Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10779750.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      킬링_스토킹_|_Killing_Stalking_(Webcomic)
  Relationship:
      Oh_Sangwoo/Yoon_Bum
  Character:
      Oh_Sangwoo, Yoon_Bum
  Additional Tags:
      Branding, Abuse, Past_Child_Abuse, Past_Incest, Torture, Abusive
      Relationships, Imprisonment, Character_Study
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-01 Words: 2207
****** finally, they'll know you're mine ******
by Rag
Summary
     Sangwoo hadn’t realized what he was missing out on before, with the
     women he brought home. They were fun, too, but it was never enough.
     After … her, everything paled in comparison.
     And then Bum found him, and it was like the clouds opened up to him.
     It took some time – he assumed Bum was just like them, treated him
     just like them. But Bum proved himself exceptional. Instead of
     telling him how much he hated Sangwoo, how he would kill him, or that
     his Daddy would find out about this, don’t you know his Daddy is very
     powerful and rich and cares about him very much – no, Bum told
     Sangwoo he loved him. He begged Sangwoo to be gentle, not to stop. He
     begged for life so that he could be useful to Sangwoo. And he
     actually shut the fuck up when Sangwoo told him to. He’s so
     unbelievably special.
Notes
     mind the tags, this fic has discussions of incestuous child sexual
     abuse, among other shit
     this is kinda more character study than anything, although it does
     have a plot
See the end of the work for more notes
Burning human flesh doesn’t smell that different from roasting meat. And it
shouldn’t, should it? People aren’t any different from meat. They like to
pretend they are. They like to distract themselves with jobs and friends and
stories and niceties. But everyone, everything, is meat. Bum’s flesh smells
like acrid, thick, salted charcoal as it burns. It's like Sangwoo had thrown a
picked-bare chicken bone on a grill and left it there until the heat shattered
it. Bum doesn’t have much muscle to roast, it’s nearly all skin until it's
bone. He whimpers, small and pathetic, when Sangwoo pulls away, but he doesn’t
try to escape.
Sangwoo likes that about him. He likes a lot about him. He makes things so
easy, and so interesting.
Sangwoo pulls Bum’s skin a bit to look at his handiwork, and Bum hisses in
pain. The bright red circle on his hip stands in stark contrast to Bum’s gross,
sallow skin and the jet-black hair that sprouts out of it sparsely in thin,
almost womanly wisps. It’s not bad, the burn, but it’s not enough. This
might heal into something that could be passed off as an accident. And that
wasn’t the point. Sangwoo turns the blowtorch back on and holds the pipe up to
it.
Bum cries quietly. Sangwoo sees him, out of the corner of his eye, turning away
so that Sangwoo doesn't have to see it in its full hideous glory. He knows how
ugly he is when he cries.
Sangwoo doesn’t like most people, but he likes Bum. Bum is fun. He knows that
part of what makes him so fun is that he’s trapped here. If they’d met in more
boring circumstances – if they were coworkers or classmates or something
equally stupid – Bum would probably be just as mind-numbing as everyone else
Sangwoo had to interact with every fucking day. They’d stick to the stupid
script and follow the stupid rules and pretend they made sense, pretend that
life was anything but survival of the fittest. Pain. Consumption. Blood.
Strength. Taxes, flirting, novels, clubs. Bum would be just as boring, but he’s
not, because he’s here, and he’s trapped, his calves are shattered to
uselessness, and that’s what’s important. Bum is fun.
He’s trying, so Sangwoo lets him get away with it. He’d teach him more later,
maybe, but for now he’s too excited to get this moving along.
Sangwoo lines the pipe up with the red circle and presses. He holds Bum’s tiny
body in place with an arm slung across his torso, but he doesn’t need to. Bum
groans, wild and animal, in pain, but he doesn’t thrash. That’s another thing
that makes Bum so fun – his responses are so weird. Sangwoo would tell him to
be quiet, stop struggling, don’t make an ugly face. He would tell this to
anyone he could, but at this point in his life, he knows better than to expect
it’ll work. At this point in his life, he says it entirely to fuck with them.
Show them a peek of what’s behind, see what they’ll do. And paper over it with
a weak excuse when they, as always, just get worse, make the stupid face worse,
get more unreasonably angry, etc ad nauseum. People he had trapped, they might
pretend they were complying, but only as some stupid attempt to win his favor.
And as soon as they realized it wasn’t coming, that he was just fucking with
them, they’d lash out and start their shit up again, usually harder. He had
ways to shut them up, then.
But not Bum. Sangwoo could tell Bum anything, and he’d go with it. When Sangwoo
tells him he’s disgusting or stupid or annoying, Bum believes it, and he tries
to change himself to suit Sangwoo’s whims. He never questions how reasonable
they are. Bum, weird little freak that he is, seems to want to be here. He
doesn’t want Sangwoo to like him so that he can escape – he wants Sangwoo to
like him because he thinks Sangwoo is his soulmate, or something. Sangwoo isn’t
totally clear on the why. He’d figure it out eventually. But he does know that
it’s so much more fun, so much more interesting. It’s a puzzle he can’t see the
solution to, for once.
It’s part of why Sangwoo doesn’t kill him.
Sangwoo pulls the brand away from Bum’s smoking skin and Bum shakes. He’s
covering his face with his hands, probably crying from the pain. Sangwoo sets
the brand down somewhere it won’t catch on fire and pulls Bum’s hands away from
his face, ignoring Bum’s violent flinch and cry of shock. Yep, crying. Not as
much as Sangwoo would have expected. He thought Bum would have cracked earlier
than this.
“Hey. It didn’t hurt that bad, did it?”
Bum blinks a few times, and fat ugly tears fall down his face. Sangwoo can
practically see the gears turning in his head. Obviously it hurt. Sangwoo knows
this, and Bum is probably wondering if he knows this. He’s trying to figure out
what Sangwoo wants him to say. What won’t get him hit, what might get him a
word or two of praise that he’s such a slut for.
“It … hurt,” he finally says.
“That’s a shame, Bum. We’re only halfway done.”
Bum’s eyes widen in terror, but he doesn’t leave, doesn’t try to talk Sangwoo
out of it.
“W-will you do the rest now?”
“Sure. Are you up for it?”
Bum nods stiffly. Sangwoo wipes a tear from his cheek and kisses his forehead.
He’s such a good little freak.
Sangwoo hadn’t realized what he was missing out on before, with the women he
would play with. They were fun, too, but it was never enough. After … her,
everything paled in comparison. Diminishing returns in his little Skinner box,
always hoping for a rush that and only getting a taste of what he craved. It
was like his life was in grayscale, and it sometimes managed to explode with
saturation for those first few blissful hours when he successfully lured a
bitch over with promises of sex of friendship or whatever the fuck they wanted
from him. But they were getting boring faster and faster every time, and he was
taking stupider and stupider risks, failing to tie up loose ends before showing
his teeth. And then Bum found him, and it was like the clouds opened up to him.
It took some time – he assumed Bum was just like them, treated him just like
them. But Bum proved himself exceptional. Instead of telling him how much he
hated Sangwoo, how he would kill him, or that his Daddy would find out about
this, don’t you know his Daddy is very powerful and rich and cares about him
very much – no, Bum told Sangwoo he lovedhim. He begged Sangwoo to be gentle,
not to stop. He begged for life so that he could be useful to Sangwoo. And he
actually shut the fuck up when Sangwoo told him to. He’s so unbelievably
special.
Sangwoo hasn’t been this enthralled with anyone in years. And he’d been much
too fast to kill her. He wanted to draw that out. Make her pay. See terror in
her eyes before she blinked out. He wrapped his hands around her throat when
they were… he thought she’d be scared, but the crazy cunt just smiled. Go on,
Sangwoo-yah. Do it. And he did, just to wipe the stupid fucking smirk off her
face. She should have been screaming, crying, begging him to stop. Instead, she
just laughed until he choked the air out of her. And she’d looked so happy as
the light faded from her eyes.
Fucking insane.
Bum is different. Bum does exactly what Sangwoo says, feels exactly what he
wants him to feel. With Bum, Sangwoo can fix those mistakes. Savor it. Have fun
again. Make her pay. Bum can be exactly what she should have been. It’s why
he’s doing this. It’s why he does all of this.
“What is it?” Bum asks quietly. His voice shakes a little.
“Can’t you tell? Use your head,” Sangwoo says, but Bum doesn’t seem to be
making any progress. “It’s my family name, isn’t that obvious?”
“Ah,” he says quietly. He looks down and draws himself into a loose little ball
on the ground.
“Because you’re mine,” Sangwoo explains, and he’s kind of annoyed that he has
to. “I thought you’d be happy with this. I’m hurt, Bum.”
“Happy,” Bum says, like he’s in a daze. Maybe he’s in shock from the pain.
Boring. Sangwoo grabs his hair hard and forces Bum to look at him with those
wide, terrified eyes.
“Aren’t you happy to belong to me, Bum? Have you been lying to me? Were you
just leading me on?”
“No! I love you! Sangwoo, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m happy, thank you-“
Sangwoo shoves him on the ground and he hits the floor with a thud. Better. Bum
isn’t perfect, but he’s so quick to learn, which is refreshing. All the stupid
bitches Sangwoo had dealt with would be screaming and hollering abuses at him
by this point, but not Bum. He just breathes deeply while he watches Sangwoo
heat the metal bar up. Sangwoo had had to hunt for this piece of metal. It was
much harder to find something that looked enough like a wa, and one that fit
with the ieungabove it enough that it looked like his family name, instead of a
random set of squiggly lines and shapes.
“Sit still.”
Bum nods.
Sangwoo is so pleased that Bum has never asked him to return the favor, to
belong to him. He knows his place. Sangwoo would never stoop so low, and it
would be insulting to ask.
He’s everything she should have been.
Bum takes the pain a little too well this time. He winces, but he doesn’t make
a sound, not until Sangwoo presses a little harder just to hear him squeak.
Then he does. But he doesn’t struggle.
Sangwoo looks at the red, raised patches on Bum’s hip and smiles. It’s good. He
did good.
She’d had a tattoo on her hip, a pair of doves. Sangwoo hated it every time saw
it. She just laughed that patronizing laugh of hers, like she knew something
she could never tell him about that stupid tattoo, because he was too young and
he wouldn’t understand. He wanted to cut it off her body and show her how
stupid it looked. Look at this. Look at this stupid shit you make me look at,
you stupid whore. He hates when girls have tattoos. They're always so vain and
pointless. And they always had meanings. His mom’s had probably meant
something. He’s glad he never asked, it was one less thing to hate about her.
But the brand on Bum is good. It’s not an expression of any stupid little
thoughts Bum has in his stupid little head. It’s proof of ownership. Bum would
never fuck anyone who didn’t look at the gnarled scar on his hip and carefully
consider whether or not it was polite or appropriate to ask. Not that Sangwoo
would ever allow him to fuck anyone else. But even if somehow he managed to get
away, he could never get Sangwoo to leave him, and everyone who got close
enough would know.
Fuck, it turns him on, imagining that. The sickening thrill of Bum escaping.
Chasing him down and not being able to find him. God. And then, he’d spend
years terrified of his own shadow, knowing that Sangwoo was looking. And he
would be, he wouldn’t give up, he would find him if it was the last thing he
ever fucking did. And if, somehow, that gangly little freak managed to find
another breathing person who would look at him with anything other than disgust
… would he try to hide it? Would he try to bandage it up? Would he feel the
ghost burn in years from now and remember this moment whenever he thought about
the ugly knots on his hip?
Sangwoo shivers. It’s so good. He’s doing it, he setting right all the mistakes
he made with her. She should have been his and his alone. The fucking nerve,
fucking him before he knew what a pussy was, and still fucking every man who
looked at her sideways. But he’s setting that right with Bum. He’s taking what
he deserved with Bum. Bum, who makes Sangwoo’s groin stir when his eyes filled
with agonized tears he dutifully keeps inside. Who ignores the searing pain and
opens his mouth when Sangwoo tells him to suck his dick. Bum, who Sangwoo
doesn’t have to put on a mask for.
“Open your mouth, Bum.”
Bum does. Tears spill from his eyes, and Sangwoo wipes them away. He really
doesn’t like it when Bum cries during sex. It’s a mood killer. Some praise
would probably make this more tolerable.
“You did so well. Took it so well. I can tell how much you love me.”
And he lights up like a crazy, stupid little Christmas tree.
When he smiles, he almost looks like her.
End Notes
     i keep thinking myself im done writing for this fandom and then not
     being done at all
     god sangwoo is hard to write
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