeosang can visualize as much as he can feel, wriggling in his binds slightly as the heat reaches up for him and the larger blaze shifts to illuminate Mingi’s crouched figure all the more. Only then is he better able to see the hunter’s disheveled hair and camouflage attire, leaving no additional room for doubt in what he’d been up to in the woods at the same hour Yeosang was out snooping. Especially once his eyes catch the faintest shimmer of a telltale metal peeking out from Mingi’s back.

A familiar sharp intake of air sounds from Yeosang when he takes notice of the gun, his body going rigid as fight is no longer a viable option for a defence he could currently choose. Twisting his wrists in the tight ropes keeping his arms together, another trembling breath is practically ripped from him as more of the weapon’s barrel becomes unintentionally visible as the human moves. Yeosang's remembrance of that being inherently needed for said hunting comes much too late to serve as anything worthwhile now. Mingi would certainly be remiss not to notice the abrupt change in Yeosang by his audible panic, and just as soon as he glances up at the hybrid does a quick understanding appears to dawn on him.

“What is it, Bambi?” he taunts as he slowly eases back up to standing, one hand already moving to reach behind himself. In a motion that feels as though it takes place in just the blink of an eye on Yeosang’s end, the gun is brought over Mingi’s shoulder until it’s cradled in both his hands, the metal of its body continuing to reflect the flickering light provided by the fireplace. “Never seen one of these up close before?”

Most of Mingi’s inquiries lean rhetorical, Yeosang is beginning to realize, but he finds his chin hesitantly dipping toward his chest in a curt nod in response despite this cognizance. This is undoubtedly the closest he’s ever gotten to a firearm, even closer than he had been just the day before when he properly caught a glimpse of one for the very first time. 

Mingi’s gun in particular is intimidating, though Yeosang is sure that acknowledgment must have everything to do with being petrified of an object he has every right to fear. One that was made to take out full-blooded deer with ease, created with precisely that in mind as its sole purpose. Mingi twists and turns the shotgun in his hands while showing it off to Yeosang, appearing to revel in his discomfort in its simple presence. 

And even with Yeosang’s presumably visible unsettlement, he finds that same overly curious part of him that put him in this situation in the first place terribly intrigued all over again. His inquisitiveness knowing no bounds, the hybrid swallows hard as Mingi’s long fingers run down its extended barrel, and his other hand wraps around its wooden stock. Near the butt of the weapon, the hunter’s thumb purposefully drags across the branded markings of what Yeosang would suspect to be initials burned into the wood - unmistakably reading as SMG.

“Maybe I’ll give you one of these too if you’re good for me,” Mingi plainly states. His tone was as frank as if he were stating something entirely normal, rather than suggesting the prospect of permanently marking Yeosang with his name and therefore as a piece of his property.

He isn’t given much time to mull over the weighted implications of such a proposed reward, as it were, seemingly from the way Mingi tried to present it as, when the gun in Mingi’s confident hold moves toward him. Yeosang attempts to press himself impossibly further against the cabin wall behind him as he gasps, the cold metal gently coming into contact with his thoroughly flushed skin. As the muzzle is far too carefully placed underneath his chin, applying a slight pressure to encourage tilting his head back, a rough shudder shoots through Yeosang’s entire body.

“Wait, wait—” he starts to object, torn between squeezing his eyes shut and keeping them blown wide in favor of not missing any of Mingi’s sudden movements. It’s not like he was in any position to adequately defend himself from impending harm either way, but compromising his own vision with his every limb already restricted surely wouldn’t help his growing fright.

“Taking back your word so soon?” Mingi challenges. The undeniable firmness of his tone somehow scares Yeosang even more than the muzzle of the deadly weapon now trailing down his bare chest. “I thought you were willing to do anything I want.”

“N-no! I can!” Yeosang rushes to affirm, shaking his head so hard that Mingi’s figure in front of him blurs shortly. “I just… it makes me nervous.”

It’s truly the understatement of the century, his mind distantly supplies. He has no way of knowing if the gun is loaded, and even less if Mingi is purely building up to something much bigger than he could begin to process. Surely he wouldn’t have gone through the unnecessary hassle of capturing Yeosang and purposefully stringing him along all this way for one straightforward motive that wouldn’t require anywhere near the same amount of effort to just execute more effectively.

His intentions clearly laid in a much different vein, Yeosang logically knew - only he couldn’t so much as pretend to believe he knew where to start making sense of them.

“Then relax,” Mingi shushes softly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It can only hurt you if I let it.”

His words give the impression that they’re meant to be reassuring, though Yeosang doesn’t feel in any way encouraged as the end of his gun continues its deliberate path down his torso, barely coming to a halt just above his pubic mound.

“Please—” The hybrid’s breath catches his throat in suspense, unsure of where he plans to go after his unspecified plea. “You were right, I’m not ready.”

Again, a gross minimization of the situation at hand, much less the unforeseen cards Yeosang had been dealt without warning, but it’s certainly nothing if not merely the consequences of his own actions. The very music he’d been too blinded by the prospect of risk-taking to consider he’d eventually have to face.

“I know,” Mingi states plainly, undeterred as he lazily begins tracing vague circles on Yeosang’s skin with the muzzle of his gun. While the deer continues to wriggle pitifully in his binds from the nerves pulling his every muscle taut, Mingi doesn’t so much as appear to blink. “I warned you against making promises you know nothing about. I suppose part of breaking you in will include breaking all kinds of bad habits, too.”

Quicker than Yeosang can react, the end of the gun drags along his soaked folds, pulling a cry from his throat in utter surprise. The smoothness of the metal is only partially interrupted by the front sight perched on the tip of its barrel, digging noticeably into Yeosang’s tender flesh. He can’t say if it’s just from his heightened awareness from being put so on edge, figuratively and literally, in expectancy that he can feel absolutely every sensation being thrust upon him, or if he’s truly just that sensitive.

All he can conclude without a doubt in his mind is that he evidently had no means to properly prepare for the moment the thoroughly coated gun is being pushed inside of him. Parting his lips and pressing along his quivering walls as an unstoppable force Yeosang regrets how he blatantly moans at. In the form of an automatic bodily response he can’t control, more arousal begins to pool between his legs as Mingi teasingly works the gun in and out of him, downright fucking him with it.

“You’re practically dripping,” Mingi accuses, his raspy voice dripping in a mock condescension. Even while condemning him wholly, Yeosang doesn’t miss the touch of spice growing stronger in Mingi’s otherwise naturally earthy scent. “Been waiting on this treatment for some time, haven’t you?”

Dumbly, Yeosang nods, uncaring of what and all he’s truly agreeing to when the one thing he has in him to prioritize is not allowing the human to stop. The pumping of the barrel in the very place he’s needed any kind of touch for so long now feels so good it borders on being painful. Yeosang’s pussy greedily accepts the increasing length of the weapon with ease as Mingi experimentally provides him more and more of it, gaze completely honed in on where Yeosang and his very weapon connect as if he can’t tear his gaze away.

The stretch itself isn’t much to write home about, similar if not even less significant than what Yeosang could certainly manage on just a few of his own fingers, but he doesn’t have it in him to be ungrateful with how deep the barrel is able to reach inside of him. Depths that were previously unexplored, and he couldn’t have otherwise hoped ever to be so much as realistically grazed. The blazing fever setting into his skin definitely isn’t helped by the roaring fire below him, every single nerve in his body sparking to life with a renewed vigor.

“Ah - yes! Right there,” the deer hybrid whimpers as the metal finally connects with the special bundle of nerves inside him. His lips press tightly together after the desperate ask as if that alone could be enough to save him from the shame of more unwitting sounds falling from his mouth.

In earnest, he’s far past the point of acknowledging his capacity for humiliation; the concept itself becoming foreign the more Yeosang allows himself to be handled like some prized possession. Or perhaps better befitting, a toy solely for Mingi to use however he sees fit. As his thighs begin to quiver from keeping his tense position on his mantel for so long now, Yeosang currently feels no different than exactly that.

“I don’t believe you’re in any place to be ordering me around,” Mingi notes casually, a small scoff accompanying his claim.

With the hunter’s nearly palpable excitement mixing with his own, Yeosang is left sputtering in shock when Mingi suddenly begins withdrawing the shotgun from his entrance. The loss of the intrusion causes the buck to writhe harder against the ropes keeping him entirely helpless, a pathetic sob shaking his chest with the genuine despair behind it.

“Sorry, I’m sorry— please!” Yeosang’s words slur together from the worsening of his usual lisp as he begins to plead his case, clenching around largely nothing and the small sliver of the muzzle still lingering inside him. “Please keep going. I’ll listen, I-I’ll be good for you…”

It was evident that he wasn’t yet above digging his own grave - a mission he’d unknowingly become set on some time between stumbling upon those godforsaken mulberry trees and subsequently growing infatuated with confirming the existence of a previously just rumored hunter. Before Yeosang was given the slightest chance to reconcile it, he had inarguably made his bed long ago, and now, he had no other choice but to lie in it.

Once Mingi hums softly to himself, the hybrid isn’t made to wait in curious silence for long about whether or not his pledge of obedience is received, as Mingi abruptly thrusts the gun back into him in one long, drawn-out motion. The barrel surges forward, pressing impossibly deeper into Yeosang’s cervix until he’s made to take the weapon as far as it can go and its fore-end bumps against his clit. A welcome contact that, regardless of how brief and admittedly soft, causes him to jerk instinctively.

“You will, huh?” The hunter seeks to dare, his curiosity apparently getting the better of him as well. Far too curious to hear the furthest lengths Yeosang would be willing to go to prove himself.

“Anything you give me…” he starts to reply, curtly pausing to swallow hard when his mouth suddenly runs dry. “I can take it.”

Mingi’s stare, already incredibly heavy and heated, practically seems to burn every bare inch of Yeosang’s on display body that it travels down as he takes a passing moment to visually appreciate his newest catch. Etching the feeling along with every pleasurable sensation Yeosang is actively experiencing into his memory, both of which would now forever be permanently marked by Mingi in his mind.

“Oh, Bambi,” Mingi groans, his scent growing tinged with a certain desire the hybrid swears he can just about taste on his tongue. “You have no idea what I could do to you.”

Yeosang’s heart lurches in his chest, his thoughts noticeably divided by the easy glide of the shotgun unambiguously fucking him, and his imagination all but running wild conjuring up images of compromising positions Mingi could put him in. As if his current predicament wasn’t precarious enough, or teaching Yeosang the lesson it probably should - as even after all that’s occurred up until now, he simply found himself craving more.

He grinds his hips down onto the gun, eager to chase that very prospect, and being rewarded by yet another graze of its fore-end on his clit has Yeosang whining, his bound legs stuttering between attempting to close around the barrel and staying spread apart for stability on the mantel. His chest shakes as his breathing grows heavier, his eyes briefly squeezing shut from the winding coil of pleasure in his gut that continues to build as if soon threatening to snap.

“Close,” Yeosang manages through gasps for air, his arms pulling fruitlessly at the rope around his wrists while his fingers yearn to grip onto something properly stable. “I’m so close, Mingi, please don’t stop.”

He hardly even pays any thought to his own not-quite slip-up, too taken by his mounting desperation for a pent-up release that was almost close enough for one of his restrained hands to reach out and grab. He only fleetingly makes note of the look of surprise that passes shortly over Mingi’s equally focused features, his eyebrows pulling together as the steady motions of his weapon began to slow.

“And here I was just starting to think we were on equal footing,” he half-teases, his lips pursing. Presumably intended as a half-joke, given how far that objectively is from the case at hand. “But it turns out you know my name and I don’t know yours.”

Panicked for now an entirely new reason, and rapidly getting choked up as he feels his impending orgasm start to retreat, Yeosang’s bottom lip wobbles when he rushes to answer Mingi’s indirect ask, “Yeosang— it’s Yeosang.”

The shotgun is still being fucked into him, albeit at a much more unhurried pace; one that Yeosang could nearly cry out in anguish at. Abysmally clinging onto his last shred of dignity, he is able to hold such back, hurriedly blinking away an early onset of tears blurring his vision.

“Well then - Yeosang,” Mingi tries on his tongue, watching with keen eyes how the deer hybrid perks up at the hunter’s saying of his name. As nice as it undoubtedly is to come from him, Yeosang thinks he’s already found a quick preference in the chosen nickname of Bambi. “How fast can you run?”

Thoroughly distracted by his intense eye contact with Mingi, and trying miserably to put together any coherent response in his suddenly blank mind to the odd question, Yeosang whimpers at the abrupt loss of pressure inside of him once Mingi pulls his gun out entirely. Also unable to mull over the sensation for long, the buck hears the sound of nylon ripping before he so much as feels his legs slipping out of their confines. A sigh of relief leaves him that he similarly isn’t given the grace of reveling in when the freeing of his other leg by a knife Mingi had at some point produced creates an unexpected change in balance that sends Yeosang tumbling straight onto the floor from the shelf.

Bonelessly, Yeosang’s figure collapses onto the hardwood, narrowly avoiding landing face-first by turning his head at the last second and tardily relying on his exhausted core strength to keep him upright. He still winces as his knees take the brunt of the impact, his right shoulder and cheek absorbing just some of the rest of it. The pain from his fall bubbles another wail of sorts from his chest, and Yeosang hiccups slightly as a calloused hand wraps around one of his bound arms and Mingi’s knife easily cuts through the ropes holding them in place as well. 

While the hunter steps over him, his boots creaking against the wood, Yeosang attempts to push himself up on weak and wobbly arms. His whole body seems to vibrate with the disproportionate amount of effort it takes to exert, the hybrid having to greedily gulp down the air his lungs are all at once in need of, while slowly craning his head up to meet the expectant gaze of the human standing directly in front of him again.

“That first chase of ours was cut a bit too short,” Mingi decides abruptly. Although, Yeosang isn’t all that quick to believe this is an idea he’s only just considered. “What do you say to giving me a real run for my money?”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Yeosang looks up at Mingi with nothing short of pure wonder in his eyes. The man was certainly a mystery, even as the hybrid had come to confirm his existence - still no less of an enigma than he had been when solely a spoke-of rumor at best. Gaze shortly flickering down to the notable and significant bulge present in Mingi’s pants right at his eye-level, and the near-tangible taste of salt lingering in the air, Yeosang could think of at least one more thing he’d rather do at the moment.

“What happens if you catch me?” he asks, despite not being completely sure he wants to know the answer.

Waiting as he had been, in an odd sort of middle Mingi had carved out just for him between expectancy and unknowing, wasn’t comfortable by any means, but Yeosang would be lying to only himself if he claimed such wasn’t alarmingly riveting.

Looking down at him in feigned disbelief, Mingi lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug, “I guess you’ll have to play to find out.”

Yeosang’s stomach flips in anticipation, his mind running wild with possibilities of what his predictable outcome would be. Given how sore his body already is, he couldn’t imagine a world in which he’d put up a very impressive struggle right now - not that he’s also completely sure that he would try to either way, his mind supplies as he begins rubbing one of his rubbed raw wrists.

Wordlessly, the hunter lifts his shotgun from where it had been pointed toward the floor, Yeosang’s body tensing reactively the closer it is silently moved towards him. This time, he manages not to flinch as the muzzle brushes a strand of sweaty brown hair from the deer’s forehead. The action was not quite a warning, but simply a reminder of all the unspoken risks involved in their primal sort of game.

“You won’t hurt me.”

He can’t pinpoint exactly where the sudden confidence in his own statement comes from. Perhaps partly due to the fact that Mingi has had every possible chance up until now to cause Yeosang actual harm rather than play into his quiet yet eager search for danger. Really, Mingi had so far only been feeding into Yeosang’s debauched fantasy. He would be rather confident in concluding that he’s actively doing largely the same for the other as well, if the physical manifestation of Mingi’s blatant excitement was anything to go by.

“Is that a fact?” he counters, carefully moving his gun to lightly trail along the other side of Yeosang’s face.

The unstated reference is clear; one Yeosang can’t begin to misunderstand from the faint stinging of his surely reddened face from his unceremonious drop to the floor. It presents as a final out, the one last offer to change his mind and run for the hills to safety should the buck choose to take it. But as his track record would evidently confirm, Yeosang wasn’t building a habit to make his decisions based in security.

“You haven’t. Not… not intentionally,” he reaffirms, ever unwavering on his unfounded conviction. Even as his mind swarms, noting he feels a bit dizzy, with the unique mix of gunpowder and his own juices swirling together in the air. “You’ve had every chance to, but you haven’t.”

Mingi plainly stares at him, the corner of his lips curling up in a way that implicates his willingness to continue indulging in Yeosang’s deep-rooted desire for daring adventure equally as much as his own.

“Never say never, Bambi,” he advises softly. “But just remember—” As the hunter speaks, the muzzle of his shotgun shifts to realign in the direct center of Yeosang’s forehead, and the hybrid's eyes cross to look over his nose at it as if he’d be able to do anything to change any foreseeable outcome with Mingi’s finger already resting on its very trigger. “When I aim, I don’t miss.”

Notes:

believe it or not, this was my attempt at toning this fic down from the millions of routes i considered taking with it… something about this dynamic really had the gears turning for me and i simply couldn’t put it down once i got started :* hence why nearly fifty pages of writing later... we ended up with this monster of a first part !

thank you all sm for reading ♡

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