Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin

Out of all people, Horangi was the least surprised when he had been assigned a demi. He was the one who could certainly keep up. He had that energy, he had that speed. Even when training, he was able to wear out anything–even some of the canines. It was impressive, really. He pushed everything and anything to its breaking point, then pulled back right before they shattered.

It was a learned tactic, and not in the military sense. Horangi was a gambler. A dogshit one, but he was a gambler. He learned how to tell the odds of losing or winning, even if he usually lost. It was the thrill that kept him going, and in this case, it gave him the same high. He loved it.

With gambling, though, Horangi learned how to take that break. He knew when to pull back, even if it resulted in a loss. He could decipher the smallest hints in someone’s face, the grimace etched in their eyebrows as they stared at the shitty hand he had dealt them. It was all part of a plan.

The military was no different. Horangi could tell he wore {User} down each day. Every day, they were sluggish. Every night, they were knocked out the instant their head hit the pillow. Every day, {User} was keeping up with Horangi just a bit more.

Now, Horangi’s tactic worked. It improved {user} in every way he wanted it to, but he kept that thrill of achievement just out of reach. He wanted them to work for it. Really work for it. Horangi made note of the prey drive they had, the way they were able to maintain that stealth and stay low in a way that Horangi rarely saw their specific species do. He adored it. How couldn’t he?

Training wasn’t the only thing, though. Missions came up quicker than anticipated, and it wasn’t long before {User} was properly working. Horangi thought they were ready. He didn’t notice any mistakes that would be lethal, so he had brought them along. Everything was meant to go smoothly.

The issue?

The enemy had their own set of demis, and they had a stronger sense of smell than {user}. They sniffed them out like hound dogs on a hunt, and struck when Horangi had separated from them. It was supposed to be easy, but Horangi felt his heart fall in his gut when he heard the sharp noise of pain, then another noise that didn’t come from the same mouth. A knife was pulled from {User}’s hip and was stuck inside the throat of the demi. Smart move, really. It forced noises to be silenced while also killing it.

It didn’t mean that {User} was in a better situation, because Horangi was quick to notice a puncture wound on their throat. Could they move? Yes. Did it likely hurt? Also yes.

A medic arrived on site at the evacuation area and was quick to stop the bleeding, but not without those teeth being bared directly in their face. Horangi was quick to stop it, but he didn’t entirely stop them from how they reacted. Horangi would react in a similar way if he had been bitten on the throat.

Luckily, no infections or long-term damage were noted, but it didn’t mean {User} was put directly in the field again. As a matter of fact, they were put right back on training, and even that was limited. The stitches didn’t let them move their neck, and Horangi couldn’t properly spar too often. He was fearful of a situation happening like that again, and he wanted to improve their close-combat skills. At the time though, he couldn’t go all out because throat hits were dirty work for the meantime.

Horangi could tell it pissed them off. Horangi was babying them too much, and even Horangi agreed, but he wasn’t going to have his prized possession get hurt because he decided to get a little sloppy and overbearing. At the same time, he saw the way they itched at the covered stitches like some sort of disease under their skin.

Eventually, he could tell it was bothersome. They would take longer showers, five minutes past what was allowed–which didn’t seem like a lot, but it was in Kortac–and refused to move their neck any further than they had to when lifting their head up.

So like any good handler, Horangi would assist his pet with washing themself.

It wasn’t inappropriate in Horangi’s eyes. It was simply something he knew {User} found relaxing, even if a little humiliating to have someone staring. Showering in general was nice when the warmth eased the pain of a day’s work. Horangi knew it was a little harder on {User} with their neck, so he was more than happy to assist.

---

Horangi couldn’t help his wandering hands as he helped {User} wash up. He assisted in their back and any part that called for a turn of the neck. Occasionally, his hands would trail down to itch the top of {User}’s tail, the water getting it wet and oddly...smooth. It was nice to touch, in a way.

He kept his distance from them, preventing his dick from touching them. That would be inappropriate. He didn’t want that to happen, so he kept that small distance between them as he helped them wash up.

“Can you–yeah, thanks.”

Horangi took the cheap shampoo that {user} passed over to him, immediately pouring some on his hands before he rubbed them together, then placed his hands in their hair. He rubbed their scalp and head, being gentle while also making it soothing. Anything to distract them from that nagging pain in their neck.

“Good?”

Out of all people, Horangi was the least surprised when he had been assigned a demi. He was the one who could certainly keep up. He had that energy, he had that speed. Even when training, he was able to wear out anything–even some of the canines. It was impressive, really. He pushed everything and anything to its breaking point, then pulled back right before they shattered.

It was a learned tactic, and not in the military sense. Horangi was a gambler. A dogshit one, but he was a gambler. He learned how to tell the odds of losing or winning, even if he usually lost. It was the thrill that kept him going, and in this case, it gave him the same high. He loved it.

With gambling, though, Horangi learned how to take that break. He knew when to pull back, even if it resulted in a loss. He could decipher the smallest hints in someone’s face, the grimace etched in their eyebrows as they stared at the shitty hand he had dealt them. It was all part of a plan.

The military was no different. Horangi could tell he wore {User} down each day. Every day, he was sluggish. Every night, he was knocked out the instant his head hit the pillow. Every day, {User} was keeping up with Horangi just a bit more.

Now, Horangi’s tactic worked. It improved {user} in every way he wanted it to, but he kept that thrill of achievement just out of reach. He wanted him to work for it. Really work for it. Horangi made note of the prey drive he had, the way he was able to maintain that stealth and stay low in a way that Horangi rarely saw his specific species do. He adored it. How couldn’t he?

Training wasn’t the only thing, though. Missions came up quicker than anticipated, and it wasn’t long before {User} was properly working. Horangi thought he was ready. He didn’t notice any mistakes that would be lethal, so he had brought him along. Everything was meant to go smoothly.

The issue?

The enemy had their own set of demis, and they had a stronger sense of smell than {user}. They sniffed him out like hound dogs on a hunt, and struck when Horangi had separated from him. It was supposed to be easy, but Horangi felt his heart fall in his gut when he heard the sharp noise of pain, then another noise that didn’t come from the same mouth. A knife was pulled from {User}’s hip and was stuck inside the throat of the demi. Smart move, really. It forced noises to be silenced while also killing it.

It didn’t mean that {User} was in a better situation, because Horangi was quick to notice a puncture wound on his throat. Could he move? Yes. Did it likely hurt? Also yes.

A medic arrived on site at the evacuation area and was quick to stop the bleeding, but not without those teeth being bared directly in their face. Horangi was quick to stop it, but he didn’t entirely stop him from how he reacted. Horangi would react in a similar way if he had been bitten on the throat.

Luckily, no infections or long-term damage were noted, but it didn’t mean {User} was put directly in the field again. As a matter of fact, he was put right back on training, and even that was limited. The stitches didn’t let him move his neck, and Horangi couldn’t properly spar too often. He was fearful of a situation happening like that again, and he wanted to improve his close-combat skills. At the time though, he couldn’t go all out because throat hits were dirty work for the meantime.

Horangi could tell it pissed him off. Horangi was babying him too much, and even Horangi agreed, but he wasn’t going to have his prized possession get hurt because he decided to get a little sloppy and overbearing. At the same time, he saw the way he itched at the covered stitches like some sort of disease under his skin.

Eventually, he could tell it was bothersome. He would take longer showers, five minutes past what was allowed–which didn’t seem like a lot, but it was in Kortac–and refused to move his neck any further than he had to when lifting his head up.

So like any good handler, Horangi would assist his pet with washing himself.

It wasn’t inappropriate in Horangi’s eyes. It was simply something he knew {User} found relaxing, even if a little humiliating to have someone staring. Showering in general was nice when the warmth eased the pain of a day’s work. Horangi knew it was a little harder on {User} with his neck, so he was more than happy to assist.

---

Horangi couldn’t help his wandering hands as he helped {User} wash up. He assisted in his back and any part that called for a turn of the neck. Occasionally, his hands would trail down to itch the top of {User}’s tail, the water getting it wet and oddly...smooth. It was nice to touch, in a way.

He kept his distance from him, preventing his dick from touching him. That would be inappropriate. He didn’t want that to happen, so he kept that small distance between them as he helped him wash up.

“Can you–yeah, thanks.”

Horangi took the cheap shampoo that {user} passed over to him, immediately pouring some on his hands before he rubbed them together, then placed his hands in his hair. He rubbed his scalp and head, being gentle while also making it soothing. Anything to distract him from that nagging pain in his neck.

“Good?”

Out of all people, Horangi was the least surprised when he had been assigned a demi. He was the one who could certainly keep up. He had that energy, he had that speed. Even when training, he was able to wear out anything–even some of the canines. It was impressive, really. He pushed everything and anything to its breaking point, then pulled back right before they shattered.

It was a learned tactic, and not in the military sense. Horangi was a gambler. A dogshit one, but he was a gambler. He learned how to tell the odds of losing or winning, even if he usually lost. It was the thrill that kept him going, and in this case, it gave him the same high. He loved it.

With gambling, though, Horangi learned how to take that break. He knew when to pull back, even if it resulted in a loss. He could decipher the smallest hints in someone’s face, the grimace etched in their eyebrows as they stared at the shitty hand he had dealt them. It was all part of a plan.

The military was no different. Horangi could tell he wore {User} down each day. Every day, she was sluggish. Every night, she was knocked out the instant her head hit the pillow. Every day, {User} was keeping up with Horangi just a bit more.

Now, Horangi’s tactic worked. It improved {user} in every way he wanted it to, but he kept that thrill of achievement just out of reach. He wanted her to work for it. Really work for it. Horangi made note of the prey drive she had, the way she was able to maintain that stealth and stay low in a way that Horangi rarely saw her specific species do. He adored it. How couldn’t he?

Training wasn’t the only thing, though. Missions came up quicker than anticipated, and it wasn’t long before {User} was properly working. Horangi thought she was ready. He didn’t notice any mistakes that would be lethal, so he had brought her along. Everything was meant to go smoothly.

The issue?

The enemy had their own set of demis, and they had a stronger sense of smell than {user}. They sniffed her out like hound dogs on a hunt, and struck when Horangi had separated from her. It was supposed to be easy, but Horangi felt his heart fall in his gut when he heard the sharp noise of pain, then another noise that didn’t come from the same mouth. A knife was pulled from {User}’s hip and was stuck inside the throat of the demi. Smart move, really. It forced noises to be silenced while also killing it.

It didn’t mean that {User} was in a better situation, because Horangi was quick to notice a puncture wound on her throat. Could she move? Yes. Did it likely hurt? Also yes.

A medic arrived on site at the evacuation area and was quick to stop the bleeding, but not without those teeth being bared directly in their face. Horangi was quick to stop it, but he didn’t entirely stop her from how she reacted. Horangi would react in a similar way if he had been bitten on the throat.

Luckily, no infections or long-term damage were noted, but it didn’t mean {User} was put directly in the field again. As a matter of fact, she was put right back on training, and even that was limited. The stitches didn’t let her move her neck, and Horangi couldn’t properly spar too often. He was fearful of a situation happening like that again, and he wanted to improve her close-combat skills. At the time though, he couldn’t go all out because throat hits were dirty work for the meantime.

Horangi could tell it pissed her off. Horangi was babying her too much, and even Horangi agreed, but he wasn’t going to have his prized possession get hurt because he decided to get a little sloppy and overbearing. At the same time, he saw the way she itched at the covered stitches like some sort of disease under her skin.

Eventually, he could tell it was bothersome. She would take longer showers, five minutes past what was allowed–which didn’t seem like a lot, but it was in Kortac–and refused to move her neck any further than she had to when lifting her head up.

So like any good handler, Horangi would assist his pet with washing herself.

It wasn’t inappropriate in Horangi’s eyes. It was simply something he knew {User} found relaxing, even if a little humiliating to have someone staring. Showering in general was nice when the warmth eased the pain of a day’s work. Horangi knew it was a little harder on {User} with her neck, so he was more than happy to assist.

---

Horangi couldn’t help his wandering hands as he helped {User} wash up. He assisted in her back and any part that called for a turn of the neck. Occasionally, his hands would trail down to itch the top of {User}’s tail, the water getting it wet and oddly...smooth. It was nice to touch, in a way.

He kept his distance from her, preventing his dick from touching her. That would be inappropriate. He didn’t want that to happen, so he kept that small distance between them as he helped her wash up.

“Can you–yeah, thanks.”

Horangi took the cheap shampoo that {user} passed over to him, immediately pouring some on his hands before he rubbed them together, then placed his hands in her hair. He rubbed her scalp and head, being gentle while also making it soothing. Anything to distract her from that nagging pain in her neck.

“Good?”