Fics like a brief recollection on the struggles of loving Dionysus

Yesung always knew the right way to do everything. A faint smile, a smirk that ghosted the edges of his lips, his vaguely hooded eyes (always deep, dark with desire, a certain sinister desire), the perfect amount of pressure as he kissed his current fling to have them wanting more; it was always the right amount. It turned everything upside down; from cold Apollonian quiet to confused Dionysian frenzy when everyone was around him, losing themselves completely in favour of chasing his attention. Yesung knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew precisely what would ensue. Chaos. It was the chaos he enjoyed the most. The way women and men alike would willingly kneel before him, submit to him, kiss his feet if he so wished. He loved watching people succumb to their most animalistic selves, and in its result cause pandemonium, and he always watched everything with that same knowing glint in his eyes —— the satisfaction that he had caused it all.

Fics like a brief recollection on the struggles of loving Dionysus

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