#dom!doyoung

[hrts4doie]

sloppy seconds (study buddies pt. 2)

wc: 4.7k

warnings: f!reader, threesome between you + doyoung + haechan, sub!haechan, switch!reader, dom!doyoung, cuckolding, degradation, humiliation, voyeurism, unprotected sex, cum play, breeding kink, dacryphilia, doyoung is shy at first then becomes mean, haechan gets ignored and cries a lot, everyone’s a bit perverted, haechan finds a new study buddy (sorry doyoung)

a/n: this is part 4 to me and @haetrack’s nerd!haechan series but can also be read as a standalone! our idea that finally made it out the dms can u believe it.. this is literally pure filth btw. part 3 (doyoung being added into this mess) can be read here on val’s account!

haechan lost. he made a stupid bet, too caught up in his own pride, and he lost.

it’s not like he failed his exam. he did great, sure, but he still lost. to make things even more humiliating, he lost by one point. you consoled him, telling him that it was okay, but even then he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he messed up.

he’s jealous, the feeling eating him up inside knowing that doyoung, who was his favorite study buddy, is probably up right now, gloating in his glory and imagining everything he’s gonna do when he gets his hands on you.

if this were under normal circumstances, haechan might not have minded inviting doyoung over to have a threesome with his girlfriend. he thinks of himself as someone who’s generous, one that's willing to share if the situation was right, and he’s close enough with doyoung that it wouldn’t necessarily be weird. but this isn’t under normal circumstances and haechan’s only sharing you because he lost a bet.

for once, haechan thinks that he might actually hate life. he decides that this is all probably just some sick joke the universe decided to play on him, and unfortunately for the universe, haechan doesn’t really find it funny.

frustration heavy on his mind, haechan pulls out his phone and opens up his messages with doyoung. if he was going to even consider going through with this bet, they needed to talk.

haechan: we need 2 talk

haechan: about the bet.

doyoung: oh?

haechan: ur lucky she even agreed

doyoung: didn’t you make the bet assuming that she would already? lol

haechan: whatever. just come over tmrw and we’ll talk

haechan: [address attached]

when doyoung comes over, it’s awkward.

you’re sitting on the couch with haechan next to you and the air in the room is tense with doyoung’s presence. he’s sitting across from you two, eyes darting around the room nervously. he realizes that in reality, meeting up with your friend to have a threesome with his girlfriend isn’t as easy as it sounds. is he supposed to look at you? make the first move? doyoung’s head hurts thinking about the situation.

it probably doesn’t help that haechan, your boyfriend, is staring hard at doyoung. you place a hand on his thigh, trying to comfort him while also trying to get him to stop.

“hi doyoung,” you greet, smiling warmly. if haechan wasn’t going to speak and doyoung was too nervous to even look at you, you had no option but to take the initiative.

doyoung falters, staring at you for a few moments before opening his mouth to respond. “hey, __,” he greets back. he gulps, nerves getting the best of him. he runs a hand through his hair, desperately trying to ignore how intensely haechan is staring at him from the corner of his eye.

“thanks for coming over to-”

“okay,” haechan cuts you off, “no more small talk!” he didn’t like the fact that you two were about to have a conversation about this without him. if he wasn’t going to get the first say, this wasn’t going to happen at all. sue him for being a bit possessive, but how else was he supposed to react knowing that right after this, doyoung was going to be fucking you? “there’s no need for,” he pauses, waving his hands around in gesture, “all this. i’m already humiliated enough, okay? let’s just get this over with.”

you side-eye him, noticing the growing blush on your boyfriend’s face. he’s embarrassed and almost as nervous as doyoung is.

“first of all, you can’t cum in her, okay? that’s.. that’s weird and she’s mine, so don’t get any stupid ideas. you should be grateful i’m even letting you touch her at all,” haechan mutters, suddenly avoiding eye contact with doyoung. this was so humiliating to talk about, especially with you right next to him.

doyoung runs a hand through his hair again, nodding. he glances at you, then haechan, then back to you. “is there anything else off limits?” he asks, his gaze subtly dropping down to your lips.

haechan catches this, huffing. “stop staring at her like that, man! you can.. you can kiss her, i guess. only if she wants! w-we’re not vanilla or anything like that, so that’s the only thing that’s off limits,” he frowns. the clarification was unnecessary, but he didn’t need doyoung getting any ideas about what their sex life was like.

“i don’t mind if you kiss me, doyoung,” you add in, squeezing haechan’s thigh. it was a warning, telling him to be nice.

“o-okay, yeah. i got it,” doyoung says, exhaling nervously. he runs a hand through his hair one more time. now that the rules were out there, it was awkward again. he still didn’t know how to approach this, his mind racing with different kinds of thoughts. he glances between you and haechan, uncertainty clear on his face.

a few moments pass and still, doyoung hasn’t moved. this only frustrates haechan because seriously? he gave doyoung the opportunity to touch his girlfriend and he wants to be nervous about it?

if doyoung won’t make a move, haechan will. he turns to you, leaning forward to kiss you. it’s rushed, messy, and bordering on desperate when he kisses you, hands immediately coming to grope at your skin. he’s eager, you can tell, trying to get doyoung to do something.

you pull away from the kiss, pushing haechan back by his chest. “s-slow down, babe,” you gasp out, just barely short of breath. he goes for your neck instead, leaving wet and sloppy kisses anywhere he can reach. you place a hand in his hair and yank him away from your neck, frowning. “you know your manners. doyoung’s our guest and we should welcome him properly.” haechan only whines at this, unhappy with the interruption.

doyoung, with his hands gripping his thighs, looks like he’s seen a ghost. this was weird and intruding on so many levels, yet he feels his dick growing harder as the seconds go by. you were so hot and he badly needed to be in haechan’s place, kissing and touching all over your body.

“come here, doyoung,” you call out to him, moving your attention away from haechan. you notice his bulge and giggle, the thought of having two men desperate to be all over you making you giddy.

doyoung gets up from his seat, slowly making his way to you as you beckon him over with a finger. with a newfound confidence and his dick doing the thinking for him, he leans down to connect his lips with yours.

kissing doyoung is different than kissing haechan, you note, closing your eyes. doyoung’s more controlling than haechan is, taking what he wants without asking. his hands cup your face, tilting your head upwards for a better angle. while haechan is pliant and submissive, letting you kiss him as you please, doyoung is demanding and forward.

you moan into the kiss when you feel his hands start to roam, touching and groping your body everywhere he can, as if trying familiarize himself with it. it’s so much and you feel dizzy from the way doyoung kisses you.

a loud whine breaks the moment and you pull away from doyoung, turning to look at haechan. he’s staring at you two, brows furrowed, and clearly upset. he wasn’t used to the attention being on somewhere other than him during sex, and quite frankly, he didn’t like it. not having your attention pains him, especially when it’s on doyoung instead of him. he may have lost a bet to him, but this? this wasn’t fair.

you shush haechan, telling him to be quiet, and ignore his whines of protest. haechan tries not to think about the way his dick twitches in his pants at the quick dismission.

doyoung, finding the whole situation amusing, laughs at how easily haechan folds because of you. his suspicions that haechan liked being pushed around in bed were true, and a fleeting thought about just how far he’ll go to please you crosses his mind. he puts a hand on your cheek, turning your face back to him and leans down to connect your lips in yet another heated kiss.

you cup doyoung through his sweatpants, feeling his bulge, and gasp into the kiss. doyoung is big, bigger than haechan, and the fact makes you smile. he breaks away, moaning against your neck as you palm him through his sweats. “fuck,” he moans, hips bucking into your hand. it’s good, overwhelmingly so, and he hasn’t even gotten to fuck you yet.

doyoung thinks that months of sad, heartwrenching sex with nobody but your ex will do that to a man. this is new, and good, and so fucking overwhelming.

“you’re so big,” you whisper into his ear, sliding your hand inside his pants and past his boxers, touching his cock. he groans at the contact, cursing once more.

“yeah?” he mumbles against your neck, grinding into your hand. “bet i’m bigger than haechan,” he adds on, “bet i’ll fuck you better than him too.”

you nod, the words making you throb in your panties.

haechan is quick to protest, frustrated with how he’s just been getting ignored. “that’s not–that’s not true!” he whines. doyoung was not going to fuck his own girlfriend better than him. it didn’t matter if his dick was bigger. he refused to let that to happen.

doyoung pushes you back against the couch, caging you in and sliding a hand down into your pants. he rubs at your clit through the fabric of your panties, making you moan.

“it is true, haechan,” he laughs, “i bet you can’t touch her properly either.” he connects your lips in another kiss, continuing his touch. you’re so wet, soaking through your panties, and it’s driving him crazy. between kisses, he asks, “he doesn’t know how to touch you the way you need it, hm? need me to do it cause he can’t?”

haechan’s humiliated hearing this, shaking his head even though neither of you are paying him any attention. this is so unfair, he thinks again. he does know how to please you and how to touch you. doyoung’s words were just stupid and untrue. what’s stupider is the way he’s so hard, cock straining against his pants while he’s watching doyoung touch you like he’s not even there.

“y-yeah,” you agree, throwing your head back with another moan, “so much better with you, doyoung, fuck.” his hand is inside your panties now, feeling your cunt and just how wet you truly are. his fingers tease along your folds before moving back to rub your clit. the touch is foreign, different than the way haechan touches you, yet you still can’t get enough of it.

haechan hates this. he hates everything about this situation and he’s embarrassed because he he likes it. he likes the humiliation and the way you two ignore him. it makes his stomach twist in unexplainable ways and his cock throbs in his pants every time you tell him to shush or to be quiet.

doyoung is kissing down your neck when you finally call haechan over, deciding to spare him just a little. he scurries to the other end of the couch, desperate for at least some kind of attention. his eyes are wide, silently begging, and he can’t help the whine that leaves his mouth as he gets closer to you.

he tries to ignore that doyoung is right there next to him, hands roaming freely inside your panties while haechan can’t even touch.

you grab him by his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. you love when he gets like this, so needy and desperate for your touch. breaking away, you ask, “you gonna be good and wait, hm? let doyoung have his turn while you sit–fuck–sit there and watch?” it’s difficult to focus with the way doyoung is touching you, his fingers hitting all the right spots.

dumbly, haechan nods. he’ll be good, he thinks, even if the image of doyoung fucking you makes him want to cry.

“good, baby,” you whisper, kissing him again. “take us to the bedroom so you can show doyoung just how good you are, okay?”

haechan watches from the corner of the bed as doyoung peels off your shirt.

you’re laughing, amused by the way doyoung’s eyes widen as he gropes at your chest. it’s experimental and slow, not familiar like the way haechan touches you.

haechan knows he can make you feel better faster than doyoung can. doyoung’s taking his time, learning what you like, but haechan knows. he knows what gets you going and what makes you moan the loudest. it’s frustrating to watch. he wishes he could just show doyoung how much better he is, but he promised to be good.

as doyoung’s hands roam across your bare skin, haechan can only watch as he lets his palm subtly grind against his clothed clock, taking off a little bit of the edge. his cock is so hard it hurts. he wishes he were touching you instead.

doyoung’s whispering words into your ear that are too soft for haechan to hear. it’s as if he’s not even there and doyoung’s your boyfriend instead.

haechan watches as you get manhandled by doyoung, placed prettily in his lap, and watches as he spreads your legs apart. you’re on display, cunt glistening right in front of haechan’s face, and all he can do is watch. he’s staring hard at your core, zeroing in on the way doyoung’s fingers start to carefully dip inside you. he starts with two, slowly starting to pump them in and out of you.

“god, you’re beautiful,” doyoung whispers against your skin. you’re dripping, clenching hard around his fingers as he fucks you. they’re so long, reaching deep inside you and curling just right against your sweet spot. “it’s a shame haechan didn’t share you sooner,” he continues, his free hand coming up to grope at your breasts again.

“doyoung–mmh–doyoung, please,” you gasp as he starts to pick up the pace, fingers pumping in and out of you quickly. a loud squelch sounds as does, your pussy sucking his fingers in even deeper. the sound is embarrassing and it makes you flush a bright red. “d-doyoung,” you moan, throwing your head back on his shoulder and trying again.

“hm?” he hums, smiling against your neck. he’s staring right into haechan’s eyes, a mean look in his eye.

doyoung wants to humiliate haechan and show him that no matter what he does, he’s still going to be better. haechan’s girlfriend is in his lap, cunt dripping around his fingers, and moaning out his name, not haechan’s.

haechan feels stuck when he stares back at doyoung.

you’re oblivious to the silent interaction, too caught up in the way doyoung’s fingers feel inside of you to notice. you moan as he slips in a third, stretching your hole and making you feel full. suddenly, all you can think about is how badly you want his cock inside you.

“you’re so fucking wet,” doyoung groans, looking away from haechan to kiss down your neck. “it’s all for me, isn’t it? not your boyfriend?” he asks, curling his fingers inside you again. the words make you whine and nod, overwhelmed by doyoung’s words and the way he touches you.

you know haechan’s watching, pathetically palming himself through his boxers, and you can’t help but play things up a little. “w-want your cock, doyoung,” you moan, “please, i need it!”

haechan whimpers, hips bucking up into his hand. he’s ashamed, cock twitching as he realizes just how turned on he is by his girlfriend moaning another man’s name. this is so wrong, he thinks. you’ve tuned him out completely, attention purely on doyoung, and yet he’s still so turned on.

doyoung pulls his fingers out of you, wiping them on the sheets, and quickly manhandles you onto your back. you whine at the loss of his fingers, clenching around nothing. you need him to fuck you now and the wait is driving you mad.

“c’mon, fuck me already,” you whine, rolling your hips.

he laughs, moving to kneel between your legs. “yeah? need my cock that badly?” he asks, hands teasing along your thighs. “beg me for it,” he whispers, “beg for my cock and maybe i’ll give it to you.”

doyoung’s doing this on purpose and you know it. you know he wants to humiliate haechan, wants to make you beg for another man’s cock that isn’t his. you know and you like it.

“fuck me, please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “want your cock, doyoung. fuck me like i deserve, please.”

“that’s it, baby,” doyoung groans, spitting into his hand and slowly starting to stroke his cock. his tip is bright red and leaking from how badly he wants you. “just a little more,” he beckons, “need to know you really want it.”

haechan wishes the ground would just swallow him whole. tears are starting to well up in his eyes as he listens to you beg and he wishes you would just look at him. doyoung isn’t that good. he can’t be, haechan thinks, trying to console himself.

doyoung teases the tip of his cock against your hole, just barely pushing in.

“please, doyoung,” you try again, wrapping your legs around his waist. he’s so close yet still so far.

without warning, doyoung pushes in, bottoming out in one go. a moan rips from your throat at the sudden intrusion, his cock stuffing you full.

“look at that,” he mumbles, eyes glued to the way you’re practically sucking him in, pussy clenching hard around his cock. “so fucking tight,” doyoung groans, lightly thrusting. he’s letting you adjust, hips barely moving, and it’s still so much. you squeeze your eyes shut and whimper from how big he feels inside you.

haechan reaches inside his boxers, pulling out his neglected cock with a cry. he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of doyoung fucking you, no matter how much he claims to hate it.

you open your eyes, turning your head to look at your boyfriend and the teary look in his eye. “d-don’t you dare touch yourself, haechan. i told you to be good,” you say, ignoring how this makes him whine even more.

you turn back to doyoung, rolling your hips and begging for him to move.

doyoung grips your waist and slowly starts to thrust inside you, his thick cock dragging against your walls. you were so tight around him, making him moan as he starts to fuck you faster. his pace is relentless as his hips snap against yours, cock sinking deeper and deeper.

“s-shit,” he groans, the lewd sound of skin slapping filling the room. “you were made to take it, weren’t you? m-made to take my cock,” doyoung grunts, glasses starting to slip off his face from how hard he was fucking you.

“oh my g-god,” you moan, pussy clenching tightly around him. you can barely think, the pleasure and doyoung’s cock inside you making you lose your mind.

doyoung slows down, stopping his thrusts completely before bringing a hand up to fix his glasses. you whine as he stops, trying to get him to move again.

he turns to look at haechan, a mean smile on his face. he gently starts to thrust inside you again, all while keeping eye contact with him. “look at this, haechan,” doyoung calls, “look at how she’s sucking me in. let’s make a bet on who fucks her better, yeah? you’ll lose that too, won’t you haechan?”

doyoung’s words are mean and haechan’s not sure he can take it. he shakes his head, trying to defend himself. “that’s not–that’s not true, doyoung,” he whines, gripping the base of his cock so he doesn’t cum. he can’t even look at doyoung anymore.

“c’mon, doyoung,” you beg, wanting him to pick up the pace, “ignore him and fuck me, please.”

doyoung turns back to you, leaning down to kiss you. he slams his hips into you, fucking you fast and hard. you moan into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck, hole twitching around his cock as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

his kisses trail down to your neck and his glasses are starting to fog up from how hot it is in the room. he moans against your skin every time you clench around him, thrusts starting to get more and more desperate. doyoung fucks you faster, pounding into your messy cunt as he feels himself getting close. he brings a hand down to rub your at clit in time with his thrusts, causing you to cry out.

“i’m c-close, fuck,” doyoung moans against your neck. you’re clinging onto his back, moans loud as you try to keep up with his pace. “tell me you’re close, baby,” he begs, grunting as your walls squeeze him impossibly tighter.

too overwhelmed to speak, you nod and your thighs start to shake. all it takes is one more deep thrust from doyoung before you’re cumming, shocks of pleasure washing over your body and your pussy spasming around his cock. “doyoung,” you moan out, hands flying to his hair.

“that’s it,” doyoung grunts, hips starting to lose their rhythm as he feels you cum around him. his dick twitches inside you, so close to cumming, before he quickly pulls out, leaving your hole gaping.

he sits back on his heels, quickly starting to jerk himself off. finally, he cums with a loud groan, dick twitching in his hand before he spills all over you, painting your stomach white. he’s panting, looking down at you with a dark look in his eye, almost as if he’s admiring his work.

you’re a mess, makeup smeared and hair all over the place, and it’s all because of doyoung. his cum paints your skin, and to him, it’s art.

doyoung turns to look at haechan, wanting to brag in his face. the sight is pathetic. haechan is stroking his cock, tip leaking, and all thoughts of waiting for permission to touch himself fly out the window. he just watched his girlfriend get fucked by another man and now he badly needs to cum.

coming back to your senses, you sit up against the headboard and turn your attention back to haechan. “don’t you even think about cumming, haechan. come here,” you demand, “you know what’s gonna happen if you cum without my permission.”

haechan full on sobs at this, pulling his hand away from his cock. his hips buck in the air and you hear doyoung laugh beside you, humiliating haechan even further. tears are rolling down his face as he desperately crawls across the bed to you, kneeling between your spread legs.

“l-let me touch you, please,” he begs, hiccuping. “i’ve been good, just please let me touch,” haechan goes on, babbling about how badly he needs you. his poor cock hangs heavy between his legs, neglected and leaking.

“shh,” you coo, wiping a tear from his eye. “you wanna touch me?”

haechan frantically nods, nearly knocking his glasses off his face.

“i’ll let you touch me, hyuckie,” you whisper, leaning back. “clean me up and i’ll let you touch, okay?” you ask, smiling.

haechan freezes, looking between you and the cum on your stomach. it’s doyoung’s cum that’s all over your body, not his. “clean.. clean that?”

“i thought you wanted to be good?” you ask, placing a hand in his hair and pulling his head down to your stomach. “are you gonna be good or not?”

doyoung’s eyes widen at the situation before he grins. the thought of just how far haechan will go to please you crosses his mind again.

haechan’s face crumples as he sticks out his tongue, licking up the first drop of doyoung’s cum. it’s gross, humiliating, and the taste is strange, but he wants to be good. he looks up at you, tongue traveling across your stomach as he licks up the rest of the cum.

your breath hitches as you watch him and you bite your lip, keeping a hand in his hair.

haechan whimpers as he finally licks up the last drop, a stray tear rolling down his cheek. you yank him up by his hair and connect your lips in a heated kiss. he’s needy, already forgetting about the fact that he just licked doyoung’s cum from your body and thinking only about how he needs to fuck you.

his hands are all over your body, touching anywhere and everywhere after being deprived for so long. he whines against your lips, pulling away to catch his breath.

“please let me fuck you,” he begs, too desperate to think clearly anymore. “please, baby, need to fuck you.”

you shush him, wrapping a hand around his aching cock. “you think you deserve it?” you ask, slowly starting to stroke him. haechan whimpers, hips bucking into your hand. he nods, trying not to cum on the spot.

you turn your head to doyoung who’s sitting right next to you, “should i let him?”

doyoung looks haechan up and down, taking in his pathetic state, and decides to be nice. “let him fuck you. he listened good enough, i think.”

haechan feels relief wash over him at doyoung’s answer, silently thanking him in his head. “come on, please,” he begs you again, leaning down to kiss you on the corner of your mouth. haechan thinks he might die if he doesn’t get to fuck you in the next five seconds.

you let go of his cock, spreading your legs further. “fuck me, baby. show me how much you need me.”

haechan wastes no time, grabbing the base of his cock and guiding it to your entrance, bottoming out in one thrust. he feels tears well up in his eyes again at the feeling of your warm walls around his cock. “f-fuck,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. being inside you is almost too much.

your hole spasms around his cock, still sensitive from the way doyoung fucked you before. “i want you to cum, hyuckie. you deserve it, don’t you think?”

haechan nods and starts to frantically snap his hips against yours, fucking you like his life depends on it. his thrusts are sloppy with no rhythm, driven purely by want and the need to cum. all he can think about is how he needs to fill you up and show doyoung that he’s the only one who can do this.

you throw your head back with a moan, caging haechan in with your legs. “t-that’s it, baby,” you praise, “cum for me.”

haechan cries out as he feels your walls tighten around him again, hips stuttering. he thrusts in one more time before finally letting go, spilling his cum deep inside you. you pull him down for another kiss, moaning into his mouth.

you pull away, caressing his face. he flops down against you, cock going soft and slipping out. his glasses are gone too, lost somewhere in the sheets and left behind in a fit of desperation. you giggle when you notice this, wrapping your arms around him.

“thank you,” he mumbles, face dropping down to hide in your neck. he’s exhausted and currently rethinking his life choices.

doyoung clears his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose. “that was.. wow,” he says stupidly, looking between you two. he’s satisfied yet suddenly feeling like he’s intruding.

you giggle, running your fingers through haechan’s hair while you look at doyoung. “i almost want to say thank you for winning,” you teasingly say to him.

doyoung, suddenly shy, bites his lip and asks, “was it.. was it good? better than haechan, i mean?”

at this, haechan whips his head up, whining. “stop! that’s not–no! i’m never making another bet with you again after this, doyoung! this was the first and the last,” he grumbles, squinting at his study mate.

you and doyoung both laugh at his words. “i was kidding,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender. “i see why you two are together. you’re…” he pauses, flashbacks of everything replaying in his mind, “let’s just say you’re good for each other?” the laugh that follows is nervous, almost like he’s not sure how to explain.

haechan decides that he’s definitely opening up applications for a new study buddy after this.

a/n: umm.. hrts4doie first fic who else cheered!! i just want to say THAAANNNKKK YOU SOO MUCCHH to val aka @haetrack for coming up with this series with me and also helping me write parts of this!! im soooo excited to finally be posting this and completing the nerd!haechan series but i love nerd!doyoung so bad i just might write more of him. anyways i hope u guys enjoyed and lmk what u thought!!

tags: @haetrack @beidouvv

[nctstar]

poly! nct 127 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ threesome ver.

hard dom members x sub reader

pairing: nct 127 x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

genre: smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni! everything is consensual, hard dom members, heavy degradation and bsdm content (don't read if triggering), safeword discussed, oral (male and female receiving), rough penetrative sex (unprotected, please be safe irl), manhandling, hair pulling, painplay + impact play (whipping), face slapping + spanking, squirting, fingering, clitoral stimulation, double penetration (same hole), a lot of crying, begging, sexual punishment, daddy kink, kissing, anal (female receiving), multiple orgasms + overstimulation, intense orgasms, mentioning ex during sex, handjob, hand over mouth (female receiving), profanity, (everything is really messy idk how to write this so you hopefully get what i mean)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. everything is consensual and safewords/limits have been discussed prior to the scene - sex is only sex when it's fun for both parties, please keep this in mind <3

a/n: so um...here's this. I was running on matcha coffee 3 hours of sleep and 2 episodes of pretty little liars all before 9am yesterday when something in my body just felt COMPELLED to write this, so here it is :D also labyrinth ch 2 is COMINGG i just need time to write it in a good way, but i've planned the entire thing and am excited to see how it ends up. also, i've decided to make poly! nct a series, not quite sure if i'll keep the same pairings or how this will work but it won't only be smut, i plan to write lots of different types of scenarios for them. anyways, love you, bye for now xx

Mark & Taeyong ~ Thighs slipping against each other, water dripping down to your ankles as you stumbled towards Taeyong’s parted legs. “Bend over.” He commanded, but you felt the shove before you could, pushing you forward with a gasp. Mark’s open hand now pressing down on the shallow bend of your back, he toyed with the strings of your bikini bottom, chuckling darkly at your every whine. Taeyong grabbed your chin roughly, forcing your face inches away from his. You winched as his grip tightened, hard enough to leave bruises. “Fucking slut.” Your heart hammered as you felt the cold air hit your now bare core and ass, Mark squeezing the plush of your behind as he groaned in pleasure. “Fuck, she’s so sexy.” He drawled. The panic began to quicken, pouring down your veins like ice water when you felt the wood-hard bulb of his dick press against your exposed hole. Eyes watering, you begged, not quite sure what you were begging for. “Please, please, p-please…” Mark slapped your ass in response, the tears now rolling down your cheeks as you cried out. Your vision whitened, side of your face stinging as Taeyong slapped you, twice, the edges of his ring marking a spot underneath your cheekbones. “Bend the fuck over. All the way.” You nodded as you cried, shutting your eyes as you held your ankles and let your head hang down, the blood rush making you delirious.

The pain and pleasure made your legs tremble, losing control of your body, gripping until you felt the bony edges of your ankles, moans ripping themselves from your throat as Mark bottomed out. “So big, please…” You gasped, as if his cock choked you from the inside. You babbled apologies, shaking your head when you heard the sound of Taeyong’s zipper above Mark’s sloppy thrusts. “Please, n-no…no more, I can-nghh,” you trailed off, feeling your own release grease your inner thighs, shame pooling in the bottom of your stomach. “We’re not done here, slut. No safe word means you still want this. Stupid whore.” Taeyong groaned as he pumped himself to his full hardness, watching you shakily squat down to the cold tiles, listening for any signs of protest. You stayed quiet, heaving, a sudden urge to let go as your head throbbed from your last orgasm. You felt Mark wrap one arm around your lower stomach, pressing down hard and lifting you off the ground. You squealed, trying to push his arm away, the muscles bulging underneath his skin. “You’re too rough with m-me…” Your knees hit the cold tiles as Taeyong pushed his length into your mouth, another hand holding you in place and gripping your hair tight. “Can you cum like this? Hmm?” Your head spun, pussy throbbing from the humiliation, Mark’s legs now caging your body as you stared up at Taeyong, cock bruising the back of your throat. Your pleas were lost around his length as Mark began to press his fingertips into your scalp, making you sob. “What’s the matter? Too rough?” He teased, his laugh searing into your brain. You pressed your thighs together as something sent you over the edge, making you spray all over the tiles like a rabid animal. As you gasped for air, Taeyong kept thrusting in your mouth, groaning as he came, moonlight hitting the sheen on his skin as you swallowed every last drop.

Jaehyun & Johnny~ “Faster, sweetie.” His words dripped sticky like honey in the shell of your ear. Your legs wobbled, biting your lip so hard you tasted rusted metal. With Jaehyun’s semi-hard cock nestled inside of you, you tried to grind your hips quicker, earning a satisfied groan from Johnny. “Good girl.” You moaned in pleasure, shockwaves of euphoria running through your body, but moments later, Johnny gripped you around the waist, fingers digging harshly into the plush of your sides. “But not fast enough.” You whimpered, knowing what comes next. Jaehyun brought one arm up to wrap around your shoulders, pulling your face into the crook of his neck. As you shook your head, he shushed you quietly. “Wanna use your safe word?” You shook your head, and Jaehyun held you tighter against him, the fingers of his other hand travelling down to press down on your clit. “Such a nasty little doll for us to fuck.” You moaned when he sped up, tears flowing down your cheeks as you came. “So quick to cum too. Open.” You thought he meant open your eyes, so it took you by surprise when he pressed his fingers past your slightly parted lips, pressing down on your tongue until drool ran down your chin. “Silly girl.”

Your body jerked when you felt the thick tip of Johnny’s cock press against you. You gazed pleadingly at Jaehyun, as if to beg for mercy. “Can’t even use our cocks right. Gotta do all the work ourselves. Stupid girl.” You buried your face into Jaehyun as the heat of embarrassment blossomed across your face, but Johnny wasn’t having it. One quick wrap around his wrist and your head was yanked back, scalp burning from the impact, stray strands of hair falling limply across your face. “What do you say, hmm?” The stretch burned deliciously as he continued to push inside you, tucking himself right next to Jaehyun, so good you forgot how to breathe. “Mnghh, y-yes, s-so good, please, please, Daddy, l-love it, love being stuffed…” Your mouth slackened as an unexpected orgasm rendered you numb. When your senses returned, you felt Jaehyun grind his hips upwards in smooth, fluid, quick snaps, while Johnny pounded you from the back. You cried as you felt another orgasm be torn from you, piece by piece. “F-fuck, oh my god!” Johnny’s arms wrapped around your neck, your fingernails tearing at his biceps for air as you squirted hard over both of them. “Please, Daddy, can’t-“ As he released you, letting you fall onto Jaehyun’s toned torso, you cried, stuttering in between shaky breaths. “T-thank, you, thank you…”

Haechan & Taeil~ “It’s too big…” you whined, lube running down the crevices between your legs. Haechan shushed you, petting your hair. “You’re okay, kitty. Remember we use our words when we want to stop, hmm?” You nodded, remembering the safe word. You couldn’t lie – it felt equal parts weird and good. You felt Taeil lift you by your arms, letting you wrap your arms around him. “Mmm, Daddy…” you sighed as he sucked and nipped at your neck. The dildo continued to travel inside your ass, and Taeil whispered in your ear. “You’re gonna take it all, right? Like a good kitty.” You cried as the stretch started to make you force yourself off the dildo, but Taeil grabbed your thighs, pressing them against his so you couldn’t move. “Shhh…” he continued to kiss along the shell of your ear, while you protested. “Daddy, f-fuck, wait, it’s so b-big…” Haechan was relentless, and without warning, began to thrust it upwards. You felt like your entire world had been split into two, your stomach torn to shreds. “Oh my god!” you screamed. “H-Hyuckie!”

“Naughty kitty…you thought I hadn’t noticed that you were flirting with Mark today?” You cried, shaking your head as he continued his pace. Your heart pounded at the thought of him going faster, even though you knew you could stop him at any point. “Bad kitty.” He tutted. Taeil’s bulge grew underneath your pussy, and you made the mistake of glancing down. “Nasty kitty.” Haechan’s breath tickled the side of your neck, and your body started to shake in pleasure. “Hnghh…” Taeil laughed. “You’re soaking me, kitty. You’re really gonna cum from your punishment?” His teasing tone made you moan incessantly, and he grabbed your hand, shoving it under the waistband of his shorts. “Daddy first.” You nodded, stroking him under his pants as Haechan continued to fuck your ass with the dildo, groaning at your pornographic sounds. “What do you say, kitty?” You felt Taeil coat your hands with cum, and your legs shook. “H-Hyuckie, please, can I cum?” He stayed quiet, pressing the dildo fully inside you. You continued to beg as he pushed his cock inside you, sliding down Taeil’s body agonisingly. “Can’t, c-can’t hold it in, p-please…” Taeil pressed your face on his crotch while he chuckled. “What about me, honey?” With tears running down your face, you begged, “C-can I cum, Daddy…please – oh!” the breath left your lungs as Haechan yanked the dildo out, sheathing himself inside your ass. “Cum, kitty.” You stammered words of relief as you came the hardest you ever had, Haechan finishing all over the curves of your ass and lower back.

Jungwoo & Yuta~ You couldn’t see anything, but you knew it was him. You’d recognise his lips anywhere, tongue slithering up inside you like snakes. “J-Jungwoo.”

You heard the whip crack before you felt it, a diagonal line on your back, white-hot pain seeping into your body. You fought a sob as Jungwoo kissed your neck, the lips on your core still sucking and kissing your sensitive folds. “Wrong.”

He waited for you to give you the all-clear, to nod, letting him know you were still good to continue before he left your side, and it was silent again.

You yelped in surprise as you felt someone nip at your chest, one hand pressing your back to keep you still. You whimpered, the sudden jolts of pain making your body writhe under his arms. “Y-yuta.”

You were released immediately, but your breathing remained laboured. For a second you thought you were wrong again, and you held your breath, squeezing your eyes even though you were blindfolded. “Correct. Last one.” You felt your head be yanked back by your hair, making you yelp. “A-ah, it hurts…” You feel something rub against your lips, the shape and texture making you quickly realise it was a cock. You whimpered involuntarily, knowing this one would make or break this game. You swirled your tongue around the end, sucking on the tip, kissing blindly around the shaft, your lips meeting the softer skin of the balls as you did. “Jungwoo.” You continued kissing, sucking, bringing your hands up to cup his balls, and that’s when you heard him groan. “Fuck. So filthy, isn’t she, Yuta?”

He laughed, and you felt the air between your legs. He sucked your clit, making you moan onto Jungwoo’s length. “A-ah, feels good…” Yuta hummed into your core. “Filthy sluts like you…” he kissed you, “…deserve…” he swirled his tongue inside you, holding your knees down when they rebounded upwards to move away from his mouth, “to cum over, and over…” You came with a cry as he sucked relentlessly, but you were cut off by Jungwoo pushing his cock inside you, making you gag noisily. “If you like my cock so much, let me give it to you.” Dizzy with relief, Jungwoo lay you on your back, the sheets slipping against your bare skin as you slid your body upwards. Yuta held you down, pressing your stomach into the mattress, watching as your back arched off the sheets rhythmically, tits rolling with each movement. “S-so good, fuck, f-fuck…” Your legs felt like jelly as Jungwoo held your face in place, the new angle over you allowing him to thrust in your mouth, the weight of gravity making his cock heavier than usual. Balls slapping against your chin, you felt it bulge in your throat, wrapping your fingers around yourself to feel it slip in and out of you. He pulled out slowly, a slurry of coughs and moans filling the air as you felt yourself cum onto Yuta’s face, his fingers rubbing the inside of your knees to ground you. You babbled incoherently, not knowing whether you wanted Yuta to stop, for Jungwoo to leave. The tip of Jungwoo’s cock on your lips brought to back to Earth. “Give me a kiss.” You kissed him diligently. “Y-yes sir, love this c-cock so much…” He came all over your ruined face to finish the job, just as you felt Yuta press himself inside you, sensitive clit screaming from the stretch.

Doyoung & Jaehyun~ “Stop, s-stop…” Jaehyun halted his fingers as you shuffled your bare body on his satin pants, pressing your legs together to centre yourself in the midst of your post-orgasmic haze. “Already came.” Jaehyun leant his head over your shoulder, bringing your naked body closer to his. “I know, sweetie. Wanna see you make another mess…” He brought his hands closer to your core, watching and waiting for you to protest. You didn’t. You were watching Doyoung, watching the way his shirt hung off him desperately, inches of his body peeking out from under the fabric. “Like what you see?” You moaned unexpectedly when Jaehyun dug his fingers inside you, running his fingers across your spongy walls. “A-ah…” Your mouth hung open, the pleasure more intense than before. Doyoung walked across to tilt your chin upwards, wrapping his fingers around your jaw while his thumb ran across your swollen bottom lip. “What was that you said about your ex? How he made you finish so hard you had to throw away your sheets?” The implications of his words somehow made that knot in your stomach tighten, every stroke of Jaehyun’s fingers now bringing you to the edge of euphoria. “Answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks as you made guttural noises, your orgasm hitting you at once. Jaehyun sped up his fingers, not caring when he felt your insides grip him like a vice, as it begging him to slow down. The slap of his palm against your clit was brutal, and Doyoung pressed his open palm against your mouth. “If you’re not gonna answer me, then you don’t deserve to speak, whore.” Tears sprung to your eyes as you grabbed at Doyoung’s wrist, pleading. He watched you carefully. “Nod if you remember the signal that replaces the safeword.” You nodded eagerly, and he stepped closer to you, his other hand now pushing the back of your head into his palm, holding your head in place.

“Finish me off. Hurry up.” You grabbed at his pants, the silky fabric slipping away as you wrapped your hands around his length. He groaned, bringing your head to his stomach as he let go of your mouth, letting you breathe into his stomach. “Good girl. Stay quiet now.” You whimpered, losing count of the times you had already came. Jaehyun pulled his fingers out, pressing onto your clit now. You lifted your head off Doyoung. “Nghh, wait, not there…” Doyoung smacked your head in warning, making tears spring to your eyes. “This is why you haven’t squirted yet. We’re too nice to you. Always listening to you, treating you like a princess. When all you are is a dirty whore.” His words made the tears run down your face, but you were turned on more than ever. Jaehyun sucked at your neck aggressively, his voice deep and sonorous. “We’re not finished until you’ve squirted hard enough to ruin these pants. Then once again around my cock. And then around his.” You wailed, feeling your orgasm approach you in towering phases. “Ah, ah, feels w-weird, fuck, wait, I think I’m gon-“ You were cut off by Doyoung’s fingers, pressing inside you while Jaehyun drew circles on your clit. “Don’t fucking stop jerking me off. Don’t care if you’re cumming.” You threw your head back, quickening each flick of your wrist as you felt yourself reach your high, each cry more intense than the last. Legs shaking, you felt the wetness come out of you in quick bursts, fingers spreading it all over the three of you, through clothes and onto skin.  

[yunoclips]

could you please do a virgin!doyoung fic pls 🥹

Hey anon , I gotchu <3

Virgin!Doyoung

The first time you saw Doyoung , he was hiding behind your friends. They were a couple of guys that you had met through countless school events and parties. Everyone was a familiar face.. except him. He stood behind them in silence , trying to avoid making eye contact. He kept his head down and his mouth shut. You had thought it was kind of weird and maybe a bit rude at first. But as you kept talking to them you had grown more curious and before you could question him , they all walked off. 

From that day forward you would always see him trailing behind Jaehyun and Johnny. Sometimes you’d see him alone , studying in a library , reading in the grass , eating sandwiches in the cafe window. He always looked well kept , not a single wrinkle on his clothing , hair styled , face clear. He was perfect , too perfect in fact. Something in his eyes was drawing you in. 

Maybe it was the fact that you were so tainted and he was so pure. Something in you just wanted to dig deep inside him and corrupt him. And so you started to push a little bit. Making sure to say hi every time he was around, purposefully bumping into him , making small talk. You had gotten him to open up a little , being able to hold conversations that weren’t cut short by rushed sentences and lame excuses. 

Today you and some of your friends invited a couple of the guys over to the dorms for a little hang out. Doyoung was among them. The entire night was going smoothly, but every now and then you’d search around for Doyoung. He was in the corner the entire time , taking slow sips from his red solo cup. Johnny had offered him a hit of his blunt but he denied. He would alternate between scrolling on his phone to resting his head back against the wall. 

He looked amazing though , a black turtle neck hugging his body snuggly. Black hair styled to perfection. It was irritating you , how could he come in here to hang out but not interact with anyone. 

You got up and pulled Jaehyun to the side, he looked slightly flustered at the sudden urgency. 

“What’s up with your friend ?”

“Who?” He looks around the room for a second before coming to a realization. “Ohhh, Doyoung?” You nod. 

“Yea he seems a little weird doesn’t he” A dopey smile is on his face. “He’s a little shy , not much of a people person. I don’t blame em’ though… He does seem to take a liking to you however..” 

“What are you talking about?” Curiosity running through your veins. 

Jaehyun looks around the room , like he’s trying to make sure nobody can hear him. 

“Ok don’t tell him I told you this. I really don’t feel like dying.” He pauses , gathering his thoughts. 

“So… The other night , we had just gotten home from happy hour. You remember that right?” 

You nod , completely invested 

“Anyways.. when we got home we decided to roll a joint. We asked Doyoung to stay but he told us no and then ran to his room. It was like he was in a hurry or something , but we ignored it cause Doyoung is always a little weird.”

He pauses again. Taking a sip from his cup before he continues. 

“It had been 3 in the morning , all the guys had went to bed already but I was still up. I was getting tired though so I had started to walk to my room. Doyoung’s door is actually directly next to mine so when I passed his door I started hearing sounds. He sounded like he was in pain , I was starting to panic. But just before I opened the door I heard your name come out of his mouth.”

My name ? You say to yourself. You were in shock but wanted him to finish the story so you nudged him. 

“I had thought maybe he was on the phone with you , it seemed like you two had hit it off earlier but no. He kept saying it , then I started hearing wet sounds and before I knew it his bed was creaking. After that I just ran into my room and forced myself to sleep” 

Doyoung.. the Doyoung that always looks like he’s pained when you force conversations onto him. The Doyoung that sits in the corner at parties. The Doyoung who speaks to nobody.. was jerking off with your name on his tongue. Before you could process everything you say something quickly.

“Is he a virgin?”

“Yea..”

“Send him to my dorm room in 5 minutes.” 

He looked stunned but he sensed what you were insinuating and nodded with a smirk on his face. 

You quickly turn around and head straight over to everyone. Telling everyone good night, as far as they knew your stomach was in pain. You shoot one last glance at Doyoung before scurrying off to your dorm room. 

Once you get inside you rid yourself of your pants , leaving only a pair of lacy panties on. You ditch your shirt for something more comfortable , opting for an over sized shirt that covers everything. 

You turned off all the lights and lit the candle that was on your dresser. Then you just sat and waited. You were nervous for some reason , it’s not like you haven’t had sex more times than you can count. There was just something different about Doyoung. 

5 minutes had passed and still no knock. You started getting discouraged. Maybe you were a little too forward. You get off your bed sighing. Walking over to your mini fridge to grab bottle of water, a timid knock on the door stops you in your tracks. You take a minute to gather your thoughts. Maybe you were just hearing things.. but you were proven wrong when the knock happened again. This time you rush to your door and open it. Standing there was Doyoung , looking absolutely nervous. 

“H-hi.” 

You stare into his eyes for a minute , trying to read him but he looks away. You just move over , allowing him access into your room. He walks in and starts to observe his surroundings. His back is turnt to you. 

“Jaehyun said you needed me for something.. is it about class ? Do you need the notes for our statistics fina-“ 

Grabbing his arm, you turn him around to face you. He looks like a deer caught in headlights. His breathing is erratic and his eyes are all over the place. 

“You know why you’re here Doyoung.”

“I-i don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You start by taking a step towards him. For every step you take , he takes a step back. 

“You think nobody can see you. Always quiet , always sitting in the corner. Never speaking just observing. You don’t smoke , you don’t drink. Yet you’re always at parties. You don’t like speaking to people. You don’t like interaction. Hell, you can’t even be bothered with me is that right?” 

He doesn’t answer but he does stop his movements. His legs had hit the frame of your bed , one more step back and he would fall. 

“You know Doyoung, I see right through you. You think you have everyone fooled. But nobody knows. Nobody knows that when you go home at night and nobody’s there but you and your four walls.. you pull your cock out and jerk yourself raw while moaning out my name.” 

His eyes widen. How did you know? Did someone hear him? Normally he would have ran away and hid from you. Maybe even move schools just from the embarrassment alone. 

But this isn’t a normal situation. His cock is so hard that he can hear the blood rushing in his ears.  

Your eyes trail down to the tent in his pants. Perfect.

“Tell you what Doyoung. I won’t tell everyone how much of a perv you are. Instead I’ll give you something to remember , something nobody else can give you. What do you say.. do you want that?”

His eyes are fixed on you, too stunned to speak. All he can do is weakly nod. 

“Is that a yes ? Lost for words now are you.”

“Yes.. I want it please.”

“Hmm.. that’s what I thought.. Take your pants off and get on the bed.”

He moves excitedly just like the virgin he is , almost tripping over himself when he slides down his jeans and boxers. He sits back on the bed , hands supporting his body. His cock sits long and heavy on his shirt, redness at the tip , veins prominent.

You can feel yourself salivating but quickly snap out of it as you drop to your knees. 

He looks at you with widened eyes. 

“A-are you g-gonna suck my c-“

You cut him off short by wrapping your lips around the tip. His stomach flexes and his breathing comes to a halt. That’s a good sign. Pulling off to spit on your hand , you start by wrapping your hand at the base. Going up and down , adding a twist every time you get to the bottom. 

He lets a gasp , similar to the sound one makes when they get punched in the stomach. His thighs start flexing.

You put your mouth back on his tip and continue your hand movements. He’s now moaning louder.

“Mmm.. fuckkkk” 

Your start bobbing your head up and down. Removing your hand , you take him deep in your throat. Your nose can feel his pubes graze the tip of it. The pleasure becoming too much for him to handle, he tries closing his thighs but you land a light slap to the inner part. Signaling him to keep them open. After the slap you can feel a drop of salty pre cum squirt on your tongue, his cock starts throbbing. You pull off quickly before he can finish.  A thin line of saliva connecting between your lips and the tip. 

When you stand up you catch him with his eyes rolled back , mouth agape trying to gasp for air. 

“I need you to lay down now.” 

He refocuses his eyes. It takes him a few seconds to process your request , already fucked out. Once he can gather his thoughts he moves just as he is told. 

“You’re a good listener , that’s hot” 

A thin layer of sweat is covering his forehead. You can feel your panties starting to get soiled, your arousal staining the lace. You slip them off and straddle him. Leaning down , you trap his lips into a sloppy kiss . Lips swallowing each others , spit being swapped. You pull of slightly out of breath. 

You starting rubbing small circles on your clit. He watches in awe, breathing heavily. Smirking you start to lift yourself but he stops you. 

“W-wait.. I-im a virgin.”

“Oh I know.” And with that you sink onto his cock easily. The mixture of your spit and arousal making the slide easy. 

Doyoung stops breathing , trying his best not to come. The feeling is indescribable. It’s almost too much , the mixture of the wetness with the warmth and grip is mind numbing. His eyes roll back and his cock starts to throb. He’s close already.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare cum inside of me.” 

He stares at you in silence trying his hardest to restrict himself. You give him two minutes to calm himself before you start moving. First you start with grinding , swiveling your hips back and forth causing him to whimper loudly. Then you finally start bouncing up and down. His cock filling you up so nicely, you bring a hand down to your clit and start rubbing calculated circles. The pleasure building nicely in your stomach mixed with the loudness of Doyoung’s moans was driving you crazy. You were getting so lost in the pleasure that you were absolutely startled when you felt Doyoung push you off of him. At first you had thought that something was hurting him but when you turned to look at his face , his eye lids were twitching , eyes crossed. He was gripping the sheets , Thighs slightly shaking. His cock was throbbing erratically and before you knew it, he started shooting warm ropes of cum over his shirt. He came untouched. His ears were ringing and his vision was blurry. 

The scene in front of you was so hot , you started rubbing yourself to completion. Clenching your thighs around your own hand. Doyoung laid in bed , staring at your ceiling , breathing labored. Cum staining his shirt , cock red and limp. 

You get up to get a good look at his face. He looks disheveled. He looks corrupted. 

Before you head off to get him a rag and use the restroom you whisper in his ear. 

“Same time next week. I’ll show you a real good time.” 

[thetypingpup]

thinking about the rover!au again. pinning doyoung against a back alley wall and stroking his cock, watching his dumbfounded expression get needier and needier the longer you touch him. he'd been teasing you all night, but he didn't think you'd actually give in and take him out in the open. the overhead light spotlights your indecent acts, casting a bright sheen over him as you shove his pants down further, exposing more of him to the open air. his black jacket falls down his shoulder, the leather retreating to reveal his shoulder and the top of his arm, perfect places to kiss and bite. so you do, leaning in and latching your lips right onto the curve where his neck and collarbone meet. you decorate his bare skin in an array of scarlet and violet, a perfect compliment to the rich berry hue that tints his lips, and you leave a few lipstick marks of your own that stand out starkly among the hickeys. you continue like this, decorating him to your heart's content, flicking your wrist and toying with the pace of your hand on his cock just to make him shudder against you. you can't help but smirk against his skin in satisfaction, loving that you can make him come apart like this.

a whiny moan slips past his lips at a particularly hard bite, but he's quick to clamp his mouth shut, putting his hand over his lips to muffle his next sounds. you start stroking him faster, flicking your wrist, your other hand pinning him further into the wall. one of his thighs slips between yours and you grind against it, further keeping him in place with the gyration of your hips. his shadow smoked eyes flutter shut in bliss as you toy with him against the hard brick wall, beyond satisfied that you're finally touching him the way he's been begging you to all night. his accessories jingle noisily as he bucks into your hand, shamelessly panting out whining moans against his own hand, making so much noise despite his attempts to stay quiet.

you move his hand aside, replacing it with your lips and allowing him to moan into your mouth. he melts in your grasp, his knees weakening and almost giving out, were it not for you to hold him up. your other hand holds onto his hips as you kiss him, your tongue sliding over and stroking his at a seductively languid pace. satisfied by the sweet desperation you taste on his tongue, you string him along on his path to pleasure, focusing on the head and rubbing your thumb over it. he whimpers pitifully against your mouth, letting a stuttered sigh release into the air when you bite down on his bottom lip.

"you're getting what you begged for, slut." you whisper harshly, loving the way his cock twitches in your hand at your words, pulsing with the need to heard more degrading words. his unfocused gaze just barely hones in on the gap between the two buildings, passively watching the gray clouds passing through the sky. he can't bare to look at you, not yet, because if he sees the intense heat in your gaze he'll surely make a mess of you both all too soon. he knows you like to take your time playing with him. so he holds back, letting his pleasure build at the pace you set, and the first tears of overwhelmed excitement start to well in his eyes.

[jinisnuggets]

Hello can I ask for a Doyoung smut, I haven't been seeing new fics of doyoung these days 🥹 tysm

𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

ᴾᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᴵᵈᵒˡ! ˢᵘᵇ! ᴰᵒʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ˣ ᴰᵒᵐ! ᶠᵉᵐ! ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᵂᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: ².¹ᵏ

ᴳᵉⁿʳᵉ: ˢᵐᵘᵗ

ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᵀʰⁱᶜᵏ ᵈⁱᶜᵏ ᴰᵒʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ, ᴴᵃʳᵈ ᵈᵒᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᶜᵏ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ, ᶜᵒᶜᵏ ʷᵃʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ, ᵗᵉᵃˢⁱⁿᵍ, ˢᵘᵍᵍᵉˢᵗⁱᵛᵉ, ˢʷᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ

ˢʸⁿᵒᵖˢⁱˢ: ᴺᵒ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ʰᵒʷ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᴰᵒʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ’ˢ ⁶ᵗʰ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ… ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵖʳᵉᵈⁱᶜᵗᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ.

ᴬ/ᴺ: ᴴⁱ ᵃⁿᵒⁿ! ᴬˢˢᵘᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ᵐʸ ʳᵉqᵘᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ᴶᵉᵒⁿᵍʷᵒᵒ ᶠⁱᶜ, ᴵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ... ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵃˢᵏˢ, ⁱˡʸˢᵐ 😭🩷, ˢᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵛⁱʳᵗᵘᵃˡ ʰᵘᵍˢ 🫶

“Hey… it's late, is everything alright?” You called through the phone after not hearing a response for a concerning amount of time, he had called you so you didn't know if it was much of a real call or more of a prank call.

“Hey, the boys are gonna go eat somewhere but I honestly wanna just lay in bed and sleep. The company's too far and I know you live nearby- mind if I spend the night?” you could hear his croaky voice from the other side and you honestly couldn't help but feel pity for him, you didn't see the problem in letting your boyfriend come over in order for him to just immediately lay in bed and knock himself out, it was just one night and you didn't seem to find a problem with it.

“Doyoung - you don't need to ask, just call me and say you're coming over. My house is your house.” You calmly responded, “Ok, ok, my bad, I'll be there in 10” he responded, half chuckling while you heard the familiar beep and then the line went dead.

Part of you was nervous about him coming over to spend the night, but what was one singular night gonna do? Nothing could happen in the span of those 12 hours that he'd be coming and sleeping over. He had practice the next morning, which meant that by breakfast hours at the company, he should already be there and ready for practice.

So you waited until you heard a knock on the door, you slowly walked to the fronts of your apartment and looked outside the peephole. It was the habit you couldn't get rid of as well as the one people always found themselves questioning you for, to which you always responded with.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

Once confirming that it was indeed Doyoung, you slipped open the door and allowed him to enter the cozy setting, you greeted him and escorted him to your room.

“Since I live in an apartment- I unfortunately don't have any guest bedrooms, but you can rest in here and I'll be on the couch.”

Doyoung took the little energy he had in order to glance at you and turn his full body to face you, he looked a bit disappointed and a little annoyed.

“Why don't we just sleep together?” He responded. Now you were sure that your cheeks were flushed red judging by the burning sensation you had in them, you cleared your throat and made eye contact with him which was quickly broken by whatever reason you may have made in your head.

“I don't know about that-”

“Why? We're dating and from the looks of it, your bed is big enough to fit 2 people. I don't see a problem with it.”

You turned your head and thought for a moment, although you also didn't really have a problem with sleeping together, your conscience wouldn't really leave you alone if you dared to lay in the same bed as him, especially since in the recent Treasure comebacks he was really putting it off with the visuals.

“I probably won't keep my hands still if we do-”

He completely disregarded your comment, probably because he didn’t hear you or he just didn't pay attention, nevertheless it was one of the two. “It's only one singular night, I think we should be fine-”

Hesitant, you nodded, having already brushed your teeth, you asked him if he had brushed his, to which he simply nodded and fell onto the bed… to which you followed right after.

It had surprisingly worked out at first… both of you were sound asleep in a matter of minutes, and to be honest, you slept like a baby for those couple of hours that your eyes were shut, which felt weird since you hadn't slept like that in ages… maybe it was because Doyoung was next to you.

But you had woken up to the sound of Doyoung groaning, and of course it caught you off guard. Your eyes immediately widened and you saw yourself laying on top of your boyfriend, you figured you had just somehow shifted into that position during your sleep since you definitely did not remember falling asleep like that. Therefore you didn't think much of it, that was until you felt Doyoung's hand grab onto your shoulder and attempt to push you off lightly.

“Y/n… can you stop doing that please…?”

Confused, you looked at your boyfriend as if he was out of his mind, “I'm not doing anything…?” You lightly said, trying not to disturb his still tired side that had yet to woke up completely, and you could only imagine how much more confused he became when his groaning shifted to moaning.

It took you a while to realize that your knee was in a place where it shouldn't have been…

“Crap! I'm sorry!” you said, feeling Doyoung's arms wrap around you as you could feel his slow but repetitive breaths lightly caress your skin.

“Y/n… I'm tired. Let's forget this and go back to bed.” You could hear his shaky yet desperate voice, that same voice that was probably about to fall asleep any moment now. It took you a while to realize that the reason you had probably felt so uncomfortable around him lately was because you were turned on by him in a way, which had you wondering how you hadn't noticed earlier.”

You heard a groan come from his mouth, which left a smirk tracing on your mouth, satisfaction running through his body as his back slowly arched. Your hand had traveled over to his tighted pants and gently squeezed him, making him moan ever so slightly.

His breathing became more regular, becoming a mix of breathing and moaning “Y/n… you shouldn't do this here…”

“What are you so afraid of?” You muttered lightly, not daring to leave out the mocking pitch, knowing he wouldn't be able to do anything about it since it was technically you in full control.

“Y/n- I have practice tomorrow” he whined, but your grip only got tighter. Doyoung’s moan got cut off by your abrupt kiss when you leaned up and connected your lips together, giving him a passionate and wet kiss.

You lifted his shirt to reveal his small and skinny figure along with the small shape of his forming abs, chuckling a bit, you licked his chest in which he lightly groaned and looked at you.

“Doyoung- you really have no idea what you've been doing to me lately.” You muttered, unzipping his zipper and massaging his crotch, using the little fabric that was his only advantage against him… no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he was turned on, and you were the cause of that.

There was no need for permission, your hand was already sliding up and down his bare cock, as his dick grew in your grip.

“You're all out with the teasing today aren't you?” he commented, chuckling at the act along with you. Ignoring him, you brought your free hand onto his stomach and gave him small belly rubs, you felt his hand travel to your back and down to your waist, as he held you in place to prevent you from falling. His eyes were shut as he was beginning to relax at your every move, still letting out small groans at the feeling of your hand sliding on his cock.

And you surely weren't expecting him to have such an impressive girth, you felt he was thick but you didn't expect him to be that thick.

“Y/n… please let me feel you-” he moaned, words barely forming and escaping his mouth. Hearing it for sure drove you crazy, so you nodded and turned around which was the first time you actually managed to get a good look at his dick.

“Doyoung, I hope you know that with this dick you're just gonna make me want you more…”

“If you want me, then claim me.”

The response took you by surprise, sure your boyfriend was flirty with everyone but this was different, and you knew that he had caught onto you and decided to get revenge for all the teasing you yourself was guilty of.

“You think I won't?” You smirked which made his cock grow stiff, he liked it.

“You like it when I tell you things like that?” You muttered softly, he shaked his head, a bit ashamed before ultimately nodding, which only earning a small giggle from you.

The both of you pulled into a wet kiss, tongues intertwining and transferring all your love to each other with that one singular kiss, morning practice was the last thing on his mind now, almost completely forgetting about it. Once the kiss was separated you took the moment to look at your boyfriend, who was making eye contact with you intimately.

“Get on me…”

“Doyoung- you feel good…”

Taking a moment to process his words before smiling, bringing yourself over to him as he slowly removed the shorts which surrounded and highlighted your waist, following his instructions and lining yourself up with him.

Doyoung fluttered a bit and you felt him twitch inside of you, you gave Doyoung a moment and started grinding yourself on him, allowing him to feel all the pleasure as you both shared knowing sounds and moans.

“Y/n… you-”

Unable to finish his sentence, you cut him off by leaning down and kissing his chest, trying your best to limit your moans and allow him to do all the talking, you allowed yourself to suck his nipple and play with his other as you picked up your speed, pressing his on parts onto him.

“You can't get any better at this can you…?” He commented, completely out of breath and with sloppy speech, hearing him being so distraught really did something with your subconscious, enough to make you pick up your speed once more earning a growl from him.

“Fuck Doyoung… you really know how to mess with my feelings don't you?”

“I really don't mean to…”

Feeling his dick once again begin twitching, you brought yourself off of him, having a gut feeling that he was close and which was proven to be correct shortly after.

Small bits of precum leaked out of his dick, which was proving to your theory furthermore.

“Y/n… I'm close… please don't stop.”

“I'm not going to, I wanna show you satisfaction to the fullest.”

He didn't know what you meant, that was until you flicked his crotch allowing him to feel a small moment of both pain and pleasure at the same time, all feelings overtook him as his eyes rolled back and mouth watered at the feeling of his cock being distributed from it's original state and ending up with a small mark.

And that only got worse, as it started with small flicks to full on slaps, you slapped his dick harshly yet still with caution as you knew you there was a higher possibility that you'd hurt him than actually please him.

“Fuck…!” He whined, his whimpers got loud as he attempted to limit his volume, for a moment forgetting you lived in an apartment building with neighbors on all sides of your room. “Y/n! Stop! Please!” he once again whined, which just made you slap him slightly harder.

Tears began forming in his eyes as he felt the feeling of his dick slapping against his stomach and being brought back up to your hand for you to just repeat the cycle, his tears streamed down his cheeks and his mind became overwhelmed with thoughts.

How was the feeling of both pain and pleasure all at once was darn addicting?

His mouth watered, as he picked up the nearest pillow and brought it to his face, all his cum leaked out of him the moment your hand allowed his crotch to breathe.

“Was I too harsh on you?” Pity finding your voice as you saw the mess your boyfriend had done.

You both had been virgins up until that point, and the feeling of something like sex was truly just so overwhelming, the feeling of each other's touch in such an intimate way just really fluttered both of your hearts.

“No… it felt good…”

“Can try cock warming in you…?”

“Of course…” you lightly responded, reading his excited expression, he smiled lightly and brought a himself inside of you once more.

It was truly when you realized that one singular night was truly all it took for something so unimaginable to happen to two individuals.

Just one singular night.

[2amimagines]

doyoung.

what a fucking tease posting that.

you want me to make you look up at me?

maybe i should push you down to your knees and pull your hair back just to see you look at me with desperation.

just begging me to fuck you hm?

or

i could always shove my fingers in your mouth.

watch you choke around them and get teary eyed while you start to drool all over my hand.

pathetic honestly.

hearing your whines get higher and higher and eventually feel you rutting against my leg.

oh doyoung, just ask nicely. <3

[flowerinjuries]

nct 127 kinks !

pls dni if ur not 18+!

taeil

switch! dom-leaning

really likes to be in control bc he lovesss to tease u!!

when he’s domming, he’s rlly into bondage! expect him to have a collection of ropes and ties for you

he’s also rlly into lingerie - anything delicate with lots of lace is definitely his cup of tea

he’s pretty laidback overall, no hard kinks but he does love when u put on a show for him like a strip tease

when he’s subbing he just loves to see u have ur fun with him! he loves seeing his baby use him for their own pleasure :(

johnny

dominant lol

no super hard kinks but he’s definitely a dom and loves seeing u be on ur hands and knees for him

he loves being praised too. honestly he just loves showing off for you.

will take u at any time on any surface all u gotta do is ask

i can see him being into handcuffs

like taeil, johnny also appreciates pretty lingerie but he prefers a sexier look like dark colors and garter belts

johnny is so boyfriend to me so everything with him is pretty loving and casual lol i also see him having lots of quickies just bc he thought u looked sexy and couldn’t resist

he definitely calls u babe, maybe the occasional ‘whore’ if he’s feeling extra dirty

johnny’s just hot idk what else to say

taeyong

switch! sub-leaning

yongie loves when u use him as ur pretty lil doll

he will do anything u ask bc he’s a good boy that just wants to make u happy

he loves when u manhandle him: using a leash, pulling his hair, just overall being rlly rough

he never disobeys u bc he just loves u so much and he also wants u to please him as a reward

when ur tired or stressed out though sometimes u just need ty to take the lead and use u too

he’s gentle but also rough with u bc he knows u like that

there’s only one thing he loves more than being praised and that’s praising u

overall he’s just the most caring partner who puts your needs before his <3

yuta

the sex god himself…extremely dominant if u didn’t know…

he is definitely a brat tamer

he loves putting ur bratty mouth to good use..he’s so rough so he always pushes u down on ur knees and grabs the back of ur head to force ur face into his cock, “well it’s not gonna suck itself now is it, slut?”

he just needs to fuck the attitude out of his baby

i just know he has an evil laugh whenever he catches u doing something he doesn’t like

he’s so so mean he will edge u for hours

loves using u to get himself off, then taunts u, “aw, did u want to cum too? well too fucking bad”

definitely a sadist

yanks your hair, spanks u hard, maybe slaps ur cheek

he loves to see u cry bc of him. it’s his favorite sight to see bc ur just so pretty when ur full of him as tears spill out ur eyes and over ur bruised lips :(

ur his lil prince/princess so he always gives in to you no matter how tough he wants to seem

so maybe one day u say u wanna try domming him (he definitely giggled at this) but he lets u have ur fun (only for so long..until he flips the script and is fucking into u super hard)

some things he really likes are knife play and bondage..like i said he’s definitely a sadist

but despite him being so rough and dominant he’s the absolute BEST at aftercare. he will clean u up and run u a bath..then hold u in his arms the rest of the night whispering sweet nothings as u fall asleep (i’m crying)

doyoung

i wanna say he’s a very sadistic dom but i can see him being a lil bit submissive at times so i’ll say he’s a switch

he’s more quiet than yuta and way more mysterious. doyoung as a dom is SCARY. he’s also a brat tamer but he will not give into your wants.. he is going to punish u whether u like it or not

spanks u until ur dark red and have his hand prints in ur skin

he’s very very possessive of u so don’t piss him off

he’s kind of a pervert though..probably has used ur lingerie to help him get off when u weren’t there

^^^he steals ur underwear

thinks about u alllllll the time.. he’s obsessed

uses his belt to tie u up

this man is crazy

onto his submissive side…

he just loves u so he just wants to make u feel good

very whiny

will let u tie him up to keep things equal

i feel like he’d be into sensation play like using hot wax or ice cubes..maybe even electrocution

anyways doyoung is very interesting :D

jaehyun

switch but very dom leaning

this man.. i am sweating

yes u call him daddy ok i’m sorry

he just loves to be on top and in control what can i say

jaehyun also loves to fuck

he could glance at u and get horny

his sex drive is so high…

really likes sex to be rough and hard

he’s not that into toys bc he thinks his hands are better

loves to wrap his hands around your throat

also loves to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he drills into u from behind with your back flush up against his front

his voice is so sexy and he knows it so he’s really into dirty talk

calls u all sorts of degrading nasty names like slut, whore, fuck doll

but also is soft and tells u ur doing a good job and that ur his good girl/boy .. his sweet baby <3 you’d do anything for him too bc u just love him so much

loves getting his dick sucked too

when he’s subby he’s extra vocal..begging and begging for u to do anything

but u love to tease him

sex with jaehyun is so much fun

jungwoo

i cant see this man domming anyone for shit so i’m going to say he’s a sub

god he’s so fucking whiny

just give him what he wants and tell him he’s a good boy… jk i think u should be rough with him and edge him

he acts all sweet but i swear he’s so bratty

loves to piss u off then pretend he did nothing wrong

he’s kinda tall but i think he should get manhandled .. he just likes to be controlled

he’s so mischievous

pushes u to ur absolute edge.. he wants to see u go as far as possible

he definitely has a toy collection and loves trying new things!! he is very experimental

maybe he’s also an exhibitionist idk i just see him not giving any fucks if he gets caught

jungwoo is so much fun but also a headache

mark

100% switch no doubts

when he’s domming he likes to be rough with u but he’s also very careful and asks u “is this ok?” after everything he does

once u give him the go though his brain turns to mush and there’s no going back

he fucks so fast

chokes u with his whole arm around ur throat

also into filming u two going at it just so he can watch later

i think he really loves oral sex, can go down on u for hours and not expect anything in return

just loves to see ur bodies tangled together

loves having his hair pulled and his neck sucked on

he’s vocal but he doesn’t want to be. will whisper curse words but immediately put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from moaning.

he gets so turned on knowing that he’s the one making u feel so good

god he just loves touching u.. ur so perfect to him

edges himself without telling u just bc he wants the sex to last as long as possible

he’s so sweet with aftercare too..brushes ur hair and brings u water

mark lee is the sweetest (but he can be as rough as u want)

haechan

also not sure on him.. he’s for sure dominant but could possibly also be submissive

sadist! sadist! sadist!

dominant hyuck is so so mean

hates giving u what u want bc ur just a pathetic little bitch that won’t shut the fuck up

might have to tape ur mouth shut

loves to take his time with u

will tease and tease until ur screaming

u annoy him so much but he loves fucking u more than anything so eventually he caves

haechan will definitely spit in ur mouth and force u to swallow it

also loves when he brings u to tears

he’s going to overstimulate u

he’s so selfish

i think he’d be into somnophilia

haechan is a good boy though don’t get me wrong

if he’s subbing then he’s very loud and does whatever u say just bc he wants to cum

ofc u let him <3

[setsugekka]

❥déjà vu (m)

↳ One year after the fulfillment of a particularly raunchy agreement with your best friends husband, the three of you once again find yourselves together over a bottle of pinot noir, an appetizer, and an unforeseen question laid out on the table:

If you could do it all again, would you?

kim doyoung x fem!reader — friends with benefits, gratuitous sexual content, porn with plot [21k wc] cws: open relationship, alcohol consumption, bdsm-heavy!! dominant doyoung, submissive reader, restraints, impact play, slapping, dom-drop+aftercare, unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex (m+f), gratuitous dirty talk/degradation/humiliation, cum play/facials/wet&messy, deep throating, safe word usage, ravishment play, infidelity play, spit play, doyoung has a big dick and fucks like a pornstar.

In the dimly lit ambiance of the swanky restaurant that you and your present company currently reside, and over the dull, pleasant hum of the chatter of the surround patrons, you suppose you can't help but reminisce, just a little bit.

One year.

Not on the dot, a few weeks give or take since the beginning of one such agreement, but nevertheless a time in your life that you've found yourself recalling perhaps a few more times than you'd care to admit. Admit to yourself, and especially to aforementioned present company.

You bring yourself back from the thought just in time to make eye contact with the man across the table from you — a knowing collection of features gracing his face, of course, he doesn't know the ins and outs of whatever it is that happens to take your attention in the moment, but rather, just that there had been something to stir you away from the present. The ringing laughter of your best friend just next to him finally coming into earshot to let you know that the two had been engaged in some other conversation that you must have tuned out slightly, you watch her snake an arm around his as his preoccupied one continues to top off your glass of red wine.

Thankfully, third-wheeling with the couple has become far more comfortable, though, you suppose you know what the reason for that may be.

Mina, with blonde hair tied back into a ponytail and a black sweater on — it must have been the evening for couple outfits, as Doyoung sports just about the same, minus the blonde hair, instead sporting his usual black with seemingly no interest in ever changing his look.

"I'm so annoyed I have to go on this business trip at all," Mina huffs, across the table and next to her husband. "But they did say that I would need to be gone like this occasionally when I took it, so hopefully it can be done and over with as quickly as possible, at least."

"How long was it, again?" You ask, fork gently pressed between your lips to clean it off.

She rolls her eyes as the response begins to leave her. "A month. I don't know what he's going to do without me."

Playful in nature, Mina cozies up with Doyoung next to her as she says it, to which he merely offers a roll of his own eyes before audibly inhaling to response. "Surely I can manage."

"He'll probably just work the whole time, anyways," You add. Your friend nods knowingly. "Aren't you writing a book?"

Lips to his glass, he begins speaking into at the tail end of his sip before placing it back onto the table to carry on with the thought. "It's finished. Loose ends here or there but mostly done. Back to the usual workload, now."

Humming, you carefully shovel another forkful of pasta into your mouth before your vision catches on Mina — a certain gleam in her eye that you know all too well by now to mean that the woman be up to no good, you slow in your motions as you maintain your eyes upon her in wait for what it is that she almost certainly be about to unload on either of you in the middle of this far-too-expensive restaurant.

"Actually," she starts with a jingle to her tone. Eyes now averted from either of you, she still maintains the wicked upturn of the corners of her lips as she hesitates only slightly before finishing the sentence with little more presented to either of you. "I kind of wanted to talk to you about something—"

"Who?"

The word drops from both you and Doyoung simultaneously, and as a result, pulls a resonating chuckle from the woman.

"Well, both of you."

Uh-oh.

Doyoung, once having had his head turned towards his wife, now slowly pulls his vision ahead again, but not without narrow, questioning eyes still remaining to his side as if suspecting her being up to no-good. For good reason, as well, because you maintain the same amount of surveillance on her in wait for what it is that she's about to bestow.

Like a villain sitting in her evil, hands twisting within themselves for all of the devilishness that be about to transpire as a result of her.

"I have an idea."

"Well, that much we can tell, you only get like this when you have one of your ideas," Doyoung can't help but quip back immediately. A man lovingly fed up with all of the nonsense that his wife bring to his life, while no doubt being a large part of the reason that he love her in the first place. "So, what is it, then?"

"No fun, as usual." She sighs before taking a hastened sip from her own glass of wine. Then, her attention turns almost exclusively towards you, as if equally fed up with the way that her husband be behaving in regards to her unknown genius. "Since I'm going to be gone so long, I was thinking — why don't you come stay at the house?"

A shocked, resounding ‘what!?’ coming from both you and the husband in question, once again.

Of course, Mina only laughs at the response from you two with a gentle shake of her head to top it off.

You don't entirely know what to make of the offer, and frankly, you're a little bit too afraid to ask. Instead, you're thankful for Doyoung's bluntness, and perhaps also his familiarity in navigating these particular waters with his wife — because you think you know what she's suggesting, but he most certainly will be the one to ask the question out loud.

"Are you suggesting another arrangement while you're gone?"

"Yeah, why not?" She chimes back as if it be the most normal thing in the world. That it be bizarre for anyone to so much as question it further. "It's a whole month, darling."

"Fairly certain I can keep myself busy enough to not die without having sex for a month."

In ways, this conversation not really involve you currently. Should it play out a specific way, suppose then your input be necessary, but for now: this is between the betrothed.

Mina finally turns in the booth to face him better, but Doyoung insists on maintaining his calculated stature in facing forward and staring out towards the nothingness of the restaurant. He's difficult to read in moments like this; unable to discern if he's upset by the proposition, the potential implications of it, or if he's interested and just unwilling to come of all too eager, and especially in front of you.

After all, the last time sure did end off with a bang, of sorts.

"Are you mad at me?" She asks cutely, as if knowing the answer already. A woman who knows her husbands buttons well, as he turns to give her his full, undivided attention almost the moment that the last syllable drops from her mouth.

"No! I'm not mad, it's just," he pauses, thinking through his word choice carefully as a result of present company, you're sure. "I thought we all agreed that it was a one time thing."

"Then say you're not interested and I'll drop it."

For a split second, Doyoung's eyes catch your own, but he pulls them back and away from you nearly just as swiftly.

You don't think you've ever seen him like this. So...flustered?

Swallowing so hard you watch the lump in his throat bob, Doyoung cocks his head to the side once as if stretching for the marathon of a conversation that his acquiescence to this may just result in. A marathon, indeed, because there would certainly be a whole load more negotiations to take place for a month of who-knows-what-really.

Hesitancy to admit that he's interested in the arrangement. Reluctance to admit it outright without seeming all too eager to re-engage. Tricky waters for the husband in question to navigate, certainly.

Eyes fluttering shut, he sighs. "I'm not against it, just...surprised."

And unfortunately, that means it's your turn now.

Both of their attention now turning to you just as the waiter comes and brings the bill to your table, you feel the heat of embarrassment rush to your face — as if this stranger be privy to the topics ongoing currently — you chuckle nervously as you take the paper in hand, only for Doyoung to just as swiftly tear it away from you before you have so much as a second to consider paying it yourself.

"Well?" Mina questions, chin resting inside of her palm as an elbow settles against the waxed wood of the table top.

For whatever reason, you choose not to acknowledge the man any further as you think through your answer. Assuming him far too busy calculating incredibly simple math especially for someone with a career in finance, all you are capable of is simply thinking him all too enamored in that to be paying any interest or mind to what your response to this question could be. So, with eyes glued to the table in front of you, you muster up all of the courage that you can, while simultaneously biting back the bubbling excitement that you're not too proud of having, before finally giving your best friend your full attention and giving the answer that you think be the one that everyone at the table be looking forward to hearing from you.

"Yeah. I'm down."

Three weeks later, you bring your belongings for your extended stay over to the house that you find already to be comfortable.

There's a certain air about it: a place that you've already spent countless days and nights at, but knowing the circumstances under which you're back inside of their humble abode offering a new set of eyes that you have long since abandoned since a year or so back. Kitchen countertops and upstairs walls that serve as reminders of all sorts of goings on between you and the man of the house — perhaps things you may find yourself revisiting as well as new, unexplored areas with him — there's an excitement within you that now takes the place of any uncertainty or reluctance the first time around.

Because you know Doyoung, and you trust him completely.

Dragging a large suitcase inside, as well as an over-the-shoulder bag and a laptop bag for work, you carefully set your belongings down on the white, marble flooring of the home as you listen for the nearing sounds of footsteps hurrying down the upstairs hallway and towards you. Mina tips over the railing with a bright, cheerful smile — somehow the happiest of the three of you about the way that things are going to carry out for the next thirty days.

"You're here! Doie! She's here!"

Of course, you don't hear from the man, and instead your friend rushes herself down the stairs and into your arms with a wide, tight hug.

"I'm also hungry, I hope there's food in this house," You playfully respond, but before Mina has the chance, Doyoung retorts plainly from the same railing that Mina had been lovingly doting on you only minutes before.

"Suppose I'm expected to keep you fed then, as well."

"Yes, dear," Mina dryly answers with a huff over her shoulder. "Feed and fuck her, that's the agreement."

It being so simply discussed out in the open perhaps something you may never grow completely comfortable with, and with eyes glancing upwards to gauge the mans response as a result of his wife’s words, Doyoung's eyes only roll before sauntering down the stairway just the same as the woman had.

"Are you going to make dinner tonight?" Mina questions as he arrives just behind her. Hands in pockets, he shrugs rather nonchalantly, as if it make no difference to him either way. "I could."

He meets eyes with you, a single eyebrow raising. "Should I?"

"Uh, yeah," you hesitate in response, arms still wrapped around his wife as the conversation carries on. "That'd be really nice."

"I'll go prep then while the two of you say your goodbyes."

And before exiting the scene, Doyoung leans forward and around to kiss Mina — her still very much attached from you, it results in a very full, somewhat-intimate moment that you're all too included in. Unsure if they simply not be aware of your proximity or just as much not care, you swallow and glance away until they're finished — Doyoung's eyes once again catching onto your own before he pulls away from the blonde woman and disappears inside of the kitchen just down the hall.

Shortly there after, Mina separates herself from you, as well. Bags already packed and set aside by the door, you ask her if she need any help in bringing her things out to while she protests, and simply tells you to go and enjoy your stay...

...as well as 'all of the things that the stay has to offer.'

You're not sure if you should feel guilty for the amount of anticipation you've been holding back ever since the initial conversation, but you can't help but wishing for the woman to hurry herself out of the residence, even just a little bit.

You love her, of course, and if her being there instead were an option you would happily choose that ahead of your own interests.

But it's not an option, and frankly, you want to fuck her husband again. No real need to beat around the bush about it, this time.

Two hours after the wife’s departure, the scent of dinner brewing emanates throughout the lower level of the residency that you're now expected to call 'home' for the next month. Surrounded by familiar, white walls and granite countertops, the tall man within be laid with the multitasking of dinner-making while you carry out the finishing touches of table setting. One hand carefully cupped around the tip of the last candle, you hold the lighter against the wick for the fire to catch, and pulling away, you glance over the handy work that you've done in the meantime as you wait for the food to finish cooking. With a heavy sigh coming from Doyoung, you glance over only to find him missing momentarily — popping up from his presumed kneeling position in front of the small, compact wine cooler with a bottle of white in hand.

"Are you going to get changed?"

His expression is somewhat deadpan, which you suppose is to be a bit expected of him, but the question definitely coming from out of left field given your lack of knowledge of even being expected to wear something other than what it is that you had arrived in.

Was this...a date?

Stammering slightly, you do some quick, on your feet thinking about anything that you may have easily accessible in one of your bags that not require a whole lot of putting together in the last minute. "Yeah, give me a second."

Nearly jogging out of the dining room, you hear the man loudly and in your direction. "Make it quick, dinner's in ten."

Pulling a loose, casual dress from your bag and quickly bringing yourself upstairs and into the guest bedroom that you're now to call your own, you can't help but divert your attention down the hall to the shared bedroom of the wedded couple, with one, main rule bestowed upon you by Mina days before your arrival. Her only request of the two of you and your adventures together while she be gone:

Never in their shared room.

No interest in breaking such a rule, instead, you think it charming as you disrobe quickly to change into something more fitting for the evening together. That even in all of the things the couple be willing to share in their marriage, some things still remain off limits, and only for them.

As you re-enter the kitchen area, you catch Doyoung as he pull his apron off from around his neck. Long, thin finger deftly working at the tie around his small waist in a way that reminds you of precisely the way that the mans body look: broad shoulders cinching so snugly at the middle — accentuated by the way fitted trousers and belt hug him and pull at the loose fabric of his button down shirt — he catches you looking well before you find enough awareness to bring your eyes away, and a flush of heat settles at just the tips of your ears as a result of being found out in such a way.

He says nothing, however, instead carrying on with the task of setting the discarded item onto the back of a chair and nodding towards the glass dinner table. "It's ready."

Walking steadily behind him, you realize that the close proximity of the both of you in such a way having long since reignited a sort of burning passion within you for the man — with eyes cascading over his shoulders and back as he bring himself forward, you feel the first, all too evident throb of arousal between your legs that you know, for a fact, you can't possibly place blame on anything else.

When the original agreement had come to a close, you accepted as much happily. A good, positive, growing experience for you in so many ways, but more than that, you were satisfied. Not just sexually, but with your relationships, your life, and your choices. Within the closure came a certain kind of acceptance of yourself in ways that you had never had the opportunity to find before, and now with the re-opening of it, what you really hope to find is more of that.

More acceptance, more trust.

In ways the nature of such agreement never truly able to be just about sex. You can't speak for him, but for you, so much more to be learned and experienced.

Reaching the clear end of the table, majority of the things residing atop it placed further down to accommodate the fact that only two people be sitting there this evening, Doyoung stops so abruptly in his tracks that you nearly collide straight into him — hands coming up to steady yourself and set space between the two of your bodies, it turns into a bit of a whirlwind, however, when you feel the familiar grip of fingers coming around one of your wrists and pulling you forward and in front of the man.

You don't get much more time between then and the few seconds following: expertly placed up and on top of the glass with your legs pried apart to make room for the man between them.

The first kiss comes equally hard and fast, as well.

Nipping into your bottom lip, you don't need much help navigating these particular waters as your hands already make quick work of his belt, followed shortly thereafter by the button and zipper of his black trousers — with such little time passed and a palm pressed against the front of his pants, you find only the beginnings of an erection forming, enough to have you groaning into his mouth with promise of what's to come all of the same, however.

A master of his craft, Doyoung having already pressed the majority of the length of your dress up your hips upon hoisting you onto the table, he dips a single finger down the front of your panties and between your folds, as if to test the waters already. From your position, it's easy to feel the ease in which he glides against you due to the slickness already presented to him — your reward thus far? An absolutely wicked groan of his own through teeth that bite down just a little bit harder into your lip.

"God, how long have you wanted this?" He says with a low tone, words delivered directly into your open mouth as you gasp for air at the feeling of him rubbing gentle circles into your clit just the way he knows you like it. "You're so wet already. You still think about it, huh?"

Less interested in playing games and more willing to be a far more active participant this time around — leaving behind the shyness and apprehension that came along with the completely uncharted waters of the first time — you tilt your head back just slightly and grin, taking in the feeling of him all over again.

"Yeah, I do," you answer with airy confidence. "Don't you?"

"Fuck yes I do."

Words coming through in nearly a growl, Doyoung drags his mouth down along your jaw to suck into the skin all of the way down your neck before settling into the juncture of your shoulder. Pointed sucks and nips into the skin there as if a man truly starved for your touch, you feel him pull you forward and tilt you back just slightly — adjusting the angle of your body so that the fingers teasing you can slip down further — middle finger gliding so easily inside of you, he gives you three pumps of it before adding a second to see how much you need to be prepped for him.

The answer is very little.

Barely any resistance brought to him as he fucks you open with his fingers, you lean back with one palm against the glass behind you to remain stable as the other fishes out his length from behind the confines of the fabric holding it. Long and beautiful, just like you remembered, you run the palm of your hand up the underside of his shaft before delicately wrapping fingers around him and offering him a few lazy strokes; for no other reason than to hear the way his breath hitches just beneath your ear as his mouth carries on its journey back up that way.

As the man carefully creates enough space between your bodies to hook fingers into the sides of your undergarment and pull it down your legs, as he quickly presses his own pants down his thighs just enough to not be a deterrent, you can't help but notice the palpable urgency that this instance carries: a man known for his intensity and ability to maintain stoicism even in the face of erotic desire, this time you find him nearly unrecognizable from any of the times before. No roles between you, no power dynamics at play.

Just two people and raw, sexual desire.

Forearms hooked up and under your legs for leverage, you reach down to him to angle and ease him inside of you with one, smooth drive of his hips — sinking into you with heavy, contented sighs dropping from the both of your mouths at the feeling of each other. Rocking into you shallowly two, three times, it's only then that Doyoung reach his hand up to grasp the side of your neck as if to hold you there, in place, and with all eyes on him, as well.

Pulling the leg still in his grasp up and tightly against the side of his body, he offers you a quick, hard, snap of his hips that finally has you feeling exactly how it is that you want him to make you feel.

Crying out, he settles his forehead against your own, looking you dead in the eyes as he offers another hard drive of his cock into you. The angle is just right for him to graze your g-spot with intense pressure, and already, you feel your thighs quaking around him at the sudden onset of it.

He starts slow, but is quick to find his pace against you, all the while holding you firm in his gasp for just the right amount of leverage that every forceful thrust into you be received with the utmost impact.

You had forgotten how easily he's able to have to falling apart under, and around him.

Electric intensity coursing through every nerve ending, toes curling as your moans quickly dissolve into pathetic whimpers, you feel the prickling of wetness threatening your tear ducts as you bite hard into your bottom lip in an attempt to bring yourself back, even just a little bit.

It's the first time, and relatively vanilla, at that. This man can not have you withering like this already, it's humiliating.

With his jaw tight and teeth gritted as he stairs down towards you, you whine out as the hand around your neck snakes up just ever so slightly and into the hair at the back of your head — fist clenching tight within the strands, and it's only then that Doyoung break his gaze with you and trail hot, dry lips down to the shell of your ear.

"Thought I forgot what you like?" He asks with a drop of venom to his tone. "Don't want to ruin you just yet, we still have dinner to eat."

There's that nasty mouth you had grown to love a year ago.

With impending orgasm on the horizon that no doubt that man inside of you can feel, he trades in shorter, quicker drives into you for fuller, longer ones — offering you the feeling of the entirety of his cock with every snap of his hips, and it's really then that you realize that Doyoung have your likes a little bit too under his thumb for your liking.

But only as far as ego goes. Physically, you already find yourself lamenting the day in which this must once again come to an end.

Walls clenching down around him, Doyoung hisses into your ear as you bite back the full, long moan of an orgasm that's soon to shake you, and dipping down only long enough to nip and suck into the skin below your ear, he brings his mouth back up to it right as you're on the verge of your release.

"How about you make me come, so that I can lick it out of you for dessert."

And that will certainly do the trick.

Yelling out so loudly that you're happy to know that the two of you home alone and on a plot of land large enough that neighbors not be a concern, your orgasm rips through you, so desperate to grip onto something that one hand come up to curl fingers into Doyoung's forearm as he hold you by the hair in place for him to fuck into. Bringing his head up to look at you, as if the unsure about the motion and having to check in on the goings on visually — happy with the scene as your eyes roll back into harshly knitted eyebrows, you hear him groan from the chest — full-bodied and throaty as he comes as well with only a handful more drives into you before burying his cock entirely to empty his load inside of you.

The familiar twitch of him as he comes — mouth delicately hung ajar and looking down at the place where he disappears inside of you — a simple man who enjoy all of the carnal pleasures that sex offer him as much as any other. Prim, proper, put together on the outside but when given the chance, a man willing to say and do the the nastiest, filthiest things to and for a partner...for the both of your enjoyment.

The wetter, the messier — the better it is, for you and him, alike.

And as the two of you sit together for dinner only moments after, discussing the trials and tribulations of adult, workload life — with his cum dripping from your cunt and soaking into your panties, you know one thing is for sure, and that is that whatever is left of it inside of you by the time you two are finished here, he most certainly will be making good on his promise of dessert.

Waking up in the morning feels strange, even under the circumstances of a fake-dating agreement.

On one hand, it makes sense: preferring to sleep in the comfort of ones own bed, but as you lie awake, staring at the while ceiling above and listening to the hum of the dehumidifier that stand tucked away in the furthest corner of the room, you can't help but feel something. Some way about it.

However, it is early into the scenario — only day two, so perhaps it best to allow these feelings of uncertainty lie dormant for just a little while longer — given time to manifest into something if they ever are to, before bringing it to the attention of the man of the house.

Would it be a strange request? All things considered and through all of the other goings on, could something as quaint as the request to be slept next to be one unspoken hard limit for the husband in question?

A single, hard blink has you putting the thought out of your mind in exchange for rolling over to face the window as the delicate blanketing of morning rays wash over your frame. Snagging your phone from off of the nightstand, you check the time only to be be shocked by how early it is — only a bit past six — you come to realize that it explain the sound of rustling from downstairs that you originally thought to be nothing but the typical sounds of a house in the night.

For a moment, you contemplate attempting to go back to sleep, rolling onto your back once again and sprawling across as much of the expanse of the much-too-large furniture as you can possibly manage. Instead, it's the sound of the espresso machine ringing loudly through the residence that has you reconsidering your options.

Footsteps climbing the stairs, you can't help but listen in on the way that the man moves about when not in the company of you or others. Sounding as if he is, however, you hear him on the phone to someone or another — displeased at best, as well, given the strength to his voice despite being unable to make out the words. Shuffling around his office briefly only to disappear back down to the lower level, you decide then that you much too curious about Doyoung in a way that you hadn't quite expected: him as a person, him as an employee, him detached from sexuality almost entirely.

Feet into slippers and a light robe over your shoulders, you quietly tip-toe your way down to the kitchen where it seem that the majority of the early morning happenings be taking place — as you make your way closer, the distinct scent of coffee brewing and and continued sounds of an irritated man, none too thrilled about the conversation taking place, but it's only when you reach the nearest entryway and your presence demands his attention, that you feel as though you may have been walking into more than you had thought to be signing up for.

Black hair styled and slicked back with a gray suit adorning him — it would appear normal, given his occupation, if not for one, glaring, difference to the typical business attire.

No shirt worn underneath the jacket, instead, you find yourself faced with the expanse of smooth skin that you're already well acquainted with, sure.

But not like this?

Your being there appears to fluster him slightly as he turns his back towards you quickly and cusses under his breath despite still being on the phone. Informing the person on the other line that he'll call them back, you watch with a sort of innocent enjoyment as Doyoung pulls the jacket closed before turning to face you again.

"What are you doing awake?" He all but stutters out, a good attempt at maintaining his vocal balance through his embarrassment, you have to give it to him.

With a single eyebrow perked upwards, you offer him nothing more than a gentle grin at first, slipping through the doorway finally and pulling a mug down from one of the higher cupboards to pour yourself a cup of coffee. "I don't sleep so well in new places, it'll take a couple of days to get used to a new bed."

You can't be sure if ignoring the elephant in the room be what he desire right then and there, or if instead it only lending to more awkwardness — so, you make a judgment call then and there as you turn to seat yourself at the kitchen island and hopping into one of the tall stools that reside there.

"So—"

"Don't." He immediately interjects with screwed shut eyes and a palm up towards you.

A small giggle escapes your mouth at his insistence, but beyond that, you choose to let it lie as you quietly scroll through your phone. Doyoung, however, not as easily placated — shuffling around nervously in place, and if you didn't know any better, you might think him to be irritated at your lack of insistence further.

"It's not what it looks like."

Glancing up towards him, you blink once. "I assure you that I have no idea what it looks like."

It's the truth, because after all: what the fuck?

Rolling his eyes and accepting defeat, the man grabs his mug from behind him and seats himself across the way from you with phone in hand as if waiting for a call that he intend on answering the absolute second that it begins coming through.

"So, you know I wrote a book."

You nod.

"Publisher wants me to do some promotional photos for it, now I get word last minute that the photographer isn't coming and they're having a hard time finding someone who can make it all of the way out here in time."

"Is there a reason that they want you to be dressed like a Chippendales dancer for a book about business and finances?"

Groaning and tossing his head back so abruptly you think he might send the entirety of himself barreling backwards and out of his chair, when he comes back upwards, he looks approximately as pained about the whole ordeal as you might expect him to.

"Something about selling more books."

A questioning hum into the rim of your mug, you would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy having a bit of the high ground over the man for once. Tables turned briefly as he sits across from you nearly nervously sweating the wax out of his perfectly styled hair — when the call begins to come through finally, Doyoung jumps up and out of his chair to answer it — hurried and excited at first, only to find himself sounding just as annoyed and despondent as you had heard him earlier on.

Guess it's not going well.

Turning to you once again as he ends the call and setting his phone onto the granite countertop with a heavy sigh, he tilts his head backwards with eyes closed as if in silent prayer for some sort of answer to this conundrum from some sort of higher power above.

Luckily for him, the answer only need fifteen more minutes to wake up and another cup of coffee, first.

"Did Mina ever tell you I got pretty into photography a few months back?"

"I'm sure she mentioned it."

Slow on the pick-up.

"I brought my stuff with me because you guys live in sort of a good area for landscape photography," you continue on, and thankfully by now the mans eyes start to pick up and raise towards you as you speak. "I don't really do people but it doesn't seem like you're in much of a position to be all that picky."

Quietly taking another sip from your cup, you sit by and wait for the reluctant acceptance: because he's a man out of other options, and you don't really have anything better to be doing this early in the morning, either.

"Fine." Doyoung sighs, tipping his own drink all of the way back to finish it off as if downing a shot of liquor to prepare him for the morning going forward. "Just make sure I look pretty, would you?"

"Of course, darling."

Snapping a few test shots, you pull your camera down from your eye and take a look through the display to check the turn out — given, it's a bit of a rough shoot with no lighting equipment and not much else to help you along your way, but you figure with what you're getting here currently that someone far more talented than yourself be capable of fixing anything decent you get in post.

Looking upwards again and towards your subject: laid out on the white flooring of an otherwise unfurnished room that the happy couple haven't had the time to get around to just yet, Doyoung keeps his attention turned well away from you as you cycle through the photos to determine any better way that you can make this work.

You think, perhaps, that he's still a bit bashful of the circumstances.

Leaning back against his elbows and forearms, you watch him glance towards the ceiling just briefly before finally looking at you.

"Well?"

It's a little bit funny how little he wishes to be doing this right now. Karma, perhaps, for years of subtle torment.

"They look good enough," you admit with a slight nod, sounding almost surprised at the fact. "I think we can get a few good shots pretty quick and have you back in your office writing boring reports, or whatever it is that you do, in no time."

"I'd much rather be doing that." He huffs, turning his attention away again. The movement gives you an excellent shot of the angle of his jaw, however — thus, you bring your camera back up to take a few more pictures before gracing him with a reply.

"I've never met a man so dismayed by being attractive."

"You think I'm attractive?"

You bring the camera down again, a slightly annoyed but playful cock of your head to the side that silently says 'really?', because frankly, it's a stupid question. This is a fact that Doyoung knows, as evidenced by the smirk that takes his lips as a result of your reaction to it.

"It's not the 'being attractive' that's bothersome," he continues on with the thought, offering you an honest response now. "Just don't really need or particularly enjoy this kind of attention on myself. It feels bizarre, especially as someone in my line of work."

It makes sense, and snapping a few more shots, you opt out of a verbal reply and only hum of acknowledgement, instead.

"I'll be happy to have it over with, and now I know, no more books."

Without pulling up from the camera, you carry on with your direction. "Look towards me."

Head turning slowly and eyes settling deeply into your own even through the lens, Doyoung settles into his new pose — a smoldering look to him that really would have you thinking that something like this be his chosen line of profession after all, but shaking it off, you press a few more clicks of the button and check in the view finder once again for how the photos are turning out thus far.

Doyoung's gaze, however, remaining firm on you as you do.

Jacket open again and chest fully on display, you make a good effort of attempting to ignore the flesh before you. Of course, it's far from the first time that you've seen him — and really, you've seen him in far less clothing and far more intimate scenarios, but something about this, you find, doing a little bit extra for your visceral attraction to the man.

Even worse, it's about seven in the morning. Who tries to fuck their best friends husband at seven in the morning?

You do? Maybe?

Mind wandering to the thought of whether or not it's something that is also on his mind, you figure it not too far from the realm of possibility: after all, the relationship between the both of you be almost strictly a sexual one, what else is there for either of you to be fantasizing about whilst in each others company like this?

"Is it good?"

The wording is a little strange, and that's because you know it to be a question with a hidden agenda behind it. A question he often asks you while buried deep within your body, as your eyes fall to his and your camera falls away from your face just a bit, you can quite easily see the sinister curl of one corner of his lips. Knowing, playful, a man with an agenda, indeed.

"Yeah," you answer cooly, not willing to allow him the satisfaction of knowing about your growing arousal. "They look good."

It's then that one of Doyoung's hands slowly glides up and to the front of his trousers — watching on as he expertly unbuttons and unzips them all the while maintaining perfect eye contact with you — there's a part of you deep down that is pleased with the non-verbal communication between the two of you and how far that it has come, even with so much time between the last time and now.

There's also a part of you that's willing to beg to have him in your mouth right now, but you'd rather not make that one so obvious just yet.

"Why don't you come get your reward then?"

Well, so much for the 'not making it that obvious' plan.

Slowly and gently setting the camera down on the only, lone dresser in the entire room, you just as carefully shrug off the robe you had been wearing — long, loose sleeves tending to be a bit of a detriment for these sorts of activities, best to be nimble and able to do whatever it is that you need to do.

The fact that you don't know what that is yet quite possibly the most enticing part of it.

Spending more time with the man in casual settings, you find it charming as well as that much more sexy to see the way he so easily slips into that dominant role. Not that long ago flustered and shy about you catching him in the kitchen in the same open suit coat that he adorn now.

Closing the distance between you and carefully settling down onto your knees between his legs, you watch as his hand slip down and beneath the fabric that still offer coverage from your sights — palming his growing erection just under, and worse than that — still maintaining that devilish eye contact with you like nothing capable of pulling his vision from yours.

"What do you want?" He asks with a sultry groan to him.

And still maintaining that initial desire to not completely give in to his whims, you instead decide on a bit of turnaround. Biting your lip, you look him straight in the eye to deliver your reply. "What do you want?"

It does give him a bit of pause perhaps — a single eyebrow perking up at the slight bit of defiance you dangle before him, but rather than deter him, he leans into it in full.

And you had not calculated the risk of being told precisely what it is that he wants from you accurately, either.

"I want you to spit on my cock, and then I want to watch you gag on it until I come."

It's a total knockout of a response, just like that. Throat running dry and heart thumping hard in your chest at the promise of exactly that, Doyoung's eyes remain on you as he offers you nothing more than a small shrug at your inability to properly digest the information.

"You asked," He adds with a much too sly smirk.

Hand shifting to be removed from his pants, Doyoung runs his thumb over the tip of his length to gather the bit of precum that's since gathered there, and upon its exit, he whispers a simple "come here" as he extends it towards you and presses the digit between your all too accommodating lips to suck him clean. Wet and wrapping around it, you run your tongue around him and offer a gentle suction before the man hooks into the corner of your mouth with a deeply wanting groan.

"Get what you want, then."

Taking his hand back from your face, you waste little more time before hooking your own fingers into the sides of his trousers and giving them a tug — hips lifting off of the flooring for just a moment to allow for the shift — you bring the fabric down just enough to be out of the way, watching as his cock springs free and the tip of it lie against his exposed abdomen. Perching over Doyoung's hips, you take him into one hand, a few languid strokes to feel just how hard he already is before dipping your head down and taking him into your mouth with the swirl of your tongue.

Breath hitching in his throat at the feeling of you, it's one of your favorite things about sucking him off — always just a little bit on the verge of falling apart beneath you entirely as you do so.

Pulling off of him for a moment, you glance back up the length of his body to make eye contact with him once again before allowing the lewd display of saliva to fall from your puckered lips and messily onto his shaft in hand. Then, it's back to business, taking him deeper and fuller into your mouth with light suction and long, slow bobs of your head around him.

"Yeah, just like that, baby," Doyoung whispers out, head falling back to take in the feeling just briefly before bringing his gaze back up to watch the way you work him — not wanting to miss a moment of the show. "Love my cock, don't you? Can't get enough?"

Moaning around him in affirmation, the words cause you to stroke him just that much faster — enjoying the way he sounds when you have him like this.

"Think you can take it all this time?" He asks, voice slightly broken already. "Bet you practiced while we were apart, didn't you? Sucking other cock just in hopes that you can take mine that much better if you were to get the chance."

Throbbing between your legs far from dull at this point with a man never relenting in the dirty talk, you once again groan around him as you also feel yourself falling apart despite being wholly untouched thus far. You can't see him, but you feel the shift of his weight to free one of his arms for movement, followed by the familiar feeling of his fingers collecting loose strands of hair as he intertwine them into the collection of it at the back of your head.

Leverage.

There's truth to his words, though. Not so much about sucking off ever Tom, Dick and Harry in town just to practice for the inevitable resurrection of your sexual relationship with Doyoung specifically, but you had seen other men since then, and you had sucked some of their dicks.

You're a little proud of the progress made, sure.

Bringing yourself up enough that only the tip of him remain between your lips, you take a deep breath in preparation for what's to come — the gentle, careful press of his hand down against the back of your head to force more of his cock into your mouth...slowly, inch-by-inch and with no rush to have you take the entirety of him in one go, when he reaches the back of your throat you focus on steadying and relaxing yourself for him. Hissing through his teeth at the feeling of burying himself so deeply within your mouth and throat, as he ventures further, you feel the welling of tears in your eyes at the light discomfort of it.

It's not bad, and far from enough to not want to keep going — rather, the excitement of having so much of him far outweighing those things, anyway.

Slipping into your throat delicately, Doyoung instead opts for short, shallow thrusts into you for the rest of the way, and once he feels your nose against his pubic bone, he can't help the breathy moan that escapes from his lips.

It's heavenly, hearing him so desperate beneath you.

Pulling you back up and off of him slowly, the two of you look at one another — you with teary, wet eyes and swollen, red lips — you think that the darkness in his eyes deepens just that much more at the sight of you destroyed on his cock before him.

"Think you can take it again?"

"Yeah."

"Such a good girl. Go ahead then, swallow me down."

Repeating the previous motions, before your nose settles against his skin, Doyoung instead opts for slow drives of himself into your mouth — gently throat fucking you with dizzying, incoherent sounds melting from his lips as you take just about all of him inside of you like this. It takes very little time before you hear and feel the familiar notions of him reaching his peak, a few harder, deeper drives of his cock up and into your mouth through his attempt to maintain his composure that have you gagging around him ever so slightly, and just as promised.

"Fuck, you take it so well now," he all but whines, eyes screwed shut and eyebrows knitted tightly together as he shallowly bucks his hips up into your mouth to chase his release. "Wanted to earn my cum, didn't you?"

You can't grace him with an answer, and he knows it well enough — the dirty talking is for you, really, knowing the way that every word pools between your legs — an unrelenting throb there now and unknowing if you'll be offered the same release that the man under you be about to experience.

In a way, you almost don't even care if you cum.

Suddenly, Doyoung pulls your head up and off of him completely to instead replace it with his hand — quickly stroking himself to completion only to empty his load on the expanse of exposed skin along his abs and sternum with a hot, heavy, whiny vocalization.

Catching your breath for only a second, in one, fluid motion you dip your head down to lick the white-translucent fluid off of his body as his chest heaves just above where you work.

Turning your head to grant you the ability to look up at him, the two of you make eye contact once again as your tongue dips out to collect his cum. Head falling back, he lets out an exasperated moan at the sheer sight of your desire for him.

"Ride my face," he suddenly demands, hands reaching down for your arms and already pulling you up and towards him. "Now. Come on my face."

A dizzying request from him and not one you had factored into the potential possibilities, you don't bother inquiring further as you struggle to your feet and discard your garments as quickly as possible before wobbling over to him and kneeling above his face with creeping uncertainty.

Doyoung wastes no time, however, digging fingers into the flesh of your behind and pulling your soaking cunt flush against his mouth — digging his tongue firmly into your clit and offering you the much needed relief you had been hoping for. Whimpering in his grasp, he goes at you hard and fast straight from the get go in a way that has you reeling with the threat of an orgasm that you knew wouldn't be all that far off from the horizon, anyway.

"Doyoung, fuck—"

Moaning against you, the vibration tickling your sensitive nub just that much more as he quickly circles over it with far more than just expertise, you find yourself thankful for the close proximity of the wall just behind him as you fall forward slightly and find leverage against it. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come—"

You sound somewhat surprised by the fact, large in part because you are. Not that you anywhere near able to follow the flow of time, rather, you know that it certainly hasn't been long since having made your way up here, and already Doyoung is having you tumbling over into orgasm.

In the last moments before you cum; grinding down hard against the mans mouth as he groan up into you and fingers digging into you flesh to hold you in place — you look down ever so briefly to find his eyes — narrow, lustful, and with a job to fulfill right before you come with an embarrassingly high pitched shriek, thighs quaking around his head as you bite the tail end of your yell back and indulge in the feeling of him sucking any coherent thought that you could ever possibly have in that moment straight out of you through your pussy.

And as you wind down from the exhaustion of your early morning escapades, you shakily crawl off of him, clumsily falling to the floor next to him and heaving in the afterglow of ecstasy. The two of you enjoy the silence for just a moment before Doyoung turns his head lazily to allow his eyes to fall upon your weary form.

"Breakfast?"

Huffing out an exhausted laugh, you can't help but smile at the nonchalance of it all as you grant him a nod. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Cool," he says, bringing himself up and to his feet to shrug off the suit jacket entirely and leaving it bunched up on the floor next to you. "You suck my dick like that again and I'll cook you a six course meal every day until Mina gets home."

"Good to know."

With your nose buried in your laptop and comfortably sat in the lavish living room with no company other than yourself, you tab away at your keyboard to answer work emails and respond to other such employment related inquiries. Approximately a week into your stay at the current residence, you find yourself quite easily settled in by now: the two of you working on your own for the majority of the day, occasionally meeting in the kitchen or the hallway as either you or Doyoung come to and from your standard whereabouts, and, if given the free time at a whim — a quickie where ever either of you wish to have the other.

The entire circumstances fundamentally erotic — your entire being there at all deeply erotic in a sense — but with a week down and more rounds under your belt than days spent there already, you can't help but find that the simplicity of domesticity already setting in, in a way.

When Mina had suggested a sort of 'fake-dating' scenario, you hadn't anticipated it being so on the nose.

Because it truly does feel as though you and Doyoung are dating: engaged in a relationship beyond just the sexual, despite being intensely sexually charged and the entire surroundings of it being build off of that. You eat together, you chat together, you shower together occasionally — for all intents and purposes, you are, as Mina had suggested, dating; in some way, shape, or form.

It's not boring, but a sense of excitement and luster has already worn off in a way that you can't help but acknowledge. Of course, you still desire the man viscerally just as you always had the very moment you began your physical relationship with him...but the fact of the matter is just that: it's different now.

Upon sending out your last email at just before four in the afternoon, you shut your laptop in tune to the sound of Doyoung treading down the upstairs hallway and making his way down the stairs. Glancing up towards him, the two of you make eye contact, giving him pause for just a second before he continues his way down to the floor level of the home.

"What do you say about ordering in tonight, I don't feel like cooking again."

Dramatically throwing yourself back along the length of the couch, you swing your arm up and across your face like a damsel in distress at the mere thought of not being personally catered to. "What ever will I do? What's the point of even being here?"

He rolls his eyes at your overacting. "I'm going to order a pizza. I'll order two so that there are leftovers for tomorrow, then I can really punish you if I have to."

"Kinky," you quip back playfully as you bring yourself back up to a sitting position on the black leather. "Then what?"

Bringing his hands to settle on his hips, Doyoung simply stares at you with his head cocked to the side.

"If you think I'm going to be your tough, hard dominant boy-toy your whole stay then sorry to disappoint, but I'm only one man, I need some rest too, you know."

Of course, the banter is part of the fun of it. Something that the two of you have always engaged in, but as of late with the comfort of living together established, a new level of it unlocked. Easier and more fluid. Where once upon a time there be perhaps more truthful venom behind comments or words, instead now rest an adoring familiarity between the new faux-couple.

"Endlessly disappointing, aren't you?" You sigh in response, unable to fully hide your grin.

"So I've been told," he's quick to admit. "But if you're good tonight then there is something you might be pleased to discuss over dinner."

An intriguing promise of what's to come, and entirely unknowing of what it is that he be referring to, you find your curiosity to most definitely be piqued. Eyebrow quirking upward at the sly comment, you're mindful of the mischievous glimmer in his eye that you know to only present itself when the man have something very particular, and particularly raunchy, at that, in mind.

As the both of you settle into the smaller living room area just next to the dining room — fireplace lightly crackling in the not too far off distance and a cheap bottle of white wine opened and set on the tiny coffee table, as the television in front of you sounds off to fill the room with sitcom chatter and laughter, you glance over to the man just next to you: sitting with legs crossed in front of him and his plate balanced onto his lap as he bite into a slice of cheap, cheese pizza. It's a sight that you come to realize in the moment that you're unfamiliar with, all things considered: a particularly raw and true level of domesticity where Doyoung exist as just some guy, in the best way possible. You realize in this moment as well, that it's times like this that are likely cause for Mina's falling in love with him. A good man, after all — and more than that, seemingly perfectly well-rounded in all ways, as well.

Even so, as the flicker of illumination dances across sharp, pretty features — round, framed glasses perched upon his nose and rather unkempt hair in the front from a hand running through it numerous times that day — the conversation mentioned earlier weighs the heaviest on your mind with promise of, well, you don't quite know yet; but you sure would like to find out.

"So," you chime, semi-awkwardly on purpose and for effect. It's enough to garner his attention already, a man not all that wrapped up in the show carrying on before him to begin with. "About that talk."

"Right," he quickly responds with a single nod, setting the food down onto the plate in front of him and bending forward to set it onto the table between the both of you. "About that. I was curious how much of this...arrangement you were looking to explore in our time together."

The inquiry brings pause, finding the wording of it slightly difficult to navigate, because what does he mean by that?

You suppose your hesitancy is telling, however — Doyoung chuckling lightly under his breath before rephrasing the question more clearly.

"I mean...the first time we started sleeping together you were interested in exploring a rather dominant and submissive power play scenario. I'm wondering if you're wanting to explore that further."

'Further,' you think, being the operative word, and yes, yes you do.

Reaching forward for your glass of wine, you take a sip before answering him confidently. "Yeah, I've thought about it. I had done some exploring this past year but—"

Hesitating to think through your words carefully, Doyoung interjects with the thought you had been leaning towards anyway, and in a way, it proves your point just that much more.

"—Haven't established that level of trust with anyone?"

"Yeah, that."

He nods, finally spinning himself in place on the couch to fully face towards you. In a way he appears particularly earnest, as if even now still vying for that level of trust necessary to engage in the even harder, darker sides of BDSM as implied.

"Then," he says a bit more seriously than you would have ever really expected. "Tell me what you want."

You suppose that as far as situations that require a more serious touch, this be at the top of his list.

It's not something that you've spent all that much time thinking about, however. No list of 'things to try' on hand or a bullet pointed note on your laptop of all of the ways in which you wish for him to have you. Rather, they be fleeting, passing moments that you find yourself fantasizing about in private, discarded just as quickly as they find themselves making way into your mind.

But you do know that they still lie embedded in there somewhere, you just have to dig them back up.

As well as relay them to him in plain, simple words. It's not only an admittance of desire, but one of confession: 'this is all of the ways I've wanted you even since then.'

You swallow down the bubbling humiliation though, knowing that if not capable of bestowing upon him precisely what it is that you want of him that he be in no position to grant it to you.

He needs to know everything, because he has to have a plan.

"Restraints," you begin, inhaling deeply after the word leaves your mouth. "Orgasm control, impact play...basically all of the same but turned up a notch."

Doyoung nods, reaching towards his own glass of wine and sipping from the rim. Then, after thinking through your words, he offers another nod of understanding.

"Okay, then here are my rules: first, the same safe wording system will remain in place, we both know it and are familiar with using it so I think that's best. Second, no renegotiation mid-scene, it makes it difficult for me to be able to have an understanding of where you are and also gives me cause to have less trust in your word—"

Pausing again and with his head tilted down towards his lap, he glances up through his eyelashes at you for explicit eye contact in that moment.

"—And if I'm going to hit you, I need to be able to trust your word of when it's just enough, or too much."

"Yeah, of course."

"Cool," he finally sighs, dropping the tough and serious exterior to once again fall back into the Just A Guy role he had previously been enjoying. Doyoung slumps to the side and against the back of the couch with a contented grin as he finishes up his thought. "Tomorrow evening, then? Doesn't have to be then—"

"No!" You nearly shout, already thrilled with the thought of all that's soon to come to you. "No, tomorrow is good, perfect."

Standing to his feet, the man reaches down to take both of your plates into hand with intention of heading towards the kitchen. "I'm going to head to bed then. Long day, tomorrow will be longer now — try to get some good rest tonight."

Needing no verbal response, you sit back comfortably against the large cushions of the couch as he begin to head towards his exit — it's then, that a sudden thought comes to mind in an instant, and before your window for negotiation truly closes, you have to put it out there, now or never.

"Oh! Doie? One more thing about the scene tomorrow?"

He hums in acknowledgment of your words, merely glancing back and over his shoulder at you in wait for what it is that you wish to add.

"When you hit me...leave your wedding band on."

Snorting through his nose with a chuckle, the man playfully shakes his head at the thought and the implications behind it — just as quick on the uptake of one of the joys of kink exploration within the confines of this arrangement.

No one is cheating on anyone, doesn't mean we can't pretend, though.

"Kinky minx," He responds coyly, dumping the dishes into the sink and disappearing into the darkness of the otherwise unlit household.

"Shall we?"

Doyoung's voice is calm and pleasant when he asks the question. There's a hint of knowing within it, a playful nuance in regards to what's to come from here on out that already has anticipation pooling between your legs in a relatively unexpected way. You were excited for tonight, of course, but a physical response as a result of him merely alluding to it not exactly something you had foreseen in your future.

You recall Mina telling you how good of a dom he is a year ago.

The evenings festivities call for a one drink maximum: a rule implemented by the man himself to ensure that the parties involved be well aware of themselves and within the grips of their own feelings and boundaries enough to ensure safe play. One drink offering plenty to take the buzz of nervousness edge off, after all.

Dinner is light. Enough to keep the both of you fed and fulfilled without weighing either of you down, especially when you can't be sure when or if you're to be gagged — and beyond that, on what, you'd rather not take the risk of throwing up all over him — at least, minimize it as much as possible.

None of this is all that new to you, though. You've played before, partaken in kink and gone to parties before. Engaged in such things with people who are not Doyoung in between then and now — but as you quietly follow him downstairs and into the basement below, you find yourself so much calmer with him that with any of your previous play partners before.

It's not a matter of poor vetting and even poorer partner choices: you've had fun, it's been safe, and everyone has left satisfied. However, there just be something special about your play partner now — a level of trust and understanding between the two of you that takes an edge of uncertainty from the back of your mind and discards it entirely.

You don't have to worry about him, not even a little bit. As a result, you don't have to worry about you, either.

"I can't believe you two have a dungeon, how cliche," You sarcastically quip as your foot lands onto the floor at the end of the stairs. 

Doyoung glances at you briefly from over his shoulder and shoots you a roll of his eyes. "It's not a dungeon, we just wanted to keep the upstairs bedrooms available for guests. We had no other plans for the basement, so—"

"—So, you turned it into a dungeon," You finish for him.

Walking over to a small, unceremonious table, Doyoung pulls out a tube of hand lotion from one of the old, brown drawers and squeezes a small dab of it into palm. "If calling it that gets you off, then by all means."

As the man settle in and begin preparing for the activities, you take it upon yourself to glance around and take in the sights. Truly, it's nothing like the fancy, mommy-porn movies: no huge rigs or handcuffs hanging from the ceiling. Rather, it's sort of just a regular room — obviously re-done since moving in to serve this purpose specifically, you take notice of the king sized bed off at the furthest end of the rather small underneath of the home — satin, royal blue sheets and a single pair of restraints hanging from one of the golden bedposts there.

"Have you ever played submissive?"

It's a question that's rattled around your brain for a while now, suppose now is as good a time as ever to sate the curiosity. Doyoung comes up from behind you so quietly that it nearly startles you with another pair of wrist binds in his grips, and as you glance back and the two of you make eye contact, he reaches out for your hand — slowly fastening one of them to your wrist before answering the question.

"If you must know, yes," He says, tightening the restraint against your skin just firm enough for a good hold, and without causing pain. "One of those...'you gotta try it once' sort of situations."

"How did that go?" You ask further as he spins you in place to face him, fastening the other half of the tan leather to you. Doyoung offers you a sly grin first, slowly stepping you backwards on your heels and towards the bed, before gently tipping you and causing you to fall flat on your back to the mattress below.

"Didn't take."

While restraints, you find, aren't typically your thing, it's a situation in which you feel comfortable with him. You question momentarily if there be any other person in the world that you would be willing to be in this current scenario with: bound and laid out against the sheets of someone's basement bed, and the answer is a quite easy and resounding 'no.'

"Recite back the safe word system," He demands, tone dropping in a way that you know this be the beginnings of the scene at hand. You watch him as he rolls up the sleeve of his white, button down shirt — more or less still dressed up from the work day just before — sort of the archetype of the CEO dominant man that while typically you don't find yourself creaming yourself for...this time, it's sort of working for you.

"Green is good to keep going, yellow to slow down and lighten up, red is full stop to the scene. If unable to speak: two taps to someone's body is effectively a yellow sign, and three is a red sign."

"Good girl," he chimes, squatting down to the edge of the bed between your legs and hooking fingers into the sweatpants you're wearing. "Scene renegotiation?"

"Only to lessen, never to strengthen."

Pulling the fabric down your legs, panties and all, you feel the rush of cool air against your flesh in a particularly stark way — your body temperature seemingly already flaring up at just the mere discussion of the rules from here on out, you find this to also be an unexpected turn out of tonight's engagements.

"Sit up," He then requests; a near impossible task for you alone given your bind. He knows this, naturally, and reaches for the center of your restraints to pull you upwards and seated just as he desires.

Cold fingers just grazing the flesh of your torso as he grabs at the hem of your shirt and brings it up over your head, it's electric — felt through what you think could be every nerve of your body with barely any physical touch at all.

A worrying trend for your resolve tonight.

With you fully disrobed, Doyoung pushes you to lie back again, dipping down into his previous position and hooking his arms under your legs to pull your bottom to the edge of the bed. It's exciting already: the anticipation of what's to come and what he will do with you — relinquishing all power and ability to be an engaging participant in your activities in a way not yet engaged in since your time arriving in the home.

It's then that he dips a single finger between your folds — the touch is delicate, barely offering you any sort of stimulation at all, and as a result, you're already keening and attempting to melt yourself into his touch. This, of course, gives him great pleasure at the sight of you already so needy and wanting for him — evidenced on his face as he looks up at you from between your legs and gives your clit the lightest feathering of a swirl with the tip of the digit present there.

"In a rush?" He asks teasingly, still circling the collection of nerves between your thighs.

A dizzying offering of almost nothing to your body despite knowing how you crave his touch.

"What do you want?" Doyoung questions as if speaking to no one in particular, finger dipping down towards your opening and shallowing pressing inward as if intending to penetrate you. "I take it you want me to fuck you open with my hand?"

With a small whimper dropping from your mouth, he hums inquisitively. "Feel my tongue on you? Taste you like you have the last cunt on earth?"

"Yes," You finally whine in reply, but the response from you garners nothing from the man in question.

Instead, and in a rather surprising turn of events, Doyoung gives you just that: carefully slipping a single finger into you, slowly fucking into you with ease as a result of the ample arousal already having pooled there. It's shallow, slow, and far from enough to get you anywhere you're wanting so desperately to go, but better than nothing — a moment later, you feel the heated waves of breath across your labia as he brings his mouth mere centimeters from your mound.

Nearly instinctually you attempt to grind yourself down and against his hand and face, but it results in little given your lack of mobility. A light chuckle offered from him as a result of your wanting, you feel him press his lips lightly against your lower ones, but only to speak.

"You think I'm going to let you come?" He questions, offering one, long, stripe of his tongue through your slit finally and giving you the warm, wet, contact that you've been silently begging for. "You still want it even though you know I won't, that's how desperate you are for me, isn't it?"

Whining out a breathy affirmation of the fact, he serves you another press of his tongue against you for what you can only figure is 'good behavior.'

"I can always make you come so quick like this, can't I? Like your pussy was made for me—" He carries on the thought, pausing long enough to drag his tongue over you languidly and pulling from you the most desperate whines each and every time. "Body made for me, isn't it? Your mouth, your throat, your cunt, your ass...all mine for the taking, aren't they?"

The moan that tears from your throat at the words is nothing sort of humiliating.

"Answer."

"Yes, they are," You force yourself to reply through a breathy, broken voice.

"I know, you're so good for me. What a perfect little toy for me to come inside and toss aside until next time, aren't you?"

You don't have a chance to respond before his mouth is attached to you, tongue digging firmly into your clit and the sound of him sucking into you resonating through the otherwise empty basement. Eyes screwing shut, you only have a second of self-awareness to realize that he really might be able to make you come in record time at this rate. Curling his fingers up into you and running his tongue across you in just the way that he knows gets you there, you whine out loudly — back coming up and off the bed as he seemingly tries to get you there already.

"Fuck, fuck—" you breathe out as your body finds itself on the precipice of orgasm, but as a man all too good at what he does; expert hands and mouth bringing you just to the brink before pulling back from you entirely and watching your body tremble at the feeling of the loss. "—Doyoung please, please please."

"And what have you done to earn it, hm?" He asks, leaning forward and over your body to take your bound hands into his grasp and sit you upright at the edge of the bed before him. Still shaking lightly from the feeling of a ruined orgasm, hair strewn about your face and eyes glazed over from the need — Doyoung looks down at you with a gentle cock of his head as if charmed by the sight of you already so fucked out with so little having taken place yet.

Hands reaching down for his belt and subsequently releasing his erection from the confines of his black trousers, you're forced to watch him lightly palm himself just in front of your face.

How familiar a sight it is.

"You know how to earn it, don't you baby?"

You nod, although it's not enough for the man before you. "Answer."

"Yes, I can earn it."

"Good girl," he says, angling the tip of his length down and to your lips, only lightly dragging across before gently tapping you with it as a signal to open your mouth for him. "Though, suppose this is a bit of a reward in and of itself, isn't it? You love my cock, isn't that right?"

With only the tip of him presented between your lips, you're able to still speak around him. A simple "I do, please let me earn it" falling from you before you're able to even register the words and the meaning behind them.

It never gets old the way this man can have you falling apart with ease.

Hand dipping to the back of your head, Doyoung pulls you forward and sheathes as much of himself inside of the warmth of your mouth as he comfortably can at first — just like the last time, there's no aim for discomfort or pushing any particular limits this time — rather, he understands yours and your abilities well enough by now to know precisely the best way to go about having you, and equally as much, allowing you to have him.

Lips firmly wrapped around him, with each pulling back of your head, you look up at him to meet eyes — narrow, dark ones staring down at you to watch the way his cock disappears inside of your body.

"Fuck, that's it baby," he whispers out as he begins to gently drive himself into your face. "Such a pretty face, just made for me to fuck."

But for as much as Doyoung knows you and your body, the same can be said for you and his — you know this sort of engagement to be his weakness, and for all of the chiding he does at your inability to hold out on him, the very same can be said for him in these situations.

Bringing his hand forward and from the back of your head, he instead grasps your jaw, prying it open forcefully so. "Open, swallow it down. Take it all."

Giving you little time to adjust, you feel him press his hips forward and as a result, begin the drive of his cock down into your throat. Gagging around him, he pulls off quickly. "Color?"

"Green."

And with that, he serves you another, direct press of his length down into your throat. Easier this time, but the sound of your heaved breaths and gurgling around him as your nose meets his flesh going straight to that place deep within him that you can tell makes him want to come at a moments notice. As a result, he pulls back and from your mouth entirely — giving you a moment to catch your breath before grabbing at your chin once again and forcing your mouth open for him.

"My little cockslut has gotten so good at that. You sound so pretty when you're gagging around my dick."

Leaning forward, he allows a small dropping of saliva to fall from his mouth and into yours before once again pressing his length between your lips and shallowly fucking your mouth with a few, quick, thrusts.

"You want my come?" He asks firmly, stepping away only enough for the tip of him to rest against your mouth.

"Yes."

And then it comes: one light, open-palmed snap of his wrist against the side of your jaw.

"I don't believe you, make me believe it."

"Yes! Yes, please come in my mouth, please let me taste you, Doie."

Tightly gripping your jaw again, he holds you in place to rub the mess of saliva and precum thoroughly around your face — so wet that it's nearly dripping from you — Doyoung smiles down at you at the sound of the pet name leaving your mouth.

Because that's when he knows you're really fucked up for him.

Another, slightly harder tap of the inside of his fingers to your jaw — it doesn't hurt and it's far from jarring in any way, but the implications of it within the scene driving you absolutely wild in the moment, you're happy you asked for this in particular.

The glimmer of his wedding ring still present on his hand, all the while.

"So nice of my wife to offer me such a compliant play-thing to use as I wish while she's gone," he says, finally dropping his pants to the floor entirely and beginning the unbuttoning of his shirt as if to soon discard it entirely. "Suppose now I get to decide which hole I want to take, don't I?"

You nod, and as a result, Doyoung lands the hardest connection of his hand to your face that he's given you thus far. This time, enough to actually cause your head to move a bit, as well as the slightest sting to the skin.

"How many times do I have to instruct you to answer? Are you already so fuck-dumb that you can't remember one, single rule?"

"No! I know it, I'm sorry!" You quickly amend with a shake of your head. "You can have anything you want from me."

"I know," he plainly responds, as if already grown tired of the discussion at hand. Simultaneously, Doyoung pushes you to the side and back against the bed, only this time pulling you up by the hips and displaying you bent over and lewdly spread open for him at the edge of the bed. "I'll take what I want, that is your purpose here, after all, isn't it?"

"It is," You quickly answer this time as to avoid punishment.

Feeling the tip of his cock pressed against your opening, you hear the man chuckle from behind you at the sight before him. "Your messy little cunt is practically dripping. Begging to be filled with me. Pathetic."

The words garner a whimper, and pathetic is correct as you feel him drag the length of his cock up and down your folds in a simulation of fucking you. Slow, concentrated drives against you, but not into you, that have you keening and attempting to push back and onto him in a way that is far beyond humiliating — a new low for you, even given your previous encounters. You don't think you've ever needed to feel him this badly, and worse than that, you know that he knows it, too.

You're thankful when he readjusts his position, feeling the tip of him pressed at your opening again followed by the smooth, easy glide of his full length into you. A dizzying feeling of being so full of him after what feels like an eternity of being denied him in so many ways, Doyoung sinks into you from behind and sits flush against your ass for only a moment before leaning forward and harshly gripping his fingers into your hair.

Followed with a hard, rough, snaps of his hips into you that has you nearly toppling forward at the momentum of it.

"You thought I was going to fuck you for you?" He breaths out, venom lacing his tone as he delivers another, harsh, thrust into you. "You're nothing but a hole for me to fuck, and come in."

Pressing your face into the mattress, the man then focus entirely on his own pleasure: chasing his release as he fucks you hard, quick, and selfishly. No concern for the proximity of your orgasm as a result of him.

The irony being, of course, that after so much lead up to this moment, you're just about there, anyway.

Stopping briefly and much to your display, Doyoung comes around to the side of you to release you of your restraints, but as he settles in behind you and sinks into you all over again, you feel him lean forward to retrieve both of your wrists and twisting them behind you — new, better leverage for him to use your body with like this.

"God, your cunt feels fucking heavenly," he groans through rough drives into you and over the sound of your pathetic, fucked-out babbling just below. "Useless bitch not good for anything but taking my cock, guess you're good for something, after all."

"Fuck, Doie—" you whine out at the culmination of words and the feeling of him relentlessly pounding you.

"Yeah? Is the little whore gonna come anyway? Even when I just try to use your body to dump my load in, it still gets you off, that's how much you love it, huh?"

He's right. This one might keep you up at night in the future.

"Yes—" you whimper breathlessly, dangling on the edge of your now inevitable release. "Yes, yes, yes, please I'm gonna come—"

"Fine," he hums, similarly close to his own peak. "Come then, want to feel you milk me when I fuck my load into your messy little pussy."

And so you do. Your orgasm ripping through your body hard and quick — shrieking loudly against the mattress as Doyoung continues to pound you through it — shaking and clawing at nothing attainable as it tears through every inch of your body. You're barely aware enough to hear him groan out from behind you as his own takes him: cock deeply buried into your walls as he unloads inside of you — cock so hard and deep that you feel the pulse and twitch with every rope of cum that he delivers to your insides.

Slowly, carefully pulling from you, listening for the way his breaths are heavy and worn from the scene having just played out to perfection, as you fall to your side to lie flat against the bed to catch your own you feel the gentle, careful dip of the mattress from just beside you as he settles in just the same.

Silence blanketing between the two of you, you inhale to speak — only to be cut off by words of his own in an entirely unsurprising and frankly, shocking way.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

The snap question comes out before you have a second to even really mull over what it is that he could be apologizing for, because frankly, everything went on without a hitch. It was everything you had wanted and maybe even more, and now he's apologizing for it?

Arm slinging up and over his face as if to hide himself from you in a way, Doyoung sighs. "You know I don't mean that stuff right? About this being the only reason you're here? I feel kinda..."

"You're dropping right now," you interject suddenly, reaching over to take his hand into your to offer him some seemingly much needed soft, physical comfort. "What do you say we head up to that big tub you guys have in the upstairs bathroom and take a nice, cozy bath?"

With a delicate squeeze of your hand, you take it as an accepting of terms — not even bothering to dress before escaping the basement and wobbling yourselves up to the next scene on the agenda: aftercare.

"When did you know you wanted to marry Mina?"

Sat up against one end of the tub with Doyoung's back to you, you run soapy fingers through messy, black strands — nails gently grazing the flesh beneath in such a soothing way that you all but feel the man melting into you presence, he hums at the question before sighing to answer it.

"Quite early in our dating, actually," The man replies confidently, head tilting back so that you can lather him up better. "Maybe three, four months in I felt like she was going to be the woman I spent the rest of my life with. Of course, we were kids so we dated for a long time before taking the step, but I knew."

A charming side of him that you typically find yourself unfamiliar with — listening to him muse about the love of his life, your best friend, and the ease in which he does so even in the most intimate company of yourself.

"Cute," you whisper from just behind him, wetting your hands again before setting them back within his tresses. "Who knew you were such a soft romantic?"

"Hey! I have many sides to myself!"

Happy with your cleansing, you take the shower nozzle into hand and instruct him to dip his head back towards you even more to gently rinse the suds from him, and once rid of them entirely, you delicately press his head back upwards to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better."

Planting a kiss to an exposed shoulder blade, your lips linger there as if to speak directly into his skin. "Have you ever dropped like that before?"

Doyoung chuckles at the question, as if slightly humiliated by the answer as he nods his head in affirmation of it. "Yeah, Mina could tell you plenty a story about coddling me after a particularly rough dom drop."

But rather than shameful, you find it adding a new level of humanity to the man that only allows for you to appreciate him and the role that he take on just that much more.

"You did well," you offer him in solace with a squeeze of your arms that encompass him. "It was amazing. I couldn't imagine playing like that with — well, anyone who isn't you, I suppose."

Reaching to find your hand, he takes it into his and presses the back of it to his lips for a small peck.

"Good, I'm glad. I had fun, too."

After drying off and heading back down to the kitchen for a late night, before bed snack, as the both of you head into your separate directions for sleep, it crosses your mind to ask him to spend it with you.

You find in the next two weeks that the majority of the time is spent much like the first: working from the home and occasionally meeting with your live-in partner for silly activities when the time should meet and the interest strike: the occasional blowjob in the kitchen, or being eaten out against the upstairs railing of the hallway — and if time really permits, bent over the back of the couch where you typically work from. Suppose it can be chalked up to the excitement of a sort of honeymoon phase shared between the two of you, after all, this just be yet another arrangement with an end date, and if the effort is to show, then you both have every intention of getting your proverbial moneys worth.

In the midst of a particularly slow work week for you, and a much heftier one for Doyoung, you find him out and about much less — earlier so offering you the handling of his credit card to order food to the house as you see fit on account of him having little to no free time to do any of his usual cooking — you accept it with a bit of a dropped heart. Sure, there's joy in having free reign of a rather full bank account not belonging to yourself, but more than that; the enjoyment of spending time with him now cut incredibly short and on a whim.

Your relationship together has shifted. It's not necessarily just sex (although that still be a large portion of it), but rather, the two of you melding together in a way that you figure neither of you had really seen coming. Enjoying the company of each other in non-sexual settings — in fact, you come to realize that dinner be one of your favorite times of the day as you wind down from working hours and instead just chat about normal, everyday things. Goings on in the world, work, maybe even some gossip about friends — a bizarre realization, and so far into your time spent here now: you and Doyoung are friends.

Sure, friends that viscerally enjoy the body of the other, but still just friends aside from that.

Waking late one night on account of what in particular — you can't be so sure — you grab your phone from next to you to read the time: a quarter past three in the morning. Having grown accustomed to the bed in which you currently lie, you settle your head back into the pillow to once again meander off to dream land; that is, before you hear the familiar clattering of keyboard typing from down the hall.

It's not that you can't sleep through it, you most definitely can — the sound not carrying far or loud enough to disturb you all that much — rather, it's the thought that Doyoung be up still, this late at night, and to work, at that.

Kim Doyoung is many things. Workaholic high on the list, certainly.

Slipping your robe on over your shoulders like so many times before, you once again carry yourself down the hall quietly — as if meant not to awaken anyone despite being the only two people in the home — as you reach the doorway where his study reside, you listen in for the sound of the keyboard again before entering and disturbing him in full.

But instead, you're met with silence.

You know what you've heard, though, and turning into the door, you suppose you can't be all that surprised by the sight that greets you: a man slumped back in his chair, head tilted back and against the headrest, utterly unconscious as the bright, blue light of the monitor before him illuminates his handsome features.

At the very least you're happy to find him comfortably dressed for late night engagements like this — gray sweatpants and a matching gray pullover sweater with the name of the widely regarded college that he had attended years back — you take it upon yourself to step towards him and with a gentle hand pressed to his shoulder, you slowly shake him back to his senses.

"Doyoung," you whisper, an attempt to pull him back into a conscious state with as little startling as possible. "Doie, wake up."

Thankful for the ease in which he comes to, picking himself back up to sit straight and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, Doyoung blinks hard towards the screen before glancing up and towards you. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask the same of you," You quip back, hands into your hips like a disappointed mother figure. "Let's get you to bed, Mister."

"Mom—" he drawls, playing along with the scene, but saving his work and shutting the machine down all of the same as he stands to his feet. "I don't wanna."

You sling an arm around his waist as his finds your shoulders — realistically the man have no problem walking, of course — but you find the scene charming all of the same. As you turn to your left in an attempt to take him to his bedroom, he fights the movement, instead pushing towards the right and down the hall towards your own bedroom.

"Lemmie put you back to bed, first," Doyoung insists, still motioning that way with his body weight against you. "It's the least I can do for you saving me from the grips of Excel spreadsheets."

A bit of a charmer.

Relenting, the two of you make your way down the darkened path and back into your bedroom. He lags behind you next to your bed, nimble fingers reaching into the neckline of your robe to help remove it from your body as you once again lie yourself in bed and cozy up within the sheets — still warm from your presence just earlier in the night.

Doyoung kneels down next to you, arms crossed against the edge and chin pressed into them as he gazes up at you.

"You're the most boring man I know," you start with a breathy chuckle. "Staying up late to do spreadsheets."

"Yes, I know," He willingly admits with a pleasant cock of his head. "Do you want me carnally?"

Reaching over your own body to playfully slap his arm, you opt out of answering the asinine question. Largely due to your awareness of it being rhetorical, but also in part to the both of you knowing that yeah, obviously you do. Embarrassing.

"Get some sleep." He finally says with finality to his tone, standing to his feet with intent to leave.

You figure, now is as good a time as any.

"Actually—" you start, the word coming out a bit more meekly than you had hoped when thinking it through in your head. You suppose it's the possibility of rejection that has to reeling with this sort of lack of confidence that is relatively unfamiliar to you. Still, you push forward with the inquiry; a disservice to yourself not to. "Would you sleep with me? Like, spend the night with me?"

The question gives him pause, and as a result, has you second guessing yourself, too.

"You don't have to, I mean, I don't know if you're not allowed or just don't want to, it's just—"

"—I'm allowed to sleep with you," he interjects suddenly to cut off your anxious word-vomiting, a small smile pulling at his lips as he continues the thought. "The only rule is we can't do anything in the shared bedroom, but yeah, I can spend the night with you."

"Oh," you whisper, perhaps the largest part of you not having anticipated this response after all. "Okay."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, kind of." You answer with a tiny nod.

Instead of engaging in the conversation about it any further, Doyoung takes it as an opportunity to accept your terms and disrobe for the evening: you watch him intently, taking in all of the ways that his body move as he pull the shirt up and over his head to toss it aside — toned chest that you've seen so many times before now only visible through the slivers of illumination granted by the moon through your blinds — it feels intimate in a different way this time: like normal lovers. People not involved in an 'arrangement,' people who are simply dating and might even have sex with each other because often times, that's what people who are dating and attracted to each other do. Falling asleep in one another's arms in the afterglow of it, or maybe just falling asleep in one another's arms as the grand finale of the evening together.

His pants go next, and before you have much of a chance to think further on it, you feel the man slip into your bed and under your covers as you scoot across the mattress to the other side to accommodate for his figure.

"I picked out this mattress," he proudly chimes. "Good, right?"

"No wonder I sleep so well here, thing probably costs an arm and a leg."

"Yeah, it kind of did." Doyoung chuckles, turning to his side to face you.

Silence blanketing the room, with such little light shone in you find it difficult to keep track of where he is, or what he's doing whilst beneath the sheets with you. A gentle rustling of the fabric, you can't tell what he's doing until fingertips feather across the skin of your face to brush stray strands of hair from you.

He must have better night vision than you, and with even more of a shift of his body, you're met with the feeling of warm, minty breath on your face as he dips further into you for a kiss.

You meet him eagerly, maybe even too much so with teeth lightly sinking into his bottom lip and eliciting an ever so slight groan from him at the feeling. He's happy to meet your advances, however, mirroring the motion before parting lips and pressing his tongue into yours.

Barely creating space between you, he instead opts to speak directly into your waiting mouth. "This why you asked me here? Doesn't seem like you're trying to sleep."

You had been originally, but plans do change.

Rather than offering him a verbal reply, you slip a hand down and between your bodies to wrap fingers around his length — already attentive to the stimulation in part — and pumping him gently, you revel in the way his sighs into your mouth; choked and broken groans caught in a dry throat at the feeling of you palming him so deliciously like this.

You're thankful for your night vision finally coming to you, and allowing you to take in the sight of half-lidded, wanting eyes staring back at you.

"It's late," Doyoung whispers first, a lazy reasoning as to why you shouldn't be wanting to partake in such lewd activities currently. But rather than engaging in the banter with him, you bypass it entirely with the one thing that you know will make the man putty in your hands.

Firm, long strokes of his cock in your hand, you once again bite into his lip with a breathy moan against him. "Doie—" you all but whimper into his mouth. "—please."

You get little time between the moment the word drops from your lips and when you find yourself pressed back against the mattress with him hovering over you. A grin of victory splashing across your features as you feel him tug your panties down your legs and toss them aside without much of a care, just as quickly coming back up to bring his mouth to your own with a bit more hungry intent behind it than before.

Reaching down between both of your bodies to position himself to enter you, Doyoung drags fervent, hot kisses down your jaw and to your ear that bring the temperature of your body up just that much more. A once dull throb between your legs now impossible to ignore and full of want as he rub his cock up and down your slit to spread your wetness around before attempting to penetrate you.

"You drive me crazy."

As his hips press forward and his cock begin to sink into you — with a lack of foreplay you find a particularly pleasurable burn that come along with the resistance he's met with upon entering a body not quite made to be ready to take him. Jaw hung ajar at the feeling of him prying you open slowly with shallow, timely thrusts, you exhale heavily against his face as he once again meets you eye to eye.

Seated flush between your legs, he pauses for a moment to kiss you deeply — rocking into you with little withdrawal in a way that has his pubic bone continually bumping against your clit — you whine into his mouth as he drinks it down between dips of his tongue into you.

Cock nearly fully buried inside of you at all times like this, you feel impossibly full of him as he grinds against the apex of your thighs. One hand brought down and gripping firming into your waist as if to hold you perfectly in place to take him, he feels suffocating in a whole new way that you find you've never quite experienced before: in the absence of immense dirty talk and power play — sex with Doyoung be just as intense and enveloping, all the same. A man all too in tune to the needs of your body and mind.

"Feel good?" He finally whispers against your face. You think him to be well aware of the answer already, though.

"Feel so good, so good," you whimper in an airy, stifled tone. "You feel so big."

"And you take it all perfectly."

The words send your brain buzzing, the coiling of release beginning in your abdomen as a result of the relentless pace he has set against your clit — thinking of how far, how deep his cock is buried within you a dizzying thought as he continues to rock against you with just the right rhythm that can have you sent over the edge in no time.

"I want to feel you come around me, baby. Can you do that?" Doyoung asks in a whisper against your cheek as he trails pecks of his lips across your hot skin.

Teeth pulling at your bottom lip as you try to bite back the sounds that threaten to rip from your throat as your orgasm looms on the precipice.

Nails digging into the flesh of your waist as he attempts to drag you down harder against him for more friction, it's just enough while his lips and teeth simultaneously suck into the skin of your neck to decorate you with pretty marks to send you barreling over the edge. Doyoung feels it more than anything as a hedonistic groan drops unexpectedly from his mouth at the feeling of your walls gripping down on his cock still buried well within you as you come.

A chanting whisper against the heated skin of your neck, "Fuck, that's it, just like that."

Riding you out properly through your orgasm, it's only then that the man release his grip on you: opting now for long, fluid drives of his cock into you to bring him to his own end. It doesn't take long after the feeling of you all but milking him for everything that he's worth only moments before — once again burying deep inside of you with the twitch of his length to release warm, wet, ropes of cum deep inside of your now dripping heat.

Head coming back up from your neck to gaze into your fucked-out eyes, his vision dances over your features for just a moment — taking in the sight of you before once again greeting you with a deep, adoring kiss.

Wincing from the stimulation of having just come as he drags his softening cock from you, Doyoung flops to the side of you with a heavy exhale — a hand mischievously finding itself between your legs once again to play with the mixture of cum and other such wetness left behind in the aftermath of your unplanned rendezvous.

"So," he sighs out as the tip of his middle finger drags up and against your all too sensitive clit. "Those spreadsheets, huh?"

How cruel the world is — the most exquisite cock being attached to the most insufferable man you could ever know.

As the last day at the residence finally comes around, you spend the days just prior expecting it to be bittersweet, in ways. Naturally, you're thankful for Mina's return as well as yourself reentering a life of normalcy compared to the rollercoaster of a getaway as you've spent the last few weeks — rather, you're none bitter and all sweet for all of those aforementioned reasons.

Of course, your relationship with Doyoung has reasonably shifted. A man that once only served as a mark of unappreciated and relatively unwelcomed contention, now having morphed into one of your most trusted and perhaps even in ways, adored, people in your life.

You contribute it mostly to the little things. The ins and outs of living an everyday life alongside the man — allowing to view him in a new way, and maybe even the way that Mina does — that casts him in a brand new light. Hardworking, thoughtful, and above all else: trustworthy.

Putting your care and well-being: emotionally, mentally, physically — in his hands, and not only coming out on the other end just as well as you had gone into it, but in ways, even better.

But don't tell him that, it'll go to his head.

On the last evening and after that aforementioned six course meal that you had never actually expected to come to fruition, as you find yourself comfortably seated on the loveseat in front of the television and just next to the warmth of a crackling fireplace, you gaze over the back of the cushioning: watching the man with rolled up long sleeves as he pop a last bottle of some expensive wine he got from who-knows-where as a sort of parting gift only shared between the two of you.

Two glasses in hand, Doyoung hands you one and you share a light tapping of rims before taking your first sips as he sits down next to you.

"Excited to get back home?"

Mulling over the question momentarily, you hum into the edge of the glass before taking another, small sip and setting it onto the table just in front of you.

"Yeah, I feel like I've been on vacation too long being here, it feels weird."

Chuckling, he matches your action before leaning his head against the couch to look at you. "You've been working this entire time, hardly a vacation."

"That's true."

"Imagine my surprise finding out that you do have a job that isn't simply being friends with my wife!"

Tossing your head back as if in utter disbelief that he really be bringing this joke back, you whine out your response to him. "Are you really going to do this again?"

"Have to keep things interesting still," he starts with a sly grin, reaching for your arm and lightly taking it into his hand by the wrist. "If I'm too nice to you, you won't want me viscerally anymore."

The physical touch serving as a motion to have to closer to him, you follow his lead — pushing yourself across the furniture and pressed up against him with your side. Playing mad, you choose to ignore the way his fingers feel against your skin, but harder than that: ignoring his breath against your ear as his face dips down and closer to yours.

More than aware of his ability to feel your skin raising beneath his touch, you instead make an attempt to bring attention away from it.

What's the harm in a little hard to get fun on the last night, anyway?

That is, if you can hold out long enough to make it such.

"Am I supposed to still want you after this is all over?" You ask firmly, as if none too affected by the proximity of his body to your own. "Like knowing that your wife’s best friend desires you sexually or something?"

"Sure," he admits without missing a beat. "Doesn't everyone like feeling desired?"

You opt out of responding, but your lack of one does not offer the reprieve you had hoped as he continue on with the thought.

"The taboo nature of the husband and the wife’s best friend—" he whispers into you, hand on your wrist now long since abandoning its position and moving across to your thigh.

Yes, you had worn a skirt on purpose knowing the plans for the evening. Plans to only play hard to get, after all. Not actually make it all that difficult to acquire.

"—Plus, you already admitted you still thought about it long after the first arrangement ended. Am I supposed to believe you just needed a month to get it out of your system and thus you've now grown tired of me?"

"I could go off it just fine," You continue the ruse, tone pointed and unaffected as his fingertips feather up and under the hem of the garment laid across your legs.

As the tip of his middle finger edges just up against the front of your panties, you delicately attempt to squeeze your thighs shut, only for the man to take notice and disallow it immediately.

"Spread your legs."

Of course, you do as you're told. Not yet relinquished from the grip that he has on you.

The problem lie in how electric his touch is — knowing just the right way of engaging with you physically, pressing all of the correct proverbial buttons that time and time again has to coming undone for him as quickly or as slowly as he would like, depending on the circumstances — with his hand curling into your underwear and a single digit pressing against your slit, you can just about feel the way his lips turn upward at your compliance for him even now. Until the very end.

"Is that so?" Doyoung finally says in acknowledgment of your obvious lie. Eyes thin and intent on you as you try your best to not make your want for him so damn obvious. "Well, you're going to have to, after all. I can't help but wonder, though—"

Pausing the thought as he gently penetrates you with a single finger and you subsequently melting in his grasp at the feeling of it — you know you've lost, but suppose even in that there is victory.

"—Who's going to make you come the way I do? Who's going to have you a whimpering, begging mess for them the way that I do? Who will you be able to relinquish all power and control to the way you do with me?"

You know that he's using it as dirty talk in the present moment, but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't been asking yourself the very same questions these last few evenings spent at the marital home.

Who is going to replace Doyoung in your life?

"We'll have to find you someone nice to play with," he begins again, pulling from inside of you and turning his attention to your clit with the very same finger, instead. "Well, not too nice."

'We.'

The idea that Doyoung will be by your side, aiding you in finding and vetting any future play partners because not only is his safety important to him, but your enjoyment, as well. The idea that although it brings him great pleasure to be that sole person in your life capable of bringing you to that level of sexuality, that he knows your arrangement unsustainable long term, and him not wanting you to miss out on it just because of his unavailability.

Guess you really do have to hand it to your bestie, she really landed a keeper.

As the first, small, whimper drops from your lips, the familiar feeling of Doyoung smiling against you returns again as he meets it with praise, as always. "There she is," he says, as if having been working to summon the version of you that lie dormant and waiting to fall apart for him as he see fit.

"Come here," he whispers against your ear, low and up to no good, you're sure. "Why don't you come sit on it?"

So much for playing hard to get, the promise of being full to the brim with him one last time all too enticing to play games with, Doyoung pulls his hand away quickly to shove his pants down his legs and out of the way as you bring yourself to a knelt position atop the cushions. Turning to face him, it's a sight that you think may never get old, and that you'll likely have carried with you forever should you be able to maintain it: Doyoung's slanted lean against the back of the couch in wait for you to straddle him — long, beautiful cock in hand as he lazily strokes himself in preparation to penetrate you, and eyes gazing straight up and into your own — always granting you his full and undivided attention.

Wobbling slightly as you position yourself over his thighs and gently bear down against him, the man angling his length just right for you to impale yourself upon him, as you begin your descent and enjoy the barely-there string of his stretch, Doyoung brings his other hand up to your face to pull you down and close to his own — lips just lightly meeting — as he speaks in hushed, hidden, words.

"Sit on it before my wife gets home, yeah?"

It's something that the two of you had ballparked playing with the entire time: the infidelity that not be taking place, but rather, the illusion of it. Roleplaying.

Vaguely dabbled in at the end of your first arrangement, you suppose it only fitting to close off this one, as well.

Sinking down on him slowly, you whine into his mouth at the words. Kissing you delicately at first — more teeth and tongue added to the mix with every inch of him you bury inside of your heat — as you comfortably settle down and into his lap in full, the both of you let out an exhale that neither had been aware of your holding as your eyes meet once again before resuming any movement.

"Good?"

You nod.

Lips grazing down your chin and jaw as he sucks gently into the skin just below, Doyoung barely presses his hips upwards and against you, only enough to pull a threatened hiss from your mouth at the feeling of him almost too deep inside of you.

"Gonna have to be quiet," he whispers into your skin at the reaction of feeling him. "We don't want the missus to hear, now do we?"

"God, you feel so big right now," you say, unable to help breaking character in the moment at how impossibly full you feel. The commentary pulls a breathy laugh from the man beneath you and a small shake of his head in reaction.

"I'm trying to do something new and you just want to default back to that old shit, huh?" He jokingly chastises, hands snaking around to grasp onto your hips as a silent beckoning to begin moving. "Yeah, I get it, it's big, can we move on!"

With the both of you laughing now, the mood feels a tad bit lost — perhaps the initial one, but not the whole mood entirely. Instead, it feels perfect an ending for such a long, sexually-charged, exploratory month — full of growth and understanding and...maybe even some love there, yeah.

Maybe it's not impossible that there be space in your heart for love for him, given everything. Not romantic, or platonic, or familial — but somewhere in between. All of them and none of them simultaneously.

"Fine, geez, never met a man so upset about hearing how big his dick is," You respond with playful annoyance, finally grinding your hips down and against him to garner just that right amount of friction from inside of you that has you both groaning out in tandem at the feeling.

Bringing one hand up from your lower body and making quick work of your blouse, Doyoung palming the mound of flesh that sit eye level with him as you ride him steadily — leaning forward, he wastes no time circling one of the sensitive buds with his warm, wet tongue before fully clasping around it with his mouth and continuing the motion as you fuck him from what might typically be considered for the majority of your engagements: switched positions.

Groaning into your flesh as you find the perfect rhythm for yourself — fingertips digging into the flesh of your hip as he desperately attempts to fuck up into you and match your movements, as he pulls his mouth away from you and you both make eye contact, you realize that perhaps for once you're not the one at the mercy of the other this time, and rather, it's him.

Whining out with eyes clenched shut and dropping his back down against the sofa again, it's a simple "fuck" that escapes him, and nothing else.

But you're pretty sure you know what that means, and for once, you're not even close.

"Already?" You ask, somewhat curious, but somewhat with intent to be a little bit annoying, as well. It works just as expected, eyes flashing open and at you with the most despondent expression you could have imagined.

"Don't be like that, God."

With his jaw clenched so tight you can nearly hear the sound of his teeth gritting, you bear your weight down onto him harder — taking his cock as deeply as you can before switching to full, lengthy, bounces of your hips atop him. The switch immediately has the man beneath you moaning, and with a little bit too much proverbial pep to your step, you lean down to close to distance between your mouth and his ear just as quickly as the thought comes to you.

It's not a whisper, you don't bother making it such: really, who is going to hear?

"Gonna have to be quiet, don't want the missus to hear, do we?"

"Hear what?"

The sound of a third voice feeling a bit like how time feels the seconds before a car crash happens — the sounds of tires screeching before the crunching and clanging of mangled metal — you can't even help the shriek that resounds from you as your eyes immediately pull up at glance over at the entrance to the kitchen from the doorway hall.

Throwing yourself off of Doyoung in a fit of humiliation of also due in part to feeling as though you've been caught fucking your best friends husband (for good reason, you suppose), the man only flings his arm up and over the back end to grant himself enough leverage to turn himself to look at the sight you've only just laid eyes on.

"Saved by the bell, welcome home, honey."

"You guys are so fucking weird!"

The screech coming from you, obviously. Pulling your clothing back into place hurriedly as Doyoung does the same in a much more lackadaisical fashion, you hiss towards him as if still trying to avoid allowing the missus to hear the both of your goings on. "Did you know she was coming home tonight!?"

"No," he chuckles. "But thank God she did, huh? Things were getting a little out of hand!"

With a light tap of your ass, Doyoung stands to his feet to go greet Mina — bags still in hand as she stand with a wide, adoring grin splashed across her face.

"Have fun while I was away, darling?" She asks knowing all too well the answer. Of course, Doyoung happy to play along. "She's incorrigible, my love. Not a moment spent free from her evil clutches."

"I'm sure," Mina replies, kissing him lovingly as he walks past her and into the kitchen, all the while feigning his dismay.

"Are you going to come say 'hi'?"

"Ideally if I wait here long enough I will simply melt into the couch cushion and cease to exist."

Mina rolls her eyes at the dramatics displayed by you. "You do know I already knew you were here fucking my husband all month, right? Like, it was my idea and everything?"

Sighing, you flop around on the sofa like a child throwing an uncontrollable fit. "I know! But it still feels so weird that you...saw it! Why do I feel weird and you don't?"

"Because standardized monogamy and societal assumptions and traditional versus non-traditional relationship models; I don't think you actually want me to explain to you why but — it's fine. I caught an earlier flight in, I kinda knew there was a chance I might catch you guys. I had texted him but you know how he is with his phone."

Silence. Mina sighs.

"Can you say something? Please don't melt into that loveseat it was almost ten thousand dollars."

That being the thing that has you jumping up and off of the furniture in shock and horror, you finally look up at your best friend from across the room — taking in the sight of her gentle and loving smile and in that moment, you accept this snapshot in time for everything that it is, just the same as all of the previous ones this month.

A reminder to take people at their word. To believe what they tell you if there is love between you. To have the bravery and respect to trust someone when even in the shroud of doubt — they tell you that it's okay.

And so, you run your palms over your blouse and skirt in a rushed attempt to clean yourself up ever so slightly, and with one footstep towards the woman that you've held dearest to you for so many years, you swallow down all of the nasty feelings that no one but you and the heavy weight of unrelated parties expectations cast upon you: because after all — that has nothing to do with the three of you, right here, and right now.

"Welcome home, Mina."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is part 2. part one [here].

[haetrack]

The Devil Says Hi - (LHC)

haechan x succubus!reader

wc: 8.4k (…😭)

genre: smut (minors do NOT interact!), little comedy, horror and angst

authors note: happy (early) halloween! as a little gift, i’ll be posting this early because i finished this faster than expected! i hope you guys enjoy and please leave feedback if you did!

general warnings: afab reader, religious themes (in the sense that heaven and hell exist), scratches and scars mentioned, summoning of a demon, open ending, in no way does this represent haechan

smut warnings under the read more tab!

warnings: unprotected sex, sub!haechan, dom!reader, oral sex (both receiving), handjob, humiliation and degradation, mentions of masturbation, edging, overstimulation, dirty talk, desperate and pathetic haechan, crying, cum eating, in general perverse themes (LOL)

To be fair, this wasn’t entirely his fault.

It’s finally near Halloween, and Haechan has some members over at his apartment just to hang out. Doyoung had promised to cook a meal for Haechan, and Johnny and Mark, being the people they are, forced themselves into this promise. Haechan didn’t really have an objection to them coming over, as schedules have been hard and they all needed a day off.

With the weather becoming cooler, Doyoung cooked a warm stew (Haechan’s favorite) for everyone to eat. Small conversations flowed throughout the meal, how Johnny was too immersed in his role again, how Doyoung bought a turtle plushie for Mark that Mark didn’t even want. They laugh at Haechan for his need to be taken care of in every sense. Haechan grows embarrassed, swatting them away while shoving a spoonful of broth into his mouth.

“Speaking of, ‘being taken care of,’ I was talking to Ten the other day.” Mark starts, and everyone groans at his sentence. Knowing how gullible Mark can be, Doyoung encourages him to continue while fighting back giggles.

“Ten was telling me about this, like, chant, I guess?” Mark continues, “It’s like one of those, like, creepy stories kinda.”

“Like Bloody Mary?” Johnny questions.

“Dude… you literally read my mind…” Mark reaches his hand out to Johnny, and Johnny proudly high fives him.

Haechan and Doyoung stare at the both of them, with Haechan glaring at Mark so he can hurry and finish his story.

Mark clears his throat, “Anyways, Ten said this chant thing would summon a demon.” A silence follows. “Specifically, a sex demon.” He finishes with a proud smile on his face and his pointer finger up.

No one says anything for thirty seconds.

“Who invited this guy?” Johnny laughs.

“If I remember correctly, you both invited yourselves.” Haechan deadpans.

Mark groans and slurps on his stew loudly. Haechan sarcastically comforts him, telling him to be quiet for five minutes so he can become funny again. Doyoung and Johnny laugh at their antics before Doyoung gasps out loud to announce the idea that just popped into his head.

“Let’s play rock, paper, scissors and let the loser do the chant!” Doyoung laughs at himself for such a good idea, and Mark’s nodding along to his line of thought.

“Then let’s record, too, for our fans. Like a mini vlog!” Everyone stares at Mark and his suggestion.

“What did I say about being quiet for five minutes…” Haechan comforts him again, patting his shoulder while Mark plants his head on the table.

“I say we just let Haechan do it,” Johnny grins, “he seems like he’d like it the most out of all of us.” Everyone but Haechan somehow mutually agree on this, and Haechan takes offense because what kind of freak do they take him for? He may like… some certain, specific things in bed but do they assume he would go that far?

Mark chimes up again, “I’ll send him the words he needs to say!”

“Don’t you dare send me that. I will literally throw your phone out the window!” Haechan immediately reaches for Mark’s phone and Mark deflects all of Haechan’s moves. While this is happening, Doyoung texts Ten to send him the lyrics (?) for the chant Haechan needs to do. Johnny stares over Doyoung’s shoulder and smirks, waiting to see a text back from Ten.

Ten responds with an of course! because he’s Ten, he wouldn’t need an explanation for something like this. Doyoung copies the words and sends them to Haechan’s phone, all while Johnny’s snickering over his shoulder. Haechan hears his phone ding and immediately starts whining, knowing exactly what was just sent to his phone.

“Go ahead and do that for us once we leave.” Johnny smiles, and Doyoung laughs as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Once Mark finally catches up on what’s happening, he also ends up laughing and high fives the both of them. Haechan makes a face at the three of them, making a show of pushing his tongue into his cheek and smirking.

“I’ll only do it because I know shit like this is usually fake,” Haechan grumbles, which makes everyone laugh at him more.

Haechan wouldn’t exactly mind a demon to help him get off.

Everything finally settles. Conversation slows down, food gets finished, dishes get put away, and a movie gets put on. Doyoung dozes off a little while Mark keeps bothering Johnny with questions about the movie. Haechan is thinking to himself about the earlier conversation. So what if he’d call a sex demon?

His members' assumptions have no reflection on his true character. Yes, he may be a clingy man with a lot of needs, but that doesn’t mean he would call a whole demon to his home. He doesn’t actively talk about his sex life in front of his members, not that there really is one due to his lack of time. So maybe they’re just worried about their youngest member not being able to let off steam.

During the end of the movie, Haechan is debating between the pros and cons of potentially inviting a demon to his apartment to… fuck. Con: there would quite literally be a demon in his house. Pro: he can finally end his dry spell! This would give him an opportunity to finally step away from pathetically getting himself off to his favorite porn videos.

He doesn’t want to talk about how he has favorite porn videos. With how busy of a person he is, not to mention famous, he can’t just go out and find someone to have sex with. Especially now that he has his own apartment, he can do whatever he wants without the worry of being caught by another person. To say that he isn’t a little desperate to have something around him other than his hand isn’t a lie.

He sighs to himself, looking up and seeing that the movie had just ended. He looks around and finds Johnny getting up and stretching while Mark is gently waking up Doyoung. Haechan himself yawns and stretches while sitting down.

“I think we’re gonna head out already,” Mark says, sleepy. Haechan nods along to his words and walks them to the door.

“Don’t forget to call your lover from Hell tonight,” Johnny singsongs, which Haechan ends up just shoving him out the door.

Haechan will do what he wants. Which may or may not include inviting a demon over to have sex.

Haechan decides that maybe he does want to summon a demon.

He tries to convince himself that he’s only trying to summon a demon because he’s curious. It doesn’t have to only be for sex, maybe you guys can just talk? Can a human ask a demon how their life has been since they’ve been in Hell? Or is that inappropriate? How inappropriate of a question can that be if they’re a literal demon?

Haechan decides to see if he can research any of this.

He copies and pastes the words (?) that were sent to him into Google to see if anything comes up. To his surprise, only a few articles and ugh, Reddit posts show up. The articles that show up are about other sex demons (which he now learns are called succubi and incubi), and only briefly mention the words that were given to him. He groans when he realizes that the Reddit posts might actually be of help to him.

To his disappointment, the first Reddit article that he clicks on genuinely does help him. It confirms that whoever he’s summoning is a succubus. You are one of the lesser known succubi, but apparently one of the more powerful ones. You have no preference in who you choose to be with, but everyone who tries to summon you should be warned.

Haechan reads this and thinks for a little bit. Would he really try to sacrifice his life in order to sleep with a pretty demon? Maybe. Plus, the post doesn’t even say if his life would be in danger if he were to summon you. Just a be warned. Maybe all he’ll get from this is some good sex and the best sleep of his life.

He decides to ponder on it a bit more.

He gets ready to go to bed. He does his small nighttime routine. He makes sure his door is locked and that everything in his apartment is turned off. He washes up and changes into his pajamas, which consist of a simple shirt and shorts. He stares at himself in the mirror, realizing that he could summon you right now if he wanted to. He instead walks out of his restroom and goes to lay down.

He scrolls on Instagram for a little bit with nothing really in mind. Although he’s trying to focus on this cover of a song he likes, his mind can’t stop wandering. All his thoughts are leading back to you. What you might look like, how you might talk, how you might feel around him. He feels a familiar feeling set at the bottom of his stomach.

With his mind running on impulse to just fuck and breed, he decides to get up and go back to his restroom. He stands in front of the mirror, memorizes the last of the words, and turns off the light. For good measure, he doesn’t lock the door in case he needs to run out. He turns his phone off and faces himself once again. He opens his mouth and begins reciting.

After he’s finished, he feels like his whole apartment feels quieter than usual. The air in the room feels colder, but his face feels hotter. He stands there for two minutes, waiting for you to crawl out his mirror and immediately start fucking him. Unfortunately, none of that happens and now he’s embarrassed, standing in his restroom half hard.

Before he goes to leave the restroom, a chill passes through him. He brushes it off, assuming that it’s all just a coincidence.

You feel it. You feel so alive. Someone has summoned you.

It’s been awhile. You’re aware that out of most of your fellow succubi, you’re one of the least called ones. You don’t really mind though, you know that you’re the best at your job. Everyone that you get with begs to be with you forever, and you lead them on, letting them sit in the guilt of knowing they landed themselves in Hell. No energy or pleasure you get from sex compares to the look of guilt sitting on someone's pretty face.

When you had first heard this man summoning you, you could feel he was desperate. You could feel yourself tingle in delight at the thought of ruining this person's life. You watch him through your dimension looking embarrassed assuming that the spell didn’t work. How wrong he was.

You waited until he left the room. You waited hours more to make sure he was sleeping. Playing the long game was important to you. His desperation filled you with excitement. How cuter can a human be? Would he beg for you, cry your name out, keep going until he knows you’re satisfied? Will he be willing to risk his life just at the possibility of being able to fuck you?

You decide it’s time. You open a portal to his world through his mirror. You slip through it and stand tall. You peek through the door to see him peacefully sleeping, not knowing that there’s an evil spirit looming around the corner. You step in, already feeling small waves of energy hitting you. He’s hard in his sleep. You want to laugh at how pathetic this man seems, and you’ve seen some pathetic men before.

You stand in the corner of the room, wondering exactly how to wake him up. You decide on giving him a small scare. You go through your plan one more time in your head before you start.

You start off with small taps on his bedroom door. You see him stir in his sleep. You tap harder and harder. He wakes up slowly, groaning before sitting up. You make yourself invisible, out of his sight. Before even checking his room to see what was producing the sounds, he looks down into his lap and sighs. He rubs a hand over the obvious tent in his shorts and squeezes.

He gets up and looks around. You tap on his door one last time, harder and louder than the rest. He snaps his head towards the door and stands there. After a few heavy breaths, he makes his way to the door. Sure that you’re out of sight, you make your way to his bed and lay down on it. You watch as he braces himself before opening his door, looking around to see if anyone was there.

He checks a little longer before accepting that no one’s there and closes the door. He turns around and sees you, laying right on top of the bed he was just sleeping in.

In shock, he falls back onto the door and scrambles on the floor. “How did you- what- who are you?” he sputters out.

“I know you already know what I am. And think a little harder, baby, you know what my name is.”

As if Haechan has known for all his life, your name flashes through his head. He lets it consume him, he can taste your name on his tongue. Your name repeats in his head like a mantra, and he whispers it out to you. You smile at him, “That’s correct.”

“Now tell me, what exactly should I call you?”

He looks at you dazed, his body language shows he’s still nervous, but he responds with, “Haechan.”

“Don’t lie to me, pretty boy. That’s what everyone calls you, hm? Tell me the name that only I can call you.” You’re trying to see how easy it is to get him to trust you, to fall under your spell. As soon as the name “Lee Donghyuck” falls from his lips, you know he’ll be willing to let go of his entire life for you.

To make this more fun, you decide to move where he’s sat on the floor. You crawl over to him slowly, trying to build anticipation. The closer you get to him, the more energy you can feel radiating off of him. Poor Donghyuck, still so horny after being almost scared to death.

He shudders when he feels your breath on his neck, lips placed centimeters away from his skin. He whines out, nonverbally begging you to touch him. “How are you still so hard after having someone like me in your home? How desperate are you for this?”

He arches his upper body to try to get at least one part of his body touching you, apparently too embarrassed to admit that you’re right. He wasn’t expecting you to look so… humanly? You look like any normal person in a Halloween costume. A short, pretty dress adorns your body and horns sit atop of your head. You see he’s more focused on your body than your question, so you grab his chin in order to get him to look at you, “Answer my questions and I’ll give you everything that you want.”

He takes note of your gold, glowing eyes. “I- I want this. I want this so bad.”

You grin at how easy it was for him to get out of his shell in order to get some pussy, and you decide to tease him on it. “My baby’s so desperate to get his dick wet. Can’t wait to make you my little bitch,” you say before pulling him into a heavy kiss. He tries to keep up with you, moaning into your mouth once you place yourself in his lap.

Once he feels how warm you are on top of him, he breaks away from the kiss in order to wantonly moan out. You direct your kisses to his jaw down to his neck, messily leaving marks where you please. He’s well aware that the one thing he shouldn’t do during all of this is let you leave marks where any one of his fans could see. Something inside of him tells him it’s okay, he’s yours, you’re allowed to do this to him.

You go to take off his shirt when his hands grab your wrists, his eyes looking at yours with uncertainty. You put on a gentle face, “Let me see all of my baby, I’ll make sure to ruin every single inch of your body.” He subconsciously ruts his hips up to yours, and you can feel how hard he is. He’s a good size, and the thought of him filling you up nicely urges you to continue.

His hands shoot to your waist, but you rip them from your sides and force them on both sides of his body. You take off his shirt and you marvel at the sight of him. You can tell he’s feeling embarrassed, but his dick twitching beneath you begs you to praise him. “What a pretty body for such a pretty guy, you’re everything I could’ve ever asked for in a human.” He lurches in to continue kissing you, and you happily reciprocate his desperate actions.

While kissing him, you begin to explore his chest with your hands. You run your nails along every section, feeling his skin jump underneath your touch. You bring your hands up to his chest and pinch his nipples. His whole body jumps at your ministrations and he whimpers loudly. You feel your body go hot, a reaction like this never failing to amaze you.

You continue your attack on his nipples, and you begin to slowly grind on him. Slow enough to tease him and give him a taste of what's to come. Apparently, this deems too much for Donghyuck all at once and he cries out, “Please stop, I’m about to cum!”

This only spurs you on more, “Can my baby cum just like this? With just some touches and dry humping? Gonna show me how much of a depraved loser you are?”

He just lets whimpers out, hands gripping onto his shorts to ground him. “I’m gonna cum, please let me cum, I wanna cum so bad- please!”

You remove yourself completely from him, choosing to sit back on your heels to watch his already fucked out form. There’s tears in his eyes, his face and ears are flushed, and drool slips from his lips. Your eyes move down to his lap to see a wet spot in front of his shorts that you know did not come from you. There’s a thin layer of sweat across his face that makes him glow in the darkness of his room.

He looks up at you bleakley, and you smile sweetly at him. “You didn’t think I would let you cum that easy, right?” You laugh and he just squirms around in his spot.

“Why don’t we move to your bed already? I promise I’ll treat you a lot better.”

You suppress your giggles when you see him walk over with his hands clasped over his bulge as if you weren’t just sitting on it. You lay back against his headboard, and beckon him to sit in between your legs. He sits with his back against you just a little too easily for a demon that he just summoned. He can feel your chest press behind him, which causes warmth to spread throughout his body once again.

You murmur against his shoulder, “My Donghyuck, why don’t you tell me what you need…” He hangs his head down low and whines. You can tell from the kind of person he is that he wouldn’t mind begging, so why isn’t he doing it now? “Do you really think you can be such a brat to someone like me? Hurry up and spit out what you want before I leave you here alone.”

He grips your thigh and looks back at you. You let his touch slide, curious as to what he’ll do next. “It’s not that! I just… I don’t want to disappoint you with how fast I might cum…” he trails off at the end, clearly ashamed of how his body feels right now.

“My easy baby, the angels made you just for me… we have all night for me to take care of you… just wait.” You face him front again and you place a tender kiss on his shoulder.

“I’m not easy! I usually don’t cum fast but when I-” a gasp cuts him off as you take his hand on your thigh and trail it to his bulge. You start by making him palm himself over his shorts, whispering in his ear how big he feels and how bad you want him. You encourage him to continue while taking your hand away from his, bringing it back up to his chest. He tries to move his body away, but you force him back into place.

You slowly trail your fingers across his nipples just to get him sensitive once more, and he feeds into it. You see his hand move faster against himself, moving up and down and squeezing at the tip. How can someone feel this needy to the point where touching himself over his shorts was enough to get off?

You can tell he starts getting impatient, his usual habits from his own masturbation sessions begin to take over. You can see his eyes shut and his face scrunches, his hand moves down to squeeze his balls to try to slow himself down. He lets out a drawn out moan and you whisper in his ear to slow down. You can tell he heard you by the shake of his head, but he continues to get himself off when you’re right behind him.

“I thought you brought me here to help you get off, but you’re doing all the work?” He nods again, his arm working harder to bring himself to an orgasm. You’re honestly surprised, nothing like this has happened to you in all of your years. He throws his head back onto your shoulders and brings a hand up to one of his nipples. What an interesting human. His loud moans and whimpers are sent straight to your ears and you need to quickly shut him up.

You bring a hand up to his bottom lip to trace it. You whisper a suck into his ear and stick two fingers in his mouth. He responds immediately, mouth sucking and tongue licking the entirety of your fingers. You inwardly moan at the sight of him sprawled out over you, a sweaty mess of a man giving himself the utmost pleasure. You can feel him get closer to his orgasm, energy radiating off of him to the point where you can feel it seep into your skin. An idea crosses your mind.

Right on the brink of his orgasm, you whisper once more in his ear. “You’ll stop for me won’t you? You’ll wait for me to cum, too?”

He can feel you smiling, teasing him for long forgetting about you. He knows how pathetic he looks right now, getting himself off when there’s a literal sex demon behind him, but he can’t help it. A small part of him likes how he gets treated when he’s like this, getting made fun of for being so depraved. In normal circumstances, he’d let himself cum and move on. But tonight, you’re right there, your pretty voice telling him to wait.

Going against what he really wants, he chooses to follow you instead. He gives himself one last stroke before tearing his hands away from himself. He’s whining for you to help him, to let him get what he wants. There’s tears pricking his eyes you can tell he’s dangerously close to crying. You coo at him, shushing him and telling him it’s okay. You sit up some more and bring his face to yours, kissing him and taking all that you want from him.

“Are you ready to help me out, baby?” and he looks at you with an almost shocked expression. You raise an eyebrow at him, and sensing he might’ve done something wrong, he tries to explain himself. “It’s just… I have gotten off yet and… maybe you can help me first?” You outwardly laugh at him, which makes him cower and grow embarrassed once again.

“This whole time it’s been about you,” you giggle, “and you still want me to help you!?” Never have you seen someone as desperate as Donghyuck. You’ve brought him so close to cumming twice already, and he thinks that he should still get even more. Someone never taught him that good actions get him rewards. Through his embarrassment, you see him grow frustrated. This is where things start to get fun.

“Well I summoned you here in the first place,” he argues, “so you should be the one listening to me!”

You tut at him, “I didn’t know my sweet boy could be so bratty. What would you do if I said I didn’t want to touch you anymore?” You challenge him, trying to see how hard you can push his buttons.

“I’ll just get myself off!” He immediately gets to work. His hand goes back down to his dick with rapid strokes. You can see he’s already worked up from before, breathy moans escape his mouth when he teases his tip.

You sit and watch with enjoyment. As much as he’s trying to show that he doesn’t need you, you can tell that he’s growing frustrated. Frustrated that it doesn’t feel as good as you, frustrated that you won’t sit on his dick already, frustrated that he’s been on edge for so long. He opens his eyes to see you watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to break. What really gets to him though is how he can see that you’re squeezing your thighs together, your breath growing heavy.

He whines your name out, and you’re ready to jump in. “You ready? I’ve been waiting for my Donghyuck to help me out.” You slip off your dress and lay back onto his bed. You spread your legs, showing him just how wet you’ve gotten from watching him. It’s like he immediately forgets what he was just doing and reaches for you. You smile at him, “You know what you did wrong. If you want to help me, you’ll sit right there until I tell you to.”

He’s about to complain before he sees you spread yourself apart on full display for him. He sits back on his knees with his hands on his thighs. You bring your fingers to where you’re most sensitive, ready to put on a show for Donghyuck. Even if you pretend that you didn’t want Donghyuck doing this for you, you would much rather have him in between your thighs doing all the work. You moan at the sight of him staring a hole into you, his hands gripped tightly on his thighs.

You taunt him, “I wonder how much you’d be able to help me out. When was the last time you’ve eaten pussy? Are you even good?”

You see his dick twitch at your harsh words and he forces his hands to stay put. He’s gasping for air, somehow already seeming fucked out. Despite his struggle for breath, he manages out, “Please let me help you… I’ll do everything you want me to…”

Grinning at his words, you respond, “Anything? Then come here.” Before he can properly react, you reach up and grab him by the hair. He lets out a high-pitched moan that satisfies every inch of your being. You place him right in front of where you need him most. He grabs both of your thighs in his hands and looks up at you with a dazed look in his eye, licking a strip from bottom to top.

He focuses on your clit, trying to gauge what makes you feel best. Once he finds a good rhythm, he burns it into his memory. He’s so messy, so desperate to get you off so he can get off. He brings a finger up to your entrance, looking up at you so he can get the go ahead. You pat his head, and he slides his finger into you. It’s tight, warm, and everything Donghyuck could’ve wished for. Thinking about how he’ll get to be in you spurs him on to be as good as he can for you.

“Tell me how good I’m doing… tell me how good I make you feel…” he says as best as he can with a mouth full of pussy.

“Making me feel so good,” you gasp when his finger finds that sweet spot inside of you, “I want to keep my good boy all to myself.” He whimpers at your words, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. You remove your hands from his hair and bring them up to your chest to fondle and toy with them. As much as Donghyuck wants to complain from the lost pressure, he looks up and finds something better.

Better than any porn he’s watched, better than any pornstar he’s ever seen, there you are, pleasuring yourself because of how good he’s making you feel. He has to take a few seconds away from you in order to gasp, unknowingly starting to grind against his bed. You manage to open your eyes to look down at him, his cheeks red from your thighs rubbing against them. His hair is disheveled from how hard you were gripping it. He feels like he’s been rewarded with a beautiful being laid right across his bed, waiting for him to continue.

He plunges one more finger into you, curling them inside you in order to prod against that spot. His tongue does small circles around your clit in order to get you to cum, and he feels like he’s getting you there. All that he can hear in his room are your breathy gasps and moans accompanied by his own moans and the sounds of eating you out. He feels as though he can cry right between your thighs, nothing in his life seeming better than being here right now.

You can feel pleasure radiating off of him. You quickly find the source: his hips desperately humping against his bed. You’re not quite sure if he’s aware of it or not, but you assume that he isn't if both hands are on you. Either way, the sight of him still seeking out pleasure spurs you on, bringing you right to the edge of your orgasm.

“Is my baby g-gonna make me cum? Is he giving me everything I need?” You let your hands fall back to his hair, pushing him as close as you can get him. He’s moaning into your core, fingers twitching inside of you as he tries to control his own thoughts. His thoughts are so loud you can hear them, begging for you to finish so he can hurry and fill you up.

You do just that. With one last suckle on to your clit, you arch up into the pleasure and cry his name out. He helps you ride out your orgasm, removing his fingers from you and lapping at your entrance. You sit up and look down at him, slightly pushing his head away before he can overstimulate you. He’s about to bring his fingers up to his mouth to clean them off, but you grab his wrist and shove them into your mouth.

How he would give everything up in order to feel your mouth on him. Your tongue separates his pointer and middle finger apart, and he can feel himself drooling a little. You take a peek at him, and his eyes are glazed over. Another time, you suppose. You take his fingers out of his mouth with a pop! and wait for him to respond. He's openly staring at his fingers, and you have to snap him out of his daze.

“Donghyuck, are you ready for your reward?” He nods frantically, his body feeling like it could explode at any minute. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Unlike before, he answers immediately with a whiny tone, “I need- no, I want you. I want you so bad that it’s physically hurting me.” He groans and you giggle at him. He’s been edged two (three if you count him being bratty) times, so he has to be willing to do anything with you. You decide to ask him the big question.

“Will you top?” He whips his head towards you with a shocked look. He has huh!? written all over his face. He was half expecting you to just pin him down to the bed and start riding him until he cries, but you ask him to do the impossible.

In normal circumstances, Donghyuck would happily agree and do all the work. He doesn’t mind being a service top every once in a while. But here… he knows as soon as he enters you, he might immediately cum on the spot. Knowing that he’ll feel your velvety walls around him while having to be the one that’s moving… he’s scared. But there’s an evil voice inside of him telling him how good it would feel to hear your voice telling him how pathetic he is.

You can hear his internal dialogue just by looking at his face. He tells you a small yes and you grin. You pull him into a kiss where you let him decide the pace. You want to get him confident in his moves, just so you can break it all down again. He pulls you onto his lap and holds the back of your upper thighs. Seemingly feeling good with familiar territory, he moves you in order to get you to grind slowly on his thigh. You appreciate the effort and let a small moan escape your mouth.

He takes this as a sign for him to move on. He slides you off of him and onto your back. He takes a moment to look at you laid across his bed, and if you were a real person, he thinks he would’ve fallen in love with you on the spot. You look so sweet despite the way you’ve been treating him, and all he wants to do is take care of you. He’s taken out of his sudden love-trance by his twitching dick telling him he’s been on edge for too long. He takes a deep breath before moving on top of you.

“I’m ready for my baby to fill me up,” and you reach out to him to stroke his cheek. He nuzzles into your touch as if this is something you both always do. He remembers reading in a Reddit post about unprotected demon sex (which at the time he didn’t take seriously) saying that there should be no worries of pregnancy because of spiritual differences.

This will be the first time he’s ever gone in raw with someone. He’s nervous, but knowing that you have more experience than he does calms him down.

You reach up at him to plant a soft kiss to his lips, and he looks at you with determined eyes. He aligns himself up with you, and slowly pushes himself in.

He’s never felt like this before. The only way he can describe this feeling is like Heaven. Once his tip is in, he has to stop and take some breaths. His head falls to your shoulder and you try your best not to laugh. You moan softly into his ear and beg him to continue. He stutters out a wait as he still tries to get used to the feeling. He feels like his nerves are on fire. No matter how many times he’s cum with his own hand, nothing could’ve ever prepared him for this. He clenches his teeth and pushes in a little further.

He already feels like he can cum just like this, halfway in you. You watch him in his currently fucked out state, and you try to be patient, you really do, but he’s taking way too long. You bring your legs to rest atop of his back and push him forward, effectively pushing him all the way inside. This was unexpected for him, and with a loud moan, it’s taking every muscle in his body in order to stop himself from cumming too fast.

This is exactly what you wanted. He’s already shaking, his head planted on your shoulder. He’s drooling, mumbling incoherent words into your ear along the lines of so sensitive, feels so good. As much as you like seeing him like this, this isn’t just about him. So you whisper in his ear, “You better start moving, baby.” He all but whines into your ear, “C-can’t. You feel– fuck– too good. If I move, I’ll cum.”

With a sigh, you say, “That’s my job, pretty boy.” Your hands move up along his abdomen and up to his chest. Your thumbs trace each nipple before giving them a hard squeeze. His whole body suddenly jumps, his hips pushing himself deeper into you, and he cums. You feel warmth spread through you, the feeling of euphoria washing over you as you feel Donghyuck ride his orgasm out.

On his end, his eyes are tightly shut and his ears are ringing. He’s not sure how loud he’s being right now, but he knows he’s moaning. His hips move on their own, small thrusts into you that he’s unaware he’s even doing. He could die right now and still be the happiest man on Earth. Your warm walls envelop him, tightly sucking him in. He can’t help but grip harshly onto your hips, not caring how hard he does it. There’s nothing in his mind but you.

“Thank you… thank you so much…” Much to your dismay, he’s slowing down and you can feel him begin to soften in you. He couldn’t possibly think this could be over as soon as he’s cum and you haven’t. You grab him by the shoulders and force him to hold himself up once more. He’s still in his post-orgasm state, eyes dazed over and lips swollen.

You smile sweetly at him and you lightly slap his cheek to get his attention, “We aren’t done until I say we are.” He looks at you confusedly before feeling you tug again on his nipples. His hips jut forward into you, and he lets out a loud whimper. “Just give me a s-second, please!” You shake your head no and continue your attack on his chest. His hips keep moving on their own and you feel it, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure radiating off of him.

“You like how much it hurts? You like showing me how much of a pain slut you are?” All he can do is nod at your words as he pounds into you, the stinging pain of overstimulation bleeds into pleasure. Tears threaten to fall from his eyes, his arms are shaking trying to hold himself up. You’re so perfect, no matter the harsh words that fall from your mouth or the grip your pussy has on him, all he wants to do is please you.

He doesn’t know how long he can last.

You feel his tip hitting deep inside of you, the pleasure building up quickly inside of you. He continues to ram into you despite how sensitive he feels, either from wanting to be good for you or to make up for all the times he couldn’t have sex. You can feel yourself becoming undone, that spot inside of you being hit perfectly and your clit being rubbed messily by his thumb. Your nails dig into his back, leaving scratches and one symbol.

You’re about to cum when suddenly, he pulls out of you and cums on your thighs. His mouth is open, eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed. Feelings of frustration bubble at the back of your throat but before you decide on anything, “Clean me.”

He shakes himself from his daze to look up at you, cheeks pink while a small what escapes his heart-shaped lips. “You heard me. Clean up the mess you made.” He stares down at your cum-ridden thighs and lets out a small whimper. Humiliation. Degradation. To have himself wrapped around your finger, made to do whatever you asked of him.

He scooches himself down to your thighs and stares. This was his mark on you. He feels his body heat up, and despite having cum two times, he can feel himself staying hard. This is what he likes most. He looks up at you through his eyelashes and he sees you smirking, clearly satisfied with how he can move past his own embarrassment to please you.

He darts his tongue out and licks. It’s not a horrible feeling, just… different. He can’t lie and say he hasn’t tasted his own cum after jerking off. But to have you here, laying on his bed while licking up your thighs, it’s something he would do over and over again if it meant keeping you here.

Once he’s done, you make sure he’s swallowed everything. You laugh at him for being such a pervert and you can see the effect your words have on him. He’s still hard. You can’t believe a person like him can exist, and you want to keep him forever to yourself. “Now that you’ve had your fun, I think it’s my turn now.”

With all the strength from the energy you’ve gained from his orgasms, you push him down onto his bed and straddle him. He doesn’t even look shocked anymore, willingly letting you do whatever you please. You line up his dick to your entrance and slide down. You can feel him a lot better when you’re on top, how perfectly he fits inside of you. You look down at him, his chest arched up and face scrunched up, “My perfect baby, made just to be my little sex toy.”

You start slow. This is all about you now. You grind yourself slowly onto him, feeling your clit rub deliciously on his pelvis. His hands are gripped onto the sheets, and you decide it’s finally time that he gets to touch you properly. You bring his hands up to your chest and his eyes shoot open. He looks at your boobs, and squeezes. In pure ecstasy, his hips push up into you on their own. What a simple man.

With added stimulation to your nipples, you begin to start riding him. You almost pull out of him with just the tip inside before you slam back down. He moves his body in order to try to help you but you stop him. Instead of letting his hands rest on your boobs, you grab them by the wrist and pin them above his head. “I don’t need your help. All you were supposed to do was lay here and be my little toy, but you couldn’t even do that.”

He looks up to you with begging eyes. Instead of asking for forgiveness, his eyes beg you to punish him. You can only smile. You restart with a harsh pace to where only the sound of sex echoes in the room. Loud, incessant whines from Donghyuck fill the room, and the sounds of him only make you want to work harder.

“Are you gonna let me fuck you into Hell, let me fuck you so hard that you’ll land a spot right next to me?” He’s shaking his head no, but he’s stuttering out yes. He tells you how bad he wants to be yours, how good you feel. You see tears begin to slip out of his eyes which causes your own hips to move faster. You bend down to reach his face, your tongue slipping out and licking up his tears, “My baby tastes so good.”

At the feeling of your warm tongue on his face, he grips onto your horns and you groan. He can feel how wet you are, your slick and his cum from before slipping out of you and making a mess on him. He loves how this feels, being treated like gum stuck at the bottom of your shoe. The messiness of it all, how mean you are, how much you seem like you couldn’t care less. It only brings him closer to cumming.

“You’re mine, you know that? You were made for me and only for me.” He moans out a yes, only yours, want to be yours and you just fuck him harder. He’s hitting that spot inside of you with such precision to where you consider keeping him forever.

“Let me stay with you,” he’s crying again, “I want to be with you forever.” You smile at him, trying to seem like you’re debating on saying yes. You don’t plan on answering him, waiting to see how he might fall apart without you. “Please let me be with you, come live with me and I’ll let you use me whenever.” The thought of using him almost makes a yes spill out of your lips, and that scares you. When have you ever thought of being with a human?

You push this thought at the back of your mind and focus on the now. Donghyuck splayed under you, cursing and moaning how he never wants this to end, tears slipping out and hips jutting in you. He brings his hands up to your boobs again, groping and squeezing around them. “L-let’s cum together, wanna cum with you.”

How can you deny him when he asks so sweetly? “Whatever my baby wants, he can get.”

Hearing the sweet nickname, he fills you up and whimpers out an I love you.

He decides this time that he’ll focus on you, bringing his hand to your clit and rubbing small, messy circles into you. You wrap his arms around your waist and pull yourself to his face, kissing him. It’s messy, drool falling down both your chins, tongues moving without thought behind them. It feels so good, so intimate, that you can’t help but fall for his touch.

After you cum, you see that he’s passed out under you. You remove yourself from him. He’s still breathing, so no, you didn’t accidentally fuck him to death. You did take quite a lot of energy from him, though. You pick up his shorts from before and maneuver them back onto him.

When you heard him say I love you, it felt as if your world stopped. Did he mean it? Was he only saying it because he was so close to cumming? He did say that he’d want to be with you forever, and you can’t say that you would mind that. You have enough power to make something happen.

Before you go, you whisper into his ear, “Wherever you go, I’ll always find you.”

Haechan wakes up the next morning feeling refreshed. It feels as though last night never happened, only occurring in his dreams.

Despite how strenuous last night was for him, he doesn't feel sore or tired. He does feel pain on his back, but he’ll check on that later. One moment, he’s laying in bed feeling content, and in another, he feels alone. Even though he only knew you for that short amount of time, he feels more connected to you than anyone he’s known before. An unknown feeling of sorrow weighs in on him, knowing you don’t really exist in the way he wants you to.

Before he gets too sad at the thought of you, he gets up and walks to his bathroom. He does his little routine in the restroom, and before leaving, he decides to check that spot that’s hurting.

He turns around and lets his back face the mirror. On his right shoulder, he sees your initials scratched onto him. It’s freshly healed with a circle around it. Did you… brand him?

He’s filled with different emotions all at once. One, that’s kinda hot. The thought of him being practically owned by a demon, specifically you, makes the back of his neck feel warm. Secondly, he’s reminded of his previous sadness. You were right there with him last night, and there’s a big chance he’ll never be able to see you again. Third, which is probably the most important, he’s filled with dread.

He may or may not have said things last night that would’ve gotten him in trouble. Yes to being owned by you, yes to being fucked into hell, yes to meeting you in every lifetime. In his defense, he thought it was all dirty talk that usually happens during sex. He wouldn’t have known it was ever really, especially if he was pussy drunk. He can’t say he would really mind this happening, wanting to see you one more time.

Months pass. The scratches fade into scars that he tries to forget about. One comeback passes and he’s currently in the middle of promoting another. He’s with his 127 members this time. He remembers the day after you and him had sex, he told his members what had happened. Of course, they all made fun of him, assuming it was a wet dream. He grumbled to himself that he had proof, but it probably wasn’t best to show his members some demon scratches.

It’s one day after a schedule where him and his members are ready to go to their respective homes. He finds himself feeling more tired today despite the fact that they won at a music show. They all get ready to leave into their assigned cars outside. He’s aware that some fans will be waiting for them outside, so he shakes off his fatigue and puts on a bright face. They walk outside and hear their names being called out. He nods in their general direction. Until he hears one call of his name.

Not Haechan, but Donghyuck. He knows some fans call him by his real name, but this one feels special. He feels it course throughout his body, the sound of the voice getting stuck in his brain. He whips his head in the direction he heard it and sees you, standing behind a group of fans. You’re smiling at him, and he knows it's you. He feels it’s you. Your smile, your eyes, your voice calling out to him. It’s all too familiar.

“Donghyuck,” you whisper, “I’ve found you.”

a/n: this became way longer than i expected but i hope you all ENJOYYY i love my sweet haechan

tag list: @crzns

[rinatic]

NCT: favourite positions

A/n: my first post in 3821592 years! I'm very sorry guye for not posting but i kinda have writer's block + college shit because I'm a junior and I'm literally regretting choosing my major omggg 😭 anyways i decided to post something before the year ends and it's slutty asf lol anyways I'm apologizing again for not posting for too long :(

Taeil

Cowgirl - he strikes me as a guy who doesn't like to move a lot during sex, and he likes being at the mercy of his girl often so i see him loving this position the most. He also can see your face and know how his cock is making you feel. Also, it makes him feel like he's just your human sex toy and it turns him on so much + the eye contact is the sexiest thing ever with this one.

Johnny

One on bed, one standing - this hoe.. he feels powerful when he's having sex in this position, holding you by the waist and just jamming his dick inside you like you're gonna run away. Johnny definitely likes to have sex with eye contact so he can fuck up all your senses, he also loves watching you squirm and tear up as he's rearranging your insides with his dick, he's very much all about control and sensuality.

Taeyong

69 - he seems like a switch to me but is more into being the sub one, i see him liking to have his girl's pussy on his face, it stimulates him so much and it's even better if she rocks her hips and move it on his face. He LOVES oral. Having you going down on him and hin doing the same at the same time is just so hot, and you two receive equal pleasure together, he likes it when oral is used for more than just foreplay.

Yuta

Doggy style - i will forever see yuta as a huge dom and i won't believe otherwise, my boy likes to assert his dominance even when it comes to positions. I see him manhandling his girl, throwing her into the bed, in all fours, grab her waist and puts it then he just moves like he didn't have sex in years, if yuta wants to fix positions during sex he won't tell you to, instead, he'll move you according to his mood. I see him using one hand on your back to bend it down and make your ass higher while the other hand is holding your jaw roughly to force you into looking at his lustful eyes.

Doyoung

Spooning - having your bare back against his chest, his hips smacking your ass while he's kissing your neck is what doyoung is about. He likes this position because he can hold and feel your boobs and it won't feel awkward, he also seems to enjoy hitting it from the back, also the ratio of your bare back to your waist and hips is just a huge turn on for him. He definitely won't be able to think of anything else.

Jaehyun

Reverse cowgirl - he'll be like "do it yourself" and pretend he's to be lazy while he actually wants to see how you would look riding him this way, and he doesn't want his expression to give it away lol so he asks you to ride him like this, he's enjoying the sight of his dick going in and out of you. It gets pretty intense and he loses control near the climax so he grabs your hair with one hand and the other is wrapped around your waist.

Jungwoo

Against the wall - when he's feeling sexy and confident, jungwoo will show you this shamless side of him and push you against the wall, holding your hips firm in his hands while adjusting his body so his cock can enter your pussy with no trouble, you're forced to hold onto the wall while he jams his dick inside you and his pretty lips spreading kisses all over your jaw and neck.

Mark

Legs over shoulders - mark is a horny bastard, and he lets you know. He loves your legs, he's such a thigh guy but i really can't explain it. Having your legs over his shoulders while his dick is all the way inside you is heaven to him. His hands keep leaving pink marks on your thigh from holding it harshly, he bites your things and licks the soft skin on your legs while looking down at you.

Haechan

Missionary - this cocky whore.. haechan is a romantic at heart + he wants to see how he makes you feel so the best position for his desires is missionary, he grabs both of your hands and puts it above your head so you won't be able to touch anything. He likes seeing you this helpless and vulnerable. Also lemme tell you that the intense eye contact almost never stops, it is always passionate with this hoe.

[xomakara]

It Started With a Kiss

SUMMARY |  You always spend your birthdays with DoJaeJung since your birthdays all land in the same month. After being friends and fuckbuddies with them for the longest, you're finally ready to have all three of them as your birthday present. PAIRINGS | DoJaeJung/Fem!Reader GENRE |  filthy smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight dom/sub theme, oral sex, fingering, mouth stuffing, anal play, pet names, foursome(?) RATING |  Mature LENGTH |  6,277 words AUTHOR’S NOTE |  This was also sitting in my computer waiting to be uploaded LOL. I don't even know if I would call this a foursome...maybe? IDK, i normally write one on one smut so this was a bit of a challenge for me. Hope it turned okay.

February 28 – Your Birthday

It was a quiet day until a knock sounded on your front door as you opened it to reveal Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Jungwoo. You frowned, the three NCT members making their way into your apartment, taking off their shoes and sliding their feet into the slippers that were reserved for them whenever they came over. You watched as they made their way towards your kitchen, the oldest of them pulling out a barstool from the counter island and the younger of the three opening the cabinet to pull out four coffee cups and start up the coffee maker.

“Not even a simple hi or anything?” You mumbled, watching them.

“Hi,” Jaehyun gives you a small hug and kiss before making his way towards the other two.

“Hey, Y/N.” Doyoung called out, patting the barstool next to him.

“Join us for some coffee.” Jungwoo gave you a mischievous grin. Why was he looking at you like that?

“Did we miss the memo that this is my apartment?” You muttered and shrugged, closing the door behind you, knowing full well that the other members of NCT would be knocking on your door sooner or later. No doubt with a large cake, balloons, and alcohol. “I’ll take tea instead, Jungwoo.”

You’ve been in the industry longer than any of the NCT members did and you thought it was your lucky day the moment that you met Doyoung. You remembered how he congratulated you on your comeback, made small talk about being fascinated that you were still active in the industry for such a long time. You met Jaehyun soon after while filming for a drama series, met Jungwoo while hosting a music show together, and then eventually you became friends with all of the members after running into each other in the apartment building where you all lived.

Once you found out that there were six NCT members that all had birthdays in February, Johnny had the smartest idea to celebrate everyone’s birthday all on one day. And it was decided that yours would be the day that they would celebrate it since you were the last one to have a February birthday and that it was the last day of the month, not including leap years.

Couldn’t you just have a simple birthday by yourself?

But then again, you always spent your birthdays alone before you met this bunch of chaotic men.

You had to admit that it was a nice change of pace even if you got annoyed by them every now and then.

You opened the door to the fridge and pulled out the container of coffee creamer and milk, putting them on the counter for whoever wanted what. It happened on most weeks when Doyoung, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, or DoJaeJung as you like to refer to them on most occasions, would come over to your apartment and hang out with you over coffee and TV. Out of all the members born in February, you had a closer relationship with them.

A more intimate friendship.

You had slept with Doyoung just once. You remember that first year where Johnny suggested that the February Gang celebrate everyone’s birthday on your birthday. You and Doyoung had snuck away from the party all tipsy and to avoid getting shit-faced drunk. You recall hanging out in Doyoung’s room, talking about random things, him leaning in and kissing you, you pulling at his clothes and before you knew it, you woke up in Doyoung’s bed the next morning. You remember the feel of his soft hands, the kisses on your body and you wanted a repeat of that.

You’ve never slept with Jungwoo as of yet. But you really, really wanted to. You accidently kissed Jungwoo during one of the music show shootings that you both hosted. It was meant to be a chaste kiss on the cheek but Jungwoo had suddenly turned his head and your lips landed on his. Since that day, Jungwoo would flirt and get handsy every chance he could get. Not that you would complain. His long fingers worked magic on your body.

You kissed Jaehyun because Mark dared you. You were at a party with the guys and one of the WayV guys decided truth and dare would be the perfect game to play. You knew it was just an excuse for the guys to try and attempt stuff with you or to hear your most crazy fantasies. So you decided to kiss Jaehyun not once, but twice, that night. One for the dare and the other because you really just wanted to kiss him. After the second kiss, Jaehyun made sure no one was around before dragging you to the bathroom and fucking you on the sink counter.

You’ve fucked Jaehyun the most.

He was just insatiable for you.

You never told them but you wanted to know how it would feel to have sex with all three of them. Would they agree to it? They obviously knew about each other but they’ve never disagreed about sharing you. Doyoung would hold your hands and kiss you on occasion, Jungwoo would get really handsy and Jaehyun always reached the limit of wanting to have sex with you. Even if the other two were in the room.

They seemed to be okay sharing you.

You stood next to Jaehyun, who handed you a mug filled with tea instead and brought it to your lips. The aromatic scent filled up your senses and you couldn’t help but sigh in contentment.

“What’s with that sigh?” Jaehyun asked, leaning against your counter as he watched you. “Sounds like you were quite satisfied.”

“Oh, shut up Jaehyun.” You mumbled, the male grinning from ear to ear. Doyoung had a smile on his face and began to sip his coffee from the comfort of your barstool. “I already know that I’m going to hate today. Please shoot me now.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jungwoo raised his eyebrows in a teasing manner. He was taking in your outfit−the short mini skirt, the too tight shirt that looked pretty sheer… were you even wearing a bra? “It’ll be a shame to see you go when you’re looking pretty sexy today.”

“I hate you, Kim Jungwoo.” You retorted, puffing out your cheeks.

Doyoung chuckled, noticing that Jaehyun had a smile on his face while watching you. What was he staring at? Looking in the same direction as Jaehyun, Doyoung coughed and looked away, gesturing to your outfit. “That’s short, Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You looked down at yourself and noticed that Doyoung was talking about the short mini skirt you had on. “What’s wrong with my skirt?”

“What’s not wrong with your skirt?” Jaehyun inputted as he looked you over once more. “You look fucking hot.”

“Please don’t change clothes on our account.” Jungwoo chuckled, watching as you flipped Jaehyun off.

Doyoung shrugged, refusing to look at your clothes. “I’m just saying. You’re going to be in an apartment filled with guys you know.”

“But it’s still my apartment. Plus, it’s my birthday. I get that Johnny wanted us all to celebrate today like we’ve been doing years already. But it’s still MY birthday. I still got to look good even though we’re just staying in.” You reminded him to which the older male nodded, muttering that he forgot. Feeling bold, you slid into Doyoung’s lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “But Doyoung… Don’t you like the fact that it’s easy access to you know, fuck me?”

Doyoung raised an eyebrow. He was taken aback when you slid into his lap but when his hands laid on your hips, his eyes seemed to darken. “I’d rather have you wear that around us than the others.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to fuck me, you three.” You shrugged your shoulders at the three of them. You looked over to Jaehyun, noticing that he was staring intently at your blouse. “Tell me why we’re having the party at my place? We could’ve had it at one of your dorms. We all live in the same, damn building.”

“Our place is crowded with a crap load of stuff.” Jaehyun slowly teared his gaze away from your clothed upper body. “When you have loads of guys living together, it gets crowded even if we clean the place up.”

“Well the boys in the other dorm claim their apartment is clean but I doubt it.” Doyoung muttered, looking everywhere but at you. It was taking all the energy he had to not succumb to whatever emotions he was having. “Johnny thought it was a great idea to use your place. It’s just you in this big, humongous apartment.”

“Plus, I don’t think you want to find all the porn that’s probably scattered about the dorms.” Jungwoo inputted, grinning as you raised your fist at him. “I mean if you’d like to see our sexual preferences, be our guest.”

“I know all of Jaehyun’s kinky preferences, so I’m not worried.” You winked at Jaehyun. Giving Jungwoo a cheeky smile, you said, “What kind of kinks do you have Jungwoo? Show them to me?”

“Really?” Jaehyun chuckled, a finger running along your arm. “C’mon, Y/N. Today’s your birthday. Can’t you be nice for once?”

“I’m always nice!” You exclaimed, giving him a frown. “I’m so nice that I’m literally offering up myself to you three and you guys aren’t doing anything about it.”

Jaehyun raised his eyebrows, a small smile coming to his lips. “Tempting as that sounds…”

“Come on!” You whined, sliding off of Doyung’s lap. “Can’t we just tell the others that the party is cancelled because I just want to spend it with you three?”

“And do what, baby?” Jungwoo asked, his eyes looking your body up and down. “Did you just want to fuck?”

“Now, now, kitten. As much as I want to get my hands on you, it’ll have to wait.” Doyoung shook his head in amusement. Kitten? Why did it sound so sexy when he called you kitten? “Can you be a good girl for us? The others will be here any time soon.”

“We can discuss this later, princess.” Jaehyun nodded his head, leaning forward to kiss you. “And then we can reward you if you’ve been a good girl.”

“Okay…” You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, the fabric of your shirt clinging to every curve of your body. It took forever for Jaehyun to tear his gaze away from you and when he did, he excused himself to use the restroom. 

Doyoung got up from his seat and turned to you, a curious look on his face. “You really want to have sex with all three of us?”

“Yeah…” You sang, looking at him. You bit your bottom lip. “I thought about this for a long time, Doyoung. I want you all to fuck me. That's my birthday wish.”

“Fuck, baby.” Jungwoo ran a hand through his hair. “You’re killing me over here.”

“Jungwoo…” You trailed off, your hands at the waistband of his jeans. “Please, please can I suck you off?”

“I thought we agreed that if you were a good girl for us, we’d reward you?” Jungwoo raised an eyebrow, looking down at your lustful face. “You’re not being very good right now, baby.”

Doyoung lightly pulled you away from Jungwoo, his hands coming to rest on your ass. “You’re absolutely wet for us, aren’t you kitten? Wearing next to nothing underneath that outfit.”

“How did you know what I was wearing underneath?”

He let out an amused sigh. “Who was the one that accidently sent me a text of that semi-nude pic that was meant for Jaehyun?”

“Shit, I forgot about that.” You cursed yourself and face-palmed your forehead. You looked at Doyoung and Jungwoo, your face stating the fact that you were indeed sleeping with Jaehyun on more than one account. “I’m so horny for you three. I don’t know if I could behave.”

“Yes you can, baby.” Jungwoo answered, his thumb caressing your top lip.

Doyoung grabbed his phone from his pocket and raised an eyebrow, his fingers flying over the screen. He looked at you and gestured to the front door. “I’m going to head out for a bit. Johnny just texted me and said he needs help carrying things over to your place. Come on Jungwoo.”

“Does he still need an extra hand to carry things?” You shook your head and followed the men to the front door. “There’s seventeen other guys and still need you to help him? What the hell did they buy? The whole store?”

“Knowing them, probably.” Doyoung shrugged, pulling on his shoes. He nodded back at your apartment. “Don’t be doing naughty things while I’m gone.”

“Be our good girl.” Jungwoo added.

“I’ll be good.” You answered, watching as they cackled, their backs retreating out of sight. You shook your head, closed the door behind you and turned towards the living room. At the same time, Jaehyun opened the bathroom door and looked around, trying to locate Doyoung and Jungwoo.

“Where did the other two go?” He asked, his face in confusion.

“They went to go help Johnny .” You replied, going up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Something about needing help carrying things? I think the boys bought the whole store.”

“Well that can’t be helped.” Jaehyun chuckled, his hands coming to wrap around your waist. “I finally get to have you alone now.”

You chuckled, looking up at him softly. “Were you waiting for them to leave this whole time?”

Jaehyun eyed you over, his fingers teasingly touching your bare skin as he slid them up your shirt from your waist. “With that outfit on? I’ve been dying to take you here and now.”

“I’m supposed to be a good girl, though.” You replied, cupping his cheek. You stared at his deep dark orbs. “As much as I would love you to fuck the living daylights out of me, the boys will be here anytime soon. And I actually want you all to fuck me. But first I should change.”

“What? Why?” Jaehyun bit his lower lip. He followed you to your bedroom and paused when he noticed that you began to undress. “But you looked so good in that outfit.”

“Of course I did.” You gazed back at him as he took in the state of your undress. You were shrugging out of your shirt and threw a plaid buttoned down shirt over your shoulders. You left the buttons undone, a sheer bralette covering your assets.

“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?” Jaehyun questioned from behind you.

“Yep! You left it here a few days ago and I haven’t done laundry and your shirt was somewhat clean.” You replied, swinging the hem of his shirt about. “Does it look good on me?”

“That explains why I couldn’t find it this morning.” He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms across his chest and had to admit that you looked damn good in his shirt. His eyes widened when he noticed your sheer bralette and the fact that his shirt was hanging loosely on your body. “That’s not exactly a bra Y/N. Were you being a little adventurous or something?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” You chuckled and turned to face him, the cool air hitting your naked skin that wasn’t covered by clothes. “And it’s still a bra Jaehyun. Although it doesn’t offer that much protection.”

“I’m just saying...” He chuckled, throwing his head back in laughter. “Like something as thin as that could contain those massive tits of yours. But I really, really like it.”

“You’re such an idiot, Jaehyun.” You chuckled along with him. “Why did you think I wore it today?”

Most girls would have normally covered themselves and screamed their heads off when a guy would catch them half-naked. This case was completely different since Doyoung, Jaehyun and Jungwoo often caught you changing and although it bothered them the first couple of times, they’ve gotten used to the fact that you often roam your apartment with little to no clothes on. 

One of the few perks of living alone you told them. You made some rules that since it was your apartment, you could be naked (or at least little clothed) from the waist up whenever you want, and that they should just get used to it. Jaehyun adapted quite well and so did the other two, but occasionally Doyoung would still blush when he would see you walking around in a bra.

“You gonna cover up?” Jaehyun asked as he reached your sides in a matter of seconds and took the sides of his shirts to start buttoning up the fabric. He slid one hand under the shirt you wore as he caressed your naked skin softly.

“I have no choice since you’re already buttoning it up. Don’t want the others to see my massive tits huh?” You teased him, watching as his eyes turned hazy with lust. Normally Jaehyun was the one to tease you non-stop but there were times when you got the upper hand. You started to undo the zipper to your short mini skirt and shimmied out of it, only to throw on some dark jeans. “Don’t you only want me for yourself?”

He studied you, his eyes scanning the sleek lines of your body. “I do want you for myself. But I see the way Doyoung and Jungwoo look at you.”

“Really?”

“Do you like them?”

“Of course I like them.” You turned to him. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. The looks they give you when you’re not looking. Doyoung has that kind and gentle nature, Jungwoo is mischievous just like you. And those smiles you give them. I don’t know what to think.” Jaehyun shook his head. He placed his hands on your shoulder, looking down at you, capturing your attention. “I know we’re not dating or anything so I can’t really tell you who you can or can’t fuck.”

“So you’re okay with sharing me?”

He nodded, cupping your face to make you look at him. “If you want to be shared, then anything for you, princess.”

“So…”

“Noona! We’re here!”

“Y/N! Where do you want me to put the drinks?”

“Where’s your Bluetooth speaker at noona!?”

“Oh, the others are here.” Jaehyun pulled away and gave you a small smile. “Remember to be good if you want all of us, princess.”

You followed him out to the living room where it was crowded by all twenty members of NCT. When the boys saw you, they started to sing in celebration of your birthday. 

After a while, Doyoung and Jungwoo pulled Jaehyun to the side when they saw you conversing with Johnny and Ten. Doyoung looked at you in concern before looking at the younger man. “Are we sure we want to do this?”

“I’m totally fine with it,” Jaehyun answered.

“She’s been such a good girl for us, Doyoung.” Jungwoo said. “It’s her birthday and that’s probably what she wanted as a gift.”

“How did we all end up lusting after the same girl?” Doyoung asked, running a hand through his thick hair. “Not that I’m complaining. Thinking about fucking her with you two…sounds pretty hot.”

Jaehyun let out a chuckle before coming towards you. He turned to face you, only to plant a kiss on your forehead in front of the other NCT members. “Happy birthday, princess.”

Your eyes wide, you touched your forehead. “What was that for?”

“It’s your birthday. I think you deserve it.” Doyoung grinned as he joined the group.

You narrowed your eyes. “What are you guys planning?”

“Your after party.” Jungwoo whispered in your ear, silently motioning to you, him, Doyoung and Jaehyun. “You’ve been such a good girl and I think it’s time to reward you.”

"Jungwoo, please..." 

You had your back to your bedroom door as you rode on Jungwoo’s thigh. You were both kissing, Jungwoo running a hand down your leg, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt to meet with delectable skin. You were on fire, skin burning every time he brushed his fingers over your tantalizing flesh. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, your lips to his, your chest plastered against his. The magic was unbearable.

Doyoung and Jaehyun were still in your living room trying to shoo everyone out. The others were complaining, Mark mostly accusing the guys of wanting to fuck your brains out.

Jungwoo helped you shimmy off your jeans before he slipped a finger underneath your panties, and slid it against your already wet pussy. He teased, his thumb coming to rub your sweet spot, eliciting moans from you. You clutched his shoulders, your body arching against him, your head thrown back. You bit on your lower lip to keep from screaming out loud.

"You know you wanna scream, babe..." Jungwoo whispered against your ear, as he slipped his finger in you. “Scream so that Doyoung and Jaehyun can hear your pretty voice.”

You panted, Jungwoo’s finger slowly pumping into you. "Oh god, Jungwoo."

Jungwoo slowly removed his finger from your pussy, your juices covering his digit. He lifted his finger to his lips and in one long flick of his tongue, he tasted your sweetness.

"Baby, you taste good. Real good~" Jungwoo muttered.

"I was thinking..." You started as you went up to him and slid your hand down his chest, your fingers drawing his shirt up over his head.

Jungwoo looked oddly amused as he unbuttoned his jeans and helped you slide the fabric off. "You were thinking?"

"I was thinking about what I wanted you all to do to me tonight." You stood on your toes and kissed the side of his lips, hands sliding his boxers off. You then trailed your hands along your body, removing pieces of your own clothing one by one. "I wanna take charge tonight..."

"Is that what you want, babe?" Jungwoo asked, giving up as you pushed him towards the bed. The back of his legs hit the edge of the bed, his legs giving way as he suddenly sat on it.

You were aware that Doyoung and Jaehyun were finally in your bedroom. You heard the sound of clothes being removed and thrown around your bedroom. “Yeah. I want to suck your cock and then have you fuck me, Jungwoo. I want Doyoung to eat me out and then fuck my pussy. And I want Jaehyun to fuck my ass.”

“Fuck that’s hot.” Jaehyun muttered, leaning back against the wall as he watched you kneel in front of Jungwoo. Doyoung, still with his pants on, had sat in your vanity chair, his hand cupping his hard on. 

"Show me, Jungwoo. Teach me how to please you." You looked up at Jungwoo.

"Touch me, Y/N. Baby, touch me where it hurts the most." Jungwoo moaned out, his hands balled into fists at his sides as you let your hands slide down his tight belly to enclose his surging cock. Jungwoo stiffened involuntarily and inhaled sharply. His balled fists got tighter, his short nails digging into his palms. His eyes slipped closed in sweet agony.

But he didn't stop you or joined in the fun.

Jungwoo sat there unmoving and allowed you to examine, caress and toy with him to your heart's content. It was the strangest of emotions. He had to hand it to you, you never failed to surprise him. When he was with other girls, he had fucked in about every possible position known to man, but he had never done this. He had never sat bare-assed and unmoving while a beautiful naked young woman made him her own personal plaything, driving him out of his mind with her searching hands and incredible body.

Jungwoo let out a sigh of relief when your hands released him. Fighting the powerful impulse to drag you on the bed, take you and hammer forcefully into you, he bit the inside of his jaw when you scooted down his body.

He drew a sharp intake of air when you impulsively lowered your face and brushed a butterfly kiss to the smooth head of his penis. It jerked against your lips and you lifted your head.

"I could," you started, "lick my fingers and make you wet. Or, I could simply lick you wet with my tongue. Which one?"

His breath dangerously short, Jungwoo tried to speak, to tell you it wasn't necessary, that he felt wet already from your explorations. But he didn't say a word. More than anything he wanted to feel your lips and tongue on him. At the same time he was afraid he would cum if he allowed it.

Finally he said, "No, baby, I-"

But you didn't listen.

Delicately, taking great care not to hurt him, you bent to him, put out your tongue and licked lightly upward, all the way from the base to the tip. A great burst of air rushed out of Jungwoo’s tight lungs and he anxiously grabbed your arms and pulled you up.

"I thought you would like that," you said, your brown eyes afire.

"I do like it," he said. "Too much, in fact."

You smiled and laid a gentle hand on the hard flesh you had just licked. "Can I?"

"Go on," he croaked and placed nervous hands on your thighs.

"Watch to make sure I do it right." You said, your voice in a whisper.

"Fuck baby," he ground out.

Choking with sensual excitement, Jungwoo watched unblinking as you raised onto your knees on the bed to straddle him, wrapped a gentle hand around his rigid cock and carefully placed the tip just inside of you. You took your hand away and slowly, sensuously, lowered yourself onto him.

"Ahhh," Jungwoo groaned as he easily slid up into your warmth.

"Oh fuck, Jungwoo." She echoed his ecstasy.

Matching Jungwoo’s lust with your own, you gripped his ribs and began the erotic, rolling motion of your hips. Thrusting, you held him prisoner with your strong gripping thighs, pounded him with your rocking pelvis, punished him with your gyrating hips.

You could hear Jaehyun moaning and Doyoung’s soft gasps in the background as you continued to ride Jungwoo.

Loving it, loving you, Jungwoo reveled in this wild, uninhibited display of fierce sexual hunger. A deep, powerful hunger that matched his own and lifted him to new heights of carnal pleasure.

Flexing the muscles of his ass, driving rhythmically into you to meet each of your frenzied thrusts, Jungwoo watched you and was as excited by the sight as the feel of you. Your hair whipped around your face and shoulders, a damp lock clinging to your cheek. Your breasts, with their tightened nipples, danced and swayed with your sensual movements. And between your gripping thighs, the damped black curls were meshed with the black coils of his groin.

Such a powerful aphrodisiac.

"Jungwoo, Jungwoo..." You began to chant his name as you panted anxiously.

"Yes, baby," he groaned out, grateful your release was at hand, knowing that he couldn't last much longer.

"Oh, oh, oh!" You gasped as he gripped your thighs and speeded his movements, driving into you, triggering your deep and lingering orgasm. “Fuck!”

For several long seconds, you were lost in the throes of a shattering release, out of control, begging Jungwoo for an end to a joy so intense you could stand it no longer.

The fervent squeezing of your burning body took Jungwoo with you into paradise. His deep groans matched your whimpering cries as together you both attained the ultimate in ecstasy.

When it subsided, you sagged down onto Jungwoo's chest and fought to regain your lost breath. When finally your intermingled heartbeats slowed and he could breathe freely again, a happy Jungwoo grinned and teased, "Hmm... that was a good ride huh?"

You let out a laugh, eyes sparking with amusement. "The best ride of my life."

Jungwoo winked at you and turned your bodies towards the mattress, laying you on your back. "Ready for more fun? The night isn’t over yet, baby."

"Mmhm..." You moaned as Doyoung replaced Jungwoo’s spot. You hooked your legs around his waist, his cock getting big. 

“My turn now, kitten.” Doyoung latched his lips onto your nipple, suckling them, licking them, tugging at them. Your body was on fire again as you clutched at his shoulders tightly and looked into his lust filled eyes.

Suddenly and without warning, Doyoung bent his head down and kissed you. A kiss that captured your breath, weakened your knees, and caused a pulsing in your lower regions.

Your hands trailed up to his chest to link at the back of his neck. You tried to pull him closer but was startled when he cupped his hands around your buttocks, pressing so close that you could feel the length of his arousal.

Doyoung continued to ravage your lips. You tore your lips away and softly whispered, "I want you to go down on me, Doyoung."

He smirked, his hands at your waist so fast, so willing. “I can do that.”

He followed you, your lips kissing your mouth, trailing to your jaw, down your neck, your shoulders, the valley of vast skin above your breasts. Doyoung trailed kisses down your stomach, his hands spreading your legs further apart as his lips reached the springy dark curls guarding your sweet pussy. He sniffed the scent of you before slipping his middle finger into your wetness, his other hand creeping up along your body to cup your breasts, kneading them, grazing your swollen nipples. He watched your response as he thrusted his finger in and out of you. Your eyes were close, lips parted slightly, hands fisting the sheets.

“Ah... Doyoung...” Your moans escaped you. The feel of his hand on your breasts was wonderful but the feeling of his hand down on your pussy was magical. You couldn't explain what you were feeling, what he made you feel.

His finger still in you, Doyoung placed his mouth on your swollen, pulsing pussy, giving you great pleasure as he licked and laved, and gently tugged. He added another finger into you, thrusting a couple of times before removing them and replacing them with his mouth and tongue.

“Fuck, ah!” You yelled out as you felt his tongue. He slid his tongue into your warm, wet flesh and swirled it around, his mouth sucking, making you wetter. He felt you tense and he didn't want you to come just yet.

At least not without him.

Doyoung rose above you, positioning himself between your legs, his arms resting on the pillow beside your head. He gazed into your lust fogged eyes. “Are you ready for me, kitten?”

You glared at him. “Just hurry and fuck me, Doyoung.”

Understanding your meaning and chuckling, he lowered his rockhard cock into your sweet, succulent warmth. He stopped before burying himself the hilt, giving time to adjust to his size. He felt you squeezing your inner walls as he continued to stretch you, invade you.

Breathing heavily, Doyoung panted, “Fuck...”

You grasped his shoulders and bit his neck. It was all the permission he needed as he drove himself home, his length finally buried in your pussy. Doyoung retreated his cock out of you then slammed back in, only to repeat the process all over. There was a jolt of pleasure as his hips grinded against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, lips meeting for a kiss.

It was a heated kiss as he continued to thrust. You matched his movements, your hips moving to match his rhythm. Kissing his way to your breasts, he latched onto a nipple and you cried out, hugging his head to your chest. The pleasure was too much for you, that she tensed and cried out his name.

“Doyoung!” You climaxed, holding him in your arms. 

Doyoung felt you tense. He continued to thrust up in you, going in deeper, harder, faster. He heard you cry out, feeling your love juices leaking from your body. Then he thrusted into you one last time before spilling himself in you. 

Before making you his one and only.

He collapsed on you, head on your shoulders. Opening your eyes, you smiled. "I don't think I can move now...”

"I can't move either." Doyoung lifted himself on his elbows to look at you. He kissed your shoulders and then your lips. “But you still have to give Jaehyun what he wants, kitten.”

Doyoung moved to join Jungwoo who was sitting in the corner, watching with interest. Jungwoo was clearly geting off watching you fuck other men.

Jaehyun approached the bed, lips in a mischievous smile. “Fuck princess. Just watching Jungwoo and Doyoung fuck you hard like that, was hot.”

Jaehyun stared at you, his dark brown eyes gazing into your own. He imprisoned them, as he brought his lips down against yours. A jolt slammed through your entire nervous system, your eyes closed, and his lips began to move, thoroughly and possessively exploring each tender curve.

Jaehyun felt your lips soften involuntarily, felt your arms give way, your breasts coming to rest against his chest. One of his hands, which was holding your wrist, lightened its pressure at the same time his lips increased theirs. He deepened the kiss, his other hand shifting soothingly over your sides and hip. He slid the tip of his tongue along the crease of your lips, seeking entrance, insisting that they part, and when they finally did, his tongue plunged into the sweetness of your mouth and slowly withdrew, then plunged again in blatant imitation of the act he was beginning to crave with dangerous determination.

You  gasped beneath him, stiffening, and then suddenly all the tension poured through you. He was a lover now- ardent, persuasive, gentle, wanting. Tenderness overwhelmed you and, with a silent moan a helpless surrender, you curled your hand around his neck, lips moving on with awakening ardor.

Jaehyun’s mouth became more demanding, his tongue seeking, stroking, while his hand slid restlessly up your naked body, caressing your breast, then down again...

“All I wanted was to squeeze this nice round ass of yours,” He muttered as his hands slid down and around, closed over your bare ass; he kneaded, and heat raced across your skin. Fever followed, a hot urgent ache that swelled and grew as he evocatively plundered your mouth, as he held you close, lifted your hips against him, and suggestively molded your softness to the rigid line of his erection.

You moaned, hot, hungry, and wanting.

Wanton. Eager. Determined.

Your breaths mingled, heated and urgent; from beneath heavy lids, your eyes met, held.

Locked as he shifted his hand and touched you. Stroked and caressed, intimately traced. Your breasts rose and fell; your teeth closed on your lower lip as he opened you. As he teased, glorifying in the slick heat of your body, then slowly, deliberately, slid one long finger into your ass. Then he slipped another in with the first, thrust deeper, faster.

“Oh fuck, Jaehyun.”

He settled between your legs, spreading you wide. Removing his fingers, he shifted his position, caught one of your knees, and lifted your leg to his hip. Set it there, then traced back with his palm, around, until he found you slick and swollen, hot and ready.

And then he was pressing into you, hard, hot, and much larger than usual. Your lungs seized. You felt your body stretching, him pressing inexorably in.

Your body arched as he did, bowed, tightened, tensed against his invasion. You felt the restriction, felt the pressure build, but he didn't stop; he pressed deeper, deeper until he surged through to the hilt.

"Did you get bigger, Jaehyun?" You gasped. “Did seeing Jungwoo and Doyoung fuck me get you turned on?”

He chuckled and then he moved. He filled you, sank into your body, sheathed himself in your heat. You arched upward with loud moans. Stunning pleasures built inside you, gaining intensity...waited on the brink of passion as Jaehyun continued to thrust in you, harder, deeper, faster, skin slapping on skin. “Fuck princess…your ass is so tight. Look at how it’s squeezing my cock.”

"Dammit, Jaehyun!! More!" You screamed out.

"And?" He withdrew from you, the tip of his length just barely in you.

"Just fuck me hard, deep, and fast, Jaehyun!!" You exclaimed, nails digging into his shoulders. You wrapped your legs around his hips, bringing your pussy closer to his body. The action made him drive in deeper, faster and harder. He continued ramming into your ass, his fingers thrusting into your pussy, soon spilling his cum into your body. He still thrust into you, ever so slowly, riding his climax out to the end before slowly pulling out and collasping on you.

You both held each other in your arms, Jaehyun kissing your forehead, while you rained kisses on his chin.

"That…" You sighed as you burrowed yourself further into his arms, motioning for Jungwoo and Doyoung to join you on the bed. “...was the best sex I’ve had hands down.”

"Round two?" Jungwoo asked, stroking the side of your hips as he laid next to you.

"It depends. Are you willing to let me take charge again?" You asked, your eyes twinkling.

"If this means us getting to fuck like this again…" Doyoung muttered, kissing your temple.

You nudged him. "So that means you’re all okay with sharing me?"

Jaehyun’s laugh was deep and contagious. "Anything you want, princess. It’s yours."

[nctstar]

one, two...

“Oh, so she’s like that with all men. I see.”

“No, no,” you whispered. “Only you, only…you three.”

pairing: dojaejung x fem!reader 

other members: none

word count: 3k 

genre: smut

warnings: this is purely a graphic smut so minors please dni!! foursome, everything is consensual (verbal + use of the traffic light system throughout), dom!dojaejung, sub!reader, sir kink, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy), rough sex (+ reader is manhandled a LOT), degradation (liberal use of the words slut & whore), praise kink, multiple orgasms, fingering (everywhere), oral (female and male receiving), breast play, (sort of size kink idk they all have big bananas), penetration, use of vibrator, kissing, spitting in mouth (sorry), anal, double + triple penetration, lots of cum, profanity

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: some people tell me that I need therapy after reading the smut I write and I think they're onto something

The thin fabric of your dress clung onto your skin, droplets of pool water sliding off the seams and dripping onto the floor. You watched the carpet darken with every drop. Drip, drip, drip… Your gaze didn’t leave the floor once, despite feeling eyes boring holes into your skull, the tension thickening with every passing second. Goosebumps prickled across your skin, but you felt hot, your face flushed and your heart pounding, feeling restless on your feet.

“Are you just gonna keep staring at the floor?”

Before you, Doyoung was sprawled out on the couch. Donning the shiniest pair of black pants elongating his legs, his shirt hung off his body, casting shadows across his ribs. The remnants of the long past music show was evident in his done-up hair, straight black tendrils shrouding his forehead and dark lined eyes piercing through the strands like a dragon. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, and you felt like you were melting like putty under his intense gaze.

This wasn’t the energy you had carried hours ago backstage when you were moaning in his ear, running your hands across his torso shamelessly while you got carried away with your words…

“Come here.”

He patted his right knee. You walked over, swallowing a shudder as you felt wind prickle at your wet skin. You perched yourself on his leg, more and more aware of just how flimsy your dress was. He pulled you in closer from the waist, his other hand bringing your face closer to his. Yet, he stopped short of the kiss. “Are you cold?”

“No.” You had no idea why you lied. In reality, you were fighting the urge to shiver, your nipples being pricked everytime your dress slipped across your chest. In fact, as you shifted in his lap, you brought one hand to fix the strap of your dress, now threatening to expose your entire torso.

Doyoung’s hand grabbed at your wrist. “Don’t. You came here to be a whore, right? So act like it.”

“Doyoung-ah,” you whined, the word whore making you slide into a different headspace. You felt his hands dip between the plush of your thighs, making you squeeze your eyes shut in response. Every time he touched you, it was gentle but immediately passionate and relentless. And every time he closed in on you, he felt familiar and unique at the same time, jolting your body awake with something different blooming every time.

“You guys are here already.” The statement hung in the air with a hint of finality. You pulled away from Doyoung and were met with Jungwoo’s unmistakably toned body. The beige shirt from before was now hanging off his arms, letting rays of moonlight dance across the skin of his chest and stomach. His eyes met yours, his expression serious and unmoving.

Not at all the way he was an hour ago when his mouth was tangled with yours, the bottle of wine you’d had mixing dangerously with the sweet smell of his perfume and the dim lights, making you dizzy and him more and more eager.

“Jungwoo, uh…hi.”

He stepped closer to the arm of the couch and dramatically rested one knee up on the edge in an almost comical display of dominance. Yet, it made something in you switch, and you felt your body aching to be in that bar again, tasting him in the corner of the room.

“Tell us again what you told me backstage,” Doyoung broke the silence, his icy fingers now bringing your face back towards him. “You know, back when you were rutting against me like a bitch in heat.”

Damn, that was harsh.

“Oh, so she’s like that with all men. I see.”

“No, no,” you whispered. “Only you, only…you three.” The word three quietly slipped off your tongue and trailed off like it was a long-held secret, something that you would have taken to your grave if you weren’t in your current predicament.

Memories ran through your mind, of yourself. Mere days ago. Your head in between Jaehyun’s spread legs, scalp tingling from his random pulls on your ponytail, the bony part of your knees feeling sore on the cold tiles as the beat of the song beyond the door thumped on.

“Right, right.” You watched Jungwoo’s demeanour crack as he smirked, looking at you teasingly.

At first you hadn’t noticed Jaehyun leaning on the doorframe, lurking in the shadows like an outsider. But as he took a few steps forward, the darkness began to leave his slender frame, and he was standing in front of you and Doyoung in no time. Your eyes began to scan the outlines of his waist, and the way his jean shorts hung on for dear life. Despite how much you had fooled around with all three of them the past couple of months, not once did you think you’d be here, dripping onto the carpet on the lap of one man while two others watched you with hungry eyes.

“Staring at his cock, are you?” Your eyes widened at the filth of Doyoung’s words, him usually striking you as a missionary-reserved kind of guy. But you looked away immediately, mortified, and he only chuckled.

He pushed you onto your back then, letting your head rest on the armrest of the couch and the small of your back on his legs. You felt breathless as he manhandled you around, your dress slipping and sliding around to expose you in obscene ways.

“Open up.” You met Jungwoo’s face upside down. You were no stranger to his casual dominance that molded you into submission every time, but today you hesitated slightly, having never taken him in your mouth before. Let alone like this.

Almost like he read your mind, he immediately added, “It’s okay.You can do it, baby. I’ll help.”

“So nice, isn’t he?” Jaehyun finally spoke, and you looked down to see him on his knees, towering over your bottom half. Doyoung had lifted the ends of your dress to your stomach, exposing your pussy now dripping onto his lap like some sort of cheap porno. You whimpered as Jaehyun ran his fingers over your folds, holding your breath in anticipation. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“Oh, Jae.” You sucked in a sharp breath as his mouth landed on your pussy, making you pull away involuntarily. You felt a sharp sting on the inside of your thighs. “Mmm, sorry. Please, please fuck me. I need it so bad, fuck.” You drawled out your words as he ate you out with the vigour of a young bachelor, Doyoung keeping one of your thighs anchored down.

“You hear that, Doyoung? So pathetic. Any common whore could have come up with that.”

“A-ah,” you moaned as his fingers entered you, the rush of sensation making you feel scatterbrained. “No, wait, I didn’t, ah…I meant…”

“We’ll give her another chance later.” Jungwoo hooked under your chin and bent your neck up, letting you open your mouth and engulf his girth. Your hands fisted tight as you choked, drool running down your chin and onto your collarbones. You closed your eyes, letting yourself be used as he pleased. “Good girl.” he groaned, and Jaehyun began to pump his fingers inside you at a steady pace.

Your cries and moans were getting lost around Jungwoo’s length, his hips now pistoning in and out of your mouth, and you felt Doyoung play with your nipples, making you jerk on his lap. You felt an impending orgasm build up inside you, your whines getting stronger as you pushed Jungwoo off to release your mouth. “Gonna cum!”

“Who said you could?” Jaehyun’s pace remained unchanged, and you shut your eyes, your brain turning into mush as ripples of pleasure took over your senses.

A sharp pull on your hair brought you back to reality with a yelp. “Answer him, baby.”

“Ah, s-sir.” Your eyes glazed over, making Jungwoo’s figure look less and less definite. His grip didn’t falter, but he let out a gentle sigh. “Do as he says, or you’ll regret it.”

“I can’t…I can’t hold it in,” your voice shook, your muscles stiff as your body was pinned down. “Please, ah, let me cum, ah, ah…shit!”

“Go ahead, princess.” You came with a cry, soaking Jaehyun’s fingers in the process. Your head felt floaty, and you faintly registered being shifted around until your legs were pressed up against your chest and you felt a hard bulb press against your hole.

“Nghhh…” With little energy left, you were painting the air with incoherent sounds. Doyoung pressed his lips against yours, his hands slipping on your thighs. “You gonna be a good whore for me?”

“Y-ye…yeah.” You sucked in a breath through your teeth as his wide girth filled you to the brim, your walls stretched thin. “So big.”

“Yeah?” He breathed, before slamming into you, knocking the air out of you in the process. You opened your mouth to scream but no sound came out at first, your body almost feeling helpless to the sudden intrusion.

“Does it hurt, baby?” You felt someone stroke the hair on your face, and you shook your head. Jaehyun patted your cheek harder, as if to snap you out of your haze. “Don’t lie. Use your words.”

“No, no, feels…feels good.” Your voice wavered with every stroke, and you looked up to meet his eyes, filled with lust. Standing beside Jungwoo, both watching you get ruined making you surprisingly wetter. You threw your head back, feeling Doyoung rack your body with his strong thrusts. You closed your eyes in response, but a slap on the side of your face made your eyes fly open again. “Look at me while you’re getting ravished like this, baby. Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

“Ah, yes, s-sir!” Doyoung’s face was now in front of yours, his thrusts getting sloppier and more desperate as he went along. “You like being watched, too? You keep watching them and squeezing around me, you filthy girl.” You only moaned in response, your eyes rolling on the back of your head, all logical thoughts spilling out of your mind as his release poured out of you, hole left gaping as he pulled out.

You felt like you blinked and Doyoung was just gone, replaced by Jaehyun. Before you could register anything, you felt his cock slap against your dripping hole, making you yelp and shut your knees together. “Ah, wait, wait…” Your chest was heaving, the bottom of your dress now slick with sweat and release.

“Colour?” You felt Jungwoo’s whisper on the side of your head, Jaehyun’s heavy gaze on you, and you didn’t hesitate with your answer. “Green.”

“Fuck, you’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” Doyoung’s words and Jaehyun’s hands prying your knees apart made your stomach churn with anticipation. You felt another tug on your hair, gentle this time, and you looked up to meet Jungwoo, his face now closer to yours. “Tongue out for me.” You whimpered as he engulfed your open mouth into his, the kiss sloppy and wet. He pulled away, one hand now shoved under your dress and playing with your tits, another stroking your face, driving you crazy with his simultaneous gentle and rough handling. Without warning, you felt something hard and almost plastic rest on the top of your pussy, and you immediately felt Jungwoo block you from looking down. “No. Keep looking up.”

As soon as you felt the vibrations start on your already spent core, you squealed and began to writhe away. Much to you dismay, you were being held down mercilessly. “Oh my god, oh my god, it’s already too much…”

“I don’t care. Pay attention up here. You think you can get away with not making me cum?”

“Fuck, fuck…”

“On your knees, _. I don’t have all day.”

You supported yourself up, wobbling the entire way, your entire body feeling the effects of this vibrator that was sucking the life out of you today in mere seconds…or minutes, you no longer could tell. Feeling the cold edges of the Jaehyun’s rings against your bare thighs, you realised he was probably the one rolling the end of the toy on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. “Good fucking slut. She’s good, isn’t she?”

You whimpered, feeling the vibrations ebb away, almost missing the way it was letting you build up to your climax. “Yes, sir…”

You heard Doyoung’s laugh next to you, making you feel both embarrassed and hornier than ever. “Gosh, she’s so out of it already.”

You looked up to be met with Jungwoo’s length, your hair shrouding your face as you stared thoughtlessly. Jaehyun breathed into your ear, “Need some help with that, baby?”

You nodded, all self-respect leaving your body at this point. “Let’s make a deal then,” he continued. “If I help you suck his cock, you let me fuck you from behind.” You inhaled sharply, the vibrations now slowly building up again. “Or we use the toy. What do you want?” You knew he was being gracious by asking, but his tone was mocking, almost scathing.

“Your cock…a-ah…please. Want to be stretched out and…fu-fucked, please. In all my h- ah, oh my god,” Your thighs shook, the last of your inhibitions leaving you as you felt a hot combination of your and the mens’ release leak down your inner thighs, naked and needy in front of all three.

“What was that, hmm?” Doyoung placed a hand on the small of your back, tipping you towards the vibrator, making you pant louder and louder.

“Nghh…fuck, please fuck me, in, all my holes, oh my-” you were cut off by the vibrator leaving your clit, the sudden loss making you want to fight back tears.

The steady silence that followed made you realise then the gravity of your words.  

“Mmm, we better give her what she wants then.” Jungwoo stated as a matter of fact, but you sensed a sudden arousal rise up within him, and your stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety. “Here I was thinking you’d be satisfied getting fucked two at a time.”

You yelped as you felt something cold on your rim, and you heard Doyoung shush you immediately. “It’s alright, baby, it’s just lube. You okay with this?” You bit your lip, trying to hold in your moans already. “I-I think I can.” Your voice was tiny and shaky, and Jungwoo tipped the bottom of your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. “What’s your colour? Be honest, it’s okay.” You felt Jaehyun hum in agreement, patting your thigh comfortingly.

“Yes, yes I want this. Green. God, I need to cum so bad.”

Jungwoo’s fingers changed you squeeze roughly around your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. Bending over, he spat inside, making you shut your eyes and whine. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“Ah, you, you…all of…y-you.”

“That’s a good girl. You look so pretty like this. Just waiting for cock.” You hummed in pleasure, feeling fingers enter and begin to stretch you out. Gasping and moaning, you let Jungwoo guide you to his length, Jaehyun pulling the hair away from your face as promised in a tight, unforgiving grip. As you gagged, the two men swore and pushed you down deeper, Jaehyun holding your head in place while Jungwoo pushed his hips forward. You held back tears as you accommodated to his length. “That’s it.” The sounds of you choking replaced by a broken scream as you felt Jaehyun slip back inside your sopping hole. Shaking your head, the two men released you as you groaned incoherently, feeling your eyeballs slip to the back of your head. “Oh, haah…I think I’m gonna…c-cum.”

You kept your promise as Jaehyun thrusted inside a handful of times, the squelching sounds a testament to the juices that just kept flowing out of you. In the post-orgasmic haze, you felt Doyoung’s fingers stretch out your rim, the unfamiliar sensations feeling both uncomfortable and so good. “How’s that, babygirl?”

“So good,” You heard Doyoung groan. “How on Earth are you so wet…”

As if a trained response, you opened your mouth as Jungwoo tipped your face up, letting him enter your mouth again. “You suck me so good, baby. Gonna make me cum like a good cockslut, aren’t you?” You furiously nodded, the wet noises filling up the entire room as his cock slammed in and out of your mouth. “Keep going, keep going, baby, good girl.” You became aware of an otherworldly stretch and tears sprung to your eyes. You pulled off. “Ah, oh my god, I’m so…full…” the words fought to leave you between your open mouth gasps of air, your head turning to watch yourself be stretched to the brim. Jungwoo pulled your head back to his cock. “Thought you wanted this, being fucked by three…” You engulfed him whole, your desperate moans vibrating his entire length as you felt Jaehyun and Doyoung fuck you into the couch. Jungwoo threw his head back. “…fuck, three cocks. Fuck, just the sight you like this is gonna make me cum.” It wasn’t too soon after that Jungwoo came, his hot load escaping down your chin onto your chest as he pulled you off him. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You screamed as you came, your sensitive walls fluttering and struggling to take so much stimulation. You felt a few seconds of shushing as you whined and tried to clamber away, the men holding you down until you were well and truly stuffed with loads of cum, the feeling of it hot deep inside your abdomen.

You collapsed onto the couch when all of you were done, your vision now seeing stars. As you slipped into an exhausted slumber, you felt one hand stroke your hair, a gentle kiss placed on the top of your head. “Shhh, you did so well, baby. Go to sleep.”

[mchsm07]

ᴛʀᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ - ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇ ᴏʀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴏʀᴀʟ (legal line)

ʜʏᴜɴꜱᴜᴋ: Receive

He likes when you give him blowjob for a looong time. He gets excited just thinking about it. Of course, dirty talk cannot be left out when it comes to him, like "My babygirl was so hungry for my cock." He compliments your skill of the mouth to the skies. His weakness the back of your throat.

ᴊɪʜᴏᴏɴ: Both

He is a pussy eater too. Likes to trait you until you beg him to stop mainly because he can control your orgasm. To receive, he expects you to satisfy him. He lives and dies for the sight of that your lips wrapping around his dick all the way to the base. He can be greedy, veeeery greedy. Likes taking control over you, by hold your head in one place while he thrusting your mouth until you gags on him.

ʏᴏꜱʜɪ: Receive

Loves intense eye contact, making you look into his eyes and looking so innocent yet filthy as you slurp around his length. Compliments a lot. Isn’t scared to try deepthroating, as long as your open to it but still handle it gently.

ᴊᴜɴᴋʏᴜ: Receive

He would be shy the first times about getting head, but loves it too much to ever say no. He leans back and let’s you do your thing. You can also hear his vocals clearly, he can't hold back from expressing his pleasure. Grips the bed sheets until he’s about to cum.

ᴊᴀᴇʜʏᴜᴋ: Both

His bodyworship of you it applies from your head to your toes. Your body for him like the most valuable treasure. His tongue and lips play voraciously in harmony, while he watches your every reaction. To receive, he is like who admires your every movement. He wouldn't be able to be too rude to you, he just likes to "help" you a little, with his hands in your hair.

ᴀꜱᴀʜɪ: Receive

Can be sub or dom in this situation, depending on yours and his mood. If he’s sub, he’s whimpering and begging but as a dom, he threads his fingers in your hair, thrusting gently into your mouth while he is moaning softly.

ᴅᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ: Give

Knowing Doyoung's pussy eater agenda, I can't ignore it either. He can be the type who eats pussy like a hungry ethiopian. He could eat you out for hours. He’ll pull orgasm after orgasm from your body until you feel like collapsing. He wants to hear every noise you make. Loves it when you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug to really show how good you’re feeling.

[ncteez]

On Edge. (m.l)

Dating the strict, well-liked, and loving Doyoung came with its hurdles. Normally, the two of you could communicate and work through the downsides, but what if the newest downside of the relationship is learning that his little brother, Mark, has a bit of a thing for you?

ao3 | m.list | minors dni !! | if you read it, reblog it. 

WORDCOUNT― 22.5k

PAIRING― mark lee x fem reader | doyoung  x fem reader

CONTENT― doyoung is 27, reader is 25, mark is 22. boyfriend doyoung, perverted/shy college boy mark, panty stealing, hidden intimacy, needy mark, dom-ish doyoung in smaller/less detailed smut scenes, reader is definitely a switch depending on who she is looking at, uh, brief mention of haechan raging at mark through a headset while he gets pleasured lmao

WARNINGS― infidelity that doesn’t get exposed, foot job but only bc i can’t figure out how to write a scene like this if it’s not her foot lmao

NOTE― not me back at it again with the cheating fics. Idk, i have a thing for mark cucking but also hidden things, and the idea of having both of them :D no, i do not condone cheating..  shoutout to my wife and other ultimate mark fucker @mrkis​ for discussing and brainstorming this shit with me, also for editing it and fixing all of my embarrassing typos.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― infidelity,  rough doyoung, mark listens through the walls, tons of masturbation, he also steals panties and gets caught and embarrassed by reader, mentions of double penetration, lil under the table moment with mark, foot job but i swear im not into feet just hear me out ok? It’s brief i swear, sexting and phone sex, reach-around hand job, mark isn’t entirely subby when he finally gets his dick wet, penetration, pet names, g-spot stimulation, cream pie, unprotected sex, 

             The two years you’ve spent so far with Doyoung can arguably be considered the best of your life. He’s accommodating, listens to all of your problems, touches you in all of the right ways, and he’s even well-liked by your parents. You love your boyfriend enough to spend countless nights at his place just to get away from your own. It’s comfortable there, and feels like home, whereas your own apartment just feels empty without him. 

             The relationship felt very adult. He was the first boyfriend to stay with you longer than a couple of months, the first one to have his own house, job, money, and car. The two of you were equal, comfortable, and happily in love. Anyone could trust that both of you were running towards the path of marriage, and you’d agree with them if it wasn’t for the fact that your eye is dangerously landing on someone else lately.

             In your defense, your eyes didn’t linger before Mark, Doyoung’s younger brother, moved in. You had no interest in anyone aside from Doyoung. But– Mark is really something else. Cute, loud, obnoxious, and even charming at times. Still, you’ve caught him countless times staring for too long at your legs when you wear shorts around the house, lingering in the room when Doyoung has his lips on yours, and even stuttering through conversations with you after a wild night in the bedroom with his older brother. 

             It was cute at first, but as the months went on, you started staring at Mark a little more. You’d note that he gets flustered easily but can’t bring himself to leave any given situation that causes such a reaction. He gets hard sometimes too, you can see it, and occasionally you can hear him take care of it too. 

             The first night you heard it, Doyoung was sound asleep next to you after a long, drawn-out session of putting you in your place(sexually). You were comfortable beside him, listening to his soft snores and finally settling yourself in to close your eyes and sleep too.

             It was so silent, the entire house seemed as empty as it always had been outside of you and your boyfriend, except for the fact that Mark is in this house now too. You shoot an eye open at the sound of a muffled moan through the wall. You could tell he tried to prevent it, noticing that it appeared to be choked back almost as quickly as he let it fall from his lips.

             You lay there, first attempting to sleep but ultimately falling victim to the thoughts of what Mark must have been doing just a wall over. You felt guilty about the images, imagining how cute he must look tugging at himself and whimpering, frustrated at how he can’t make a sound. Mark knows how thin the walls are, you’re sure of it. Even you and Doyoung have tried to be quieter so Mark doesn’t have to hear it and feel uncomfortable. 

             The choked-back sounds he was letting out every few minutes only furthered your thoughts into the danger zone. You realized you wanted to watch him. You wanted to help him. As Mark hit his high, you hear his bed frame hit the wall one time, hard. The image of him lying on his back and fucking against his fist was long gone, now images of what position he could have been in for the bed to hit the wall fills your mind. What was he doing? 

 ~

 “Good morning sunshine!” You sing out to your boyfriend when he rounds the corner in a sleepy show of how much he doesn’t want to go to work today. He’s already dressed but you can see the darkened bags under his drooping, half-open eyes. 

             You don’t often make breakfast for him, not that he minds at all, you just felt guilty about listening in on Mark doing his thing again last night and it’s not something you’re proud of. So yeah, maybe Doyoung gets breakfast every time his little brother jerks off, what of it? 

 “Thanks, babe,” Doyoung smiles at you weakly, looking at the warm breakfast you place in front of him. “What if I just call in today?” He asks almost immediately after, tearing his eyes from the food and up to you who had begun to fix a part of his hair that he seemed to have missed. 

 “Up to you, I’ve gotta head back to my place soon though.” You look at him, hands on your hips now as you give him another once-over. “You look tired, maybe you should call out.” 

             Doyoung takes a moment to think. What would his excuse be to miss work on a Monday morning after already having two days off? He’s sick? That wouldn’t work, he ran into one of his bosses just the night before picking up some groceries. Car trouble? Also wouldn’t work, he used that excuse last time and he swore he took his car to the shop that very day to make sure it was in tip-top shape. Death in the family? That’s just asking for bad karma. 

 “Ugh,” Doyoung sighs, picking up his fork and picking around the plate. It looks delicious, honestly, but work is the last place he wants to go right now. “How are you so awake? We stayed up so late, are your legs even tired?”

             You stop mid-step towards the fridge to grab some juice and turn to look at him. 

 “Doyoung, my legs are killing me, and it’s your fault.” 

             He lets out a small laugh, giving himself a gold star for making you come just as hard as he always did. “Yeah, guess it is my fault, isn’t it?” He prods for more compliments.

 “That aside, are you going to call out or?” 

             He shakes his head, taking a bite and trying his best to enjoy this last hour of freedom before a nine-hour workday. 

 “No, I don’t think I’d have a good excuse today. You’re going home anyway too, I’d just be bored,”

 “Umm–” Mark’s voice chimes in as he scuffs into the kitchen with socked feet. He yawns wide and side-eyes you only for a moment before flopping down on the chair next to Doyoung with his legs spread wide. He looks like such a college boy. Looking equally as tired as your boyfriend and hair far messier, you note his side eye. “Are you saying I’m too boring to hang out with?”

             You let out a small chuckle at Mark’s words, and Doyoung just groans about it. 

 “You’re still just as annoying as you’ve always been. I’d rather be wasting away at a desk than sitting here listening to you talk about the exam you’re not studying for.”

 “I don’t have exams yet?” Mark protests, looking over Doyoungs food and swiping a piece from his plate. “The semester hasn’t even started.”

 “I’m preparing for what’s to come–” Doyoung drones on in a defeated voice. 

 “Fair,” Mark smiles and looks at you. “So, um, you’re going home today?”

 “Yep, gotta go to work too.” You sigh, pointing towards the stove. “Want some food?” 

             Mark shuffles to his feet to make himself a plate with a small “thank you”, and you can’t help but notice how disappointed he sounds that you’re going home today. 

 “You’re coming over on Wednesday though, right?” Doyoung asks, sipping the mug of coffee in front of him and finally allowing himself to enjoy the food you’ve graciously made this morning. If he’s gonna have to go to work, the least he can do is feel lucky that he’s not going in on an empty stomach. 

 “What’s on Wednesday again?” You smile towards your boyfriend’s now narrowing eyes. 

 “You know what Wednesday is.”

 “Hm, no, don’t think I do–” Smiling wider at the way his eyes narrow even further.

 “What’s Wednesday?” Mark asks, setting down his plate and taking a bite. 

 “Yeah, tell him what Wednesday is,” Doyoung says in an annoyed tone, one that you can tell is a joke. He always plays along with your antics.

 “I think it’s like, national fork day or something.”

             Doyoung brings a hand to his forehead with a laugh. “Fork day? That’s all you can come up with?!”

             Mark is just confused, what’s so fucking great about forks anyway?

 “I’m joking. It’s our two-year anniversary,”

             You hear a spoon clatter to the table and a small cough. 

 “Ugh-” Mark groans, picking the cutlery up off the table and wiping the crumbs clean. “That’s cool.”

             Mark can see the way Doyoung looks at him with his reaction, but it genuinely wasn’t intentional. He just happened to drop his spoon at the wrong time and choke on his food. It wasn’t meant to be as dramatic as it sounded. Also, maybe he’s a little shocked that Doyoung managed to have a girlfriend for this long with how much of a bore he can be at times. 

 Especially someone like you. Mark feels shy at the very idea of you, not just because he’s heard what you sound like when his brother touches you, but also because you’re just, like, really pretty and it makes his thoughts go in every direction when you speak to him. Even now, just over a small breakfast, he’s disappointed that you have a job too. He’s sad that he can’t spend time in this house with you alone even though he knows well enough that he probably wouldn’t have it in him to approach you. Or does he? Knowing that from time to time, like when he first moved in, there had been some days where you stayed over and did your work-from-home stuff. He wasn’t well acquainted with you back then enough to come out and sit with you, and he’s likely not acquainted enough now either, but that doesn’t change the fact that he kind of wants to be around you without his brother taking note of the small crush he kind of maybe developed by being around you.

 ~

             Today is expected to be more exciting than your last anniversary. Mostly because it’s marking a second year with Doyoung and solidifying the fact that the two of you have made it this far without any glaring issues that could threaten the relationship. At least, no issues that Doyoung is aware of. You think that these thoughts and images of Mark swimming in your head are a phase. There’s no way you’d ever actually go through with anything involving your boyfriend’s little brother. He’s just kind of cute to see all flustered, even cuter when he tries to hide how he’s feeling regarding you. 

 Mark isn’t  there when you walk through your boyfriend’s door. Unfortunately, neither is Doyoung. Grabbing your phone and checking the time you’re distracted by the glaring text message from your boyfriend that seemed to have been sent some ten minutes ago as you got in your car for the drive over. A little wave of disappointment hits you as you stand alone in the darkened kitchen. 

             Doie: hey i’m gonna be a little late. Boss got a last minute client today like an hour before closing time so i’m gonna be here at least until 8:30, is that okay?

             The disappointment fades away with how good he is at communicating with you. Your last boyfriend who you only dated for like two months always bailed without notice on dates, ghosting you for a full day or two before explaining himself with one of the same excuses Doyoung probably uses to get out of work. You know his job is important to him, and you know the anniversary is important to him. His priority doesn’t always have to be you.

             You: Yeah that’s fine. What am i supposed to do for three hours though?I’m already at your place (sparkly eye emoji)

             Doyoung was great at texting you back too.

             Doie: you could get yourself ready for me to come home ;) 

            You: for three hours?

            Doie: yes???? or you can just go bug mark lol

             The silence in the house tells you that Mark isn’t home.

             You: he’s not here, i figured he went out to give us some privacy?

             Doyoung doesn’t respond for a few minutes, probably because he’s doing something important with his work. By the time you’ve slipped off your shoes and laid against the couch, you get the little ping on your phone.

             Doie: Oh, right, he was gonna go meet with some girl he was talking to. I figured he’d chicken out and not go lol, maybe we really will have the house to ourselves tonight ;)

             Something inside of you twisted at his message. On one hand, you’re happy that you might get the entire house with your beloved boyfriend tonight, on the other hand, you kind of don’t like the thought of Mark losing the ability to get all flustered around you if he’s got someone else doing it for him. Are you jealous? No, but you’re a little selfish. You always liked when men chased you even if you knew it would lead nowhere, even if they knew it would lead to nowhere. It was harmless fun, but now all of your fun is gonna be ruined. The last thing you want to be hearing is Mark railing some girl in his room while you’re trying to sleep. 

             You: oh yeah? lets hope we don’t have to be quiet tonight then, i have //plans//

            Doie: plans? 

            You: better do well on your work so you can come home and see <3

             With that, you set your phone down and reach for the remote. Mark is out with a girl right now? Part of you wonders how he’s navigating it, or if the girl is actually into him. The images in your head are amusing until you realize that you’re not imagining him stumbling over himself with some faceless girl. You’re imagining yourself as the girl he’s out with.

             Still, even on your anniversary, you’re bored and you’ve got some hours to kill. You sort through all sorts of images in your head. From what Mark would do if you were to reject him to what he would do if you didn’t reject him. How he would act if you were leaning in to kiss him, or how he would react if you kissed his neck, started touching his stomach, trailing your hands down– straight until you’re assuming that Mark must be getting a hand job somewhere right now. A little disappointed that it’s not you, you laugh at yourself. 

             Silly thoughts like these are normal, and you’re sure Doyoung has them too. Despite the fact that you’d be weirded out if it were about your little sister if you had one. You’re not hurting anyone passing the time and thinking about how things would go with Mark. Surely not. Doyoung was never shy toward you. Always shooting his shot in charming and convincing ways that have managed to lead to a two-year relationship that’s still going strong. He didn’t leave as much to the imagination at the beginning of your relationship, nor does he now. You can’t even imagine Doyoung being insecure or lacking confidence in anything he does, but then there’s Mark. The little brother appears to live in the shadow of Doyoung. From Mark attending college for the same thing to wanting the same woman that Doyoung is in love with. 

             Are you too full of yourself for chuckling about that? Laughing at the fact that he’s so entirely different from your boyfriend but that’s the exact reason you find yourself fantasizing about the ‘what if’s’ with him? Now the thought of what Mark would do if he knew you were thinking about him this way infiltrates your mind. Would he panic? Surely. Would he blush? Oh yeah, for sure. Would he try to play it off as a joke until realizing you’re serious, visibly shivering as you watch him imagine? Oh– would he tell Doyoung? Would he get cocky? So many thoughts that are both scary, cute, and…hot. 

             You look at the clock on your phone again and realize how slowly the time is passing. Mark’s out getting tugged at by some girl, Doyoung is at work being an obedient employee, and what are you doing? Sitting on the couch in a daze as if you’ve just smoked the biggest blunt full of the most high-quality weed.

             Glancing around a bit, you shake your head at a specific thought. Mark’s room.

 ~

             Against your better judgment and several hours on hand to spend, you find yourself in Mark’s room. You didn’t know why your legs carried you here, but then again you kind of did. Curiosity. You didn’t really plan on snooping or anything, you just kind of wanted to see how he lives when he’s by himself. You wanted to see if he made his bed or folded his clothes, and when you note that the loser definitely does not do either of those things, a flash of pastel blue is catching your attention.

             In the mess of Mark’s room, monochrome colors of black and grey come through the most. From sweatpants to band t-shirts, you weren’t expecting to see a glimmer of pastel silk peeking from under one of his pillows. 

             It wouldn’t have caught your attention if it wasn’t for the fact that you recognize the color and even remember the day you purchased them. Those are your panties stuffed under Mark’s pillow. 

             You find yourself smirking in an evil kind of way as you make your way toward the dainty fabric and pull it from the pillow. You can confirm it now, they’re yours, and you remember wearing them just the past weekend you were over. It was normal for you to leave some of your laundry at Doyoung’s place after staying the weekend, it’s not like you weren’t here multiple times a week or anything. 

             Mark must have taken them from the laundry basket in the bathroom. The thought of him that morning when you made breakfast, acting as casual and normal as ever. The harsher thought of how you listened to him again after Doyoung had fallen asleep the night before, furiously reaching his climax. 

             You spread the fabric against your fingers and laugh at the stain on them. This must have been what he was using that night, thinking of you, surely, right? God, Doyoung would kill him if he found out.

             And just as you go to look around to see if he’s stolen more of your intimate wares, you hear the front door open, and you panic, shoving the panties into your back pocket and rushing out of his room to the bathroom just across the hallway.

             In your slight panic, you manage to stand by the bathroom door and listen to the footsteps coming down the hallway. It’s definitely Mark because Doyoung would have called you to let you know he was coming home. Checking the clock again, it’s barely six and you’ve now got two or so hours pretending that you didn’t just find your panties in Mark’s room. Or, maybe, you don’t have to pretend. Maybe you can just fluster and embarrass him more now. 

             You reach over and flush the toilet and then step to the sink to actually wash your hands because you definitely were just handling cum-stained panties, and then you step out of the bathroom acting surprised that he’s here.

 “Oh!” You exclaim, stepping out of the bathroom and looking directly at Mark through his bedroom door as he’s in the middle of throwing himself against the bed in frustration. “Hey, didn’t think you’d be here today?”

             Mark nearly jumps out of his skin despite knowing someone was in the bathroom. He wasn’t expecting to be addressed by you or Doyoung today.

 “Yeah, me neither.” He groans, throwing his hand over his face. “You scared the fuck outta me–”

 “Aw, why so nervous?” You ask, taking a step forward and leaning against the doorframe to his room, crossing your arms. “Doyoung said you were on a date or something,”

             Mark groans again, lifting his back from the mattress to sit up and shaking his head in defeat. The fact that you’re talking to him right now only makes him feel worse. He’s embarrassed enough by the happenings of the past hour or so, now he has to sit here and answer your questions about it?

 “Yeah, I was supposed to be but she ended up just using me as a ploy.” 

             You only chuckle because of course that’s the type of shit that’ll happen to him, but also like, you’re kind of glad the date wasn’t a date, even if he didn’t know it.

 “A ploy?”

 “Turns out, she was just trying to make some guy jealous. He literally served us. ”

 “Oh yeah? Then what happened?” You question, prying now. 

 “When he was coming up to the table, she told me to kiss her so I did. Then as soon as he walked away, she was back on her phone and texting. She accidentally texted me I guess, saying that ‘the plan is working, he’s definitely jealous’.” Mark mocks the text message in a whiny voice.

             You laugh a little louder this time, eyes darting to the pillow he had your panties tucked under.

 “Why are you laughing? I am miserable.” Mark is casual when he talks about it, but you note that he lets out a small chuckle too. “Why would someone even use me to make a guy jealous?”

             You freeze for a second. Here’s your first opening.

 “Because you’re cute?”

             Mark freezes now too, glancing away from you with what you think is that shyness you’d seen so much before. It was definitely shyness. Out of everything that’s just happened, at least you think he’s cute, but it’s not like he can have you or actually use your compliment as an ego boost considering you’re dating his big brother.

 “Anyway,” You offer an out, noting his avoidance a little more now that you know what he’s been doing in his free time with your personal items. “Doyoung will be home later for our anniversary, sorry for what you’re gonna hear later–” 

             Second opening.

 “I know it’s weird to ask but I left a cute pair of panties last time I was here. They’re his favorite. I can’t find them.”

             Mark stands to his feet quickly and casually throws his jacket over the pillow you had pulled them from earlier. Upon the very mention of your panties, he feels caught like he’s got three shining spotlights directed at him to tell you he stole them. 

 “I don’t know, what color were they?” He awkwardly asks, trying to avoid looking at you, not even questioning that you’re asking him when you’ve never so much as asked what he does in his free time. He can’t even tell that he’s telling on himself right now. 

 “Light blue, silk.” You deadpan, looking at him.

 “Oh, I might have seen them in the laundry. I’ll go look.”

             Before you can even protest, Mark is shuffling past you and rushing towards the laundry room. You follow behind him casually, not in the slightest bit of a hurry.

 “I already checked in here. The dirty laundry too.”

 “Did you check Doyoung’s drawers? He did laundry yesterday, they’re probably in there.” 

             Mark is talking so fast that it’s almost sad. Still, it’s fun.

 “Smart boy.” You compliment with a finger in the air, walking towards Doyoung’s room just to see what Mark would do next when you tell him they’re not there. 

             You lazily look through all of your panties stuffed into Doyoung’s drawers and head back out to Mark’s room. Quietly, you peek around the door and only laugh at him when you see his pillow is overturned and he’s digging through a clothes pile in the corner of his room on the floor. The fact that he didn’t even close his door is hilarious, but you imagine it was an afterthought considering time was against him.

 “Did you find them?” You ask, watching him nervously stop searching and stay in place on the floor facing away from you. You could practically tell the cold sweat that hit him.

 “N-no.” He says quickly. “Did you?” 

 “Yep.” You say, pulling the panties out of your pocket.

             Mark relaxes, choosing to believe that somehow, the panties he had tucked under his pillow managed to walk themselves to the laundry room, step into the washer, then the dryer, and then place themselves neatly into Doyoung’s drawer. Never will he let himself think that you found them, or even worse, Doyoung.

             When his shoulders relax and he turns to look at you, you see him stiffen up just as much as before when you swing the panties around your finger, stopping to present them in a way that shows the massive cum stain. 

 “Guess Doyoung needs to find a new favorite, huh?” You joke, tossing them onto Mark’s bed and walking away. 

             As you walk down the hallway with a smile on your face you can hear Mark’s frantic footsteps rush up behind you. 

 “Wait! It’s not–” He tries to explain the situation away. “It’s not what it looks like!”

 “My panties under your pillow aren't what it looks like?” You turn to face him at the end of the hallway, and with the way he was quickly following you, he runs directly into you and has to stumble back from the close proximity of you in front of him. He’s never even touched you before. Never hugged you, prodded you, or even looked at you for too long when your eyes were already on him. 

 “No,” He goes to say, but you interrupt him. 

 “Mark, you’re lucky it was me who found them and not your brother.” 

 “I know,” Mark stutters out, looking to the floor. “But really, I didn’t mean to-”

 “If you didn’t mean for me to find them, you should have stuffed them further back. They were hanging out for anyone to see, Mark.”

             He stops for a moment. You’re telling him how he should have hidden them?

 “Wait–” 

             Only now does Mark realize your comment of Doyoung needing to find a new favorite pair of underwear before you toss them back on his bed. He’s gotta be thinking too positively to imagine you’re giving him the panties and offering tips on how to keep them from Doyoung, right? Like you only gave them back because you’re disgusted by him, right? 

 “Really, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I took them.”

             And admittance. You feel like you’ve won the game, and you’re definitely in the position to ask more questions. 

 “Why did you take them in the first place?” You ask, taking a step towards him to make him feel overwhelmed. 

             Mark takes another step back, feeling frozen when his eyes glance up at yours. He can’t pull his eyes away this time with the way you’re looking at him. There’s a smirk against your lips and he can’t sense a single bit of anger. Cautiously, he tries to make another excuse. 

 “I don’t know why.” He deadpans, staring down at you as you look at him and take another step forward. 

 “I think we both know why you stole them.” You smile wider, lifting slightly to where you’re just inches from his face. “Did you think of me?”

 “Yeah,” He sighs out, somewhat lost in your gaze as if he has managed to become hypnotized by the way you’re speaking with him. Then he shakes himself out of it, taking a step back with a muttered out string of “I mean, no!” 

                        You close in against him just as you did before, not allowing him to escape the hold you have on him. You’re just as close as you were before he stepped back, and you continue. 

 “You did? Do you listen in on what Doyoung does to me too?”

             Mark takes another step back, this time knowing full well that you’ll just follow him again. And you do, practically walking him back through the hallway and against the wall after passing his room. 

 “I mean,” He admits. “Sometimes.” 

             You smile as he tries to back himself up further against the wall. 

 “Why not all the time?” You follow up, watching the way his lip quivers a bit from the nervousness within him. Unbearably cute is what Mark is at this moment, trapped and caught. 

 “You guys get too quiet, I guess?” He answers as if it’s his own question, wondering if it’s what you want to hear. His belly is doing flips though, admitting these things to you and feeling as if you’ll make fun of him, mock him, tell on him.

 “You’re too quiet sometimes too.” You smile before backing away and turning to walk back toward the end of the hallway. 

             Mark hangs his head wondering what the fuck just happened and if you were actually implying certain things toward him. He can barely bring himself to care that you hear him masturbate. He tries to be quiet, honestly, he does. But it’s hard sometimes when he’s rubbing his cock against the silk of the panties you just gave back to him, even harder when he’s hearing you through the walls and he imagines if you’d make the same sounds for him. 

             Pulled from his thoughts, he hears you turn the volume up on the tv before shouting at him.

 “Oh, and Mark?” You say, waiting for him to respond quietly from out of view.

 “Yeah?” He responds as he makes his way back to his room. 

 “I’ll make sure to be louder tonight.” 

             Mark closes his bedroom door feeling like his body is on fire and like his mind is spiraling into a place where it shouldn’t be. 

 ~

             When Doyoung got home, Mark made it his mission to not step foot out of his bedroom until the two of you were passed out. Thankfully, he had taken a quick bathroom break while also trying to avoid letting you hear that he left his room right before Doyoung came back.

             Mark almost feels like prey right now, but he’s entirely too confused about the entire situation. He tried to be a good person and not fantasize about his brother’s girlfriend by making a tinder profile, but even now as he scrolls through all of the pretty faces, he knows that none of them would just let him steal their panties like you did. Not that it’s a hobby of his or anything, he saw your panties and he took the chance to give him a better orgasm next time around. Now he’s kind of obsessed with the idea though.

             He had already placed the panties back under his pillow and stuffed them further back by now, and hearing you and Doyoung in the living room doing couple-things didn’t really help the confusion in his head. If you’re in there all lovey-dovey with his brother, why did you get up so close to him earlier? Why did you offer to be louder for him? Why did you do any of what you did?

             It felt wrong that everything just made him want you more. Before, he was just being a horny guy, but now he’s like, maybe only horny for you.

             Maybe it’s just a phase, surely it’ll pass. He loves his brother.. Then he finds himself questioning if that’s the truth as the night goes on. 

             Jealousy is a hateful demon. When he hears the shuffling into Doyoung’s room and the giggles coming from both of you, Mark almost wants to hit someone. Why can’t he have that? Why does Doyoung always get to experience the good things in life?

             Not only was Mark used by some pretty girl today, he is now being shown yet again what he can’t have and will probably never have. The jealousy is only worse now, as he faceplants into his pillow and considers moving back in with his parents so that way he can stop wanting what his brother has. 

             The consideration is furthered when he grows frustrated at the sounds of you through the wall. He can even hear Doyoung shush you a few times. Against Mark’s will, his cock starts to grow against the mattress and his thigh, fingers now tucking further under the pillow to find those silk panties that caused his ultimate demise today.

             When he runs his fingers along the fabric, still tucked beneath the pillow, he whines to himself at how pathetic it is for him to keep doing this. Only when he realizes that you’re over there being fucked and being loud specifically for him to hear does he pull them out and roll over onto his back.

             All confusion and worry is left behind now as he replaces those anxieties with the idea of you grinding against him while wearing these panties. He thinks about how you like it, how you move your body, what you’d do with your hands. 

             His cock twitches to be free just a few moments later and he doesn’t think twice about lowering his sweatpants and staring down at himself. He sighs in defeat, noting how much harder he is now compared to the nights before when he weakly worked himself up to the faint sounds of you

             From across the wall though, you’re enjoying yourself far too much. Mark kind of falls into the back of your guilty mind as your boyfriend loves on you. Doyoung came home excited, a hand was on you the entire time from the moment he walked through the door until now. Both hands are on you now as he praises you and pries your legs open. Usually, Doyoung was rougher. He’d do things that drive you insane, edge you, and deny you pleasure over and over again until he felt it was time to let you let go. The added attempts to be silent only made it more fun for your boyfriend, gagging you with his cock, fingers, or even your own panties. Tonight was a little different considering it marks the two-year anniversary of his relationship with you.

             The plan you had for Doyoung tonight was for him to use a new toy on you that you’d bought in secret. He always wanted to try double penetration with you but was never willing to share you, and you don’t mind. You still wanted to fulfill one of his fantasies though, and that’s what the intention was. To your surprise though, Doyoung leaves the toy still in its package on the table and has been eating you out for a solid twenty minutes already.

             He’s focusing on you entirely at this moment and it’s got your head spinning with the way his wet tongue flicks your clit while his lips envelop the entire bud. He’s so good at it, and usually only does this when you’ve been extra good for him like if you willingly choke on his entire length or you let him overstimulate you to the point that getting head from him is painful. 

             His head is between your legs lapping away and all you can do is groan out for him, enjoying the way he’s being gentle and pointed with his tongue. His hands go from your legs to keep them from crushing his head to reaching up to massage your tits. He doesn’t even try to silence you, and you’re thankful to keep your promise to Mark despite not actually trying to right now. And when Doyoung pulls his head back for a breath, he looks up at you and smiles in such a genuine way that it has your heart crashing with the amount of love you have for him. 

             Doyoung loses patience with giving you head after the thirty-minute mark. He wanted to make you come this way and make it last as long as possible, but now he’s feeling neglected and the image of you with that toy you got for him to use is burning images in his mind the more he hears you moan for him. 

 “Changed my mind,” Doyoung speaks out as he pulls back from your core and abandons your clit entirely. He hears you whimper at the loss of pressure and always loved the way you sounded when you did it. He finds himself reaching for the toy a little quicker than he already was.

 “Play with yourself while I get this ready,” He smiles at you, giving you a quick kiss to the forehead before fumbling with the box. 

 ~

             The fact that Mark could hear his brother tell you to play with yourself made him feel insane. Only because of the way you started moaning again and gave him more to think about. The thought of walking in on you one day with your fingers inside of yourself, not quite reaching where you want them to, asking him to take over for you.

             Mark almost wants to put his ear to the wall and takes a moment to ask himself why he wouldn’t do that anyway. He wants to hear you.

             Cock still in hand and tangled against your panties, he shuffles to his feet and presses his ear against the wall. You sound much more clear now, He chokes back his own moan, knowing you’d probably hear it more clearly too considering how loud he is. Knowing you could hear him means Doyoung would also hear him, so he tries his best to hold it back as he starts thrusting himself against the silk in his hand.

             He did well until he heard a choked-out whimper, a slap, and some crude words coming from his brother’s lips. On any other day of listening in, his hard-on would instantly go down hearing his brother but what he says to you through these thin as fuck walls has Mark choking back his own whimper.

 “You like being stuffed with two?” Mark heard at first, followed by another whimper from you. “You’re so wet, it slid right in beside me–”

             Mark can’t even imagine what’s being done to you right now but he can tell you’re loving it in the way your whimpers turn to full-fledged moans that he’s never heard before. 

 “Oh, fuck–” Mark groans out towards himself, looking down at his painfully hard cock against your panties. He starts to move his hand this time, faster than what his hips were doing. Only part of him is trying to match the sounds of skin slapping skin, moving his hand much faster than what he’s hearing happen to you. He’s sure you’d moan like that for him too. Wouldn’t even need two to make you be so loud, surely. 

             And then he’s starting to shake, rolling his head a bit to where his forehead is against the wall. Shamelessly, he whispers his own words to you as he begins to release against your panties. Words of, ‘yeah, you like that?’ and “Better than him, right?” 

             When Mark backs away from the wall, allowing the muffled sound of your loud moaning to be further and further from his ear, he collapses on his bed in a deep breath and then trails his eyes back over towards the wall. You’re right there. You know exactly what he was doing in here but now he can’t tell if you were actually being loud because you told him you would, or if it’s because Doyoung really is that good. 

             The jealousy hits again. It isn’t fair.

 ~

                        It’s been days since your anniversary and now that work is finished, you get to head back over for your regular weekend with Doyoung. Except you wonder how awkward it’s going to be. The soreness between your legs has gotten better but the guilt of how Mark avoided you the next morning got worse. 

             You think you should leave it be, you should just let him have those panties and pretend it never happened, pretend you never flirted with him, and pretend you didn’t tell him that you listen to him masturbate too. You went too far on your fucking anniversary then proceeded to fall even more in love with Doyoung.

             Thankfully, you didn’t go far enough to where it couldn’t be salvaged, so when you leave today, you have the promise in your head that you will leave it alone. You will leave Mark alone and go back to what you were with Doyoung before you ever fantasized about his little brother.

             Except that doesn’t happen because the moment you walk in and see Mark lounging by himself on the couch, shirtless, you find yourself avoiding him more than he was avoiding you. Though he immediately got up with a small apology and rushed towards his room, you had to stop yourself from turning around and going straight back home. Doyoung is there though, back turned towards you as he stirs something in a bowl. 

 “Hey, can you come to help me?” He asks, glancing at you from over his shoulder and showing the smallest glimpse of something smeared against his cheek. 

             Your heart warms at how domestic he looks right now, kicking your shoes off and heading towards him with your weekend bag. 

 “I'll be back in a minute, let me put my bag in your room.” You say, coming up behind him and planting a kiss on his shoulder. He nods to you before you walk out and towards his room.

             Mark’s door is closed and you’re thankful for it as the image of his stupidly attractive shirtless body appears in your mind again. It’s stupid, honestly, you have a whole Doyoung in the kitchen waiting for you, who will probably make you come a minimum of three times tonight, and you’re panic-walking past his little brother’s bedroom because you’re incredibly fucking attracted to him. 

             Stupid. 

 ~

             The self-control you once had is no longer present in your head. The plan to leave it be is less and less attractive in your brain the more you take in the image of Mark in front of you at the table texting away on his phone. You watch him shamelessly as Doyoung goes back and forth in the kitchen. You’re almost completely skewed from his view as you sit here across from Mark. He’s wearing a shirt now, and only glancing at you from time to time but still not saying anything.

             What happened to you avoiding him? No, what happened to him avoiding you? 

             From under the table, you gently kick against his leg to get his attention and his eyes snap up toward you. You look down though, ignoring him instead. But your leg stays there, occasionally kicking against him just to see how long it takes for him to stop reacting to it. 

             Scrolling through your own phone now, you’re swiping through videos, listening to Doyoung clattering through the cupboards, and feeling incredibly warm sitting in front of Mark. You don’t know what’s gotten into you when it comes to him, honestly. (It’s not like you knew how hard he came during your anniversary celebration.) 

             Finally, you slowly trail your eyes back up to his face and note that he does the same, at the exact same time. The two of you share a moment of silence looking at each other. You could almost feel his eyes pull you in without intent. It feels dangerous just to look at him, seeing him in a newer light than what you’d seen in him when it was just amusement on your end. You wonder if he can tell. Probably not.

             He doesn’t look away from you, and you’re not sure why. He just stays still, silent, blinking back at you. Maybe he’s being pulled in too, like a secret agreement communicated just through eye contact. The electricity in the space between the two of you is nothing short of dangerous. Your body almost acts on its own when you raise your lips into a half smile at him and plant your foot on the chair between his legs.

             Still keeping eye contact, you watch him jump at the action but he doesn’t move or push your foot away. Instead, he’s breaking eye contact and looking down, staring down, really, at how your socked foot is planted directly between his legs.

             He doesn’t move, trailing his eyes back to you now with a curious look. You continue, pressing your foot forward just slightly. Mark jumps again and shoots his eyes to the opening of the kitchen. Doyoung is still facing away, stirring something in a pot on the stove. 

             Mark doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, or why he does it, but it’s like his hips press forward out of need rather than want. He knows it’s wrong to have you touching him in any way, even if it’s just your foot. 

             You smile wider, watching the way his face tries to stay casual as he gently scoots forward and presses himself further against your foot. Only now, satisfied, do you look back down to your phone as if you didn’t just do what you did, and like you’re not keeping your foot in place for Mark to grind against. 

             The fact that he’s actually doing that alone is enough for you to feel warm on the inside. All you were going to do was experimentally cross a line to see what would happen. This was a much better outcome than him rushing out of the room in a panic. 

             Offering more pressure against his weak grinds, you can tell he’s looking at you in disbelief and shifting his eyes to keep checking for Doyoung. Mostly because he grinds his hips forward a little harder when he notes that Doyoung doesn’t see anything, and when he moves more weakly, you assume your boyfriend must be moving around and able to easily see Mark fall apart. Alerting him that something is happening, even if he can’t see under the table due to the clean cloth he has draped over the table. 

             You smirk as you scroll to watch another video, feeling his cock harden against your foot, and god, he’s really that desperate? You hate how much you like it, and hate even more that you’re so fucking attracted to him doing this right now. 

             When you glance up, you note that Mark is really trying to concentrate on looking normal, but you can see him so clearly shifting his lower half and you speak up. 

 “Mark, have you seen this meme?” You fake laugh out loud, mostly to stop him from getting too into it and blowing the cover. 

             He jerks his hips back with an annoyed groan, realizes where he is and what’s between his legs, and then jumps into an act.

 “N-no, I don’t think so,” He says nervously, leaning forward to see your phone. 

             You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer over the table, lifting him from his seat and whispering. 

 “You need to stop being obvious–” You whisper before releasing him and turning your phone to show him the video.

             Mark lets out a fake laugh at the video  before seating himself and looking dead into your eyes. Then he feels you adjust your foot again, this time further into his chair and seated directly against his painfully hard erection.

             He doesn’t think he can just sit here and let this go on for too long but he doesn’t want you to stop either. It’s the first time you’ve actually come onto him and Doyoung is right fucking there. Mark decides to take what he can get, even if it’s just out of pity from you. 

             You’re shocked when you feel his hand grab your foot and hold it in place before very harshly  grinding against it. Watching him from across the table, he’s somehow manages to make it not look obvious that he’s practically fucking one part of you, still, you find yourself falling apart at the way he parts his lips and bites the bottom one harshly. He’s focused solely on his phone, brows furrowed, but you can tell his eyes are vacant and he’s only focusing on how he’s feeling between his legs. 

             Just as quickly as he started, you feel him push your foot away and he’s scooting back in his chair. 

 “I left something in my room. I’ll be back.” Mark says sheepishly, looking to the floor and rushing into the hallway.

             You watch him rush out of the room confused, so you look behind you hoping Doyoung didn’t like, make eye contact with him or something. It doesn’t appear he did though, because you see him waist-deep bent over in the fridge looking for something. 

             Mark needed to like, not come in his pants from that. He doesn’t fucking like feet, but he likes you. You offered pressure and he fucking took it. He needed to finish himself off and not have to sit there in cum-soiled pants pretending like it didn’t just happen. Naturally, he came to his room to finish himself off out of frustration. Thankfully he’s close enough to reach climax within two to three strokes, right there leaning against his door. 

             Embarrassed by the small sob he let out during his orgasm, he’s quick to rush to the bathroom and clean up before grabbing a hoodie from his room and throwing it on over the t-shirt, mostly so it does look like he came in here to grab something.

             Not even five minutes pass before he’s sitting in front of you again. Mark feels helpless in the way he can no longer bring himself to avoid looking at you, all the way up until Doyoung peeks into the room and announces that he thinks he’s perfected the soup recipe, and is ready for you guys to come try it. 

             You, on the other hand, didn’t look at Mark after he came back. Not much, anyway. It’s not that you didn’t want to, it’s mostly just that you’re coming to terms with the fact that you just crossed a line and you’re not sorry about it. Even after Doyoung places a spoon at your lips and the soup was definitely the most delicious he’s ever made, and even after he’s got his arm around you at the table, across from his little brother who just eye fucked you while grinding against your foot. 

 ~

             The events of yesterday stayed fresh on your mind even as Doyoung lays next to you half-awake and scratching against his arm before cuddling in closer to you. He was so warm, and all you can do is wonder why you're risking this comfort to have fun with his little brother. You’ve already crossed a line and gone too far. You did exactly what you said you weren’t going to do and exactly what you never thought you could do. You’re probably not going to be able to stop even if you wanted to try again, so you opt to just–not think about when it’s gonna happen again or if it’s gonna happen again. 

             Saturday almost flies by and before you know it, all three of you are lounging in the living room to watch a movie. Usually, Mark isn’t as present when you’re with Doyoung but since everything started, he makes himself known much more. He includes himself in things and engages in more conversation. You wonder if it’s because he’s waiting for you to do something again. The worst part about all of it is that you can tell Doyoung is enjoying the time he’s spending with you and Mark together. 

             Even during this movie, Doyoung doesn’t think twice when you lean against him and throw your legs over Mark’s lap to get comfortable. Alternatively, Mark thinks three to four times over when you do it, opting to keep his hands at his sides when he steals a glance at you and notes that you’re comfortable under his brother’s arm. 

             The movie goes on like that and Mark can’t help but feel like it’s taking forever to be over with. Then again, he’s staring at your legs on his lap more than the movie on the screen. It gets worse when there's a jumpscare and your legs are tensing up and moving around against him. At least this time it’s not your fucking foot and he’s got a calf muscle to work with. 

             You did it both intentionally and unintentionally. You weren’t exactly throwing your legs on him to get him to rub against them or anything, it was mostly just to fluster him, but Mark proves himself as someone with zero self-control once again. You feel him twitch under your legs and shamefully, it makes you wet. Like, incredibly wet actually. And in your defense, it’s not like Mark hasn’t seen this happen before, never in an intimate setting like this, but you really can’t help yourself knowing that if you want to get fucked, you’ve got Doyoung right here to do it for you. 

             Adjusting yourself, you pull your legs from Mark and take a second to focus on his lap. The tent in his pants was obvious, but Doyoung pays no mind as his eyes stay on the screen. You watch the way Mark covers himself quickly and looks at you. As he looks at you, you move a bit to look at Doyoung.

             Without warning, your boyfriend is thrown off guard by you suddenly kissing his neck. Mark doesn’t have self-control, and neither do you. You’re not trying to dangle your relationship in front of him, really, you’re not. It’s not your fault that Mark got hard and that caused a chain reaction in getting you wet. 

             Doyoung pulls back to look at you in confusion, smiling but also trying to dodge your kisses against his neck. 

 “Hey, hey slow down–” He turns his face to whisper into your hair. “It’s weird with Mark here.”

             You ignore his whispers and continue to kiss against him, moving your hand dangerously close to his upper thigh. 

             In a way, Doyoung can’t believe that you’re really acting like this in front of Mark. Sure, the two of you have kissed in front of him, and Mark has walked in on some steamy makeout sessions, but it was never intended to be in front of him. Then again, Doyoung knows how needy you can get and how selfish you can be when you’re wanting something specific from him. 

 “Okay, okay–” Doyoung whispers out again, gently pulling himself from the couch and grabbing your hand. 

 “Hey Mark, I think she’s getting tired.” Doyoung laughs with the obvious lie. “Can we finish the movie another time?” 

 “Uh, sure.” Mark responds, knowing full fucking well that you’re turned on because of him. The movie hadn’t played even one sexy scene to get you all riled up. 

 ~

             Come Sunday morning, you were just as turned on as you were the night before. You can feel your body heating the moment you even think of Mark, but Doyoung satiates you well enough. Even there against the bathroom wall as the two of you take a shower. 

             Doyoung took note the night before that you enjoyed it when he humiliated you for doing those things in front of Mark. Asking you if you were really so desperate that you’d let just anyone see you acting the way you did. He plays off of that today too. 

             Waking up hard wasn’t anything weird for Doyoung, and usually the morning showers end up as morning sex sessions anyway. You seemed more willing and awake this morning than any other time, and he’s thankful for it. 

             When he’s got you pressed against the wall as the warm water runs down your back, he doesn’t hesitate to plunge into you all the way with a comment of how much wetter you get when he degrades you. In a way, the punishment and degradation feels deserved, because you are embarrassed by how much you want to touch Mark.

 “You love when other people can see how much you want me, don’t you?” 

             You nod against the cold bathroom tiles, feeling his cock pressing deeply inside of you and making your legs feel weak. You do love when other people can see, but what you mean by that is you love when his little brother can see. 

             Mark, from across the hall, once again hears it all because it wakes him up. Doyoung hadn’t even attempted to keep his voice down while talking to you. 

 “Going so far as letting Mark see? How desperate were you?” 

             Mark’s ears perk up at the sound of his brother saying that, already stirring in his pants at the very idea of you getting off to that. How desperate were you? He wonders how you answer, or if you do. He wonders if you were desperate for him or if it was really for Doyoung.

             Without much more thought, Mark can’t go another day with you here right now. It’s becoming a bit too much, a bit too real, and honestly, he thinks he’s the desperate one right now. Wanting to barge into the bathroom, shove his brother away, and have his way with you. He could never. You’d never let him go that far surely. 

             And by the time it’s all said and done, you leave the bathroom lightheaded and Mark appears to have left the house to do something else.

 ~

             The week passes normally up until Thursday night. You’re rummaging through your cabinets for something to make for dinner when your phone goes off. Assuming it’s Doyoung again, complaining that Friday never comes fast enough, it’s Mark sending you something through instagram, and he’s drunk. 

             MarkLee99_ sent a photo: 

 MarkLee99_ : guess who got drunk on a thursday night and is regretting the fact that i wanna talk to you? 

             Never did you want a paper trail or some type of proof that you and Mark are involved in this weird….thing together. His message isn’t even sexual, it's just a bit intimate that your boyfriend’s brother is sending you selfies while drunk even though you came onto him first. He’s attractive, and entirely too cute right now trying to approach you via fucking Instagram because he won’t do it to your face. Then again, Doyoung is always around. 

 You: let me guess, you’re the one drunk on a thursday night and will probably say some shit that will make you not be able to look me in the eye tomorrow?

 MarkLee99_ : ding ding ding! what’re you doing? 

You: texting you and trying to find food, im hungry. what about you?

MarkLee99_ : bout to make another drink and pretend i don’t have your panties under my pillow

MarkLee99_ : …because i do

             Wow, Mark is bold and confident when he’s drunk. You find yourself smiling over it. You’d never guess or even assume he would try to make conversation with you about that of all things.

 You: oh yeah, you’re definitely drunk

MarkLee99_ : am i being too weird? 

MarkLee99_ : because you’re the one who started it

You: me? I started it? You stole my underwear! 

MarkLee99_ : you’re the one who let me keep them

You: that’s……fair….

MarkLee99_ : so… :) 

             Shy boy is no more at this moment and you almost feel caught off guard. Reminding yourself that he’s drunk, you try to set a boundary in your head and change the subject.

 You: what are you drinking?

MarkLee99_ : found some of my brother’s expensive whiskey, gonna tell him you drank it, he wont be mad then

You: you’re gonna tell him that I drank his whiskey, when he knows I don’t even like whiskey?

MarkLee99_ : yep

             You laugh at his stupidity, finally finding a snack for yourself and settling on the couch with your phone in hand. 

 You: and you’re drinking on a weeknight again, why?

MarkLee99_ : because i want you 

             Oh.

 MarkLee99_ : and i know im not allowed to, but it’s really hard to like, not, i guess

MarkLee99_ : i know im being weird and im sorry, just really drunk rn and wanna talk to you thats all

MarkLee99_ : or we can pretend i never message you and you can delete the messages

You: no, i think you’re being cute. You can calm down, it’s okay

             It’s definitely not okay, but you want it to be. You’re about to do some not okay things too, and cross those boundaries you literally just now set.

 You: so, they’re still under your pillow? 

MarkLee99_ : yea

You: when was the last time you didn’t have them under there?

MarkLee99_ : yesterday

You: oh yeah? 

MarkLee99_ : yea i washed them when doyoung was at work…um

MarkLee99_ : can you maybe wear them again

             God, he really is that desperate. 

 MarkLee99_ : please? you can leave them in the laundry like last time and ill just grab them

You: i’ll think about it 

MarkLee99_ : okay…so…uh….did you like the selfie 

You: i like seeing you in person more, it’s fun when you’re all flustered and stuff, trying to pretend you don’t like it

             Mark is giggling to himself like a schoolgirl, focusing on your messages and hoping to god he doesn’t forget the things you’re saying to him. He’s going to have to delete these messages as soon as it’s over though, for sure. At least he’s not drunk enough to forget the glaring issue at hand here.

 MarkLee99_ : i don’t like it because i always have a boner now lol i feel gross always having to go to my room and take care of it so things dont get weird

You: maybe ill take care of it for you someday, who knows?

MarkLee99_ : wait what

             You’re cheating. As if you haven’t been already. This is blatantly against your moral code and you literally do not care. 

 You: are you all flustered now?

MarkLee99_ : maybe,,,,

You: would you want me to? instead of you having to always run off to your room where I can’t see? 

MarkLee99_ : you’re doing this on purpose, you wouldn’t actually wanna

MarkLee99_ : would you?

You: guess you’ll just have to find out eventually

You: flustered now?

MarkLee99_ : yea, wanna see?

MarkLee99_  sent a photo: 

You:  jesus christ

You: you’re like, really big. I mean, I knew from feeling it last weekend but like, that was my foot lol

MarkLee99_ : yeah what even was that about? i felt so stupid doing that

You: you looked hot when you did it tho

MarkLee99_ : am i really that big? 

You: mark, look at it. im shocked you don’t already have a girl to bury it into yet

MarkLee99_ : could have one ;) 

You: ….yeah

MarkLee99_ : yeah? 

MarkLee99_  sent a photo: 

             Okay, it’s getting to be too much now. You can feel the warmth pooling into your panties already and you wonder if he would be just as eager to lick it up as he is to text you right now. You spread your legs wide, deciding on if you should do it. You’re already cheating, the guilt couldn’t get any worse anyway. 

 You sent a photo: 

 MarkLee99_ : oh fuck 

MarkLee99_ : you’re wet?

MarkLee99_ : sorry i wasnt expecting that

MarkLee99_ : can i save it

You:  :) 

 You sent a photo: 

 MarkLee99_ : you should give me those panties instead

You: okay, ill put them in the basket tomorrow night 

MarkLee99_ : will you still wear the other ones too?

You: you want //two// pairs?

MarkLee99_ : yeah :( 

You:  if it’ll make you keep being cute like this 

             Mark is blushing, flushing, and shaking all at once, one hand on his length  and the other texting you. He’s saved the photos anyway, boring holes into them with the thought of what must be behind that thin layer of sticky and wet fabric. He wants to put his face there, he wants to smell you and swallow you up. 

 MarkLee99_ : can i call you?

             A sharp feeling of fear but an even bigger feeling of arousal hits you. 

 You: I’m waiting. 

             You didn’t have to wait long, watching the bubble of him typing something to you disappear and instead getting a phone call. You know Mark had your number, and you had his, mostly for communication purposes for Doyoung. Never was this supposed to happen. 

             When you answer the phone after taking a deep breath, your eyes are nearly popping out of your head. Mark is shameless. All those nights of hearing him muffled through the wall now coming through crisp and clear on the speaker. If you close your eyes, it’s like you’re in his room with him. 

             You don’t speak, and instead listen. You had expected him to answer the phone stuttering, trying to dirty talk but ultimately failing. It appears his drunken state offers him more than just liquid courage, but liquid lust as well. For a moment you stop and contemplate hanging up. Mark is drunk and you can’t help but feel as though you’re taking advantage of him. Then again, previously sober he basically fucked himself against your foot at the dinner table. 

 “Feel good?” You ask with a chuckle. You can hear the movement of his body through the speaker and you’re aware that through the lack of slapping sounds that your panties are probably silencing what his hand is doing. 

             Mark barely answers. A quick “mhm” ringing through your ears with his deep breaths. This isn’t typically how phone sex would go, considering dirty talking is what gets a person there. Maybe Mark has never done this before, then again, maybe he gets off on knowing you’re listening to him while also alone. 

 “Can you–talk?” Mark asks weakly,  his hand stilling for a moment to focus solely on the image he has pulled up over your phone call. He can barely comprehend that you’re on the other line and he’s looking at your pussy pressing against slick panties.

 “I like hearing you do this,” You say quickly, not very good at this type of thing yourself despite knowing how it should usually go. You slowly start to trace your fingers against your panties, wondering if Mark would be gentle like this too, nervous even. 

 “Yeah?” He asks with a small, choked moan as he begins to move his hand again. “You’re not weirded out?”

 “If I was weirded out I wouldn’t have sent you photos.” You snap, frustrated suddenly with the whole situation that this is your boyfriend’s brother. “Stop calling it weird–” You trail off, listening intently to the shifting sounds you hear through the speaker. 

 “Doyoung isn’t home right now,” Mark suddenly admits, and you can feel the arousal disappear almost instantly as you hear his name. The reality hitting you, but still not caring enough to stop.

 “Don’t talk about him right now, This isn’t right but–”

 “But what?” Mark asks, this time pulling his hand away completely and wondering if you realized you fucked up. Hoping you won’t tell Doyoung, hoping this never gets found out. 

 “I can’t stop thinking about you.” You let out, finally pressing your fingers beneath the lining of your panties. “I know it’s wrong.”

             Like music to Mark’s ears, he feels the eagerness in his body swell to the point that it’s difficult to maintain. Doyoung has everything that Mark wants. A good career, a nice house, needed life skills. All of those things could be obtained with hard work and effort for Mark, but you. You were the one thing he was never supposed to have. You were the one aspect of Doyoung’s life that Mark wouldn’t have the ability to work his way towards, but he did. He has you right now, in this moment, and he feels like nothing could break him. He knows it’s wrong just like you do, but Mark is selfish too. 

             He doesn’t think you meant to feel this way, because he always sees the good in people, and if you were doing this with any other man he would definitely snitch on you if he found out. But you’re doing it with him and he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt at this moment that he wants to fuck his big brother’s girlfriend, and it appears she wants to fuck him too. 

             A small part of Mark’s brain is anxious though. That little still-sober sliver of his moral code trying to fight its way to the front. Does he go with his heart or with his brain? Should he stop? Will he be able to look you in the eye tomorrow? Will he be able to ever look his brother in the eye? He isn’t sure. Both his heart and his brain tells him to go for you, the only thing telling him not to is the thought of his brother. The good news about that is, with you on the other end of this line, Doyoung doesn’t exist to him any longer as he goes to speak.

 “You can have me, you know.” He almost whispers, staring down at his heavy cock resting against his belly, panties left dangling off the tip. “I wouldn’t say no.”

             Those were dangerous words. Words you know you shouldn’t accept or be turned on by. 

 “I bet you wouldn’t–” You cut yourself off in a deep breath, pressing against your clit and rubbing harshly. Mark isn’t even talking much, just offering himself on a fucking platter to you.

 “Oh, shit, are you?” Mark swallows hard, the reality that you might actually be touching yourself on the other line sending waves of heat down his body in waves. He thought it was just him and only had the hopes that you wouldn’t start making fun of him for it. 

 “Oh shit, oh fuck.” He says, quickly moving his hand to grip against his cock and already feeling too sensitive from the short moments of neglect. “Where are your hands?” He adds.

 “In my panties.”

             Mark groans, dropping his phone by his ear on the pillow and using his other hand to grip something, anything as he opts to imagine your fingers sliding beneath the panties you’d shown him in the photo.

             You can tell he’s holding his breath, focusing on feeling good in the way he releases short, quick groans every now and then. You keep yourself silent though, trying to hear him, trying to imagine what he’s doing while thinking of you. 

             The wetness between your legs is being spread by your fingers as you scissor your lips open easily, letting a small groan roll off your tongue for him to hear. Satisfied by his responsive deep breath and sigh, you finally plunge your fingers in. 

 “Can you hear it, Mark?” You ask, lowering the phone a bit so that he can hear your fingers slide in and out of you with a wet sound. 

             He chokes on his end at that, swiping the panties off of him to replace the feeling of fabric with the feeling of his closed fist. His precum smears beautifully, offering him the sensation that if he squeezes hard enough, he can imagine that he’s fucking into your warm and wet pussy. He can hear how wet you sound and it’s driving him up a fucking wall not being able to physically see you do it in front of him. 

 “This is all I'm going to think about tomorrow–” He groans out, tightening his fist even more and bucking his hips into it. “You sound so,”

 “Wet for you?”

             That’s all it takes before Mark is gasping out a string of curses, the orgasm both sending him into a sobering world of pleasure and an even drunker state of wanting you to himself. Strings of white spurting all along his belly and going as far as his chin, he throws his other hand up and bites hard against the skin on his knuckle as he works through it. He doesn’t want to moan, he wants to hear how fast your fingers are moving. He wants to think about how you must be imagining him right now, feeling good and breaking the rules for him. 

             Finally, after an embarrassingly long orgasm from Mark, his room goes silent and his ears tune in to the speaker on his phone. You’re cooing, letting out pretty little breaths between the smacking sounds of your palms coming into contact with your clit as you work yourself through it. He can’t believe you’re doing this with him, and even after his own orgasm he’s still incredibly aroused despite his cock softening. 

 “You still there?” You groan out. He can tell the phone is closer to what your hands are doing than it is to your face, but he doesn’t mind.

 “I’m still here–” He swallows hard, catching his breath as he practically studies the audio you’re feeding to him. 

 “I bet that felt good,” You compliment his orgasm that was glaringly obvious on your end. You imagine he doesn’t even recognize that his hand was audible against his cock, and the sheer speed you heard of what he was doing made your clenching walls ache with everything you shouldn’t be wanting.”Wish I could see you right now–” 

             Mark did contemplate face timing you instead, but that was crossing more of a line in his head than just calling you. Plus, he would have probably hidden himself from view the entire time. It’s not like he expected to actually have you fucking yourself on the other end of the line, but here you are, and here he is, cum all over him. 

             He snaps a quick photo for you, and in your head you whimper a small yes, because you can hear the shutter from his phone.

 “Send it,” You demand softly, pulling your phone from your stomach and holding it in front of your face. 

             He does as you ask and feels embarrassed by the pools of cum all over his stomach. The photo consists mostly of his chest down. You can see his plush and bitten lips at the top of the photo though, and his quite big softening cock lying spent against his stomach, smearing some of the cum across his belly. 

             Mark listens to your reaction and hum of approval when you look at the photo, a small blush fanning his cheeks out of pure adoration for you rather than lust at this moment. He listens intently, unsure of if you’re going to work yourself to orgasm or hang up on him before he gets the chance to hear it. 

             The point is, Mark is getting a part of you that only Doyoung should have, and he will be damned to pretend he doesn’t like it. 

 ~

             Waking up with an immense amount of guilt in your head, you almost bail at going to Doyoung’s house this weekend. You’ve already called out of work simply because you find yourself thinking of Mark more than you should, and the guilt only wavers from you feeling like a piece of shit, to almost being a thought that you can push aside. 

             Doyoung would kill Mark if he found out, and you, what would he even do with you? Break up with you? Insult you? The thought of him finding out is the only reason you feel guilty. Because you still don’t regret showing Mark, letting him hear you, or hearing and seeing him. In fact, you don’t intend to stop either. You want him too much at this point, and he seems to be in the same place as you when it comes to this situation. Mark wouldn’t tell on you because then he would be telling on himself. 

             After all, he only moved in with Doyoung so he could taste freedom outside of his parent’s house. The strict curfews, the password protected websites despite him being a fucking adult, the supervision of his own money and belongings. Doyoung knew the pain of living there, and that’s why he accepted Mark with open arms. 

             Doyoung was a good brother and an even better boyfriend. You and Mark on the other hand. Mark’s an awful brother and you’re an even worse girlfriend. He didn’t deserve any of this, and he doesn’t deserve any of what’s to come either. You’re in too deep with Mark now, and the glaring attraction is too strong to ignore. 

             Never in your life did you think you could find yourself being unfaithful, let alone with your own boyfriend’s sibling, yet here you are. Only guilty if you get caught. 

             Mark had texted you at least three thousand times with apologies. Admitting that his head hurt too much this morning to be realizing what the two of you did. He said he wouldn’t approach you when you come over, apologized again, and then promised to never tell Doyoung and to never hold it against you if you think he’s weird for doing all of that to you.

             Reading over his string of messages, you realize that Mark is blaming himself. He feels like he’s taking advantage of you and wanting you to feel secure and safe in something you did without a second thought. 

             On his end though, Mark is in his room staring at the two photos you sent to him the night before. Partially wondering if it was all just a dream at first, those pictures of you were the truth of how you felt towards him. And when you never text him back he doesn’t think too hard about why.

             When you still show up at that day, he doesn’t question that you’re not eye fucking him the second you walk in through the door either. 

             Mark was once again lounging on the couch when you walked in and Doyoung was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t texted you either. Awkwardly, Mark speaks up before you can question it.

 “He told me to let you know that he was gonna be late again. Said something about knowing you’d spam him with needy text messages while he’s in a last-minute work meeting.”

             You look to the floor for a second, wondering if the real reason Doyoung didn’t text you personally like he always did is because he found out somehow. 

“Oh,” You sigh, slipping off your shoes and feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. 

 “He doesn’t know, don’t worry–” Mark assures you as he stands to his feet and heads towards his room. “Sorry about last night, I won't do that again.”

 ~

             You’ve been slouched against Doyoung’s couch for at least an hour by now and your mind is still doing a back and forth between taking advantage of this alone time with Mark, or worrying about how you shouldn’t be left alone with him at all.

             The glaringly obvious issue in your head right now is the fact that you’re alone with Mark and you’re not upset about it. Mark assured you that Doyoung didn’t find out, and the fact that Mark is the best source of finding out exactly what Doyoung knows is more of a comfort than anything to you right now. 

             Thinking back to the night before, you remember releasing your orgasm on the phone and hearing him compliment you through it. You have the photo of him saved within your gallery, hidden from your too-trusting boyfriend’s eyes. It was the first time you’ve ever seen Mark’s lower half bare. He really was huge. 

             It’s not even shocking to you at this point that you can feel guilty and anxious one moment and immediately switch into some sex-starved beast at the very thought of Mark. 

 “maybe ill take care of it for you someday, who knows?” The text message you sent to him spreads across your thoughts, knowing full well that you’re probably going to get intimate with Doyoung later, the least you can do is let Mark have some first if he wants it, right? 

 You cautiously stand to your feet with a deep breath. The fact that you allow yourself to continuously dig the hole deeper for you to never be able to pull yourself out from inside. Maybe it's just what Mark does to your thoughts? The images of him are too good to be able to ignore, the guilt not nearly enough to make you stop wanting him. 

 Doyoung isn’t in your mind when you reach into your bag and grab the soiled panties you had soaked completely the night before, and Doyoung barely exists at all in your thoughts when you make your way down the hall and lean against Mark’s closed door. 

 “I wouldn’t say no.” was what Mark had messaged you before, guess now is the time to find out. 

 Opening his door without so much as a knock, Mark doesn't appear to notice you at all as his back stays turned and he focuses on the screen in front of him. The large headset is sitting comfortably on his ears and you’re sure that the volume is up far too loud to be healthy. You can hear his friend’s yelling directions, where enemies are hiding and where they’re headed next. 

 You smirk for a moment, noting how much of a typical college boy Mark is. Messy room, messy hair, messy relationship with his brother’s girlfriend. You can imagine he feels pride in what he was able to do with you, and that’s not even an ego boost on your end. You wonder if he’s told his friends anything at all. Not about who he likes or who he’s been getting intimate with even if not too-directly, but like, that he’s been getting fed sexual fantasies by someone in general. You wonder if he talks you up, then again, what if he hasn’t mentioned it at all.

 “Where were you last night anyway?” You hear over the too-loud headset as you come up behind Mark with the panties in your hand. 

 “Busy getting laid, unlike you losers.” Mark boasts, but you snicker at how he’s both lying and telling the truth.

 “Bullshit–” You hear another insult coming through his headset before you finally are right behind him. 

             Part of you wants to prove him right so his friend’s think he’s cool or something, but then again, what if they recognize your voice? Surely these are his friends from back home, some two to three hours from this city. Surely they don’t know you, right?

 “No, really.” You lean down against Mark’s headset and speak in a tone that isn’t too common for you,  and he freezes. 

 “No fucking way,” A deeper voice sounds through his headset and you can’t help but feel happy for him in the way they, for some reason, can’t believe Mark’s got some girl in this city interested in him. 

             When Mark tries to turn his body to look at you, you hold the chair in place. Knowing yourself how headsets work, you lift his mic until it clicks, hoping to god the mute function works like it’s supposed to and start talking.

 “Don’t move, keep playing if you want.” You say, dangling the panties over his head and lowering them in front of his face.

             More arousing than gross, you watch Mark’s face fall forward against them. Part of him can’t believe you’re really doing this right now despite leaving his messages on read. But you are, and these are the panties that he thought about all last night and most of today. He really meant it when he said that would be the only thing he would be thinking about, and here you are, keeping the promise of giving them to him.

             Reaching up and clutching the panties, Mark tries to turn towards you again. 

“Stay,” You say. “And don’t be loud.” You lower his mic into place where he is no longer muted and listen as his friends go from talking shit to starting up another game. 

             From behind his chair, you’re a little shocked at how good he is at following what you say. He doesn’t move, but you can hear his breathing and the way he struggles to balance it in order to remain some-what normal sounding to his friends when they address him. His fingers are shaking against his keyboard as the game starts, and you think he’s probably thought about this happening to him hundreds of times before. 

             Gamer boys always want this kind of thing. Some girl prodding and tugging at them, sucking them off under the table as they boast to their friends how they can be getting head and still getting gold damage by the time the match is over. 

             All you can think about right now is being the person to fulfill his fantasies. More turned on by the idea that Mark must want it so badly from you. When you reach around him, lying your hand against his lap, he’s already incredibly hard and stares down at it as the countdown screen on his game begins. 

             From out of sight, you don’t want Mark to see you. You want to see how badly he does through this, because it’s not only cute but actually fucking hilarious. It’s the first time you’re moving on him rather than him grinding against whatever you have to offer.

             Ignoring the call outs of enemies in game through his head set, both of you spiral into a world of your own again when you grab his length from over his sweatpants and just–you just hold him for a moment. The weight of it grows much heavier as he somehow manages to get insanely hard at the fact that you’re in the room with him and your incredibly used panties are sitting right there too.

 “Jesus–” Mark groans when you grab him, but his friends seem to pay no mind to it. Gamer talk and all. 

 “Jesus is right, you haven’t moved from that fucking building you cuck-” Some guy shouts from his head set.

 “Shut the fuck up Haechan, you’re literally in bronze,” Another man shouts.

             Mark is silent save for a sharp inhale when you squeeze your palm around him. He knows if he even tries to talk shit right now that all of his friends would just fucking know how desperate and embarrassing he is around you. That’s the last thing he needs.

             Finally, after a few moments of palming him through his pants, you dip right in. He doesn’t shy away from it either, spreading his legs from under his desk and lifting his ass up slightly so you can pull the pants down to release his length. 

             Even bigger than the photos, thicker than you genuinely imagined now that you see it from over his shoulder. Mark tries to turn his head this time to look at you, but you’re quick to catch his cheek and turn it back to the screen. 

             Gripping him again, Mark sighs into his mic and his friend’s screaming goes silent. You’re quick to lift his mic into the muted position just to offer some sort of escape from embarrassment now seeing that he’s incredibly willing to let you do this while his ego is on the line.

 “You want them to hear?” You ask, feeling his hips slightly buck into your grip. That sends shivers down your spine, finally feeling it for the first time.

 “I don’t care–” He sighs again, thrusting his hips up harder. “Just touch me,”

             The way he says it, for some reason, sounds so fucking broken that you could honestly swirl this chair around and impale yourself on him without so much as a second thought. But you contain yourself, now moving your grip up his length and thumbing over the head to feel the little beads of pre-cum. 

 “Alright, sweetheart,” You compliment, lowering his mic for the last time and wondering just how much he’s going to let his shithead friends hear.

             For a few moments, you gently jerk him off just to see his hips chase your fist. He’s needy in the way he moves his body but very fucking good at acting as you start to count each kill he manages to get through this. 

             By the time you hear his friends praise him, you feel a little competitive yourself. Shy, needy, desperate little Mark thinks he can get through a game the very first time you actually touch him? Perhaps he thinks he is giving you what you want, but what you want is to see him fall apart. 

             You move your hand faster, watching him from behind as he chokes up and slams his head against the headrest of his chair, nearly knocking the headphones off of him. 

 “Fuck,” Mark moans, knowing full well that his friends wouldn’t suspect anything if he says such a thing. 

             You know that was for you though, so you continue. The rhythm of your hand moving from a slow drag to something painfully fast and unfathomably good. Mark’s head is spinning, thrusting his hips up and gripping his computer mouse so tightly that he thinks he could crush it in his grip. 

             When his pre-cum is offering more lubricant for an easy slide up and down, your pace remains fast and you can squeeze harder. 

             Mark can’t hold himself back anymore, slamming his head against the headrest of his seat yet again, this time his headset sliding off of his head and falling into the floor. He lols his head from side to side as he finally lets out a moan, shooting a hand to your wrist and holding it in place so that he can fuck up into it. 

             You gasp at that, his grip harsh and far less gentle than you’d expect. The muffled screams of his friends are blatantly obvious and you can’t bring yourself to care if the mic muted itself during its descent to the floor or not. 

             He’s choking back little groans, releasing your wrist and staring down, then grabbing it again before fucking up harder. You can tell he has no idea what to do, what he should do, or what he’s going to do and it’s so fucking endearing. 

             He tries to turn to see you again, but you do your best to remain behind him as you grab the base of his cock and cause him to groan in pain.

 “Let me see you,” He nearly sobs in a frustrated way, and for a moment you contemplate letting him. 

 “Let me hear you.” You respond, keeping that same, painfully tight, grip against him and dragging it up to his head, enveloping it and sending sensitive shocks throughout his body. 

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Mark wiggles under the painful grasp, but his hips still chase when you drag your hand back down. He’s no longer being quiet, no longer pretending to care about his dead character on the screen, re-spawning and dying every few seconds. He’s a free kill for any enemy player right now and you can tell his friend’s are pissed in the way the screaming from the headset gets louder despite the distance. The chat box on screen is being spammed just as aggressively, and Mark can barely even open his eyes to process it. 

 “You were playing so well,” You coo out, shifting forward a bit and placing your chin on his shoulder. “What happened, Markie?” 

             He softly moans at the nickname, eyes half open as he glances down at how fast your hand is moving compared to your soft, balanced voice against his ear. He turns his head quickly, trying to catch you off guard, but you pull away.

 “So needy to see me,” You chuckle, working him up and knowing that he’s got to be close with the way she shamelessly moans in the most annoyed, frustrated way. 

 “Let me kiss you.” He grunts, bucking his hips aggressively, now chasing in full that painful grip you’re keeping against him so well. “I’ll keep my eyes closed, please,”

             You contemplate again giving him what he wants, but you figure he’s already getting more than enough. 

 “Oh? You’ll keep your eyes closed? Don’t you want to look at me?” 

             Mark is desperate now, hands moving to the armrests of his chair as he grips them hard, hips wildly stuttering in your grasp. 

 “Fuck, yes.” He lets out, dropping his head with a deep breath and then throwing his head back with an even longer moan. 

             You can’t tell if that was him answering you, or simply reacting to what his body is feeling, and you don’t really care. He’s already there, walking on the thin line of orgasm and willing to take whatever it is you give him. He no longer wants anything, he’s just experiencing. 

             You watch him from behind very closely, the shiver running from his toes straight to his ears was obvious enough.

 “That’s it,” You whisper from behind. “I know you want to.”

             Mark’s entire body tenses against the chair, you can feel it stress from the way his legs spread wider and his hips go from quick thrusts to short, drawn out drags against your palm. The image of him doing that between your legs washes over every single one of your thoughts. He would do that, burying himself so deeply as he spills out inside of you, thrusting in and slowly dragging his hips out, just to thrust in again to push his seed impossibly deeper.

 “That’s so hot,” Mark comments with a deep breath, and only then do you realize the small moan you’d let out during that intense thought of him. His come is spilling out in loads and all you can do is watch him get through it. 

             Finally, after making a mess of him, you smile to yourself. A job well done. 

             You opt to make a grand exit, saying nothing after releasing his cock and sauntering out of the room in silence to leave him to his thoughts. You could still hear his friends screaming through the microphone, and he doesn’t even call out after you. Mark must feel on top of the world right now, because you know that you do.

 ~

             Doyoung came home later than last time, tired and droopy. He found himself drawn to you more than usual, noting that your eyes were sparkling a little brighter upon walking through his door. 

             You put Mark in the back of your head much like you always tried to do when Doyoung was around you these days. Your love for your boyfriend is still blatant and honest when you’re next to him, not at all feeling pity for Mark having to see it. Mark should know who it is you love, despite the fact that you jerked him off a mere few hours ago.

             When Doyoung is next to you, when his arm is around you and his eyes are on you, you don’t question for a second that everything you’ve been doing behind his back will come back on you, and it’ll be well deserved pain. But there’s still a part of you that hopes you can keep Doyoung forever and always be happy beside him. You’re actively betraying him, his own flesh and blood is helping you dig this hole deeper and deeper. So deep that Doyoung can’t even see the bottom where Mark’s got his hands on you. 

             Fully intending to keep them both, you find yourself feeling more fulfilled despite the awful moral. Doyoung isn’t willing to share, but Mark is. And you, you don’t have to share.

 ~

             Saturday was as normal as always. Mark pops in and out of his room, not even once acting as if something suspicious is going on. If anything, Doyoung is a little more happy to see you spend time with Mark when he’s not in his room. It was awkward at first. Mark’s always been shy but it seems like he’s loosened up after realizing you’re a permanent part of the picture for as long as you’re with Doyoung. He’s endeared by the way you bully his brother the same way he does. 

             Even that little crush Mark had on you when he first met you appears to have fallen into more of a sibling-like relationship to Doyoung. He thought it was cute that Mark had a crush, after all, it’s you. Doyoung fucking fell head over heels when you gave him attention and wouldn’t be caught dead releasing his grip on you once he asked you to be his girlfriend. The point is, Doyoung knew Mark had a small crush but was pleased to see it turn into something more casual and comfortable. He likes his life, loves his girlfriend, and loves his brother. Nothing could get better than spending time with the two of you, even if Mark jumps up to go be a recluse in his room from time to time.

 ~

 “Mark,” Haechan grits through the mic. 

 “What?” Mark responds, throwing his arms behind his head as he smiles to himself through the webcam.

 “You should be embarrassed.” Haechan argues. “We didn’t wanna hear that shit.”

 “I muted him.” Jeno says with a shrug through his webcam. 

 “Yeah, me too.” Jaemin follows up, all eyes now falling to Haechan with a red face.

 “I was in a tight situation! I couldn’t tab out!” Haechan defends himself easily, still a darker shade than usual.

 “I think she wanted you guys to hear,” Mark laughs quietly, whispering. 

 “Why are you whispering?” Jeno asks, leaning forward towards his camera as if Mark was about to whisper out again, this time with a deeper secret. 

             Instead, Mark shifts his eyes and changes the subject. As much as he would love to tell his friends that he’s managed to get a handjob (not the foot thing) from his brother’s girlfriend, he’s sure they’d have a little more respect for him. But it feels like a betrayal to say it out loud, regardless of how hot the idea is in his head.

 “Because my brother is with his girlfriend and it’s weird if they know what happens when they’re not here.” Mark deadpans out to his friends, who nod their heads in agreement. 

 “She left her panties,” Mark goes to say, removing his hands from behind his head and sitting up from his relaxed position. “Wanna see?”

             Haechan was, obviously, the first to nod his head and Mark didn’t really need the others to agree anyway, because they’re a group of college guys who are always either talking about getting laid or how to raise their rank when playing competitive games.

 “Damn,” Jeno laughs as he sees the thin fabric come into view. “Are they dirty?” 

 “Oh yeah,” Mark boasts, spreading out the fabric and bringing them close to the camera. 

 “Y’all are gross.” Haechan waves them off, averting his eyes and trying to pretend he’s not interested.

 “Mark’s full of shit, he probably bought those and was being weird with them. That’s definitely his load we’re looking at, guys.” Jeno cuts in. 

 “You heard her talk to him through the mic, there’s no way he’s lying.” Haechan, for some reason, argues for Mark.

 “Uh, no I didn’t. I had him muted the second I saw his hero standing in the middle of the map without moving.” Jeno argues back.

“I lied, I didn’t mute him.” Jaemin finally admits. 

             Mark can’t stop smiling. The fact that he can barely believe what happened himself is enough not to argue. They’re your panties, that’s your scent in them, and that was your hand wrapped around him yesterday. 

 ~

             Waking up on Sunday felt, again, normal. You hadn’t heard Mark through the walls the night before but Doyoung sure did. He mostly drowned out the sounds by putting in his headphones though, unlike what you would have done. Doyoung did, however, wake up hard considering the two of you passed out the night before without so much as a lingering hand.

             To his dismay, you groan at his roaming hands as he wakes you up. Doyoung knew you loved being woken up this way, but he knew to stop if you made a sound like that.

 “What’s wrong?” He says, pulling his hand back and instead, placing it in your waist so that way he can pull you closer.

             You don’t respond, cracking an eye open and immediately feeling your head pound at the sunlight shining through the windows. You feel bad that since thursday, the only intimacy you’ve had has been with Mark despite being in love with the man against you. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that you immediately, physically, feel like shit this morning, you’d be jumping Doyoung’s bones. 

 “Head is pounding.” 

 “Ah,” Doyoung smiles, hugging you against him and rubbing circles against your skin with his thumb. “It’s okay, you can sleep in. I’m gonna go make some breakfast.”

             Your boyfriend’s good mood doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does your headache. You take him up on that offer and immediately fall back to sleep.

             Later, you wake to Doyoung gently patting your cheek. 

 “You want some food? Might help?” 

             You nod, squinting your eyes and sitting up a little too quickly. You glance around as he turns away and heads back towards the kitchen, and then you stretch your arms out. Things feel too fucking normal for you to be doing what you’ve been doing. This headache is well fucking deserved, surely. 

             Making your way into the kitchen, you note that Mark’s bedroom door was open and he wasn’t in there. He also wasn’t in the kitchen or living room. 

“Where’s Mark?” You ask casually, sitting down at the table and rubbing your temples.

 “Said something about one of his friends coming to a city nearby and wanting to go hang out with him. Probably Haechan.” 

             Your heart starts beating in your ears at the thought that you really thought Doyoung wouldn’t know any of Mark’s friends? Sure, you thought that maybe they were just online friends, or maybe people Mark met after Doyoung moved out of his parent’s house, but you recognize that fucking name. Thankfully, you had changed your voice just slightly as you spoke to Mark the other day. Surely this isn’t what would ruin the entire arrangement.

 “Ah,” You groan. “Finally we have the house to ourselves and I have to wake up with a migraine?” 

 “It’s okay, really.” Doyoung smiles, sitting a plate of food down in front of you. “Besides, we both know you like the thrill of needing to be quiet.” 

             He’s joking, you know he is, but it was the truth before this whole thing with Mark started. 

 “If we really wanted to be alone, I'd be at your apartment every weekend.”Your boyfriend adds, planting a kiss to the top of your head and heading towards the medicine cabinet. “Little weird that it has to be my brother that we are keeping quiet from, but whatever.”

 “Didn’t know i’d be this into it, honestly.” You admit, feeling open enough to at least tell him that you’re very into the idea of someone hearing you. You just won't admit that you want it to be Mark.

 “I mean, I personally am not into this type of thing. It’s a little uncomfortable for me.” Doyoung sits down and hands you two painkillers. “But I doubt he’s actually listening. I apologized after the first time and he said he usually just puts in headphones and goes to sleep.”

             You hold back the smile of Mark’s blatant lies towards Doyoung. 

 “So I guess I don’t entirely mind feeding into your little fantasies of being heard, or caught, or whatever.”

             Your boyfriend waves off the conversation with a smile, ultimately willing the fact that it is weird to him out of his head. If that was a new thing you realized you liked, the only way you would have found out is by having someone else in the house when the two of you do those things. Unfortunately, it was Mark. In Doyoung’s head, he was mature enough to discuss it like an adult with his brother. Guidelines and rules, moving Mark in wasn’t going to change his sex life with you, if anything, he had already told Mark to invest in some decent headphones or earplugs because he’s gonna hear some shit. 

             You allow the conversation to die as you work up an appetite. Thankfully Doyoung was an amazing cook, though he only did it one or two nights a week considering how spent his job makes him feel. You’re thankful he cooked this morning, and even more thankful for these two little pills that will hopefully knock your headache out within the hour.

 ~

             Come Monday, you’re thankful you get to work from home. You sleep in and try your best not to think about the fact that Doyoung knows the friends that heard you be intimate with Mark. You’re even more thankful for this week away from your boyfriend’s house because, even though you’ve processed everything, you feel like you should probably be alone for a while and really think about what you’re doing.

             When Mark is around or texting you, it’s hard to think straight because you genuinely want him so fucking bad. And when Doyoung is beside you, or texting you, all you can do is imagine a future with him.

             The once bright, clear future of Doyoung in a tuxedo standing in front of you at some extravagant altar becomes a little more foggy at the thought of where Mark would fit into it. Would he be behind Doyoung, watching him marry you to start a real life together? Would he be somewhere in the crowd, waiting to object and expose you for the awful girlfriend you are? Or even worse, would he not be there at all? Running away and disappearing never to insert himself into your life or his brother’s life ever again?

             You don’t want to think about the future right now. Everything you’ve been doing has been so selfish and so fucking fulfilling that you can’t bring yourself to feel any amount of pity for Doyoung and the way he trusts you fully. You never once gave him a reason to not trust you, and you think maybe Mark hasn’t given him a reason. 

             But god, he shouldn’t trust either of you at all. He’s at work, making money, living his life with a supposed loving girlfriend all while offering his little brother an ounce of freedom. What does he get in response to his hard work and kindness? His brother wanting to tongue fuck his girlfriend? And worse yet, his girlfriend wants it even more than his brother does? 

             Your mind is burning through scenarios all day if you have it in you to feel bad. Another scenario involves you, married to Doyoung and sneaking Mark out of your bed when Doyoung returns from work. Even more scenarios of Doyoung finding out and hating you forever, leaving you and meeting someone better. How could you have them both and keep it going? Is something like that even possible?

             Then you get a text.The glaring reality blows right past your head when you’re expecting it to be Mark but you see Doyoung’s name on the screen. You still feel just as excited though. 

 Doie: good news and great news

You: oh? :o 

Doie: Good news: co worker has family issues and had to drop out of the business trip coming up.

             You were about to question why that’s good news, but then Doyoung quickly texts again.

 Doie: great news: i am now being asked to attend the event and it could get me a pretty big promotion. 

You: You’re gonna go right?? When is it?

 Honestly, the way your heart swells at your boyfriend moving up in the world could knock anyone on their feet. No one would ever guess what you do behind his back, because again, you haven’t lost an ounce of love for this man and you probably never will.

 Doie: I leave tomorrow if I accept.

You: how long is it? do you need help packing since it’s such short notice?

Doie: only three days, so i’d be back on friday and still get to see you this weekend

You: it’s a win/win! i can come over tonight since i’m working from home today.

Doie: you good to sleep over and drop me off in the morning at the airport? i can give them an answer now so they can work out the transport and get the tickets transferred to me. 

You: you didn’t need to even ask me first!! you should have immediately said yes! I’ll be over tonight, i’m proud of you

Doie: love you babe :) 

             And so there it is. The glaring issue about to become a blatant, full blown affair. And like, you don’t want to get it twisted. You are so fucking proud of Doyoung and so fucking glad that everything in his life appears to be rushing him straight to major success, but also, he’s going to be gone for three days and that’s three days to try and get over this whole Mark phase(which is unlikely). By using Mark. By fucking him, specifically.

             It doesn’t help that just a few moments later, presumably after Doyoung lets Mark know the plan, Mark is texting you.

 Mark: Doyoung’s leaving for 3 days

You: yep :) 

Mark: ….do i even need to say it

You: nope

Mark: gonna clean my room

 ~

             Dropping Doyoung off was weirdly bitter sweet. His confidence was through the roof as he kissed you goodbye. He even  asked for a second kiss for good luck after rushing back to you a few seconds later. You knew he’d do amazing for this event, even with it so last minute. Everything Doyoung did was with effort and thought put into it. 

             That was the sweet part anyway. The bitter part is the guilt finally coming to you like it should have weeks ago. The fact that Doyoung is walking off to get on an airplane and Mark is at home cleaning his room to fuck you in it. It’s obvious that you don’t deserve either of them. 

             Still, the guilt hitting you now is unnerving. It took so long to come, and only consumes you when Doyoung isn’t around to nearly witness the infidelity? Shaking yourself of disgust, you head out of the airport and still find yourself pulling into Doyoung’s driveway.

             You sit in your car for a moment. Thinking back on all of those small moments with Mark, wondering now if you still want him or if those moments were enough to satisfy the curiosity of your boyfriend’s brother. Even through the guilt, you still want him. 

             Stepping out of your car and walking up to the door felt too unfamiliar and nerve wracking, hearing your heart skip beats and your body melt away into the hole you fucking dug for yourself. However, the moment Mark opens the door and looks at you, before you could even unlock it yourself, every single guilt ridden thought disappears. 

             You don’t know what it is about him, and surely you’ve never felt this way before, because goddamn is it a blinding kind of feeling. Thinking back as you look at him, he seems different now despite having the same face and body language. Before, Mark was cute with his little crush. Weird even, with the way he lingered for too long to see you kiss his brother. Now, when you look at him, he looks like he isn’t at all the cute, shy little brother. He’s Mark, a man with wants and needs that have your name written all over them. You can’t fucking help yourself, and now being able to indulge yourself fully along side him, Doyoung is drowned out in the back of your mind.

             Mark is still shy and timid in the way he moves but he knows just as well as you do what’s about to happen and isn’t at all shying away from the fact that he’s about to fulfill every dirty little thought he’s had about you since he met you. Hell, since he saw photos of you that Doyoung sent before he ever met you.

             On cloud nine, Mark is timid when he, for the first time, makes a move on you. It’s shocking that he did it at all, if you’re being honest, but you lean into him. All he does is grab your hand, a touch that wouldn’t raise suspicions at all in Doyoung if he were to see it, but to you it’s the most intimate thing he could do at this moment. Because he’s leading you, and his eyes are hungry and unable to pull from you. 

             Not a single fucking word is said, everything already spoken and understood with nothing more than the look when he opened that fucking door. Mark leads you to his room, and the energy in the air is so electrifying it scares you. Never has a touch to your hand, or a leading pull to a bedroom made you feel so weightless. You think back to when you held his length in your hand, you had all of the power that day. Now, you don’t think Mark realizes what he could get away with. You’re falling into the same mindset you have with Doyoung, one where you want, need, and could beg to be touched, but you still yourself from falling too far into it. 

             Mark is even more gentle when he lets your hand go and turns towards you with a deep sigh, as if he’s preparing his entire being for what’s coming. Both of you like a deer in headlights, as if this wasn’t intentional or planned, you smile at him. 

             Mark lets out a nervous laugh at your smile, shaking his head and looking down. He’s already stiff beneath his pants, which are conveniently unbuttoned and unzipped. Even you, shamelessly wearing a dress with no panties. Doyoung thought it was for him, and he damn well did fuck you this morning while on a confident-high before you took him to the airport.

             You knew Mark could hear it, and he didn’t appear to care. Because in all fairness, Mark did not give a fuck. Because he knew you weren’t his at that moment, but you fucking would be before the night is up. The next three days, you’re his. Even if he never has you again.

             That deer-in-the-headlights look from Mark fades as his eyes take you in without hiding it for the first time. You imagine he will fall apart if he were to trace his hands under your dress and find that you are completely bare, you imagine you would fall apart much faster if he touched you at all.

             It happens so fast. Too fast, almost with the way he steps up to you confidently. You just now realize that he’s taller than you when he skews his head and looks down at your lips. His breathing is uneven and you can tell he’s doing his best to be confident because you haven’t made a move towards him at all like you usually would. 

             Looking up at him, you want to reach up and grip his hair. His lips are so plush, clearly freshly coated with chapstick. His skin is practically glowing save for the few blemishes that the fringe on his forehead covers, you find yourself wondering if he’s taking this moment to study you too.

 “I’m having a really hard time holding back,” Mark whispers out, inches from your face. 

 “Then don’t.” You encourage him without doubt, hoping that he can break past that last little boundary the two of you haven’t crossed yet. The one where he can kiss you, touch you, have you. Only because you can’t bring yourself to do it at this moment, for some reason.

             The feeling of his lips touching yours was more bruising than you think he intended them to be, but the desperate feeling was all the same as your own, you think. Never had you actually stopped to think of kissing him or how he would go about it. Like running in blind, you’re learning that Mark knows what to do with his tongue, how to pace himself despite not wanting to, and how to reach up and hold your fucking face in a dreamy way. 

             His hands are cupping your face, kissing you like you’re his girlfriend. He still moves his lips in a hungry and desperate way though, in a way that has you struggling to breathe by the force of it alone. 

             When his hands drop from your face and fall to your waist. Every new place he touches feels like it’s set ablaze. You press forward against his chest, walking him back as you continue to kiss, all the way until he falls back on his bed with an ‘oof’ sound. 

             Still, his face is slack as he stares up at you now, eyes struggling to stay trained on your face for too long as you begin to take off your jacket and reach over to pull at his shirt. 

             So badly you want to see him shirtless again, but he doesn’t argue, eagerly lifting it off of his body and lying back again. 

             Now that the initial intimacy has been established, you finally feel you coming back to yourself, thinking more clearly and finding a small list in your head of things you want and need to do for him. Starting with letting him really look at you.

 “I know how much you like my panties, but–” You smile, standing in front of him and trying to keep your eyes averted from his length threatening to break through his pants. 

 “Let me see,” Mark urges you, tilting his head with a swallow and training his eyes on your thighs. 

             He thinks you must be wearing the prettiest pair today, for him, not for his brother. But when you lift your leg and straddle him, his face contorts to confusion and then to pleasure when you sit against his cock. Of course, with the fabric covering his length, he still can’t tell that you’re not actually wearing any panties at all.

 “You wanna see?” You ask for his clarification, bunching your dress up in your hands and preparing to lift it so he can see your bare folds sitting against him. 

             Mark blinks at you, nodding his head and nibbling on his bottom lip. He’s doing everything in his power not to reach up and grab your waist just to guide you on him. He’s afraid to move too fast, he’s afraid to embarrass himself with how fucking desperate he is for you right now.

 “Look,” You say, nodding between your legs and lifting your dress.

 “Goddamn,” Mark gasps as his eyes focus on the fact that you’re leaving a small wet spot against his pants. That’s your pussy on him. 

            Without a second thought his hands are on your waist, pushing and pulling you forward and backwards against his length. You blink hard at the sensation of the fabric rubbing against your lips harshly, and then open your eyes to look at him again.

             He is still staring between your legs, almost losing himself to this alone. Then again, it’s the first time he’s ever seen you bare and he cannot get past the fact that Doyoung gets to see it whenever he fucking wants. 

 “I can feel it–” Mark chokes, referring to your wetness seeping through his pants and onto him. 

             You smile at him, now moving your hips on your own as you pull his hands away and push them to lay above his head. If he thinks this is good, you want to see how fast he reaches for you again.

             It’s so easy when you lift yourself up, and incredibly cute in the way his eyes follow your core when you lift. He doesn’t even realize that you shove his sweats down and sit right back down, this time coating him in full with your slippery juices. 

 “God, fuck,” He moans in disbelief, and just as expected his hands shoot to your waist and hold you down against him. You’re not sure if it’s intentional or not, but he’s incredibly sexy in the way he moves without thinking. 

 “Fuck?” You question cutely, forcing your hips to slide up his length despite him trying to hold you there. 

 “How are you always so wet?” He questions in a whimper, letting you move and instead grabbing the hem of your dress himself and holding it up so he can watch you slide against him. 

 “How are you so big?” You try to compliment, feeling him between your folds and wondering just how deep he could fuck you if he so wanted to. “So, so big.” You groan out this time, feeling the head of his cock bumping against your clit every few seconds.

             Mark obviously doesn’t answer, his fingers are gripping your dress so tightly and his eyes are burning the image of you doing this into his head. He never wants to forget this moment of feeling you against him for probably the first and last time, because in all realness, this can’t happen again if he thinks too hard about it. 

 “I want to fuck you so bad,” He admits. “Just this once, please.” 

             You nod cutely, swiping his hands away from your dress and lifting it off of you in full.       His eyes are now glued to your tits and whatever it was he was saying is long forgotten as he watches them move when you slide up against him again.

             The way he shuts up is entirely too arousing. You can see him thinking about you, practically able to see him process every part of your body on top of him. 

 “Take your pants off, quickly.” You finally say, frustrated when you slide back and off of him. 

             He does as he’s told when you stand to your feet in wait, and instantly he’s lifting himself and grabbing you, pulling you right back on him. 

 “You’re so fucking hot,” Mark whines, pushing your hips against him and keeping himself upright, careful not to fall back against the mattress so he can plant his lips against your neck. 

             You feel a bite and pull back from him, hips stilling.

“You can’t leave any bruises–” You scold him, and he simply nods and goes back to kissing against your neck and shoulder.

 “Right, wouldn’t want him knowing that I fuck you better, right?” Mark mocks the situation as a whole, using reality as a form of ego boost, hoping to god that you lean into it rather than run from it.

 It makes you a little angry, but you get it. Mark’s confidence must be through the roof because never would you have imagined him speaking to you like this, or mentioning his brother at all.

 “Prove it and maybe i’ll play along.” You try to challenge him, but you know that he might actually be right. His size is definitely bigger than Doyoung’s, but can he work it the same way, or better? Can the shy, timid little brother actually satisfy you the way your boyfriend does?

 Mark pulls back from kissing your neck only for a moment, moving to your lips and wincing at the feeling of your folds sliding against him still, maybe he did get a little too cocky there. 

 “Prove it?” He breathes against your lips, gripping your waist tighter and guiding you up. 

 You already know what he’s doing and don’t shy away from it. Usually there’s foreplay, and you’re sure he wanted to do more than just fuck you, but too little too late. You’re hungry for it and so is he, if the sounds between you are enough to go by. 

 Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lift yourself and allow his hand to disappear between the two of you. You can feel him position himself right at your entrance and all you need to do is sink down. You don’t yet though and instead look at him.

 He stares back at you with anticipation, and when you sink down just a tiny bit, he’s lunging his lips forward and kissing you again. Continuously as you sink down inch by inch, feeling him stretch you out in a searing type of pleasure, Mark just groans into your mouth. You can feel his chest heave against you as he feels your walls start to envelop him and when you’re finally seated, he pulls you down with him as he falls against the mattress.

 There, in a hug, his mindless kissing becomes even more vacant as he holds you in place, fucking his hips up and into you in an aggressive pace. His lips release from yours and his moans come out strangled, breathless, and entirely desperate for you.

 He’s deeper inside of you than any man has ever been able to reach without the aid of a toy, and the head and thickness of it is far better than any plastic could ever be. You imagine you sound just as desperate as he does right now. Unable to wiggle in his grasp, you just take it. You were well versed in that, at least.

 Mark holds you there for at least a full moment, feeling you clenching and drenching his cock in a way that makes the slide easy and pleasurable for him. His hips can move much faster this way, but the fear of coming too quickly forces him to slow his movements and open his eyes.

 Your legs are spred out over his own, his cock is buried into you completely, and you fucking just take it? God, No wonder Doyoung is in love with you. 

 Mark’s arms release you from the hug and he uses one hand to lift your face.

 “Sorry,” He says before getting a look at your face, but he ends up losing any thought in his head when he notes how blown your pupils are, face still contorted in a silent moan as you bounce yourself against him now.  

             What he was gonna say was that he was sorry he lost control for a second, but what he ends up saying now is “Oh my god, I want this so bad.” 

             Despite that Mark is getting everything he wants at this moment, all he can do is look at you and watch you grind your clit against his pelvic bone chasing a pleasure that he knows you’re feeling intensely right now. He thinks of himself in pity, all those nights of wanting exactly this and never knowing that he actually fucking gets to do it.

             Without thinking, Mark doesn’t even know why he does it, but he keeps his cock buried deeply into you and knocks you over. He follows your body, adjusting himself behind you and pulling your leg up and draping it over his hip. There, he slips out of you only slightly to hear you whine at the loss. You’ve gone so silent save for moaning and he thinks he’s in love with you. Stuffing you again, he smiles at the way you throw your head back and look at him from behind you. 

             One hand now reaches around you and cradles one of your tits, the other snaking between your legs and experimentally tapping against your clit. 

 “Damn, Mark,” You manage to say in a more stable voice, realizing that he’s really fucking you in the spooning position now? Of course he fucking would. It’s such an intimate position, and the angle, you could argue, is one of the best you think you’ve ever felt. 

 “Hm?” He hums against your shoulder, feeling your body jerk as he fucks his length into you repeatedly. “Feels good, right?” He asks, moaning himself this time at the way you close your legs around his hand and grind back against him.

             He’s quick to abandon your clit to push your legs open again, draping it right back in the same spot over his own legs. He can imagine how spread out you look, despite not being able to see it in this position. He’s heard time and time that women like this angle, and now’s the chance to test it.

             This time, when you reach back and pull his face to yours, now kissing him with more force than you had before, he imagines the rumors were true. His fingers find their way back to your clit. 

             Mark’s moving his hips with intent now, trying his best to control how good he feels so that way he can focus on yours, and after one particularly deep thrust, he notices that you jolt and shiver.

 “Oh my god, did I find it?” He asks, experimentally pressing his hips up the same way. 

 “Fuck-” You choke out, your body jolting without intent again and feeling shockwaves of what you can only describe as mini orgasms shooting throughout your muscles. “Right there, keep doing that,” You frantically encourage him, mouth falling slack against his lips. 

             He does, pressing his hips harder this time in the same pay. Repeatedly hitting the soft spot inside of you and ultimately sending you into a world of something you’ve, strangely, never felt before in terms of sex. 

             Mark watches you roll your head back, moaning out with a slack and somewhat pained face as he does it. He cannot fucking believe he found your g-spot on the first try and he will be damned to stop now. 

             He focuses now, grunting at the way your walls clench him so tightly each time he hits your spot with the head of his cock. He’s determined to make you come, make you babble out strings of his name and how good he feels. He needs you to feel so good that you’ll never think twice of letting him do this again, and again, and again, no matter how close you could be to getting caught. 

             His hips are going at a pace faster now than he thought possible, and with his fingers working your clit paired with his cock driving into the single most pleasurable spot inside of you, you find your body tensing up and your mind erasing every thought and memory. It’s so much to feel at once but you feel too weak to stop him for just the smallest moment of collecting yourself. 

 “Are you going to?” He asks, broken with his own moans and deep breaths as he does his best to keep pace and work you through it. “I know you want to.” He manages to breathe out, mimicking your own words from the time you had him in the palm of your hand. 

             And you do want to. So you fucking do. You come hard around him, clenching him so tightly that Mark stills his hips in disbelief at the way your body moves when you release. He can barely get the words out when he speaks, feeling you drench him with liquid fire. “You’re squeezing me so tight–” He chokes out, jerking his hips back and trying to pull out of you for his own release.

 “Do not pull out,” You groan as your orgasm continues to choke you of your breath. “Let me feel it, do it.” You demand, pressing yourself back and enveloping the inches of him that he had pulled from you.

 “Fuck. fuck.” He moans out louder this time, hands gripping your waist and holding you against him as he shakes behind you. You can feel him twitch inside of you as he shoots those thick, white ropes of cum against your walls. For a brief moment you remembered when he released from your hand, pressing himself slowly and roughly into your first. You were right. 

             Mark buries himself as deep as he can go, only grinding back a few centimeters before pressing himself flush against you as another spurt paints the flesh inside of you. You feel so full, and he’s packed so tightly in you  that you genuinely think this is the first time you’ve ever actually felt a man come inside of you. Like really feel it. 

             When he’s done, he’s so fucking fast to pull out of you. It shocks you, actually.

 “Where are you going?” You ask, looking behind you as he backs away from you momentarily in a panic. 

 “I–” He pauses, looking at you and the way your eyes look back at him in a different type of panic. “Don’t know.” He says, getting back onto the bed and reluctantly putting his arms around you in a hug.

 “I don’t know how to like, end this.” He admits against your shoulder, still reeling from the fact that it happened, but now in a post-nut state of mind and kind of scared of how much he loved doing that with you. 

 “End it?” You ask, pulling away from him. “You want to stop?”

 “You don’t?” He asks, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes. 

 “I mean, we both know what we are doing…” You trail off, sitting yourself up and fully aware that the guilt will always hit you at random times, but still, you want Mark. “And we still kept doing it.”

 “Yeah, but–” 

 “But?” You ask, turning your body to face him as he sits himself up now. The nakedness of your bodies is not at all embarrassing at this moment. 

 “Mark, I don’t think I can like, not want you if you still want me.”

             He nods his head reluctantly, wondering if this is you offering the fact that you’re willing to straight up, blatantly, and shamelessly cheat on Doyoung with him.

 “Ugh,” Mark puts his face in his hands and then runs his fingers through his hair. “This is so fucked up.”

 “Yeah, it is.” You admit, leaning towards him. “But If you never tell anyone,”

 “No, no! I wouldn’t.” Mark throws his hands up defensively. “I only feel bad when you’re not here.” He says questioning himself. “I don’t think I’d be able to like, not ever do this again.”

 “So we are both in this same little fucked up boat?” You ask. 

 “I guess so.” He laughs at himself, and then at you. “If he ever finds out, you know i’ll be found in a ditch somewhere, right?”

             You laugh, despite it being the worse fucking joke in the world. Running hand in hand with Mark into a fire that you both fucking searched for. 

 “Well, I’m not gonna fucking tell him.” You say, pressing the important matter at hand. “The point is, Mark, I need you to understand that I’ve never cheated on anyone.”

             Somehow, he lightens the mood.

 “Damn, I must be special.”

             You guess he is.

  ~

[hexonthepeach]

perfume - k.dy

pairing: f4!nct doyoung x fem!reader (past johnny x reader mentions)

genre: hana yori dango/boys over flowers/meteor garden/f4 thailand reverse harem au (mild allusions and characterization only)

warnings:

bully-to-friends-to-lovers, established relationship, polyamory, dom!doyoung, glucose father adjacent, scent kink, control over food consumption/bathing (for scent kink purposes only), gratuitous use of the l-word by anti-romantics, angst/feelings, flashbacks and history

🔞 edging, cockwarming, orgasm denial, oral (m/f receiving), passionate sex, rough sex, spanking, creampie, bukkake, consensual negotiated kink (degradation, somnophilia), anal play (f receiving)

wordcount: 20k

author's note: this is a doyoung-centered continuation of my ongoing F4 au. it can stand on it's own but i recommend reading Dive for more context. Doyoung's role in the F4 is Sojirou Nishikado/So Yijung/Ximen/Kavin (playboy control freak) so this fic incorporates elements of his secondary romance within the original/adaptations, now with y/n.

read on AO3

fic headers / dividers credit to @ saradika + please do not repost

Freshman year, Kocher International. 

Head down in your books at lunch, trying so hard to escape scrutiny from above, you pretend to be no one. 

It shouldn't be hard to be nobody, otherwise ignored and immune to whatever social contract deliberates your life. In a better world you'd be invisible. It's a superpower you'd wish for much more over the usual playground answers of super speed or control of the weather. 

Let me be unobserved, you'd thought. Let me open a door and not worry about a bucket full of dirty mop water falling on my head or the inevitable posting of a grainy video of it, posted in a Telegram channel to fulfill some checklist made up by bored, rich monsters. 

Your four-generation-behind phone with its cracked screen proved useful in some regards; you never heard about these public pillories until some kind stranger sent you a screenshot of them, usually in the context of whatever plans they'd made to torture you again.

Every notification is already a pain, driving splintered glass into the pads of your fingers. Just now you're reading a text message from your father asking you to pick up more cheap instant noodles from the convenience store on your walk home to round out whatever scraps he's picked up from the local restaurant your mother bussed tables and cleaned dishes at when she needed extra money.

"Why is Saint Kim watching you?" your friend asks across the table. She's been looking up at the room this entire time, unable to give you even a moment of her attention or assistance to finish the English homework you'd been working on. You'd been rushing all day to finish it before afternoon class, after a late morning of delivery driving for your family's drycleaning business.

"Are you sure it's not the Devil?" you ask, parsing through the lines of a book you'd bought secondhand, trying to match verse for verse.

"No," she says, shaking her head when you finally look up. "Don't react. He's coming this way."

"Shit," you say under your breath, eyes flicking to your untouched lunch. "I need you to leave now. Take these trays and dump them and I'll meet you outside of 4th. If I make it."

You don't look up from your book as you mutter, but you follow her path and her hesitancy as she internally debates whether to heed your warning or watch from a safe distance.

Your handwriting becomes a scrawl of nonsense you have to cross out in sharp lines. You begin the verse again, holding your breath as you will your entire body and mind back to a manufactured calm. 

If you can't be invisible, you can at least play your role. You're copacetic by the time you see the tips of polished black wingtips beside you, before you hear the Saint clear his throat.

“Y/N.”

He drops a familiar, school-mandated clear cosmetics bag next to your ratty backpack. The already embarrassing stash of tampons and old chapstick has a new bounty including a "used" pregnancy test stick with a second line drawn in with pink gel pen jumbled into its contents.

"You left this . . ." he says, not finishing the sentence to indicate where he'd found it. You immediately hear a titter. Your flock of spectators is growing by the second and the useful idiot at its center seems wholly unconcerned.

"Thanks," you say, not bothering to look up or to even hide the bag. You keep writing, blindly, the English words just rounded shapes flowing from your shaking hand. 

Their kind fed off attention, your only defense is to starve them of it.

The Saint clears his throat, again. Apparently he’s not just unconcerned, he’s also unwilling to leave.

"Aren't you grateful Doie found it before someone else did?" You don’t have to look up to know it's Miranda who’s asked, glimpsing her manicure as she picks up your bag, green gems shining on perfectly-tipped nails. 

"Oh this must not be hers. I didn't think she could afford this."

You think she might be diving into the stash for one of the Lilies' pointed additions but no–you watch in horror as she plucks out the bottle of perfume you'd been carrying with you since your parents had gifted you a single, tiny box last Christmas. 

"Chanel?" she says, laughing. "No wonder you smell like my grandma."

"Probably a knock-off," another of the Lilies says. Ginger, by the sound of her grating voice. Her handwriting on the board in homeroom listing out your abortions is as familiar as the pink gel pen script on the extra large foil condom with xoxo slut written on it staring at you through the plastic.

"Definitely a knock-off. You have a nose, don't you, Doie?"

You look up, finally, at Saint Kim. He's alone for once–the other one, the Devil Kim that shadows him is still up on the second level, leaning on the railing over his shoulder. You watch the Saint’s small mouth turn into a moue of distaste, nose wrinkling at the proffered bottle.

"Authentic," he says, capping it before offering it back to you. Your field of vision is obstructed by that veined, pale hand–fingernails as perfectly groomed as the rich girls who surround him.

You reach up to take your most prized possession back only to find he doesn't let go, holding tight when you try to pluck it from his fingers.

"You should know . . . " he says, sniffing slightly.

You look up at him with alarm blazing in your eyes. Every word Kim Doyoung says to you writes your next damnation. You should ignore him, run, anything–but you can't look away once you've met his assessing gaze, his tall frame limned in the fluorescent cafeteria lights like he's carrying his own personal halo. 

Even seeing him at a distance every day can't depreciate how ethereally handsome he is. You know better than to swoon at that elegant face, night-black hair pushed away from his forehead. Beneath his family’s charities and his PR-scripted concern you know he’s just another ungodly creation birthed of nepotism and curated genes.

He leans in, carefully, musical voice a whisper. 

"You should know it doesn't suit you."

The laughter that follows is deafening.

No, you think. He's just as soulless as the rest of them.

“What do you mean actually sleep?" you ask, coyly, unbuttoning your romper. "Like after we . . . ?"

"I've managed 6 hours of sleep in 36 hours, y/n–” Doyoung seems to hesitate, dark eyebrows raising, hand pushing his hair back from his pale forehead. He snaps his laptop closed, at last, shoving it to the farthest edge of the bedside table.

No–you think–not hesitation. 

Frustration.

You've seen this man before. 

All work and no play made Saint Kim into a Prince of Hell. He'd spent the first 8 hours of your date day half-present–the other in the 4 hours of sleep he's gotten since some crisis at his family’s headquarters in London that usurped your vacation. 

A whole 2 days in which he hasn't held you at all. His rules, his chance, but you can't help but wonder what has him so clenched that he's barely even touched you since your date began at 6 am Bangkok time.

You'd taken two extra strength melatonin and slept like the dead, anticipating his early-riser schedule. Only you and God had to know you'd fallen asleep next to your day tour fit ready to be fucked in it. 

You’d made yourself so pretty only to find him in the kitchen hunched over his phone, laptop softly pinging with notifications. Doyoung had still been dressed in the clothes you'd seen him in the night before, ending his conference call to laser in on you hovering in the kitchen.

"Are you upset?" Doyoung asked.

"No," you'd lied, pushing the piece of paper he'd left the staff on the counter, his English handwriting crisp and formal. "What’s this?" 

"We have a few dietary restrictions today," he’d said. 

"Are you saying I am what I eat?" You’d asked, taking a bite of a plump strawberry. "Is this some kind of prep?"

"It's for the date," he'd said, resigned. "Just be patient with me."

Then he'd smiled, disarming you with a casualness you hadn’t seen on him in a long time, rubbing his eyes blearily under his thick glasses. 

"Can we go back to sleep?"

And so you'd settled into his grasp on your made bed, scrolling Insta and waiting for the inevitable alarm–which turned out just to be Jungwoo delivering two iced Americanos in some gambit of checking your progress.

"Missed the floating market opening?" Jungwoo asked, eyebrows raised at the sight of Doyoung face first in a pillow.

You'd silently mouthed your thanks, leaving the drinks to sweat on the bedside table as you changed into your second outfit of the day, occasionally drifting in to check on your sleeping beauty.

It was a rare delight to have him so vulnerable beside you, blanket rucked up beneath his chin and his white teeth visible past the sweet curves of his mouth. Without consciousness your partner for the day is just Kim Doyoung, the gentler side of the same creature who you knew would often choose a couch to watch serial television with you over a day trip if you wanted it. 

But this was different.

Now instead of using his precious time to fulfill what you'd felt promised in his casual brushes against your back when you'd finally traveled out, or the way he'd stroked your leg at brunch under the table (every bite chosen by him, of course), you're being railroaded into lying still while he sleeps. 

Again.

You continue undressing, letting him drink in the sight of the lingerie set he’d left in your room. You knew it was custom made by the way it lifted each curve he’d already had access to, tailored for you as if every millimeter of your body was to account for.

Doyoung's cheeks are hollowed, lip chewed. He pulls his glasses down and regards you even more as you continue to undress yourself.

"You do know what the word 'nap' means, don't you?"

"I'm not the one who hasn't slept," you say. "At least let me get comfortable."

His stare pierces into you as you turn around, stripping for utility rather than give him a show he clearly hasn’t earned. You check yourself in the floor-length mirror beside the bathroom, viewing yourself through his eyes as you pluck the lace over your curves to sit just right. 

“Do you like it?” you ask.

You may as well be speaking to the floor when you turn around, finding him buried in the pillows only by the dark fall of his hair.

“You can’t be that tired,” you say. 

You're used to taking a late afternoon siesta in peak summer but you're far too excited to even consider sleep right now. For one, it's sweltering–windows open to allow the noises of hawkers and traffic not far off to drift in.

Second, you've never been more turned on in your life. 

You can still feel the tingling in your toes from when he’d slipped his hand up under the hem of your shorts, teasing at the velvety smooth skin on your inner thigh as you tried not to choke on your mimosa.

You make your way to the bed languidly, crawling up the thick white duvet with a teasing smile.

"Just stay on your side of the bed, please," Doyoung says.

"Oh," you say, collapsing on top of the covers beside him. "Well you're no fun." 

"And you're impatient and uncouth," he retorts in a way that makes you wonder if he really means it. 

"Will you at least hold onto me?"

"Too hot." He rolls on his back, flapping his half-buttoned shirt in the breeze from the fans. You sigh dramatically, collapsing into the pillows in the middle of the bed. 

"You should get naked, then.” You say. “Don't be modest on my account."

He opens one eye to glare at you, finding you relaxed and inviting beside him. His throat bobs, gaze flicking to the ceiling.

"That year of celibacy really took a toll on you, didn't it? Two hours. Indulge me."

"Please, sir," you whisper. "I've been such a good girl."

It had been a stipulation of the F4’s latest deal–24 hours for you to recover from your first night before the gauntlet began. Doyoung had been more than strict about the terms, leaving you your own set of instructions including–not surprisingly–not touching yourself.

Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t think about masturbation constantly, at all hours of the day. He may as well have told you to try not to think about a white bear for how powerful the intrusive thought had taken over since then.

"You'll get your reward. Later," he says. He's an impassable wall, stretched out beside you, so you content yourself with staring at his profile. Even under these oppressive circumstances you appreciate the light dusting of freckles on his cheek brought out by the sun, the dark lashes dusting his cheeks over the slight bluish marks of sleep deprivation.

"Yes, sir."

It only takes a few minutes for him to snap at you again.

"Stop that," 

"Stop what?" 

"Getting so handsy."

You hadn’t even realized your hand had drifted over the plane of his belly under his white shirt, too absorbed with watching the muscles in his cheek spasm as you inched nearer. 

"Can I help it when you're right there?" you ask. "I thought this was your–"

Doyoung rolls you before you can slither any closer, pressing your back into the sheets with his hands on your wrists, knees digging into your thighs. 

If the intention was to get you to stop being uncomfortably turned on it has the opposite effect: you let out a moan of pleasure, legs twisting together for friction. He slams them shut between his own, groin pressed into yours.

He's as hard as you hoped, and you lift up into him to let him know you know it.

"If you don't behave I'll have to cancel this," he warns directly in your ear, sounding as choked as you feel. "I thought you were already trained." 

"Trained to fight back," you correct, pressing against him with your own strength.

"That's not trained," he says, lifting up. "I'll blame your lack of experience and experienced partners. Nothing we can't work on. Until then you'll follow my rules or I pull you from the game. Understood?" 

You let a few beats pass, accepting there's no way out and you don't have anything to throw back at him.

"Yes, sir," you pout.

"Now that's a good girl," he says.

Just as quickly as you were taken down you're let go, inhaling deeply now that you're not being pressed into the soft bed. 

"You really don't want to play with me before you sleep?" you ask, brushing your lips against his chin as he crouches over you. You’d be a liar if you didn’t say you enjoyed the way his nostrils flare a bit, working his pink bottom lip between his teeth. Whatever arbitrary rules he’d set for your time together you can tell he’s at least regretting it right now, stiff length brushing against your bare leg as you lift your knee to test it. 

“Are you trying to make me punish you?” he asks, voice husky. 

"I thought you liked it when I was a brat," you say, cocking your head. 

Doyoung sighs, eyes half-lidded. "I do. But not when you're using it to avoid intimacy."

Your throat clenches, a hard knot forming in it you can't seem to swallow as your face gets even hotter.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. 

“I think you know what I mean,” he continues. “It’s not like we both don’t have a habit of using sex as a distraction from anything emotionally challenging.”

You gape up at him in disbelief. 

Of course you’d never been able to hide that aspect of your last relationship with him when he’d often been right outside the door. All of the F4 knew how many times your arguments with he-who-should-not-be-named-especially-not-while-in-bed-with-his-best-friend had ended in you shutting him up by any means necessary. Not that you didn’t enjoy it at the time–but rather you understood it wasn’t the most healthy template for a relationship. 

"I thought this wasn't going to be about feelings," you blurt out.

“Proving my point.”

Doyoung tsks, tapping your cheek with his fingers–nowhere near a slap but just as effective, soothing the spot with his thumb. Soon he’s brushing your tears away when they inevitably spring up and you have to turn to hide their seep into the mass of pillows.

"If I wanted therapy I wouldn't be here, Kim Doyoung," you say, trying to bury your face in the piles of soft down. 

“Shh, silly girl,” He gently pulls you out from hiding, soothing you with a warm kiss against your forehead when you stop struggling and let him hold you, releasing that surge of emotion and writing it off to hormones and the sting of rejection.

“You know I’m speaking to myself here, too,” he states softly. “Bear with me, I’m learning.” 

"Do you even really like me?" you ask, face pressed into his chest. 

It’s horrible to admit this specific insecurity but you can’t help it. Being abandoned multiple times in your life when you’d finally, finally let your walls down would damage anyone’s trust. You’d hoped this day with him would be easy and carefree and light, not dimmed by the shadows of your anti-romantic histories. 

"I adore you, actually." He settles partially on top of you, leg wrapped over yours as he props himself up on his elbow. "Which is why I want to start this right. You wanted the F4 boyfriend experience. This is mine."

"Last I checked you’ve never seriously dated anyone," you groan, sniffling. 

"Last I checked, neither have you." 

Well, that connects. You swallow your fears, relaxing into the cage of his embrace, retreating a little from the vulnerability of being exposed.

"What kind of girlfriend experience were you expecting, then?"

A lazy smile gusts across his features. You can't help but find it a bit sinister after being handled so indelicately. 

“I don’t always know what’s going on in that empty little head of yours." He accompanies his statement with a brush of his thumb across your flushed cheek, tracing your semi-parted lips in a way that sends sparks down to your core. 

"I’d like to stop guessing and actually get you to let me treat you the way you want to be treated. Have you ever asked yourself what you want?"

You panic a little, considering his words. Living with disappointment had made this question a hard one to even consider. 

"I just want a good time. Isn't that what you want, too?"

Doyoung seems to ignore your ask, drifting into a relaxed state against the pillows. His hand traces the hairline at your temple. "You know I worry about you. All the time, actually.” 

His voice is lower, a little wistful, and it’s doing just as much as the slight brushes of his fingertips to make you throb all over again. A lack of sleep must have made him delusional, you think. This is not the Kim Doyoung you know.

“You’re always thinking of how to take care of the people around you, I think you’ve forgotten how to relax and let other people take care of you.”

"Is that why you're always involving yourself in my business?" you ask, matching his tone in how breathless you are. You expect a quip, not the sincerity written on his face when he swoops in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, too fleeting to be anything but sweet and sincere. 

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time? It certainly wasn’t just to get into your pants. I want you. All of you.” 

You're taken aback by his honesty. You'd always suspected his constant meddling in your affairs came from a place of interest but you'd never wanted to give him too much of a response–maybe a little afraid his fickle nature and fear of commitment would mean he’d give up on your friendship, too. 

Another thing you knew about Saint Kim: he had a tendency to run like a frightened rabbit at the first sign of emotional neediness in his partners. You'd never given him reason to believe you expected anything from him, but you'd also stopped fighting him on giving you what he desired to give.

It wasn’t just presents or expensive experiences, of course. He’d found out quickly those weren’t welcome without some cajoling. No–his art was in knowing what you needed even before you realized it, nudging it across your path. 

You’d figured out his deviousness after the umpteenth time someone was charitable at your little florist shop part time job, offering to fix your scooter in exchange for a nice arrangement for a proposal. As soon as you’d seen the fully restored bike outside and the customer didn’t return your texts you’d called Doyoung, completely unsurprised to find he was at the coffee shop next door, waiting to pick up his flowers.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you’d said. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“What makes you think I’m giving you charity,” he’d responded, dropping a department store bag and your own custom coffee order on the counter. “You’ll wear this when I come to pick you up tonight at closing, including the jewelry and perfume. I need you to play your part again. The flowers are a consolation for the heart we’re breaking.”

He’d enlisted you as his defacto “new girlfriend” for the more difficult separations, and though you’d gotten your share of a glass of expensive wine thrown in your face more often than he ever experienced it (his type always went after the easier target) it wasn’t like he didn’t have a replacement dress ready and a nice dinner waiting after you’d cleaned off the Chateau Lafitte Rothschild. 

You have to face the fact that no matter how many times he’d treated you like his girlfriend, you’d never actually expected him to want you to be one. 

“I’ve waited a very long time for this, Y/N. Which is why I want our first time together–alone," he adds quickly. "–To be special."

It's difficult to believe him but you're spellbound all the same, watching pink dust his cheeks and his ears turn a shade darker as he most likely realizes how ridiculous it is considering him fucking you senseless the other night with the help of two other men. 

But you can empathize with his anxiety. Yesterday's Thai massage he'd arranged had helped you work out the flight or fight of anticipating being alone with him. It’s back now, but different. The way he's looking at you makes you feel infinitely naked, infinitely unlocked.

"What do you mean special?" you ask, wary, hoping to see some glimmer of uncertainty or falsehood in his gaze. You want to believe it's a lie or just some artful prank, trying to ignore your heart flip-flopping in your chest. 

It’s a mistake to let him see you squirm considering it’s Doyoung’s drug of choice–his lips twist into another menacing grin as he plays with the charm on your necklace. Another of his little gifts.

"Do you think you can handle it?" Doyoung asks, dripping self-satisfaction. “Or are you going to chicken out on me?”

You turn over so he can't see your expression, realizing he’s throwing your own words from the night before right back at you.

"I haven’t decided if I want to date you, yet,” you say. 

"Maybe not," he says. "But you'll have to pardon me for wanting to show you this good time you supposedly want while also treating you decently. Unless we're no longer friends?"

"We are," you say, biting your lip, "even if you enjoy torturing me."

"Torture?" He laughs, breathy. 

"Metaphorically speaking."

"You have no idea, do you?" You can feel the edge of his glasses as he bites the place where your clavicle connects to your shoulder, his hand snaking around your bare middle.

"You could show me," you invite, mid-gasp, as your body responds to his long-awaited touch. His fingers are almost cool in contrast to the heat in the room, tracing circles in your skin that have you squirming. 

"Is that a challenge?" he asks.

Why not?

"We don't have to have sex," you offer. "Maybe you could just–"

"Shh," he says, fingers skimming lower. "My terms. Are you going to stay quiet for me?"

You nod into the comforter, breath hitching as he touches you through the thin layer of your underwear, veined hand flexing as he molds the damp fabric to your body. It's such a delicate pressure but he's already memorized your shape, index finger sinking into your folds, gently rubbing a ring around your throbbing clit.

You're sticky and swelling with each pass, entranced by how good he is at teasing you, cherishing the way he sucks in his breath when he pushes into the indent of your hole.

“Doie,” you whine, leaning back into him, trying to get him to kiss you as he laughs into your hair. 

“Quiet,” he reminds you, kissing your cheek and teasing the seat of your underwear where they're soaked the most. "You want to take these off?" 

You shake your head, sensing it would be too easy of you to give in.

"That wasn't a question," he says, tugging down the band, leaving them trapped tight around your thighs. "I don't want you to wear them until I tell you that you can." 

You feel your core clench at the way his voice cracks, his fingers sliding back up to slowly and delicately draw a thread of moisture from your bared slit. You whine a little when he stops touching you, bringing his fingertip to your lips.

"Taste it." 

You let your mouth fall open, let him run it over your tongue, beginning from the middle and swirling over it. 

"Describe it," he murmurs. "If I like your answer, maybe I'll indulge you more." 

"Salt," you say, immediately. 

He tugs your hair, making you meet his eyes. 

"Have I taught you anything? I want specific notes. Flavors." 

You're transported back to the time he'd taken you to your first (and last) wine tasting. Spitting into a bucket and being lectured about body and tannins and soil conditions was the last thing you'd wanted to do after an hours-long trip to a vineyard but you'd indulged him, allowed one glass of what he considered the only drinkable wine on the premises. 

An unrefined palette, he'd called you. 

"Fruity and floral," you make up. "A nice lingering finish. Want a taste?" 

He looks down at you behind his glasses, equal parts amused and unimpressed. "Did you use the soap I asked you to?" 

Your brain glitches at that. Had you? You'd been in such a rush to go out–

You gasp when he palms your breast, squeezing the meat of it through the breathable fabric of your matching bra.

"I'll take that as a no," he says. "I guess you're not ready." 

He rolls off of you, leaving you in a lurch as you realize your legs are locked together by your underwear. You move to remove them, taking off your bra as well to avoid the awkwardness of being partially dressed.

By the time you're done you realize he's on his back, the hand that had been stroking you buried in his loose khakis. 

"What are you doing?" you ask, more than a little pissed off at the sight of him masturbating as if you aren't ready and willing to assist beside him. 

"Getting ready for our date. You can watch. No touching." He cracks an eye to look at you before closing it again. "Either of us."

"Are you edging me, Kim Doyoung?" Your menacing tone is entirely natural.

He hums a bit, working himself at a more punishing pace, knuckles peeking out from under his boxer briefs with each full pass over his length.

"Can't even look at me? Afraid you'll lose control?" You sidle down on the bed, beside his tensed thigh. You can smell a bit of the ozone on him from a morning in the sun, your knees knocking into his calves when you move over him.

"I don't trust you," he says, voice deeper than you've ever heard it.

"Is it touching if you finish on my face?" you ask when he finally blinks up at your presence, hovering over him with your breasts dangerously close to his clothed thighs.

"Absolutely not."

"Not touching–"

"Just. Watch," he orders.

He pulls himself free from his pants, surprising you with how dark and weeping his tip is as his thumb encircles it. Pools of white precum spatter on his lean, pale belly, your head dipping dangerously close–

"I said watch." He grabs at your hair, denied when you bend up again, showing him your dirty tongue.

He groans, fingers clenching air. "You were put on this earth to test me, weren't you?"

Still, he doesn't break his attention on the way you roll the drops you'd licked from his clean skin in your mouth, swallowing once you've fully enjoyed the taste.

"A little sweet you say," teasing him. "Drinking pineapple juice?"

"Brat," Doyoung says, but he's almost gone–eyes dark with desire, gently gripping your skull as you continue to ease in.

You're a master at following his lead, blowing a breath over the spot you'd licked, and then his length until his movements slow, cherishing the way you hold your mouth over his cock.

"If you can't give me what I want, then at least give me a taste," you say, sticking out your tongue in offering. You love the way he responds to the sight, needy and losing it when you hold eye contact, drilling into him.

"No," he echoes, weakly. He's too smart to push into your open mouth, instead driving his hips up to fuck his fist as you watch his glasses slide down his nose, eyes clenching shut. 

"You're no fun," you say. "Just a little swallow can't hurt?"

"No. Don't want to ruin it," he says cryptically, making a choked noise as you brush his fingers with your nose and he has to pull you away.

"I promise you it . . . It will be worth it," he manages. His jaw clenches as his movements relax, finally in control of you both.

"It better be," you say. 

You lower your lashes as your eyes flick between his cock and his face, stretching out your tongue to the point that drool begins to drip down your chin, splashing on his whitened knuckles and the tight stretch of his balls peeking out from his underwear. He bites his lip, breath holding as he starts to spiral.

The first thick rope of white rockets up his half-bared chest. Soon he's spurting even more, cum reaching his rucked up shirt, a little getting on his glasses. 

He's so out of it he doesn't fight as you wrest out of his limp hold. You clean up the sticky mess on his skin with your tongue, his abdominal muscles twitching under the light flicks and drags. 

"Want to give me some notes?" you ask, straddling him without resting any weight down, taking off his glasses. This time when you move to kiss him he rises weakly to meet you, lips parting to accept what you haven't swallowed. 

In truth, he tastes wonderful. Coffee, a little menthol from toothpaste and a hint of the watermelon you'd shared earlier mix beneath the coat of his spend.

He licks into your mouth until you moan, your body throbbing with unfulfilled pleasure. You follow him as he sinks back into the pillows, enjoying having him at your disposal, your core leaving wet trails on his thigh when you brush against the fabric.

"I'm going to wait until you're asleep and use you if you don't help me get off," you threaten, pressing soft kisses to his slack face. It’s no use. Doyoung has passed out again, lower teeth visible as he snores softly, forehead sheened with drying sweat.

Fuck it, you think. 

You ooze off of him to take your second cold shower of the day, and maybe get acquainted with one of the fancy showerheads in his massive walk-in while you use his special soap. 

It's not–technically–touching yourself.

Your mystery destination isn't an unknown–it's in every tourist booklet and blog you'd skimmed before your trip, thinking you'd be on your own to find a good spot to traverse to. But it still takes your breath away the moment the car door opens in the sprawl of motorbikes and delivery trucks and Doyoung takes your hand to pull you into Paradise.

Pak Khlong Talat is a bustle of energy well after dark, the time you know its treasures are delivered fresh and unbloomed, wrapped in newspaper and steeped in crushed ice. For as far as you can see the market sprawls along Chak Phet road, but even more overwhelming than the sights and sounds is the scent. 

Jasmine, roses, lavender. Thousands upon thousands of blooms strung up and tended to by night owl vendors, delicate arrangements hand-sewed by artisans streetside into garlands so well-crafted Doyoung has to tug you to keep you moving, onwards to some other unspoken destination. 

"I was worried you might hate flowers after working with them for so long. I take it you like it?" he asks, indulging you when you ask if you can take his picture at a particularly lovely hang of garlands, the purple-blue light perfect for the film you'd loaded into your father's old camera. Photography had never been your craft, but after your dad had passed you'd made an effort to capture more of your memories, cherishing what you'd taken for granted before.

“It’s perfect,” you say, admiring him through the viewfinder. "But can you look like you're having fun?" 

Your model is stiff, mouth a moue as he checks the street for other observers or a possible collision with a laden handcart. 

"Fun?" Doyoung asks, and you snap his picture on the offbeat, enjoying his look of surprise. 

“Like you've taken your date to one of the most romantic places on earth, after buttering her up with a night cruise of Chao Praya and finally letting her eat real food." 

He sniffs at a fall of marigolds, a smug look on his face that you commit to film, right before he sneezes. 

"For the record, we're eating after this. Som tam hardly counts as a meal, I just didn’t want that drink going to your head." 

You're shepherded through the vast warehouse of the main market, to an adjacent street, and into a non-descript building painted in a funereal white.

"Are we even allowed to be here?" you ask, once the key code is entered and you enter the strange business. 

"I called in a favor," he says, taking your hand, leading you up a metal staircase past a simple storefront of dried blooms and shelves laden with boxes and bottles alike.

An apothecary? An alchemist's shop? The purpose of the space eludes you.

"An atelier," Doyoung explains. "One of the most sought out in the world."

There's the distant hum of the city outside and a central air you're unused to in this climate but the upstairs is quiet–by all accounts either an office or a laboratory, or a mixture of both. The central working area is a chaotic but organized space filled with tables of glassware and dried floral arrangements contrasting potted orchids, small beakers of coffee beans littered amidst rows of labeled brown bottles.

"So this is how they make perfume," you say, inspecting a stoppered bottle labeled "Gerianol 10%".

"Not just any perfume. The best. Here." Doyoung leads you to a much less cluttered workstation, the desk arranged with the lights still on, a note detailing some instruction you can barely read before he slips it into the pocket of his slim-tailored pants. Beneath it is a notebook, scrawled with a perfect cursive English you recognize from the cards he’d included in boxes or bags whenever he’d bothered to claim their contents. 

"Sit," he instructs. You think he means the comfortable chair but before you can sit down he presses you to the desk, caging you in. 

"Sit," he repeats, hands on your hips through your slinky skirt, lifting you to the bench. You scoot back, carefully, the white blooms of some exotic flower brushing against your cheek until he can move the vase a careful distance. 

"Do you understand what we’re doing here?"

You can't possibly know what he means, eye level with the graceful column of his neck and his exposed collarbone beneath his translucent button-down, drowning in the melange of scents but most especially his clean, neutral cologne. 

"No," you say, honestly, heart beating fast. 

He picks up a corked flask from some kind of metal scale, dipping a thin thread of paper into it to waft it a fair distance from your nose.

"Before we came here--before you even agreed to this trip–I sent instructions to my friend for a specialty blend of their creation. It took quite a bit of back-and-forth–I even visited here last month to take a private class and make sure we prepared the base and middle to your standards."

"For me?" 

You feel dizzy, reaching out to take the sample and smell it again, his hand capturing your own before you can bring it too close to your nose. He wafts it for you, expectant as you absorb the details.

Indeed, it smells divine–exactly the kind of warm, bright notes that make your heart feel at ease. There’s something floral and citrus worked in, not too heavy, the finish leaving you with an impression of a lazy summer afternoon. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say. “Did you make this to match what you knew I liked?”

"Yes.” Doyoung exhales, looking almost sheepish. "I had some references. That cheap shampoo you never stop buying, the Lush exfoliator with the orange blossom, even–" he shudders a bit– "that awful Chanel you doused yourself in, in high-school."

"Coco Mademoiselle," you say. "It's been years since I–"

"It didn't suit you," he says, standing up to sample another bottle from the neat row. 

Something dawns on you, a distant memory locking into place.

"It was you," you gasp in realization. "You're the one who got rid of it. I should have known when you tried to give me that bottle of Jo Malone–"

“It had already turned. You need to store your scents away from direct light.”

“It was a keepsake!” There were very few possessions from your youth that you’d been able to hold onto–not only because your parents had been barely able to afford your school uniforms, much less gifts. What little you’d had was lost when your house was destroyed by the men your father owed money to, this small thing neglected in the destruction.

“It didn't suit you because it wasn't made for you," he continues. "You wore it because you thought it would make you fit in, when you should have made what you wore wear you–"

"Please, stop."

You have to bite your lip to the point of pain, remembering how excited you'd been to unwrap that tiny bit of luxury your parents had saved up to buy you, your mother sure the brand name would save you from another day of humiliation. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that the cutout ad from the magazine on your wall was for the model, not the actual perfume, but you felt loved by the gesture all the same.

Hundreds of thousands of won an ounce for it to only turn on your skin, well before afternoons spent on the basketball court under the thankless sun. That memento had aged from pink to a sickly rose unused on your cosmetic shelf, a totem from a time when you imagined yourself belonging. Before it had disappeared, like so many other things.

You can't remember the last time you'd worn anything, had never even gone near that section of a department store after the humiliation of being made fun of for smelling cheap.

“My dad skipped lunches and my mom worked double shifts to get that for Christmas my first year in Kocher,” you say. “Mira was the brand ambassador for that campaign, you know.”

Mira had been your idol even before you won the scholarship she’d established to attend Kocher. Perfect, beautiful, but most of all the first girl in their sphere to show you genuine kindness.

"It must be so easy for you," you say, wiping your face. You rarely cried these days but that memory was particularly painful, a reminder of how often you’d assumed Doyoung found you just as offensive. Not just your scent, you thought, but you.

Something to be tolerated. Below his regard. 

"Whatever you want, you can have. Whatever you don't like, you can get rid of. I'm sorry, I don't live in your world. I can’t just throw something away when it’s not useful."

"No," he says, quietly, abandoning his explanation. "That was thoughtless of me. I can replace it–"

“Can you?” You glare up at him. “Is this what you really want? To dress me up like your perfect doll and feed me from your hand so I’m more able to suit you?

Doyoung looks like he's going to be ill, every design in his head unraveling before your eyes. You’d feel sorry for him if you didn't know this was a lesson worth imparting.

"Don't ever offer to replace what you don’t know the true value of," you say, voice trembling.

There's a weighted silence as he considers his next words. You still haven't slipped away from him, choosing to hold your ground. How many times had you been forced to be the antagonist in some fruitless class warfare, unresolved? But then you also had a habit of finding battles in peacetime. 

You pluck the newest scent strip from his frozen hand and waft it between you, at the designated distance.

“Thank god this smells nothing like it,” you murmur. You offer him a wry smile, anger fading. “I couldn’t stand it.”

You feel Doyoung’s relief as he collapses against you, forehead against your hair as his arms wrap tight around your middle. You relax after a bit, cheek pressed to his collarbone as you breathe in his unique scent–a little like fresh laundry left out in the sun.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “All these promises and plans and stupid details and at the end of the day I really . . . Don't know what I'm doing."

"I really don’t know what you’re doing, either," you say. "But I like that you try.”

"You do?" The hope in his voice makes your iciness melt a bit. You let your hands twine around his neck, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease with the gesture.

“I know it’s not easy for me to admit but I do appreciate everything you do for me, Doie,” you say. 

He doesn’t respond in words but you savor the shift in his demeanor, like a weight has been lifted from him. You think even he didn’t know it was there. You ignore the glassiness in his eyes when he pulls back, choosing to look at his notes instead.

“Are these all the ingredients?” you ask, working out a few of the more familiar words. “What’s op–?”

“First things first,” he says, rolling up his sleeves.  "Did you touch yourself?" 

"No," you say, surprised by the shift. "I followed your instructions. No products with scents. No underwear."

You spread your thighs to make your point. His hands hike your skirt up, over the breadth of skin to your hips and then to the curl of your belly, his breath hitching as he finds you already glossy.

It had been a bit of a gambit considering your riverside excursion but he'd allowed you a lemongrass-based repellent–the scent of which is still clinging to your bare skin as he kneels down to press a kiss to where his fingers had traced earlier.

You jerk a bit, conscientious of the workspace as he spreads you, just that light touch making your nipples harden beneath your thin shirt and bra.  

“Are we allowed to–”

“Shh. Relax and try not to spill anything,” he interrupts, breath cooling your wetness. “I just need some inspiration.”

“What?” 

"You’re so good already," he says into your sex, spreading you so he can lightly tongue at your skin. “Perfect little flower just for me.”

After waiting so long, you're torn between begging and shoving his teasing licks away, hand threading through his raven hair as the notebook slips from your hand.

"Kim Doyoung–” you gasp as he spears his tongue through your upper folds, nose nudging the sensitive bud. “–if this is another round of teasing I will murd–”  

You yelp as he hunches down to wrap your legs around his shoulders, hands re-occupied by exposing you as you try to stay upright. 

“Don’t worry. You can come like this. I want to know if you taste different after.”

You don't know what he means until his mouth closes over your clit, sucking just right. You jolt, pinched on the meat of your thigh until you can relax again, making little mewls as he rolls his thumbs alongside the point of contact.

“I want you inside of me,” you beg, feeling that fluttering sensation that heralds a build-up. “I wanted to come with you inside me.” 

“Soon. Just need to be good while I sample you.” 

“Sample?” Your hand sinks into his hair in panic, tugging, but Doyoung is too lost alternating between suckling at your sex and palpating you with a circling thumb, his beautiful hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread.

“Drip for me, first.” 

“I don't think I can–”

“You giving up already?” Doyoung scoffs, smirking up at you with reddened lips, tongue-tip darting against your clit. Every brush of soft muscle makes you spasm a bit, belly tightening unfulfilled.

You shake your head, panting. “I just . . . Doie I want you inside me.” 

“You can relax and take it,” he says, tongue wrapping around your labia, sucking slightly. Your head is buzzing, every stray thought removed by his exploration of you.

“Relax. If you don't I'll just have to try until you're begging for me to stop.” 

“No, please, Doie. I'll be good,” you plead. “Just . . . need something inside. Hurts so bad being empty.”

“Hand me a pipette.”

“What?”

“The one that looks like an eyedropper,” he says, hand open to accept like he’s performing surgery. You fight to find the right glassware with his mouth still on you, efforts more focused and intense as your legs tense with each hit. You find the rubber-stoppered glass cylinder, stomach dropping. 

“Is this safe?” You ask, gripping his mussed hair tighter when he pulls away for a moment.

“If you hold still, yes,” he taunts. You seize when you first feel the tip slip inside you. The glass is cool but warms to your body heat quickly, too slim to feel anything.

“Good girl,” he says. “You’re even pushing this out, you must be so tight.”

“I am. Too tight,” you groan. “Please don’t tease me anymore.”

He ignores you, focusing on his work, pulling the instrument free when he’s satisfied.

“Not bad,” he says, dropping it on the desk beside you before he’s back on his knees with his nose buried in your cunt. “Bet you can do better than that.”

“No, please, I need you–”

“Then drip for me,” he laughs into your leg, tracing the wetness down the crease in your thigh. You tense your hold on the desk’s edge when you feel his tongue prod at your entrance, muscle breaching your hole to lick into you. He makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat that has you plummeting just as he resumes stroking your clit through the slippery coat of your arousal. 

Finally, you think, feeling the advent of tears for how wound tight you are, how desperate you are to feel him give you just one more point of contact with the ache inside.

“Oh god, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you repeat, the noises obscene as he drinks you in, other hand on your hip to hold you against his face. It’s not even the stimulation that makes you begin to come but the audible groan he releases as he feels you quake against his mouth, heels snagging on his shirt when the first wave breaks and those little tics inside you turn into powerful contractions around his tongue-tip taking everything you can give him. 

He keeps licking you even when you’re begging for him to stop, nose tracing down to catch a stray drop from the back of your knee with a playful dart of his tongue. 

“Was it worth it?” you ask, folding over him as he wipes his mouth clean in your drenched skirt. You know it’s just the start but you already feel wrung out and feather-light, wicking away the sweat that’s beaded on your own face despite the cool, dry air of the room. 

“Hmm?” he hums a bit, disentangling to stand up and hold your face in his hands. His pupils are blown, sweat beading on his temples, but he looks as satisfied as you hoped he would be, your arousal drying on his slender features.

“All the prep,” you say. “Isn’t that why–do I taste as good as you expected after all that?”

Doyoung looks down on you, amused. Already you feel like you’re heating up again, with how his dark eyes flit to your mouth and back up again. 

“You think I prefer you prepped?” he asks, angling his head down besides yours to whisper in your ear. “The next time I eat that perfect little pussy of yours I want it to be filthy.” 

He traces the lobe with his teeth for good measure, pulling another moan out of you. “I’ll even make sure to wait until the other two have a go at you, first.”

You feel your heartbeat stutter as he presses his lips to your pulse point, tongue darting past his lips to dab at the sweat there.

“No, precious, I wanted to make sure the perfume we make tonight matches all of you.” Doyoung’s nose brushes your ear as he breathes in your scent. “Every time I wear it I’m going to remember the way you sounded when you first came for me and me only.”

The promise of it has you feeling a different kind of heat, dizzying for how much you want it to last past this night. 

“Fuck,” you whisper explosively, eyes clenched shut to stay fixed upright, fisting the thin material of his collar as he pulls you from the countertop and against the hard planes of his body. “I need you. Now. Please.”

“I like hearing you say that,” he chuckles a bit. “But I’m going to make you earn it. You can wait a little longer. You made me wait years, after all.”

You let him guide you into his lap, in the chair, pushed into the desk as he opens the notebook to another page. And another, until you take over and explore it for yourself. In the dim golden light from the street outside you catch glimpses of colors and drawings, notes written of impressions and memories you’d all but forgotten in your haze of grief these past few years. 

There’s even photographs taped to some of the pages–ones you know well by the fact that they’d been taken on your camera. Doyoung didn’t have Jaehyun’s artistic training but he did have an eye for capturing candid moments.

November, your first year of college. You’re standing in the first snow of the season, catching flakes on your tongue. You can still feel the burn of them, hear the murmur of the city dulled in a fresh blanket of white and taste the roasted yam you’d eaten, tossing it in your mittened hands until it was cool enough to peel. 

Doyoung’s shoulder is off-kilter beside yours, unable to capture himself in the frame for all his long reach. The peek of the striped scarf you’d knitted for him in gray and blue is all that’s visible of him under his peacoat, the mismatched weave of it captured even in this poor exposure.

“Base note: cedarwood,” you read, carefully, eyes hazing a bit with emotion. Evergreen.

“I still have it, you know,” he murmurs against your temple. “I only stopped wearing it because it started unraveling.”

“I’d make you another but I quit knitting after making three scarves,” you say, wryly. “Well two and a half, actually, I ran out of yarn on Jungwoo’s and made him a hat instead.”

“I thought you were just trying to get him to hide that ridiculous military haircut,” Doyoung muses. “Keep going or we’ll be here all night.”

“Now you’re impatient?” you ask, cementing your flirtation by shifting in his lap. You can’t ignore the feeling of his erection folded against the curve of your ass, or the way he grunts when you find a better seat with it nestled between your thighs.

“Sometimes I forget you were put on this planet to vex me,” he says. You’re lifted up by the waist, a hand on your lower back the moment you’ve found the desk for support, face above the book. 

“Why don’t you try reading until I’m satisfied you know exactly what you’re getting?”

You don’t fight him, elbows bent as he rucks up your skirt. You feel your face grow warm with blood as you find yourself exposed to him again, locked in by his legs and his groping touch reaching up beneath your shirt. 

"Base notes: amber and–" you have to fight to keep your voice steady as he swats your exposed curves, hard enough to sting. 

"Ambergris,” he corrects, voice fried with delight.

“Ambergris,” you repeat. “And white musk."

"Good. And?"

"Bisabol–" you begin, corrected with another slap on your ass that hits, hard, glass jingling on the table.

"Did you jump ahead?" He asks, knowing full well your eyes are swimming with tears. 

"No sir," you say. “I didn’t think that was a real word.”

"Opoponax." He says, reaching over you to grab a bottle, dropping a thick oil on you and rubbing it into your bruising skin. "Also known as sweet myrrh. Go ahead. Keep reading."

"Source: distilled from resin from ancient groves in Somalia, bought in Mogadishu from a local orchard, all profits to fund schools and clinics for women displaced by civil war." 

"Do you believe this to be a charitable effort?" He asks, hand spreading over your buttocks. You think he might be referring more to your arrangement than whatever is written on the page.

"No," you say. Your history and political know-how might be lacking but you've seen the wrong side of kindness. "It sounds like what people write to make themselves feel better about exploitation."

"Clever girl," he answers. You feel his nose brush against your skin, testing the mingling of scent with it. "Keep going."

You turn the page, swallowing back your protests. This spread is rich with text and color, a veritable garden bursting from the page. You fix on the first entry in the upper corner, bracing yourself for another faux pas.

"Heart notes: Turkish rose," you say. "What is this, poetry?"

"Aren’t you familiar with it?"

You shake your head, lips pursed in delight at the scrawl of English. “No.”

You let out a gasp as he bites the flesh nearer your back, the sting of it surely leaving a mark by the way the pain lingers.  

"Read it," he says, dipping over you for another bottle. “You’ll remember.”

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows," you dictate, stumbling over every word and yet never punished for it. Instead Doyoung lets a steady drip of the bottle fall down the back of your leg to your knee, his fingers bringing up the rest to mix what he's already poured on you.

"Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, with sweet musk-roses and with eglantine." 

You end your recitation in a whisper, leather binding and paper gripped in your fingers as he massages the oil gently into your tingling skin, careful to avoid where your legs are locked together in arousal. You're heady with scent and sensation, awaiting some reminder that this isn't just a strange dream you’ve wandered into.

"There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, lulled in these flowers with dances and delight," he finishes for you as he paints the rest up your spine beneath your shirt. You let him ministrate on your body as the words settle, as time recedes and you face a version of your youth you’re not sure isn’t just fiction. 

That book beside you, the first time he’d spoken to, long forgotten.

“Midsummer’s Night Dream,” you say, turning to face him again, settling between his thighs as he fails to meet your gaze. You lift his face with your fingers, cheeks indented by your gentle hold. “You remembered that, too?”

“It was the first time you ever looked at me,” he says. “And it felt like you saw right through me.”

No, you’re not dreaming. You’re the architect of this moment just as much as he’ll claim to be a cursory observer if confronted on it. 

You take in his mismatched eyes–one folding a little more than the other when he smiles at you ruefully. Those freckles you’d never really spent time examining, a happy accident of the time he’d spent with you in the sun. His fingers catching yours for a moment when you weren’t paying attention.

But most of all, the haunted cast where he’d lost sleep managing someone else’s problems. When he’d still been worrying about yours.

“You’re always thinking of how to take care of the people around you, I think you’ve forgotten how to relax and let other people take care of you.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t think I ever really saw you until now.”

“What didn’t you see?” he asks, expectantly.

Six years of his careful distance from you, that coldness and disinterest just another mask for someone who was as raw and vulnerable and real as you if you managed to pry open their shell. His tendency towards control, towards the knife’s slice of cutting you so cleanly from his life no one would know your name unless he spoke it aloud.

There wasn’t another human being in their right mind who’d last that test, your only grace being that he’d thought you were untouchable. His best friend’s girlfriend, of course. But beyond that, one of his best friends. 

No, one of his only friends.

“What didn’t you see?”

It wouldn’t require money or taste or a family name to bring Saint Kim down to earth. Just time and small acts of resistance, like the beautiful shell remnants you’d spilled into his hands on that last trip to Maui together, when it had still been the five of you. Each ground down to a small disc with a perfect spiral at its center, a reminder of the beauty remaining in broken things.

You place the notebook in his hands, curling your fingers around his. The pages it’s opened to are sparsely constructed, besides the photographs nestled between. Only you two know what’s there, buried in black sands and blue waters. You can see his handwriting falter where he’s written the notes for this moment in your shared history, sketches of those shells, and flowers.

A single photograph of you watching the others playing in the surf, his shadow cutting across the stretch of your legs.

Top notes: Jasmine for sensuality. 

Orange Blossom for innocence. 

Plumeria, for admiration. a new beginning . . .

You recognize the creamy yellow-white flower he’d tucked behind your left ear when you’d fallen asleep beside him. A non-native plant to the island, you’d learned, worn to indicate one was taken. A weed, like you, now prized as a treasure.

“What didn’t you see?”

You pull back to look at him, giving him yourself without reservation. 

“That I think you love me . . .” you say. “. . . Like I think I love you, too.” 

He looks up at you, astounded, the chair beneath him creaking as he collapses. 

For once you regret being beside him when you’d heard the same words spoken to him by other people, pulled into their lives without you ever remembering their names. The difference between you, you once believed, was that they didn’t mean it. 

Now, you understand, they just never knew the true cost of losing him. 

You watch him collect himself, running a hand back through his hair and curling into his seat, memories forgotten in his lap, bedamned. You’re sure the engines of Hell are running hot for the way he can’t even look at you right now. 

He needs a way out, you think. You’d rather be drowned in other women’s wine poured over your head than be on the receiving end of his disregard again, the script already constructed in your mind before you’d found you had the nerve to sleep with him.

"You can be honest with me,” you say. “Tell me it's been fun but you're not interested in a relationship.”

“What?” Doyoung is just as confused as when you’d told him you loved him, as honest as you’ve been in both sentiments. 

“Your family will never approve of me. I’m just another fling you happened to take a more lasting interest in. It’s better this way. Cut me off, forget about me and move on.”

It's his turn to balk. You expect his pre-programmed response. Saint Kim's gospel for turning down the interested but uninteresting party: deflect, dissuade, detach. 

“No,” he says, face draining of color.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I can handle it. Really. We can still be friends.” 

“No,” he repeats, more forcefully.

“What do you mean, no?” you ask. “Isn’t that how this always ends?”

“You stupid girl,” he says, grabbing your face in his hands so you can’t escape, making you look into his warm gaze. 

"Don’t you get it? This was always about feelings.”

When his lips crush against yours you don't have to speak to respond, catching his head so you’re not suffocated by the raw emotion you can feel in every movement. You return each kiss until the breath is out of your lungs, until you're drowning in his scent as he forces you back onto the desk.

You’re impatient to feel him, everywhere, aware you’re ripping buttons as you open his shirt to gain access to his smooth chest, trailing kisses as far down as you can go, still unable to escape his tongue sliding over yours.  

“I wasn’t going to do this here, like this, but fuck it,” he says once he’s free, fumbling with his belt as he holds you to pepper your face and neck in a steady reminder of his affection. “I need you.”

“I need you, too,” you echo wholeheartedly, helping free him out of his clothing, pulling his length to where you’re still slick with oils and cum and ready for him. God, you think you’ve never been more ready to break around him, to show him what he’s brought out of you with this game.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore,” you whisper. 

You watch his face, breath held and heart stuttering as he sinks into you slowly, both of you gasping at the way your heat resists each measure of his continuous thrust. It feels like he’s barely in you when he stops, making you moan in dismay.

“Doie, please,” you say, trying and failing to wrap your legs around his slender hips to capture him deeper. You’re half out of your mind with that burning weight inside you remaining still.

“Say it,” he says, taking off your shirt to have access to your skin. He pulls down your bra, nipples tugged between his fingers as he assaults your neck with his tongue and teeth.

“It’s special,” you choke out. “Thank you, please–”

“Say it,” he corrects, twitching inside you but not moving an inch more. He curls down to nip at your breast above the lace, sucking a mark into the softest part. “Without the ‘I think’.” 

“No,” you resist, realizing what he’s asking too late. Your nails sink into his half-bared shoulder, head rolling against his. “You don’t get to torture me for that.”

“Don’t chicken out on me now.” Doyoung laughs against your cheek, hand splaying around your hip to still your squirming. “I can do this as long as it takes.”

He thrusts, just a little more, making you cry out in desperation as the contents of the desk tinkle behind you. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “You think I love you?”

“So, so close.” He pulls out, rocking into you again to feel the seize of your entire body when you anticipate just how far he’ll go before denying you. A little more, at least, and you can feel how much it’s taking for him, see the strain in his body as he holds back.

“You love me,” you tease, this time not a question, no you think. “Saint Kim loves me.”

He sheathes himself in you fully, gripping your nape to kiss you as you clench involuntarily around him, protests in the back of your throat muffled by his tongue sliding across yours. He tugs at your bottom lip when he breaks free, fully smiling now like he isn’t buried completely in your cunt just warming himself instead of chasing his own bliss.

“What did you call me?” he asks, leaning over you to retrieve something. 

You take advantage of his distraction to snake a hand between you, slipping beneath your skirt before it’s grabbed, tight, and brought up to his lips. 

“Don’t cheat,” he says, wrapping your fingers around the cap of a bottle. 

“You never heard anyone call you that?” you murmur, opening it. 

You smell spring flowers and delicate citrus before it’s taken away, set aside when you nibble and suck at his sensitive ear to make him twitch, hands drifting across his ticklish belly down to his hipbones. He reads your intent again, stopping whatever silly task he’s doing beside you to lift your wrists to his shoulders. 

“The name is a little ironic, isn’t it?” you say, squeezing him experimentally with your thighs as you stroke his nape with your nails. You flex other muscles too–earning the grunt he makes as he feels you squeeze around his girth. 

He angles your head, pressing something wet and soft to where your pulse flutters in your neck. You’re immediately permeated with a light, airy, sweetness, the different scents revealed like a melody that ends in that richer, warmer scent from earlier. 

“Is that my perfume?” you ask. 

“An anointment,” he says, blowing across your skin to dry it and sending a shiver down your spine to where your bodies are locked together, that fullness and muted pleasure of him radiating down to your toes.

“I do seem to have a demon inside of me,” you sigh into his neck as you rest your head against his shoulder. “Do they do that in exorcisms?”

“Blessings,” he corrects, adjusting with another grunt. “We’ll find out if it worked in about an hour.”

“An hour?” you grumble. “You think you can keep torturing me that long?”

“I think I gave you the key to your own cage,” he says, checking his watch. “About five minutes ago. Does it feel like longer?”

You mumble something into his rumpled collar, making him laugh beneath you. Even just that tiny movement has you involuntarily gripping him, abdomen clenched. 

“What’s that?”

“I’llsayitifyoumakemecome,” you repeat, embarrassed enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck again. 

“You think this is a negotiation, Y/N?” Doyoung’s hands are back on your breasts, thumbing the areola in slow circles that are very much a reminder of his touch earlier on your throbbing clit. You whimper, trying to stay still so he doesn’t figure out that if he continues to do that you might have a chance–

“You trying to make me come squeezing me like that?” he asks, breath ragged. “That seems like a quick way to end this.”

“You . . . you could just fuck me,” you wheeze, feeling the way he teases your pebbled, hard nipple with lighter brushes, his mouth quirked where it’s pressed to your forehead. 

“What if I want to make love to you, instead?” he asks. He inhales sharply at your body’s response. 

“Fuck, you liked me saying that, didn’t you?”

You nod, unable to speak, holding onto him in desperation as the combination of his words and soft strokes make you melt into the pleasure of every small motion of him inside you. You realize he’s unconsciously pushing into you, too, unable to keep his hips from pressing into yours. 

Overstimulation is making you hyperaware of the scratch of his unzipped jeans against your burning thighs, the random brush of his open belt against your belly. Time seems to disappear as he holds you quietly, letting you soak up the fragrant, radiating warm reality of him.

“I can wait all night for it,” he threatens, even just his lower register making you quiver a little around him. “Count every time you twitch and moan on me until you break.”

You’d felt him flag a little while he worked but now he’s fuller inside you, stretching you wide as he twitches to life. It’s even hotter than all of this build-up, you think, knowing he can act a menace but that the idea of you surrendering to him is what’s really getting him off.

Of course, you think, mentally steeling yourself like you’re preparing for war. In a way this is something like it, up against as formidable a foe as he is. 

“Doie,” you whisper, threading your hands in his hair as you nuzzle for his lips, kissing him softly and intimately, like it’s your first time. “When did you know?”

“What?” He goes a little rigid against you, unable to hide his rapid heartbeat with how close you’re pressed to him. You blink up at him, expectantly. 

“When did you first know you loved me? Really?”

He smiles, shyly, but you see the hint of anxiety on his features beneath his arousal. There it is, you think, having to hide your own satisfaction. 

“Is this a trick question?” he asks, warily, eyelashes half-lowered.

“Not if I know the answer,” you say, smoothing his kiss-swollen lips with a touch. “I don’t think it’s in that book, either.”

“Really?” He’s intrigued, a tentative rock of his hips against you making you dizzy. “Tell me.”

You shake your head, just as playful. 

“I’ll tell you later,” you say. “After.”

He sighs explosively, nose wrinkling. “You don’t know.”

“Want to bet?” you ask. It’s always a little thrilling seeing Doyoung presented with an opportunity he can’t resist. He fumbles for the notebook beside you, almost slipping out of you when he has to reach even farther for a pen.

“Write it down,” he says, smug as a cat who’s caught something small and easily toyed with. 

“Only if you do, too,” you say.

His answer is a pained sound of agreement, adjusting himself against the desk. 

“No peeking,” you say, flipping to a page in the back. 

“Wait,” he says, grabbing the book before the nib of the nice pen touches the creamy paper. “What are the terms?”

You ponder for a moment, feeling a grin slide onto your lips. “Doesn’t our perfume need a name? Whoever is right, gets to name it.”

You can practically taste his delight as he leans in to kiss you, forcing you to pull your page closer to you. You make him wait, filling the blank space as best you can with detail as he fidgets between your legs, sending small shocks of pleasure through you both. 

“Thank you,” he says in earnest once you’ve handed him it open to a new leaf, his hand and the notebook shaking a little as he tries to write mid-air, finally resting it awkwardly atop your head in order to scrawl out his own answer.

“My eyes are closed, Kim Doyoung.” 

“You’re a cheat,” he says, shushing you with an added thrust of his hips. 

You settle back on your elbows, already enjoying your victory as you feel the tiny pressure of his handwriting, hear the scratches of his sketch. You're more emboldened than ever when the leather binding snaps shut.

“Now tell me,” you say, looking up at him coyly. 

“Can’t I just show you–”

You snatch the book from him, turning to your entry. Then, to his horror, you rip your page free and fold it shut, tucking it into the pocket of his open shirt.

“Tomorrow morning,” you say. “You had 24 hours, right? I’ll give you my answer tomorrow morning.”

Doyoung looks as if he’s tasted something sour. “You won’t tell me.”

“I’ll tell you that you won,” you say, looking down at his page. You trace the fresh ink with care, admiring his tight script and explanation. “February to April? How could I have guessed an entire season?” 

“Did you at least guess the year?” he asks, looking a little better for your affirmation of his win. 

You nod, finally feeling the discomfort of your position and resting your head against his warm chest. There’s nothing awkward about being wrapped around him like this, the late hour and strange, still space making it easier to forget the world outside.

“Hard to forget,” you say. “I thought for sure I’d never see you again after that winter holiday.”

Another break with Johnny, of course–but this one had been your choice. You’d finally felt the crushing weight of two years of contempt from the people around him, the Suh family matriarch at the center of it all, doing everything in her power to crush not only you but the people you loved. 

And then, when you’d needed him the most, Kim Doyoung had walked away from you, too. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you, either,” he sighs. “It was the first time in a long time you weren’t with us. With me. And it was my fault for pushing you away when you were just trying to–”

“It’s in the past now,” you cut him short with a finger pressed to his lips. 

The memory is painful, still–and you don’t want to sully this moment with it. You appreciate that even in his roundabout admission there’s a clear understanding for all you’d been through. You’d hoped he remembered that time from the past, when you’d first peered between the cracks in his carefully-manufactured facade.

Now you could be sure of what it meant to him. You feel like your own walls are crumbling, the light shining through. 

“So you chose the period of time when we didn’t speak to one another, at all?” you muse. “Not just one day?”

“You know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he says. “You were on my mind every minute and every hour of those three and a half months.”

He pauses, sigh warm against your brow. “I couldn’t tell you when I knew, for sure. I certainly couldn’t admit it, then, even to myself. But sometime then, I realized I cared more about you than a friend.”

You’d never doubted he was capable of it, never doubted it might be true. But hearing him admit it, now you know why he wants to hear it from you, too.

“Say it,” you say.

He finally looks at you again, tired but alight with amusement.

“You first,” he says.

“Who knew three simple words would be so difficult for Saint Kim?” you tease him.

“Alright. Come here,” he motions, slipping out of you with a shared groan. He pulls you to a couch under the shuttered window, settling down and forcing you to straddle him. In this position he can’t stop you from immediately taking all of him, his eyelids fluttering when you bottom out.

“You feel like heaven,” he murmurs. 

“You’re not going to last,” you laugh, delighted by the way his nose scrunches when you clench around him. 

“Says the girl who’s sucking me in like you never want me to leave.” He grabs on to your hips to roll them against his own, fingers tightening when you wriggle against him. “You’re gonna say it first even if I have to fuck it out of you.”

“Whoever comes first, then?” you offer.

“I can live with that,” he sighs, head resting back on the couch. 

You rock on your knees slowly, satisfaction warming you throughout as you force him all the way inside you. You let him hear how he makes you feel, pleading sounds and whispers every time he hits that place in your upper walls, curved inside of you perfectly. It doesn’t matter if you're in control you can’t help but hunt down that lovely rush of pleasure in your belly, twining your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself. 

“Good girl,” Doyoung praises, watching you in awe through half-lidded eyes. “You’re so beautiful. I always wanted to know what it would look like when you lost yourself with me.”

His words make you shiver, brushing his lips until he holds you against his mouth to show you how he likes it, less exploratory and more confident. It’s maddening how good he is at this, making you feel every single sweep of his tongue across yours, hand on your neck keeping you from escaping. 

“Don’t you want to–” you protest as he helps you to lay flat on your back across the length of the wide loveseat, settling between your thighs. 

“Oh god, Doie,” you whimper when he takes over, finally, finally, beginning to fuck you. It’s just as slow but at least he penetrates you fully before pulling out almost all the way, shoulders quaking as he holds himself up. 

“Promise me you'll let me dote on you for the rest of your life,” he says, not waiting for your response before driving into you again. His movements are barely controlled, grunts escaping the back of his throat when his hips snap into yours again.  

“I promise,” you hold onto him, back arching off the cushion to meet him, blissed out in the relief of each, careful stroke against your fluttering walls. That crescendo is happening whether you want it to or not, every overworked knot of muscle threatening to snap loose. 

“Promise me that no matter who you fuck you’ll always let me treat you right,” he says, voice breaking. “You’ll let me show you how I feel even when I can’t say it.”

“Yes, Doie. Yes.” You pull down on his shoulders, trying to move for you both, kissing his jaw and throat.

“Stop fighting me and take it,” he says, moving more easily with the thick coat of your cum, establishing a gentle rhythm. 

His voice has always made it hard for you to pay attention to anything else but he abuses that power now, murmuring guidance into your neck that has you tightening around him as he fucks you deep and slow. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises. “You’re taking me so well. Take all of me.”

You feel shivers up and down your body, nipples hardening tight as they brush against his chest, his hair tickling your forehead as he blindly kisses and licks at your mouth and chin. 

You’d thought he’d be concentrating on something else in his head to keep from losing himself but instead it’s you who's floating, breath captured in your lungs when he adjusts on top of you to pin your hips down, pressing your leg wide to bury himself to the hilt.

“You feel so perfect. I could really do this all night, you know,” he smirks down at you from where he’s supported on his elbow. “Is that what you want?”

“No, fuck, please,” you whine. There’s no thoughts in your head besides just how much you want that ache inside of your cunt to melt into real pleasure. 

“You want me to stop?” he asks, feeling how you begin to pulse around him as he swirls his hips up into that most sensitive part of you, his flat belly grinding into your clit. You gasp, leg locking around his, helping him work you apart.

“No no no,” you beg, face hot. “Just . . . just kiss me through it, please.”

Doyoung’s smile grows wider. “Say what you already told me.”

You twist your head against the cushion, earning his hand on your jaw as he makes you look at him while you break, kissing you between panting breaths. His confidence is written in the cocksure grin remaining on his mouth, more cruel when he bites at your bottom lip, hard, before licking the pain away. 

“Say it,” he breathes, slowing down on purpose. 

“I . . . ah,” you cry out, “I love . . . please don’t stop.” 

“What’s that?” he asks, pace punishingly slow. Your legs lose feeling, vibrations starting in the back of your thighs and tremoring down to your feet. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you repeat, nearly tipping off the edge, “I’m coming, I’m finally–”

He slows down right as you hit that crest, making you cry out in frustration. 

“Doie, I’ll kill you–”

“Say it,” he says into your lips, pulling out–too far–

“Iloveyou,” you exhale, seizing around him in time to your wildly beating heart.

“Louder.” He slams into you again, merciless.

“I love you, you stupid bastard,” you say, hanging on to his shoulders. “I love you!”

“Good enough,” he says, drilling into you until he can feel you break, orgasm sustained through the painful pressure of him losing himself in your throbbing heat, finding your mouth again, finally, to silence the repeated mantra on your tongue.

You kiss him fiercely, unloading everything words aren’t enough for, legs tied around his waist to keep him locked inside you until he’s fighting back, fucking you so hard the sound of it fills the quiet room. 

“I love you,” you repeat a final time for him, just to watch the way it makes him break, jaw slackening when he loses control, finally. 

He stutters into his own orgasm, teeth scraping against your locked lips, forehead pressed into yours as he empties inside you for what feels like forever, finally collapsing on top of you with a whimper when his arms give out and he’s as limp as his cock inside you. 

You scrape your nails across his scalp, soothing him. You don’t mind his weight, or the way you’re still pressed together with sweat and your combined spend. 

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he rasps, eyes dazed as he looks up at you. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head tightly. “Not for me, at least.”

“You’re not mad?” 

You know he means his inability to say the magic words but you crack a smile, just as pleased with yourself. 

“About the bet?” you ask. “No.”

Oh, it’s delicious seeing realization dawn on his face, little glimmers of surprise and horror bubbling up from his afterglow. 

“Fuck,” he says. You’re grateful he doesn’t deny it, rolling to the side in defeat. 

“Who told you? ‘Woo?”

You laugh softly, rolling over to pin him down with your leg, trapping him against the back of the couch. 

“You did, right now,” you say, relishing having him where you want him. “I had a hunch. And I know you, you’d never beg for someone to say something during sex–”

“I didn’t beg,” he corrects, grimacing.

“What was it? The first one to get me to say it? Bonus points if it’s on your cock?”

“Ah, well,” he says, perking up despite the fist pressed to his forehead in embarrassment. “Then you don’t know.”

“I’ll find out soon enough, Jaehyun wouldn’t–”

“You’re really not mad?” he asks, painfully reticent as you pull his hand away from his face and twine your fingers together.

“Not if it means I can use it as leverage,” you say, kissing his knuckles.

That doesn’t seem to surprise him, at all. 

“Good girl,” he says. “What do you want?”

A few years ago, give or take 

You’re a little too happy, an awful fact considering how much he'd missed seeing you this way.

Lately you’ve been sleepwalking through your life, all those tiny fractures and bruises finally having the time to mend–but healing is a painful process in itself. Doyoung had returned from his family’s formal Chuseok gathering in Singapore, eager to check in on you after receiving sparing responses from you via text.

You didn’t have a friend he could check in with instead any longer–not after that one girl had fled the country, the other ghosting you after their father was mysteriously laid off from a company he well knew did business with Suh International. 

He’s worried about you long before that, terrified that one last straw would break you even if by all indications you were strong enough to take it. After you’d had Johnny arrested and solicited a no-contact order you’d cut your ex off completely, moving to a tiny apartment far from where you’d grown up, changing your number. 

Only Jungwoo knew about it, and it was he who’d reluctantly offered your whereabouts to him after a few glasses of whiskey in their usual club. 

“She asked me to keep her info on lockdown. Got that hacker kid, what’s his name–Haechan? Wiped her socials off the map, so he can’t find her. He did good but you know Suh.”

Doyoung nods. They hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, probably because the idiot was combing through every civic office and apartment building in the city. Hell, he’d probably driven around until he found her by sight alone, knowing that animal wouldn’t rest until he knew her whereabouts, as stubborn about chasing her down as he was about refusing the F4’s help. 

“His mother called me to ask if the place he bought in cash was for her,” Doyoung says, knocking back his drink as he receives a text, heart sinking that it's not you. “Did you help him buy it for her?”

Jungwoo sighs. “No. I just got her rent halved with some coercion, you know? But then he goes and buys a unit in the same building with whatever stash he thought the Old Tiger didn’t know about.” 

The Devil Kim leans back, long legs akimbo as he gestures towards the server for a refill. “He’s waiting for her to go back to Chicago before he moves in. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I did not,” Doyoung affirms, turning away from the group of women at the bar sending looks towards their private table. “Let’s plan for when Madam Suh leaves. I can have her pull him into the London offices, considering he’s failing his courses.”

“Stone cold,” Jungwoo says, smirking. “Glad I’m not on your shit list.”

“Just don’t fuck with her,” Doyoung says. “Or fuck her.”

Jungwoo laughs into his glass. “Even I’m not that stupid.”

He’d thought he wasn’t, either. 

Not until you’d called a few days later, your speech a little slurred. He couldn’t have told you if what he was doing was important even if he was in a meeting, showing up to find you picking at a bowl of bar snacks in what he thought might be one of the nicer bars in your shitty part of town. Not as shitty as your old neighborhood, but it wasn’t a competition.

“Saint Kim,” you’d heralded him, raising an empty glass still smelling of watermelon and hibiscus. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking alone, here,” he’d said. 

You were dressed in one of your few nice outfits, a little on the revealing side for his tastes, but those had been Johnny’s you’d conformed to–animal print and thin straps, tastefully tasteless.

“I wasn’t,” you say, hiccuping. “Alone.”

For the first time in a long time fear spikes his blood pressure into overgear. Were you drugged? Was he going to have to fend off another predator who'd found you vulnerable?

You deserved the chance to move on but there was a real threat in what would happen to anyone who approached you without their permission. Johnny’s, yes, always, but the F4 had also agreed to look out for you well before your last incident at a club. 

“Who?”

“She left,” you say. He feels instant relief, reaching out to adjust the thin coverup slipping off your bare shoulder. 

“You make a new friend?”

You shake your head. “She’s nice. Met her in one of the ikebana classes work is paying for. Thought we were hitting it off but I must have said something dumb because she ran out of here, fast.”

You look up at him cautiously, too inebriated to realize he can recognize a set-up before it begins.

“You didn’t just talk about your ex, did you?” he asks, settling beside you at the bar. He orders something less ridiculous than whatever you'd been drinking, while you scroll through an Instagram feed, finger trembling over the screen. 

You look up at him, color-stained lips curving in an easy smile. “You want to see what we’re working on?”

Doyoung finds himself looking through a grid that is immediately obvious is not yours. His mouth goes dry, seeing rows of beautifully-staged floral centerpieces, the backgrounds as familiar as the back of his hand. You don’t seem to notice, going to the user’s story and tapping in vain to find the picture she’d posted.

“She deleted it already. Huh. Well, she texted me the picture–”

“Stop.” Doyoung places his hand over yours, his palm damp from the immediate flood of adrenaline. 

“So you do know Mona,” you say. You look up at him, expectantly, eyes glassy with the brand of hopefulness and naked curiosity he’s seen you charm everyone else around you with before. 

“She’s the one, isn’t she?”

Doyoung pulls cash from his pocket, not caring how much he puts down except that he’s sure it’s enough to cover the amount he’d like to drown himself in right now. Enough to go blind and burn out the phantom of that face he’d put behind him years ago. 

“Put your coat on,” he says. “I’m driving you home.”

“But I’m not–”

“Now,” Doyoung says, grabbing your wrist. He’s barely ever touched you in the years that you’ve been friends, and it sickens him when he feels you freeze in fear and confusion, that trauma response buried so deeply it's in your bones.

He wants to be kind, he wants to be patient with you. He just doesn’t have it in him to be anything to you right now.

“What’s wrong, Do–?”

“We’re leaving,” he says, dragging you out into the bitter cold evening, the streets slick with sleet, your heels catching on the pavement as you stumble in his wake.

“Stop,” you yell at his back, trying to yank your arm free from where he’s bruising your skin with whitened knuckles. “You’re hurting me–”

“You’ll live,” he says, pulling you to where he’s parked his car, the engine roaring to life the moment you manage to close your door. He can barely look at you, realizing too late that your crestfallen expression is making him more upset than the lightning strike of seeing her name again.

“You didn’t ask my address,” you say, quietly, met with his silence as he drives much more dangerously than the weather permits. He's forced to speak with you once he's slammed the brakes at an intersection, red light shading you through the windshield.

“Tell me one thing,” he says. “Did you try to set us up by having me come there?”

You’re petulantly silent now, an answer in itself.

“Answer me,” he orders, hands gripping the wheel.

“I thought you’d want to–”

“Do you think we have the kind of relationship where you can just do whatever you want and get away with it?” Doyoung’s voice is calm but he sees you flinch at his words and tone, your shoulders moving under your jacket as you begin to quietly cry. 

It drives him deeper into anger, hitting the gas with a roar of the engine the instant the light turns green. 

“You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself for this one, Y/N,” he says, already regretting every word tumbling out of his mouth. “You fucked up.”

“I just thought you could both have some closure after that–”

The car jerks as he brakes in the side lane of the service road, cars roaring past them honking their horns. Your sobs are barely audible over the idling engine and the blink of the hazards he turns on while he tries to find calm, your face turned away from him. 

“You thought that interfering in other people’s personal lives would make you feel better,” he says. “No wonder you don’t have any real friends.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see your full body shakes still, can feel as that armor encasement you’d put together piece-by-piece over years of dealing with loveless reality falls back into place. And, years later–no, even hours later–he’ll remember how at the time he was stupid enough to think it was the right thing to say. 

You needed a reality check, he’d thought. A reminder that all the wishes and hopes in the world wouldn’t change the bleak architecture of it, uncaring by design and much easier to navigate without them. That moving on was the only path to this idiot’s dream of closure, something you knew nothing about for how often you’d let them pull you back into their world, blinded by sunk-cost and loneliness. 

All the things he wished he believed for himself, but without the benefit of your optimism.

“Fuck you, Kim Doyoung,” you say, opening the car door and slamming it shut without so much as a glance behind you. He’d waited to make sure you reached the nearest bus stop before driving off, calling Jungwoo to let him know you were here–crying in the cold. 

He'd seen you in passing.

His best friend knew a lie when he’d heard it, most especially from him. 

He wouldn't hear from you again until spring.

Kim Doyoung can’t sleep. 

He’s not allowed to. 

He can’t move either, arm going numb beneath your curled body, your breathing finally easing for the dozenth time since his trial began. You have horrible sleep habits–kicking off the covers, stealing the pillows–but tonight you’ve passed out with that same bone-deep tiredness he’d felt earlier, face beatific in the slivers of light piercing through the slatted shades. 

It’s close to dawn, he thinks, the cacophony of insects and birds outside transitioning from a quiet chorus to a full orchestral suite. Soon it will be too loud to sleep deeply. 

“Y/N?” he whispers, tentatively, not daring to move.

You don’t respond, relief rushing through him. It’s not that he’s desperate to join you in slumber but that he’s waited for you to finally surrender to REM. He needed you down. 

And you needed it, too. 

He’d negotiated with Jaehyun when you’d been in the shower, earlier, sacrificing precious moments of shared time exploring your skin and the new taste of you under the water to supplicate himself to his best friend and worst enemy in this moment.

“It’s a charter,” Jaehyun said, blinking sleep from his eyes but awake enough to be angry. “You’re not finding another one short term.”

“I emailed you the tickets. Cattle car but first class, at least,” he says. “Jungwoo agreed to give you his day, he doesn’t want to take her out until after dark, anyway. You can sleep in tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Jaehyun had slammed the door shut in his face, but he hadn’t missed the budding smile on his friend’s face. At least one person was rooting for him.

That’s how he’d earned another morning with you. As always, making up for lost time.

You’re half out of the covers, one leg sprawled over the duvet as you sleep. You’d put on one of his softer button-downs, inhaling the smell of it after he tried to steal it back. 

“Please let me wear you,” you said. “I want to dream about you.”

Being around you like this is more comfortable than he imagined, as if you’re being slotted into a position he didn’t even know there was an existing space for. He’s woken up to women in his bed but you’re the first who’s ever asked him for this, particular experience.

“I used to have this fantasy, you know, whenever we crashed at your apartment.” He’d watched you go sheepish recalling, dates omitted for a reason. “Sometimes I’d lie there and touch myself thinking about you crawling into that guest bed–maybe a little drunk or you’d forget which room. Or maybe, you just wanted me to think that. I’d be awake but I’d pretend to be asleep while you . . . used me.” 

He experiments by tracing his fingertips up your bare leg, the peek of your lace underwear beneath the hem of his shirt maddening for how it curves into the crest of your ass, presented for him. A treat dangled before him, the command to partake only that you wanted him to make it slow–you wanted to wake to it.

He sucks a breath in, erection in his sweatpants hard against the band already from just watching his sleeping beauty. He finds every mark on your leg, every fine hair, thanking Heaven above you aren’t overly sensitive or ticklish like he is when his hand slips beneath his shirt to your belly. 

He slots himself against you, carefully, as if adjusting in his sleep. He has to wait for your breathing to even out again, slipping his free hand up to your breasts. 

“Used you? Did you not get off in this scenario?”

“I mean, yes. But it’s mostly about you. You wouldn’t say anything at all, you’d just fuck me full of your cum and then you’d leave me leaking it on your sheets and go back to your room. Or sometimes I’d crawl in your bed, if you were alone, and you’d cover my mouth so the others couldn’t hear it. And the next day it would be like nothing happened, you wouldn’t even bother to ask how I’d slept.” 

He loved how much of a slut you were, when you felt comfortable enough to share that side with someone. Johnny had certainly never appreciated the subtleties of your nature–too blinded by adoration to even consider degrading you on purpose. 

No, Doyoung had known for awhile you pushed the boundaries with him to see if he’d break.

Your nipples harden even though he’s barely handling them, discovering what shape your breasts make in repose as he tries desperately not to rut into the swell of your ass. Warming himself in you earlier had been one of the hardest challenges he’d faced but it had been worth it to learn you inside and out, to know how to make you grip his cock with that delicious little cunt of yours with just a kiss or a word that pleased you.  

You don’t wake but he knows he’s gotten through to that little lizard brain of yours when your legs rub together unconsciously, pushing back into him so his cock is settled between your buttocks. The friction from the lace is like the proverbial pea under a mattress–rubbing against his cock through the layers, catching on the veins and scraping the underside of his cockhead. 

It’s already a nice ache, one he ignores as he adjusts to better continue plucking and teasing at your body beneath your shirt, until you’re used to his touch enough to truly fall back under, once more.

You're so vulnerable, completely at his mercy as he brings his hand down to test the patch of moisture growing in the fabric, that lace sticky with your dreams of him. 

Use you, he thinks. You have no idea what he wants. 

Doyoung can play with the fantasy of you crawling into your boyfriend’s best friend’s bed while he’s passed out in the other room, determined to be punished for waking a sleeping monster . . . but it’s not what he's fantasizing about now. 

He takes time in stroking you, a single finger digging in between your lips through the fabric, listening intently for your breathing to change. You sigh, one of those full exhales one does in their deep sleep, but you arc back a little, into his touch, leg falling forward crooked so you’re a little more spread. 

Doyoung wishes he could move down there and use his nose to push you apart instead of his hand but that’s not your fantasy–not this time. You didn’t want him to spoil you anymore, completely underestimating his love for it. True, he didn’t often eat other girls out, too personal or just too much of a chore to figure out what they liked, but you weren’t ever going to be with him and not come from that first. 

Just the thought of tying you up so he can spend hours fucking you on his tongue is making his cock pulse, too hard to be ignored. He quietly pulls down the drawstring of his sleepwear, freeing himself so he can replace his finger with the much wider tip of his cock, biting back a groan as he rubs into that damp, soft lace he’d known would suit you the moment he’d touched it in the display box brought to his private buying room. 

You'd never know he’d already fucked himself with it before ever giving it to you, that errant fantasy of touching you finally realized as you whimper a little in your sleep at the soft push of him between your legs. He finds where your clit is getting just as swollen as the rest of you, bouncing against warmth and the promise of unspooling that need with his help, again.

Just his precious little cocksleeve, spoiled and worshiped, showing your gratitude by begging for it even when you’re unconscious. He tests the waters of the scenario by slowly pulling the seat of your underwear to the side, easing in between the fabric and your folds. 

You twitch against him, sheets rustling. He holds still, cock jumping and balls tightening with a little anxiety. 

He only has this one chance. 

Outside in the dark and quiet of the house sleeps the man everyone knows you’re really with, the one who doesn’t have to fight for an I love you to pass your lips. You’d never understood what it felt like watching you climb into Jaehyun’s lap whenever the whim took you, pretending you didn’t know what it did to him or the other two of them watching you.

Your breathing is shallow and your hand flexes a bit, against the pillow, but that’s it. Within a minute he’s grown more confident that you’re still asleep.

He reaches over you, pressing the pads of two fingers against the front of your underwear while he slips a little deeper between your legs, eyes almost rolling back in his head at the contrast between the satiny slide of you and the rougher cling of your panties. It’s a relief as he loses himself to it, rutting from the back while he applies constant pressure to your bud.

“Mmm.” You make a soft noise, but he doesn’t pull free, choosing instead to keep a hypnotizingly steady pace fucking against you. Your hips twitch against him, seeking out more contact, but he doesn’t rush–pressing his head against the back of yours and melding with you in the softness of the pillows and sheets. 

You’re so wet you’re soaking his pants, everything he collects tickling down to his balls pressed into your ass. He’s going to stuff your mouth with his fingers, when you finally open it, make you gag on them while he fills you full from behind. 

You moan now, voice syrupy with sleep. He doesn’t care if you’re still down, not with you gently pushing back, trying to get release.  

Not yet, you little harlot, he thinks, hips going still again. He’s burning at the wait, your cunt continuing to glide against him as you act out whatever is going on in your dreams, the movement making him insane for how closely it adheres to his desire to have taken you back when you were innocent, his little virgin weed learning what her body wanted, seeking it out in his bed.

“Treat me like one of the girls you don’t really like. Use me.”

Such an unending fantasy of yours that he never wanted you, almost sweet for how dumb you are–or just willfully ignorant. He’s always liked the second one better–your little game played out that you were one of them. Dressed in that school uniform, kicking your skinned knees, sucking on a piece of candy while four college-age idiots hid their bathing-suited boners under their robes, fighting or fucking around in front of you so you could keep up that precious little illusion of immunity. 

“Johnny,” you murmur in your sleep. 

It should make his blood run cold but as with all twisted-up and tangled desires it only makes him feel ignited, pulse pounding in his head. You’re still asleep and thinking of someone else, someone not even in this house, the guilt of it passing over him faster than a cloud on a breezy day. 

He rocks back into you, this time pulling out enough that he can find your soft hole, already tight again–the only part of your body not relaxed as he forces his way past the flutter of your opening, cockhead sensitive enough to sense the more textured g-spot where he knows you’ll come fast and easy if he fucks into it. 

“Shh,” he says, finally trailing his mouth against your jaw, pushing into you softly. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

“Mmhmm,”  you reply, nuzzling into the pillow, curling into him. He pushes a knee between your legs, folding you into the bed beneath him as he begins to fuck you, finally taking you for himself and himself alone. 

You’re so warm inside, body adjusting to take him easily for how boneless you are, kitten-like mewls muffled by the pillow. It turns him on hearing the edge of pain there, the way you struggle when he pulls your underwear up so tight it sticks between your folds, clit rubbing against it the way he’d stroked himself to completion with it tied tight around his cock.

“Stay quiet or I’ll stuff your mouth full instead,” he whispers against your shoulder, feeling as always a little stupid but losing that internal cringe when you choke on a moan.

“Is that what my little slut was dreaming about? Gagging to tears on another man’s cock?”

He feels you tense at a bit at the suggestion, letting him use you in spite of the rougher handling. 

“That’s right. You said another man’s name in your sleep. Do you think that's acceptable?”

You shake your head, whimpering. 

“Such a whore you can't keep track of who's dick is inside of you. Tell me, who's fucking you right now?” 

“Doie,” you say, music to his ears. He'd always hated the nickname until you started using it. You were the only one–you were always the only one who made his chest burn with unsated desire when you said his name.

“Who owns this tight little pussy?” 

“You do,” you gasp out. 

“Are you going to forget me? Maybe I need to fuck you so hard you only think of me when you spread your legs for another man.” 

Doyoung feels electric at how easily you begin to crumble with just a few words, squeezing his dick so tight when he says something you like, even more when he makes it hurt. 

“Sleepy baby going to let me stuff every one of your holes until I’ve had enough? Use you like my own little doll?”

You nod, no longer capable of speaking except in a plaintive moan when he leaves you to shuck off his pants and pull down your ruined panties, pillow pulled beneath your belly to force your ass up. In this position he can drill into you deeper, burying you into the mattress with each thrust. 

“That’s what you get for crawling in here,” he says, fingers digging bruises into your hips to hold you down. “Keep your mouth shut and take it.”

The pleading, almost scared noises you're making have him hard and pulsing, two steps away from coming himself but in no hurry to. He pulls your hair to bring your head back, shoving his fingers in your mouth. 

“You like that?” Your cunt can't hide it, sucking him in. “Get them wet for me.” 

You drool over his knuckles, gagging as he fucks your mouth with them in an awkward rhythm to his merciless rutting. He spits into his hand when he's satisfied, fingers swirling around the tight rim of your ass so quickly it makes you buck. 

“Don't scream,” he murmurs, giving you two fingers at once. You make a noise through the pillow you're biting, gripping him tight. He's gentler with this, slowing, letting you adjust to take him.

“This is my favorite, right here,” he groans. “Feeling my cock inside you with my fingers. I'd fuck this tight little ass again but I want to feel you come like this.” 

He begins to stroke you harder, deeper, wet and sticky when his balls slap against your abused cunt. He keeps his fingers buried in you, scissoring you open as you take it.

“Come for me, Y/N, grip me good so I can fill that pretty mouth of yours.” 

It's a beautiful feeling when you begin to throb, contractions in your ring of muscle letting him know when you hit your peak. He fights the tingling in his balls, the urge to come with you painful for how long he's been holding it back. 

He talks you through it, instead.

“Such a good little hole,” he says. “You're coming so hard, baby, can feel it so well.” 

You moan, loud, as you break, loosening almost immediately, flooding him with sweet, hot warmth. He makes sure the last of those tics is gone before pulling out.

“Roll over,” he says, straddling you with a hand on the headboard, delighted by the sight of your flushed face and starry eyes. You already know what to do, tongue lolling and uvula exposed as he guides himself into your mouth, soft tongue swirling around his tip. 

God help him he's been thinking about this since yesterday, pushing deep enough to gag but not choke, fucking your mouth and the hot tightness of your throat when he hits it. It’s the sight more than anything that drives him to spill hot white ropes of cum into your mouth, pulling out to milk the last few splashes on your parted lips and delighting at the sight of you licking them with your spend-covered tongue.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, dropping down and kissing you, finally, tongues stroking each other until you finally pull free to breathe, blinking up sleepily at him. 

“You do taste different,” you tease.

“I taste like you,” he says, pressing soft kisses all over your face. “My sweet, sweet girl.”

“Did you like that?” you murmur. 

“I loved–” he pauses, watching the smile spread on your wet lips. 

“I love you, you know,” he finishes. You reach around his neck, comforting him out of instinct, but he doesn’t need it. 

“I love you,” he repeats, testing the words on his tongue now that they've flown out so easily, the tightness in his chest easing as you rise up to kiss him. 

“It's beautiful to hear you say it,” you say. “But you're right, I know.”

“I think I even know the exact time and date,” you say, reaching between you into the pocket of your shirt to pull out that torn and folded art paper scrawled with your words and an amateurish sketch.

Tomorrow morning . . .

[Unknown number] [Tomorrow morning April 13th dawn is at 6:17] [I have something to show you. Meet me on the roof of the East Wind Hotel]

Doyoung looks at the text message again, hand hanging over the railing of a dance floor, conversation with the woman by his side forgotten. With the blur of a late night and a trip to a different hotel room, with a different woman, he'd almost missed it.

Probably one of the innumerable flings he's had, Jungwoo recruiting him to get every last lick of enjoyment out of Seoul before he enlisted. His friend snatches the phone from his hand.

“No business,” Jungwoo slurs, eyes bloodshot as he focuses on the text. “I thought you weren't working hospitality anymore.” 

“It's not . . .” There's something nagging at him, like a bird pecking at his skull in time to the drone of the EM, the buzz of conversation. A sense of deja vu so strong he's forced to cycle on it. 

“Pfft. I know you don't bring girls back to your kingdom,” Jungwoo says. “Stop working and party.”

Doyoung doesn't know why he feels compelled to see the cryptic message through, doesn't know why he races across town at 5 am, reeking of whiskey and another woman’s perfume, doing his best to sober up as the designated driver talks about the change in weather, the cherry blossoms in full bloom outside the window.

The morning commute is already surging and the destination central to the city so by the time he makes it he's out of breath from running two blocks away from a jam, head pounding.

“ . . . restricted for non-guests,” someone is saying, voice recognizable as an intern he knows from his leadership program, still stuck on night front desk duty. 

“I just need a few minutes, please. I need to take a picture–” He'd recognize that voice in a hundred years if he hadn't heard it, not just a hundred days.

“What's going on here?” 

You freeze, shoulders stiffening as you turn to face him. Not much has changed–a new haircut, same ratty old sneakers–but you look different. No longer a ghost, but just as untouchable for the skittish way you hold when he approaches, only the barest relief on your beautiful features.

You don't smile, don't even say hello.

You're scared of him, again, just that thought making him spiral.

“You came,” you say, exhaling. “We need to hurry. We need to get to the roof.”

Doyoung turns to the staff. “Is the roof access still shut down?”

“Stair access only, sir.” 

Your eyes go wide at the interchange, something like embarrassment passing over your features as you begin to laugh. 

“Of course this is your hotel,” you state, smacking yourself on the forehead. “Of course, why didn't I think to check that. God, I'm an idiot.” 

“We didn’t change the name when we acquired the chain so it would be unlikely for you to have guessed that,” he says. “What are you doing here?” 

“There's no time and it's easier just to show you. We need to get to the roof, now,” you say, grabbing his wrist and tugging on it towards the stairs. 

“Y/N,” he says, holding you fixed and pointing at the elevator. “We can take it up as far as we need to.” 

You're still laughing maniacally twenty floors up. “I was going to cry if I had to go up another flight of stairs.” 

“Are you really taking pictures?” He asks, gesturing at your camera.

“No, but I started carrying it the first time someone called the police on me thinking I was going to jump,” you giggle, wiping away tears. He feels delirious from lack of sleep, so maybe you are, too, but it doesn't seem to be the case as you spring out the doors, forcing him to guide you when you're lost in the executive suite hallways.

“I managed to sneak in last time, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten this far. I'm glad you came just in time, I think they were going to kick me out.”

He's surprised at how easily things have snapped back into place between you, no mention of anything that's happened as you race up the stairwell to the roof access. 

“Will you tell me–”

“Oh thank god,” you say once your through the heavy doors and collapsed on the green helipad, growing impatient when he props the door open out of habit. He's been up here many times, nothing remarkable about the space besides the legacy sign on top, view crowded by other buildings at varying levels. 

“Stand here,” you say, pushing him into place, turning him by the arms. “Do you see it?”

“I don't even know what I'm looking for,” he says, beginning to grow annoyed. 

“Look over there, at the People's Bank. Relax your eyes, it will only take a minute.”

He feels increasingly foolish but he does what you ask, cool morning breeze clearing his muddled head. The sky is washed in a pink and blue haze, the sun cresting the more mountainous region of the city behind you to bathe the city in solid gold.

“There,” you breathe, letting out a little sigh.

“What?” All he can see is a few birds passing over the vista of crowded advertisements and neon. 

“Do you see the light?” you ask. 

“There's tons of lights–” he begins, cut short by the blinding catch of the sun's reflection on one of the characters, then another. He spells it out slowly, guided by your hand holding his to each one. 

The bank: Sa. 

The next building over, also burning brighter with the touch of the sun: Rang. 

Then an advertisement that has been up long enough most of the original message is lost. Hae.

“How did you find this?” he asks, knowing it would be impossible for him to have ever seen this without knowing the trick of the light. 

“I didn't find it. Well I did–I had to search some buildings for it.” 

Later he'll find out you climbed close to fifty flights of stairs in the last two months, had spent every waking moment not working or in school breaking into buildings before sunrise to find that exact spot, forever amused at the thought you hadn’t checked his family's flagship hotel first.

“You don't remember getting the same message from someone else?” you ask. “I was worried you wouldn't come, again.”

Again. Something tugs the memory up from the oubliette he'd locked it into, Mona teasing him about sleeping in and missing their appointment.

Mona. 

His stomach falls, checking back behind him at the door as if that particular ghost will return to haunt him.

“She's not here. I wasn't trying to set you up,” you say, recognizing the dismay he can't hide. “Honestly. And I know whatever closure you find is yours and yours alone. You were right about that, too, I'm sorry.”

You twist your hands in front of you, suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety. “I did this for me. Because I wanted to know what she tried to tell you, even if she couldn't say it aloud.”

You don't look at him, can't in order to continue. Doyoung feels like a live wire, exposed, two months of painful loneliness and a lifetime's worth of avoidance of this fact all surging through him in this moment. 

As much as he would prefer to leave he's not going to run like he did back then, when he'd ignored the hard parts to pretend like a friendship wasn't something more. Not with the stakes of losing this one.

“You once told me you were just friends, even if you couldn't be one anymore for her after you realized you loved her. How it broke you to be with someone you couldn't be with, who wanted something different.”

“Now you know. She didn't want to stay one, either,” you say. You look up at him nervously, regaining your confidence.

“I just wanted you to know that you were loved, Kim Doyoung. You still are.” 

You turn away towards the door, pretending not to have seen the tears dripping down his face under his glasses. He ignores them, too, not knowing what to say or do to make sure you never leave him again.

The spot never mattered to him, the word and it's confession forgotten in time. What changed that day was having you in front of him after so long, the way you were a reflection of him so many years ago, fighting to be by the side of someone who didn't know how to love you back, the right way.

He'd promised himself than that even if he couldn't say it, he'd show you.

“Thank you for coming. I'm sorry for interfering with your life, but that’s what friends do.”

You'd almost made it to the stairs when he'd wrapped around you from behind, the first ever time he'd held you in an embrace, unsurprised to find you shaking like a leaf as he rested a wet cheek against your hair. 

“I'm sorry,” he says. “Thank you.” 

You relax a little, squeezing his hand. In that small gesture everything is reset, everything is okay again. They won't talk about this for the next few years, even when Jungwoo asks how you'd come back into their lives so suddenly and without any indication that things had changed.

But they had. Deeply. 

“You can make it up to me by buying me breakfast,” you say, smiling up at him, wiping his cheek with your sleeve. “We have a lot to catch up on.” 

“Did I win?” you ask. 

Doyoung can only laugh, giddy, as you burrow into his side to smother him in kisses and teasing. You were put on this earth to challenge him, after all–always right there to match him in stubbornness and competition.

He presses his nose to your neck, inhaling the remnants of the scent you'd made together, one bottle for each, though you didn't have to know his formula was just a bit different.

“‘Tomorrow Morning’ has a nice ring to it, I suppose. It lingers well.”

“It was my answer, actually. I needed to see if I could break Saint Kim's vow of romantic abstinence before I made up my mind,” you say, smug as you move to get up. “Glad you were able to find out before your time was–”

You shriek as he pulls you down again, pinning you to the bed. 

“I still have a few hours,” he says, voice dangerous. “I'd like to hear you say it again.”

[ncityprincess]

How Doyoung would be in bed

I’m so in love I’m with this man it’s ridiculous 🥲

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

-im sorry but he gives me undercover sex god vibes 😭

-like yes he looks so sweet and soft on the outside

-and yes he does enjoy soft and sweet lovemaking

-but that gummy smile and angelic singing voice can’t fool me

-if you look underneath there’s a freak waiting to be unleashed

-he puts his career above anything, so he’s not just gonna have random rendezvous and hook ups

-he’s not going to waste his time on meaningless flings that could tarnish his reputation

-he’s gonna hold out for someone special that he truly cares about

-so when he finally finds The One, it’s game over

-he lets his wild side come out, and he can’t wait to indulge in all of his fun fantasies (with prior consent of course)

-he reads as a pleasure dom to me

-your pleasure comes first, and he doesn’t care if it takes you 30 minutes to cum

-he’s gonna lay there and eat you out or fuck you until you’re a moaning mess underneath him

-like Johnny, he gets a warm feeling in his chest when his beautiful girl is all fucked out and glossy eyed underneath him

-it makes him feel like he’s worked hard to get you to this point, and to see you respond like this makes him feel untouchable

-likes it when you get super messy, especially when you’re slobbering on his fingers

-curses when he can see drool dripping from your lips down to your tits

-calls you his pretty, messy girl

-and i believe in my heart of hearts that this man is packing

-like he has such a beautiful, long dick that hits all the right places

-he loves to fuck your pretty mouth

-like a good ole classic mouth fucking with you on your knees on the floor and him standing over you

-sometimes a he’s a little too rough, but he always assures you that he will stop if it gets to be too much

-in fact, he can be overly cautious with you in bed

-because he likes to dabble in the kinkier side of things sometimes, it’s crucial that he gets your enthusiastic consent

-he never wants to make you feel unsafe and cross any boundaries

-so he’s gonna ask you a million and one times if this is okay with you

-you are his precious little baby after all <3

-I think he also makes the prettiest sounds in bed 😮‍💨

-like you know at the end of love on the floor when he hits that falsetto note?

-just like that

-but he also makes gritty, guttural sounds through clenched teeth

-especially while he’s praising you

-“fuck, you’re taking that dick so well baby” he says as he pounds into you from behind, pushing your face deeper into the mattress

-oh yeah, he’s also kinda rough when he handles you

-shoving you into different positions

-gripping your jaw particularly tight

-slapping your pussy just to make sure you’re paying attention to him

-but he’s like lovingly rough if that makes sense

-like pulling your hair back, but also caressing your face and telling you how pretty you look like this

-I think he would be open to using toys or props too like a vibrator or some silk ties

-would loveee it when you wear black lingerie with stockings or garter belts

-and stilettos too

-he’s a walking enigma

-but if he’s feeling particularly calm and relaxed, he doesn’t mind rocking into you gently

-he’ll put on a cute drama on a snowy Saturday night and hoist your leg up as he spoons you from behind

-lazy, slow sex makes him feel even more connected to you

-when he’s in his softer mood, he will worship every inch of your body

-kisses you from head to toe

-treats you like a goddess

-when you guys finish, he goes back to asking if you’re okay and if you need anything

-and after you reassure him that you’re fine, he kisses all over your face and holds you all night

<3