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Kim Dokja huffs, struggling. “If you care to explain what the hell you’re doing, then maybe—!”
He cuts off when a large hand presses flat between his wings, locking him in place. It’s a strange feeling, and he shivers against such a firm touch at that sensitive place.
“Yoo—Yoo Joonghyuk?” He laughs nervously, high and scared. “What are you doing, Joonghyuk-ah?”
Over those three years, Yoo Joonghyuk grew to hate these wings of his.
Bookmarked by dopeisem
02 Apr 2024
