#kim doyoung smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lisired · 1 month

Text

whisper

pairing: actor/dad’s best friend!doyoung x actress!reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf!doyoung, cheating, secret love affair, age gap (21+), minor impact play, loads of praise with a hint of degradation, protected and unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap ur willy), oral (f receiving), fingering, non-idol actor!au, yet another special appearance by mark lee, taeyong is mcs dad im sorry.

summary: When you were nineteen, you could only dream of meeting Kim Doyoung in his sheets. Behind his back you watched all the movies he starred in, wanting nothing more than to be the one he touched whenever a sex scene came on. So when the opportunity surfaced four years later after you’re casted together in the same movie, you didn’t hesitate to snag it - even if it meant hiding from his wife, your father, and the public. And even if feelings developed.

word count: 8.9k

a/n: 2/4 of the Temptation series. Feedback is appreciated!

Doyoung was doing what people called, “living the dream.”

More like he did an excellent job at convincing people he was. There was something humorous to you about the article concerning the allegedly perfect life of your co-star. It summed his life up as, “happily married with a child, thriving with a successful career in the entertainment industry, and age having yet to catch up to him.”

You supposed what they said wasn’t entirely false. Thirty-six years into his life, Doyoung was still fairly young. He had a beautiful wife, a beautiful daughter, and loved his job with a passion, but beneath all of that beauty was the ugly he had carefully tucked out of the public’s prying eyes. His marriage was more loveless and affair-filled than the show he put on gave away.

And you were a culprit.

The story was a long one. For you, it started when you were nineteen. That year was a grand one for Doyoung as he was getting booked left to right and it begun his legacy as “the actor with the steamy sex scenes.” You watched every single movie. Scene after scene, you wondered how he made something so hot look so realistic, and imagined being the one under him.

Little did you know, your dreams would come true four years later. When you were asked roughly two years ago to star alongside Kim Doyoung in an upcoming romantic drama by the name of Whisper, you couldn’t deny the opportunity. A part of you feared what your father would think of the role, considering Doyoung was a good friend of his, but you were relieved when he wasn’t bothered. He called it “the beauty of acting.”

It was too bad that everything you felt for Doyoung was unable to be faked. You were far beyond attracted to him, on a level that the public nor your father, should’ve, would’ve, and could’ve ever known.

A knock jerked you from your thoughts. Your father stood by the door, peering in as he announced, “Hey, love. Doyoung’s here.”

Fighting your smile was too hard. Now that you were going to star in a movie together you and Doyoung met up often these days, even though you no longer were in the stage of what he dubbed perfecting your chemistry (but all that ever meant was sneaking away into his sheets.)

It stung to wonder if he slept with all his co-stars. No wonder their sex scenes looked so natural, the emotion had to be raw.

Shoving the thought into the back of your head, you rose from your bed and replied, “Alright. I’ll be back tonight, love you.”

“Love you too, dear. Have fun!”

Doyoung was standing outside the front door when you arrived there. He smiled gently, outstretching his hand kindly and waiting for you to slip your fingers between his, which you did promptly. “Missed me?”

Oh, did you. With the movie being a priority for you both, there was never a large gap in between times that you saw one another, but your new-found attachment to Doyoung made every second seem to drag on. You woke up every morning and couldn’t wait to see him.

You groaned, “You have no idea.”

Doyoung chuckled. He opened the car door for you and once you were seated, leaned into your ear and whispered, “Why don’t you show me how much when we get home?”

There was no confusion on how he managed to persuade you into his sheets. On-screen and off-screen Doyoung was relentlessly sexy, and his voice alone sent shivers down your spine. You loved when he whispered dirty things in your ear like that. It was gentle yet hot, and made your whole body tense with desire.

“Y-yeah,” you murmured in your best attempt at feigning unaffectedness. Actor to actress however, Doyoung could see right through you. He knew you wanted him and it amused him how poor of a job you did at hiding it.

On the way to his house, you tried to think of anything but the surge of arousal between your thighs. What you were meant to be doing was crafting impeccable chemistry. Doyoung was an actor known for his undeniable chemistry with his costars and the raunchy sex scenes that came from them, and you being his best friend’s daughter made you no exception to his streak.

You were to play the role of a mistress of an heir who had his life painted perfectly and was adored by his country. In reality, his marriage was complicated and brittle and he turned to a mistress to relieve himself of the things he couldn’t seek in his wife. It was almost amusing to you that the drama seemed to hit the nail on the head when it came to describing what your relationship had become. You’d be damned if anyone said the acting was anything less than extraordinary - all of the emotion was real.

The car ride came to an abrupt end with your thoughts. Doyoung helped you out of the vehicle and barely let you breathe when you both stepped inside his house. He was pressing you back against the door in a matter of seconds, lips targeting your neck as his fingers worked hungrily to undress you.

“Fuck,” you moaned softly. He was making you impatient. “How much time do we have?”

“The whole day if we wanted. Maya took Daphne to see her grandmother this weekend, and they’ll be gone until Monday morning.”

That sounded like heaven. With the feeling of Doyoung’s body on yours, you were relieved to know that you could savor it longer, without having to race to pleasure. You two had also been working actively on the movie a lot harder than it seemed right now, and these little sexcapades were like much-needed breaks.

As if he could read your mind, Doyoung teased as he slid your shirt down your shoulders, “Bet you like the thought of fucking me all day, huh? You want me all to yourself?”

“Doyoung,” you whimpered.

“Shh, don’t worry, baby,” he crooned, sweeping you into his arms and making a move towards the bedroom, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

It was almost telepathic. There was a mutual understanding between you both that went beyond sex, and that was how you landed yourself in this predicament in the first place; you understood his needs, he understood yours.

“I missed you, too,” Doyoung announced quietly as he pushed your panties to the side, helping himself to your pussy. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

You replied in the midst of a moan, “Thinking about me?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed and leaned closer to your ear, “A lot. Thinking about you under me. On me. Thinking about how needy you are and get from the smallest things. Thinking about how cute you sound when I touch you and how shy you get when I tell you what I wanna do to you.”

His honesty would be the death of you. Doyoung was open yet tender in the way that he expressed things, completely unafraid of intimacy and letting you know that he wanted you. He never let you forget that he adored every aspect of your body, showering you in kisses and more often than not, praises in the form of whispers.

You were weak, and it didn’t help that at the same time he was telling you things that made your heart race, his fingers were also pacing in and out of you. He was no longer a want - you needed him inside of you, now.

“Fuck me already,” you cried, your patience dissipating rapidly.

Disapproving of your attitude, Doyoung delivered a smack to your thigh that made you cry out once more. “Where’s your manners?”

You had forgotten them - and anything that wasn’t the growing ache between your thighs, for that matter. It was safe to say that your eagerness had taken over you, although you knew Doyoung would give you everything you wanted as long as you behaved. He was always gentle unless you gave him a reason to be the opposite, and that was on rare occasions. But once he decided to show you no mercy, you were doomed. And you didn’t even want to think about not cumming.

“Doyoung, please fuck me,” you corrected yourself, adding for good measure, “I need you. So bad, it hurts.”

He hummed, satisfied. “Well we can’t have that, can we?”

Doyoung withdrew his fingers and whirled you around, hushing you with a kiss before you could whimper any complaint. All you could focus on was the taste of his tongue in your mouth, grounding yourself with his shoulders as the gesture had caught you off-guard. Meanwhile he was tugging your panties off, with help from you as you lifted your legs.

He cupped your pussy again and you moaned into his mouth before he parted and asked, “You want me?”

“Yes,” you replied a little too fast. “Please.”

“Then show me.”

It was obvious what he meant by showing him. He wanted you to ride him, and you weren’t one to argue. You’d take Doyoung in any position he was willing to try. You just needed him in you.

Doyoung was never too bent on specific positions, either. He was always the one in control, but he was firm enough in himself that he didn’t need to be on top to show power. Even if it was your body making the movements, it was him telling you what to do. Most of the time you had no problem bending to his will.

Right now was one of those times. You yanked down his boxers, discarding them onto the ground with your own underwear in a hurry and didn’t hesitate to reach out for his hard-on. With you already straddling him, you took the base of his dick in your palm, placing on him the condom he passed you then slid onto him.

The two of you moaned in perfect sync once you sank down on him. You could come up with several perks of fucking Doyoung, but one of your favorites was that no matter how much he liked to whisper, he was a vocal moaner by nature. Doyoung was a master at silencing himself whenever he deemed it necessary, however you loved when he refused to restrain himself and even more that he was unashamed; he loved expression through sex and pleasure.

He sounded like an angel, too. It felt like traveling through a portal to heaven whenever Doyoung moaned your name.

Doyoung asked once you had adjusted, “How you feeling, baby?”

“Good,” you sighed out in bliss. He was so deep inside you that you could barely breathe. “And full.”

“Of course. You take it like no one before you, baby girl,” he praised, and all the while you felt like the room was spinning.

Doyoung was indirectly stating that you were a better fuck than his wife. You didn’t like to think about Doyoung fucking other people when it wasn’t movies, but there was a reason that he was balls deep inside you right now instead of her. Everything that she could do, he realized, you could do better. Much, much better.

Deflecting the attention, you asked, “How do you feel?”

“I’m good too, baby. You’re so fucking tight,” Doyoung growled with zero hesitation. He was so fucking hot. You saw him barely fighting the utmost smug grin when you clenched around him.

He was better than anyone else before him too, in every fashion. No one had ever made your skin swelter the way Doyoung had. He said a word or made a bare touch and it was as though your whole body was consumed by flames. Somehow he made every moment feel as blissful as the first time, and every touch grazed upon your flesh by his fingertips lingered on you for days. Memories of what you’d done always replayed in your mind until you could have another taste.

Doyoung couldn’t be paid to keep his hands off of you. He steered you with a single hand clutching your waist and the other played to its content on your chest, bearing in mind that you always loved when he touched you there. Your body was a diamond to him - beautiful and precious, and he never got bored of you. Doyoung had seen you bare and naked an ungodly amount of times before, but each time he fell endlessly in love with it over and over again. He was utterly sure that he could never get bored of fucking you, and the feeling that accompanied it.

He pressed kisses to your neck, murmuring in between, “You ride me so good, baby.”

You were certain that you could explode. Doyoung had too much power over the entirety of your body. He made your pussy throb but your heart hammer, and sometimes he made you so nervous you wanted to cower. But there was nowhere - nothing to hide. You were both naked and exposed, skin to skin, uncovering your deepest emotions with the sex.

There was nowhere to run and you didn’t want to be anywhere if it wasn’t beside him.

The rest of the day dragged on like that - you and Doyoung fucking each other’s brains out, taking turns with different positions. You’d fuck, take a break to do something productive, then ultimately wind up having sex again. There was no self control when it came to either of you, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves.

And frankly, you didn't want to.

As an actress, maybe facades should have been second nature to you. You were the daughter of a director and sucked into the industry due to nepotism - it should have been practically flowing in your bloodstream. But you underestimated just how hard pretending you weren’t hooking up with one of your dad’s friends was.

Especially his best friend.

The reason your dad trusted Doyoung so much was because they were close, having known one another since before you were even a thought meandering in your parents’ mind. Your dad mentored Doyoung since he was nine years old until he didn’t need it anymore. That also meant he was around you often - around your entire family. Including your dad. Ignoring the rhythm of your heartbeat when he was around you and the uneasy tension between you became easier with time, but subduing the feeling completely was impossible. Much less possible when he found ways to tease you in secret.

You were at a party at your dad’s house and Doyoung had been unabashedly eye-fucking you all evening long. That alone made it obvious what he wanted, but it was all in the way he touched you too. Locking arms with you and grazing his hands against you seductivelyf when no one else was looking. It was risky, but you had to admit, it made it a little fun.

By the time the party was over though, you were sure all that lust had dulled into fatigue. Doyoung looked worn-out and gone as he rested on the couch, the last of your guests and unable to drive home because of how much liquor he’d consumed. That was what you overheard him telling your dad, at least. He insisted on getting an Uber, but your dad told him to take the guest room and some Aspirin in the morning.

Doyoung pulled your dad in for a brief hug. “Thanks, Taeyong. See you in the morning.”

“Of course,” Taeyong replied. “And go easier on the alcohol next time. You know you can’t handle too much.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Doyoung teased.

With a laugh, your dad patted him on the back and wished him goodnight, then went to join your mother in bed. You peered from around the corner, suspicion bottling up in your chest. It was possible that he was, but you didn’t want to be faced with the disappointment of it being true.

Arms folded across your chest, you asked, “You really drunk, babe?”

For a split second, Doyoung had looked surprised to hear you accusing him of feigning his intoxication. Then it wore off, and he chuckled. He looked around the hallway, and once he confirmed that you both were alone, admitted, “You caught me.”

You were a bit shocked to know that he was sober, but not that he’d feign inebriety - that didn’t surprise you. If Doyoung was set on having something he’d stop at almost nothing to get what he wanted. He did a damn good job at fooling everyone, too. You were under the impression that he was drunk and only confronted him for your own sake.

“Of course,” you murmured, then pressed, “May I ask your motive?” you had already known, but for some reason you wanted to lay down some cards to see what move he’d make.

Doyoung saw right through you, however. He always did. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t play dumb with me, baby. You know exactly what my motive is.”

And like always, that had you ready to drop your panties in a heartbeat.

“Meet me in the guest room in 30,” he commanded, then turned away in the direction of said room.

No more than thirty minutes later, you were in bed with him. This time he was the one hovering above you, and it made you feel as though you were being preyed on - a billion times more susceptible to anything that he desired to do to your body and you loved it. Doyoung was in full reign. He always had been, but something different sparked whenever he was constantly making the moves for you.

“Want it?” Doyoung asked in between short-lived kisses, ones that never felt like enough no matter how many he pressed to your skin because he was adamant on not applying enough pressure to result in marking you. Lord knew it was all he ever wanted, but it was too risky. Not only would your family grow curious, public speculation would grow about a possible love affair.

You breathed out, “Need it.”

Doyoung chuckled, yet every sign of amusement faded the very moment he prodded the head of his dick inside you. There was nothing but sheer pleasure swarming his face like gloomy storm clouds. Reminding himself that you weren’t necessarily alone, he bit his lip to suppress the sounds he was ever so tempted to make.

You, on the other hand, subconsciously leaned towards the careless side. This wasn’t your first rodeo, but the problem was that the experience never dulled the more you had sex; it did the opposite. Each time was better than the last and you struggled to hide how much Doyoung aroused you. Every single touch, thrust, and whisper had you falling apart at the seams. You simply couldn’t resist emitting even the quietest of moans and although Doyoung loved hearing you moan for him, he needed you to keep your voice to a minimum.

“Shh,” Doyoung whispered, cupping his palm over your mouth as he looked you dead in the eye. “Don’t want your daddy to know that I’m fucking you limp, do you?”

You shook your head in vehement denial. Although the walls were thick and the guest bedroom and your parents bedroom were on entirely different wings, Doyoung still didn’t want to get too comfortable unless the house was completely vacanted. You didn’t blame him. It was much better to be safe than sorry.

“Then stop being a brat and shut your mouth before I have to do it for you.”

That tempted you to fuck around and find out what that entailed, but you wouldn’t take the risk here. Instead you bit down on your lip and squeezed your eyes shut whenever he made a sharp thrust.

Other noises that were beyond your individual control made it all too obvious that you were having sex. The slight creak of the bed and the slapping noise of your skin joining together whenever Doyoung thrusted his hips into yours. All it would take was someone wandering a little too close in proximity to the bedroom to tell what was going on, but as forementioned, your parents were on the opposite wing. That made it easier to focus on Doyoung. The way his mouth fell agape in silent moans or his teeth dug into his bottom lip to conceal his pleasure. The way his grip on your waist tightened whenever you clenched around him. Whatever it was he did, you were completely entranced by his reactions.

Doyoung only mirrored your awe as he watched the way your cunt swallowed him greedily. He could see the print of his bulge flat against your stomach and it sent him into overdrive. If anything, he only began pounding you harder in spite of the noise, leaving you to grip the sheets for dear life and let your eyes roll back.

“Always so tight for me,” Doyoung growled. “Don’t I fuck you enough?”

You whimpered in response as quietly as you could, “I need more.”

“My greedy little slut,” he sighed out in bliss, hips seemingly rocking into you deeper as he fulfilled your wish. Something about him claiming you as his possession was exhilarating to you. You were his greedy little slut. “Gonna fuck you all night long, baby.”

God, you knew he could. It wouldn’t be the first time Doyoung fucked you right into the mattress round after round, until you physically and mentally tapped out - and it damn sure wouldn’t be the last.

Having sex with Doyoung was everything nineteen-year-old you dreamed it would be, and then some. The movies had nothing on the real experience. They were graphic and arousing, but having Doyoung hold and touch you already made you feel as if your head was in the clouds. He made you feel wanted with his kisses and praises directed to you specifically, and the sexual tension between you was practically as good as the sex itself. Every moment with him was intimate and there was nothing better than being able to say that you had the Kim Doyoung in your sheets.

Then there also wasn’t some big explanation. Doyoung simply fucked you good and gave you sex on the ceiling. He knew your body inside out and was your greatest vice. It was natural that you were inclined to come back to someone who fucked you better than anyone else.

Doyoung’s pace began to quicken yet his thrusts became shallower, and by then - after the multiple occasions that you’d spent fucking and sucking the life out of one another - you knew well enough that it was a signal he was close. To say nothing of the moans you could tell he was struggling to contain. You weren’t any better yourself, feeling the knot inside you tightening. Both your bodies were aching for a release.

“Cum for me,” Doyoung exhaled, the drive of his hips fiercer than ever. He was breathless, yet still relentlessly digging you deeper into the mattress without an ounce of mercy.

If nobody heard the two of you going at it all night long, you were sure that there’d be suspicions now that you were going to be walking with a limp.

You cried when you came, “Doyoung!” Your hands scrambled for something to anchor yourself on, anything, the grip of your finger’s moving to claw at his shoulders. Doyoung grimaced and fought a grunt, but it was no secret to you that he was a sucker for a little pain.

Doyoung’s body reacted to yours, releasing into the condom with profanities, followed by the gentle grunt of your name the moment he felt the tightening grip of your walls. You loved when he did that. There was something about Doyoung moaning your name that made you want to finish him all over again, in spite of your sensitivity fresh after orgasming in his hold. If it were possible, you would loop the sound in your brain.

His hips didn’t stop rocking into you even after either of you came, savoring his high until it faded into the post-euphoria of his orgasm. He tossed out the condom, making a mental note to dispose of it properly before he fell asleep, then climbed back in bed with you. “You did well,” he whispered once he joined your side again, embracing you and kissing your skin.

You smiled. “Tired?”

“Honestly? It’s been a long night. I needed this, baby.”

You figured as much. He was fucking you like he worked a nine to five and had a week-load worth of stress to unleash in your pussy. That either meant he was exhausted beyond belief and wanted to sleep, or that there was plenty more where that came from.

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking?”

Your ears practically perked up. Doyoung’s thoughts were either interesting or dirty - or a deadly combination of both. “What’s on your mind?”

“I wanna cum in you so damn bad.”

You had a feeling that tonight was a “there’s more where that came from” kind of night.

Doyoung finishing inside you was something that both of you fantasized about from time to time, maybe a little more often. There were risks, however you did your best to stay safe - Doyoung got tested immediately after he found out his wife was cheating on him, and you were on birth control. You didn’t know when the last time him and his wife had sex was, but you doubted it was any time after he started fucking you. The condoms were a force of habit.

“You’re clean, right?”

Doyoung nodded in an instant.

“Then, why don’t you?”

“Oh, baby,” he growled. “Trust me, I would right now if this was my house.”

You almost moaned when he did that. You were turned on all over again, but it wasn’t like you had reached the point of being turned off in the first place. Things worked like that with Doyoung.

“Condom, no condom, I don’t care. Just fuck me,” you whined, desperate to feel him between your walls all over again.

Doyoung wore a smug grin, climbing back onto you without having to be told twice. “Told you, I’m gonna fuck you all night long.”

And he did.

Misconceptions were popular amongst the lives of famous people, and Kim Doyoung was no exception. The public saw only what he was willing to expose - showing off his family and thanking the world for his endless amount of awards. No one would have guessed that a man who seemed to have such a picture-perfect lifestyle would ever be having an affair.

You and Doyoung were a long story. It started after Doyoung realized his wife was cheating on him with a D-list celebrity. By then they already had been arguing here and there, most of it being her fault. He told you that the only reason they hadn’t gone their own separate ways was for the sake of their child.

And then you came along. Unbeknownst to you at the time, Doyoung had always been aware of your attraction towards him. He found it cute but never thought too much of it until you were both casted together in Whisper, and having to work with you on such a sensual movie made tension between you light up in sparks. It wasn’t long before he confronted you, and even less before you got a taste of what people raved about endlessly in articles and on social media. You weren’t the only girl wondering what sex with Doyoung was like, but you were one of the few who would ever actually get to know the experience.

And goddamn, was it a heavenly one.

It really made you think. You’d have to be an absolute idiot to cheat on the fucking Kim Doyoung.

Tonight was the long-awaited movie premiere. Years of filming Whisper made you feel somewhat emotional, maybe because you could relate to your character all too well. The movie was so suspiciously accurate that you caught yourself reflecting and comparing the circumstances. It was a hell of a coincidence, but you knew that there was nothing more to it with the affair occuring only sometime after you’d been casted.

“You look breathtaking in this dress,” Doyoung told you after the red carpet photographs.

“Don’t flatter me,” you murmured, pretending that there weren’t butterflies swarming in your stomach. Your attraction to Doyoung may have grown beyond physical; a little more limitless than you’d like to admit. But that was a story for another day and another time.

Then, he leaned in and whispered, “You gonna let me take it off you tonight?”

You were glad that there was no more press around since you were on the way to the theater. Otherwise people might have caught onto what was a sensual moment for you. You tried your best to feign unbotheredness, but Doyoung left you hot and bothered and you couldn’t hide it.

Your mouth felt dry. “Y-yeah.”

Doyoung was amused. You were easily shy sometimes, yet also no questions asked to his wants. It was always fun seeing the effect he had on you and messing around on purpose just to get a kick out of it.

“I’ll send you a location. Have Mark take you there.”

Mark was your personal Uber - and the only person who knew what was happening between you and Doyoung. Thanks to Doyoung wanting to have car sex one time a year ago and not checking if you were alone, you winded up having to explain your situation to Mark, but he was shockingly understanding. There was no fear or doubt with him and it was a relief.

Doyoung walked off moments later, planting the seed that was growing in your brain. Seeing him dressed up only watered it, you thought he looked just as breathtaking as you were to him. Now you were thinking about getting naked and screwing Doyoung at some random location, and you had no idea how you were going to get through the movie premiere.

The next few hours were probably the longest of your life. They were exciting however, with all the positive reactions and feedback on the movie from your peers. There was dinner and socializing and while you were enjoying yourself tremendously and extremely proud of how the movie turned out, you needed Doyoung on such a greater level that nothing could satiate.

When it was finally time to leave, you hopped in the car and told Mark the location Doyoung had texted you via iMessage. Other than someone who simply worked for you, you also thought of Mark as a good friend. He was closer to your age than he was Doyoung’s, and was always fun to talk to.

“You and Doyoung going at it tonight, huh?”

You laughed. “When don’t we?”

Mark shrugged. It was a good question that he didn’t know the answer to, but he knew that it was none of his business. Unfortunately however, he sucked at minding his own.

“I, have a question…,” he started, sounding hesitant as ever, which only made you curious.

Curiously, you urged him. “Go on.”

“You and Doyoung,” he continued, still reluctant, as if he was taste testing his words before he said them. “Don’t shoot me, but is it just sex? Or have you guys caught feelings?”

Naturally, you opened your mouth to respond, but quickly closed it when you realized that you didn’t have an answer. The simple answer was on the tip of your tongue - Yes. But your relationship with Doyoung was so much more complicated than that, and you hated to think about how he felt towards you. You had been trying to accept that you weren’t supposed to be anything but a pretty plaything for him to run to whenever he was fed up with his wife and needed some relief. Gradually, you were becoming okay with that.

Yet another part of you was hungry for more. That was always how you were. Whenever you got what you wanted, it still wasn’t enough. You were too greedy and insatiable, and desired all the things that were bad for you.

Mark added when he caught onto your silence, “Forget it if I’m being invasive. I just saw you smiling out the window and all bubbly when I mentioned him and I got curious.”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, although you felt like melting into the leather seat. One way or another, you guessed that you’d have to confront your emotions eventually. “To be honest… I think I do like him. And it’s sick because I don’t want to, I shouldn’t want to, I shouldn’t want him. But here we are, and I don’t think he feels the same.”

“I think he does.”

That made you snort. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m deadass,” Mark said without a trace of a smile on his face as you watched him through the rear view mirror. “Do you see the way he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to fuck me? Yeah.”

“Like he wants you,” Mark corrected. “Like you hung up each fuckin’ star in the sky by hand. I can tell you guys don’t just want to fuck each other. You seem to enjoy each other’s company and with all the times I’ve had to witness you two sucking each other’s tongues in the back of this car I’d be damned if there wasn’t something there.”

You sat there in silent shock. When you thought about it, maybe Mark was correct. You fell in love with how gently and lovingly Doyoung treated you even outside of sex, but you never got your hopes up. Maybe it was just him having the decency to treat you well. Maybe it was the bare minimum that you were swooning over.

But Doyoung went above and beyond when it came to you. He cooked for you whenever you stayed over and held you longer than he needed to. He took you places and bought you things you wanted yet never needed. He seemed to always put you first and was honestly the most selfless person that you knew. That was what you loved about him. He always went the extra mile.

Damn it. You really did want Doyoung.

Mark pulled into the driveway some moments later, and you were surprised to see that your destination wasn’t too far from the venue. It was a nice house with a gate that you told him the code to, and you wondered who’s name it was in and why you hadn’t gone here sooner.

“I’m sorry about what you see,” you responded, a little too late, but Mark didn’t seem to mind. It was understood that you needed a moment to reflect.

Mark shrugged without a care in the world. He smiled and said, “It’s alright as long as I get to see you happy. Now go get him.”

You smiled back. Mark’s words always felt like a pat on the back.

When you rang the doorbell, Doyoung opened the door for you, offering you no time before he swooped you inside and pinned you against the door. You squealed, cut off by his lips latching onto your mouth as he kissed you breathless. You were getting deja vu, recalling the last time that this had happened.

“I have a feeling you missed me,” you said once he pulled you away and let you breathe.

Doyoung pecked your lips, smiling softly against them. “Always.”

Your heart fluttered at the feeling. After your talk with Mark you were now hyper aware of all the little things about Doyoung that you loved, and his cute smile was one of them.

In your attempt to distract yourself from your heartbeat you asked, “Where are we?”

“One of my brother’s houses. He’s not here frequently, said I could use it for the night.”

Even as a wealthy celebrity who thrived off of nepotism, you never understood the rich’s obsession with buying house after house just to hardly live in them. But in this moment you were grateful because it meant that you and Doyoung were all alone, and you could be as loud as and do whatever your hearts desired.

“Oh, I see,” you purred, threading your fingers through his hair. “You must want me screaming my lungs off tonight.”

Doyoung nodded his head. “And that’s not all. I went and got tested again. I haven’t slept with her in a while, or anyone else for that matter, but I just felt like it. It came back negative. I’m clean.”

There were a billion thoughts racing in your mind, and then some. You were throbbing at the idea of Doyoung fucking you raw alone, but to have the opportunity being presented to you was something entirely different. You wanted it. Bad.

“Fuck, you really wanna do this?”

“I really wanna fuck you,” Doyoung said. Then something in him seemed to falter. “Actually no. I don’t just wanna fuck you. I wanna make love to you. I don’t care if it sounds corny, you’re my everything, baby, and I wanna show you that I mean it.”

It took a moment for what he was implying to sink in, but when it did, you were ready. “Show me, then,” you stared him dead in the eye. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can, babe,” Doyoung growled, then crashed his lips back against yours. In the same timeframe you were undressing one another as he aided you to a room, unraveling in the midst of heated fervor.

Your dress landed in a heap on the floor, soon followed by your underwear until you were both stripped bare. You felt exposed, but in an exhilarating way. It meant he was free to do whatever he wished to your body.

Doyoung pinned you to the comforter then went for your skin like he always did, as though showering your body in warm kisses was a natural instinct. Something still felt different. He kissed you slower, gradually making progress down from your collarbone to your thighs. Taking his time to peck your weakest spots. He was showing your body - showing you love.

“Fuck, I wanna mark you so bad,” he said randomly, taking you by surprise. Doyoung had never intentionally marked you, the two of you fearing being suspected, or even caught. “We should get away. Go out of town for a while so that I can mark you, until they clear up.”

You giggled and threaded your fingers through his hair. “Now how would we do that in the middle of promotions - press appearances and interviews?”

Doyoung sighed. “Let me dream.”

That made you giggle again, and Doyoung smiled to himself at the sound. He loved everything about you and tonight, he was determined to show you exactly how much.

“Mark me where no one can see, but you. My body’s for your eyes only,” you told him. Your relationship was committed. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had slept with another person and the very moment you started sleeping with him, you had no reason to want to be with anyone else.

“If I start now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” Doyoung warned.

You shrugged. “Then don’t.”

Tonight seemed to be full of reckless decision-making, and you were tempting him to make another one. It would possibly be the least rash of all the others to come, so when you decided that you didn’t care, he concluded that he didn’t either.

Doyoung’s lips always felt good on your skin, but having him suck and bite on you was incomparable. You felt like a teenager in love for the very first time, infatuated with this newfound feeling and dreading the end. Your breath was hitching as his mouth blemished your stomach, an array of marks forming delicately. Heat suffocated your body as the room seemed to only grow hotter, and you wondered if it was all in your mind or if he felt it too.

You were practically covered head to toe in red blotches when he was finished with you. For a while Doyoung watched your chest rise and fall rapidly with a proud glint in his eye, evidently pleased with his hard work. And nothing felt better than having traces of him all over your body. It felt scandalous, but you liked it.

He rose up to lean in your ear and ask, “I’m gonna eat you out now. Is that okay with you, baby?”

You nodded without wasting a moment of time. It was more than okay if you were being honest, you were needy for him and whatever bit of him you could get.

Doyoung was straight to the action when he positioned himself between your thighs, and the contrast from his previous slow-paced actions gave you whiplash. Your mouth parted open in a moan and you fixed your hands back on his black locks, observing on your back how his tongue moved relentlessly against you.

It was dangerous that he knew your body’s ins and outs. Doyoung had a superpower where he could see right through you. He knew what made you tick. He knew exactly where to touch you and where you were most sensitive. He knew the difference between what felt just good and what left your skin scorching with desire. You suspected that there was a blueprint to your body engraved behind his eyelids. Then again, after two years of this routine - sneaking away to screw one another until your bodies ached and maybe sometimes a little longer - it made sense that he had learned how your body worked.

And god, Doyoung loved how it responded to his touches. Your body always trembled a little, your thighs wavering as you struggled to handle the pleasure. Your breath got shallow and he was a sucker for the little exhales you emit whenever he did as little as touch you. You always reached out for something to clutch with all your might to help support yourself. You were tight as a bitch and there was never a dull moment being inside you. His mouth was watering at the mere thought of going bareback.

You cried as you felt close, “Doyoung, baby, fuck.”

“Let go,” he cooed, then his lips were back on your cunt.

There was no need for you to be told twice. Your grip on his hair tightened as you orgasmed, uncontrollably bucking up and grinding your hips into his mouth. A shriek came from your mouth as you finished, but Doyoung didn’t look like he was done with you just yet.

“One more time,” Doyoung said. He didn’t look willing to be deterred, already set on his mission before the words left his mouth. Still, he added tauntingly, “Unless, you can’t handle it.”

You fired immediately, “N-no, I can take it.”

Your squirming body and fucked out face betrayed your words, as well as the tremble in your voice, but Doyoung grinned condescendingly at how eager you still were to take everything that he was giving you.

“Good girl,” he cooed. Then his mouth was set back on your cunt.

Although the first one worked like a charm, Doyoung had a new tactic this round - fingering you. His ring and middle fingers prodded you, toying with your clit until he was satisfied with your whimpers and stuck them in. All at once his mouth was sucking on you, his nose nudging your clit and it had you soaring through cloud nine. There was something about the way Doyoung made you feel that was incomparable to any other emotion ever evoked within you.

You were still sensitive from your last orgasm, so every move Doyoung made had you at least twice as blissed out. You couldn’t help but emit a cry of his name at even the slightest of contact, quickly becoming overwhelmed by pleasure. To make matters worse (better), Doyoung was like a storm and refused to let up. There was no other option than for you to take everything he was offering to the best of your ability, to prove that you could handle him just as much as you claimed. You weren’t one to tap out too easily.

The pressure was too much. Quicker than before, you were yet again close to imploding. His quite literally handy work was enough to shove you over the edge, and you barely had the chance to warn him before you were thrown over it.

“I’m…” was all you could say before you were screaming, body convulsing as your orgasm fell upon you once more. It was the second time tonight, but deep inside you knew that it was still far from the last.

Doyoung finally showed you mercy and pulled away this time around, lips all wet by the time that he was finished. There was nothing that you could say that would convey how you felt. You could only lie there in silence with your chest heaving at rapid speed as you tried to endure your daze.

“Think you can still handle it?” He asked with a smile.

You were offended that he doubted you. “Try me.”

He didn’t wait around. Doyoung was lining himself up at your slit in mere seconds and the feeling of his tip brushing against it was making you drastically impatient. Moments like this made days without fucking him feel like weeks.

Finally he pushed into you, at a pace so slow it was almost agonizing. Doyoung leant his head back with a moan at that very moment, adjusting to the feeling of your bare walls. You felt tighter, wetter and warmer, and he already felt as if he could bust. Especially when you instantly clenched upon his entrance. One round definitely wasn’t going to be enough.

“S-shit,” you moaned, a clear waver in your voice. There was nothing else that you needed to say - your body definitely gave away how pleased you were to feel him. Your head lolled back against the pillow and you sighed in satisfaction.

As his hips rocked back and forth, the thoughts inside Doyoung’s brains only developed more and more, all of them centered around you. For one, he thought that there wasn’t a single word that could describe how beautiful you looked underneath him. Moonlight snook past the curtains and glimmered on your exposed skin, highlighting your breast and face. The fucked out expression you wore on your face only expanded his urge to keep you up all night, rocking into you slowly and steadily to savor the moment. The marks he left on you also bathed in the moonlight. That was all it took for Doyoung to lose his mind.

Second of all, Doyoung couldn’t fathom why he waited so long to fuck you raw. Sex with you would always be amazing regardless of what either of you chose to do, but he knew it’d be a lie to say that he didn’t prefer it this way. From the looks of it, you felt the exact same.

Doyoung swooped you into a sudden kiss, effectively cutting off your moans. You instead whimpered into his mouth with pleasant surprise, kissing him back with the same passion. When he was satisfied he pulled back and murmured, “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

His praise was your poison. You were addicted to him, intoxicated by him, and even if it was wrong you wouldn’t have it any other way. All your worries vanished when you had Doyoung by your side. When he touched you, you couldn’t even think of anyone - or anything - else besides him. You were all about him, and there wasn’t a single other person that could make you feel the way that he did. There wasn’t anyone who could please or satisfy you just like Doyoung.

You liked that Doyoung didn’t throw words around either. When he called you beautiful, he showed you that he meant it. His fingers and lips scattered around your body, hands grabbing your breast as his mouth sucked more marks into any available space. He meant it when he said that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. To him, there was no such thing as enough.

That’s when you realized you and Doyoung may have mirrored one another. Too much greed in your hearts to ever be satiated, and perhaps that’s why you were a perfect match. You could attempt to drain one another completely, milk each other dry, and still never exhaust.

“You’re mine,” Doyoung whispered between pecks. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You stammered, “I’m yours.”

Doyoung moved his hand to your clit, fingers rubbing to their content. “Again.”

“I’m… I’m yours! I’m all yours, Doyoung,” you cried. You had meant it. Your body longed for him. After two entire years of this, you felt like your body belonged to him.

Satisfied, Doyoung kept up his actions. You were clueless as to how loud either of you were being in that moment. The bed creaked some and there was a loud smack whenever his hips slammed into yours, but you were only focused on Doyoung. Beads of sweat collected on his skin yet there wasn’t a hint of exhaustion on his face; only pleasure. His bare, sweaty chest glistened in the moonlight, and you desperately wanted to mark him back. Just like he’d done you.

It was too bad that he had someone to come back to. He may not have had sex with his wife, but there were other instances where she was bound to see his body and it was too risky. The only reason either of you cared was not because he was afraid of her finding out that he was cheating back, but because there was a chance that she’d put the pieces together. All it took was a name and you would be in hot water.

That thought made something in you sullen, and you had to dispose of the feeling quickly.

“You’re mine, too,” you said. “Right?”

Doyoung reached for your hand and slipped his fingers between yours. “I’m all yours, I promise. You’re my one and only.”

That was enough to placate you. Doyoung belonged to you and you belonged to him, you didn’t care what the documents said. He was all yours.

Now you were approaching your climax, and by the death grip Doyoung was currently holding on your hips you could tell that you weren’t alone. His moans were getting louder and it wouldn’t be long before he was ready to bust.

“Breed me, Doyoung, please,” you begged. You had reached a point of desperacy, rolling your hips into his to match his thrusts as you chased your orgasm. “Breed me, breed me, breed me.”

“Fuck,” Doyoung groaned. You were driving him crazy. It meant everything to know that you wanted this just as badly as he did. “I’m gonna give it all to you, babe.”

Your vision clouded with nothing but white when you reached your climax, squeezing Doyoung’s hand for leverage. As your limbs shook, your mouth gaped in moans but your cunt tightened around Doyoung. That was the last straw for him, the last push he needed. His moans resounded throughout the room as his warm cum coated your walls, filling you to your brim. He came a lot, but you weren’t complaining. The feeling of his seed inside you was ever so quickly becoming one of your favorites.

When he pulled out, Doyoung proudly watched how his cum trickled from you. He wanted to do it over and over again. The clock on the nightstand read two A.M., and that’s when he knew that this night was going to last until the morning.

“Wanted this ever since I first saw you with Daphne. You’re so good with her,” Doyoung said, and you vaguely recalled the time he was talking about. He was trying to keep her entertained and you happened to be fairly good with children. “Knew I had to put a baby in you. I’m gonna breed you for real one day. I promise.”

“Doyoung,” you whined.

He didn’t stop. “You want that, yeah? You want me to fuck you full of my cum?”

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop.”

He grinned. There was no plan of stopping.

By the time Doyoung did finally stop, it was early in the morning and the sun was beginning to peak from the horizon. You giggled when he finally tapped out and fell beside you, and grabbed his face to kiss him on his lips.

Doyoung smiled. “I love you.”

You froze for a moment. “You mean that?”

“From the bottom of my heart,” he said, then added, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure shit out. All that matters is I got you and you got me, and I won’t let anything come between us.”

It felt like there was a wait lifted from your shoulders. You weren’t free to love him whenever or wherever, but you were free to love him however much you wanted. That made it feel okay.

You pecked his lips again. “I love you, too. I’ll wait for us.”

Doyoung held you in his arms. He could only say that you were like a daydream to him, everything he could have ever wanted wrapped into one. There wasn’t one damn thing about you that he didn’t adore. You made his heart sing and dance, and he hoped his body said everything that words could not. There was no way he could explain what he felt about you.

You and Doyoung’s love was straight out of a movie. And this was only the beginning to your chase for a happily ever after.

#doyoung smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #doyoung x reader #nct imagines #doyoung imagines #kim doyoung smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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ncityprincess · 3 months

Text

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

#nct 127 hard hours #doyoung hard hours #nct 127 hard thoughts #nct 127 smut #kim doyoung smut #kim doyoung fic #doyoung headcanons #doyoung smut #doyoung x reader #nct doyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung nct #nct scenarios #nct 127 headcanons #dojaejung smut #nct dojaejung

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hexonthepeach · 2 months

Text

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.”

#kim doyoung x reader #kim doyoung fic #kim doyoung smut #nct smut #doyoung x reader #doyoung smut #doyoung fic #nct x reader #nct fic #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct djj fic #nct dojaejung fic #nct djj smut #nct dojaejung smut #nct f4 au

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yeoosaangg · 6 months

Text

Die For You || Kinktober - Day 23

pairing ▸ kim doyoung × f!reader

now playing ▸ die for you - the weeknd

⤷ ❝the distance and the time between us, it'll never change my mind 'cause baby, i would die for you.❞

genre ▸ idol au, established relationship, smut

warnings ▸ dacryphilia, fingering, hair pulling, marking, wall sex, breeding kink

--------

Doyoung drags his feet into his hotel room, feeling super exhausted from the concert they just had. He saw you in the crowd cheering him on, but you never went backstage to greet him.

It made him a little sad.

He found it a little weird Taeyong went to go sleep in Jaehyun and Johnny's room, but he didn't have the energy to ask what's wrong.

Y/n: Hey there, handsome.

He snaps his neck too quickly at the sound of your voice. He closes the door and rushes into your arms.

You giggle when he spins you in the air, hugging you so tight.

God, you've missed him.

Doyoung: I thought- Why didn't you come backstage?

You give him a kiss on the lips before answering.

Y/n: As much as I love greeting you in front of your friends, I prefer our first meeting in four months to be more private.

Doyoung: I love you.

You giggle and kiss him all over his face.

Y/n: I love you, too.

Doyoung kisses you more deeply, turning the moment into a much more heated and needy one.

His hand slips into your shorts, sliding his fingers around your clit.

Y/n: Mmm, fuck.

Doyoung: I see you've missed me just as much I've missed you.

You moan into his mouth before he trails kisses down your cheek to your jaw, then your neck. His fingers slip inside you, making you moan.

This is an ideal scenario for you whenever you meet your long distance boyfriend.

Instead of telling him just how horny he makes you, you'd rather have him stick his fingers inside you to feel for himself.

And you are soaking wet.

His fingers work you open so good, his mouth leaving hickeys all over your neck and chest.

His hand comes up to pull at the roots of your hair and hold your head back so he can have more access.

He pushes you until your back comes in contact with the cold wall. Your breathing becomes more labored the closer you get to an orgasm.

Doyoung: Go on, baby. Make a mess for me.

You moan loud, cumming all over his fingers as they continue to pump inside you. He pulls them out and you open your mouth to suck his fingers clean.

Doyoung: Bet you taste delicious, love.

You bring your hips forward to grind against his growing cock. Both of you are so impatient to just fuck already, so you help him with his belt.

They stay just beneath the curve of his ass and you take off your shorts.

Doyoung: Jump.

You wrap your legs around him, dick stretching you as he presses you into the wall behind you.

Doyoung: My cock's missed fucking you like this.

You've missed getting fucked by him.

You move your hips to signal that you're ready and he pounds into you mercilessly. You scream as the motion of your bodies makes noise against the wall.

Y/n: So good!

He leaves more hickeys wherever there was an empty space on your body, cock being swallowed by your swollen cunt.

Doyoung can't keep his moans to himself, usually he's so composed. He can't help it since it's the first time in months that he's seen you, let alone fucked you.

You feel tears streaming down your face at how good he was making you feel.

How good his cock makes you feel.

He growls at the sight, rutting into you faster. The fact that you're crying out of pleasure gives him the need to fuck you more.

It boosts his ego.

Y/n: Doyoung!

And now his name falls from your swollen lips, his dick twitching inside you.

Y/n: I'm cumming!

You fucks you through your orgasm.

Doyoung: Gonna get you pregnant, love. Fill you up with my babies. You want that?

Y/n: Please, please, please! Want you to fill me up.

Amd who is he to say no to that?

He thrusts a few more times before spilling as deep inside your womb as he can.

He kisses all over your face and carries you to the bed, cock still inside you.

Doyoung: Can we stay like this? I love having you this close to me.

Y/n: Yeah.

---

a/n: meh. i think writing lots of fics in the span of two days with little sleep has drained my creative juices. thanks for reading ‹𝟹

p.s: i forgot to schedule the rest of these fics, so my bad (╥﹏╥)

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jjunberry · 3 months

Text

dinner & dessert

pairing! kim doyoung x fem!reader

genre! smut

warnings! oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, kitchen table sex, pet names, creampie etc.

synopsis! doyoung treats you to dessert after your anniversary dinner (requested)

wc! 700

all night doyoung had been teasing you. whether it was brushing his foot against yours. running his fingers along your arm. he’s never been so bold in public but maybe it was the few drinks you both shared. doyoung took the chance to sit next to you as you waited for the waitress. his lips made contact with your collar bone and slowly moved up. “doyoung please we are in public.” you whined.

“are you interested in dessert?” the waitress asked. red dusted her cheeks seeing doyoung still attached to your neck. “no we’ll have dessert at home.” doyoung said. you smacked his leg under the table. “just the check please.” you said. she nodded and left. you quickly paid and got an uber home.

on the way inside doyoung was kissing and sucking your neck. “doyoung please let me unlock the door.” he giggled. once you had the door opened he guided you inside before kicking the door closed with his foot. his hands gripped your hip and he lifted you onto the kitchen table.

doyoung buried his face in your neck sucking marks onto your skin. “doyoung.” you moaned. “it’s time for dessert.” he winked before dropped to his knees and pushing your dress up. he guided your legs to rest over his shoulders. you could feel his breath on your heat. “ready?” he asked. “yeah.” you answered.

his tongue made quick work of you. circling your clit before slurping up your juices. his actions had you squirming and moaning. the kitchen table was less then comfortable but you couldn’t care less with how good doyoung was making you feel. he pushed his middle and ring finger inside. you moaned out gripping his hair tightly.

“doyoung please.” you whined. he smirked before sucking on your clit again. his fingers working you. the knot in your stomach began to tighten. “mmm i’m gonna cum.” you whined tugging at his hair causing him to groan. his fingers were pumping faster now. the quick motions of his fingers and his tongue you snapped. your orgasm washed over you.

your legs closed pulling doyoung closer to your core. his hands pushed your thighs apart and he pulled away from you. his chin dripping with your juices. doyoung wiped his mouth with his hand. you moaned at the sight. doyoung was quick to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants and boxers down enough to free himself.

he collected your juices on his dick before slipping into you. you both let out a moan as he bottomed out inside you. “move.” you said. with your permission doyoung started to move slowly at first before picking up some pace. your legs wrapped around his waist. he was pounding into causing the tables legs to scratch across the floor.

you wouldn’t be surprised if you had splinters from how hard he was going. you didn’t care though. he felt so good. he moved his hips pounding into you. “you feel so good baby.” his hands gripped your hips tightly. he thrust himself roughly in and out of your drenched pussy. the lewd sounds and moans filled the otherwise silent apartment.

his thrusts sped up and you felt him twitch inside you signaling he was close. “i’m gonna cum, fill you up.” he grunted snapping his hips against yours. you moaned dragging your nails down his back as your own orgasm was approaching.

“together doyoungie i wanna cum together.” you managed to get out. he nodded. his thrusts were rapid at this point as he chased both your highs. “i’m gonna cum.” you said lifting your hips to meet his. “me too.” he stilled before spilling his cum into your pussy. you screamed out feeling that knot finally burst. your legs shook around him. he gave a few more thrusts to finish out his high.

when he pulled out his cum leaked. he moaned at the sight. he leaned up and kissed your lips. “thanks for dessert baby.” he smiled. you brushed your fingers through his hair. “no thank you for dessert baby, i love a good creampie.”

he laughed before trailing off to get a rag to clean you up.

it was safe to say that was one good anniversary dinner.

requested! by @sadfragilegirl <3

author’s note! first time writing for doyoung!! hope it captured him well. also i hope i’m getting better at writing smut lol anyways let me stop yapping.

tag list! @jjunieworld @304files

love, echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪

#kim doyoung #kim doyoung smut #kim doyoung x reader #kim doyoung imagine #nct #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct smut #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop smut #kpop imagine #kpop writers #jjunberry

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neowinestainedress · 11 months

Note

hi is it ok if i request for a drabble where reader and johnny/jeno/doyoung/haechan (basically any of my biases lol) are in a established rs. i mean the scene is literally just reader gets fucked so good she gets into pretty deep subspace and how any of the guys wld handle her carefully and with so much care and love .. 😵‍💫🙏

w!: subspace, unprotected s*x, dirty talk, aftercare (everyone) | overstimulation, mentioned oral (f receiving) and fingering, (with johnny) | oral (m receiving), fingers sucking (with doyoung) | tied up s*x, blindfold, mentioned use of toys, overstimulation, (with jeno) | oral (f receiving), light dumbification, reader goes silent (idk how to explain this), overstimulation (with haechan)

a/n: hi! wrote something for all of them, hope you like it! also i hope i got it right and you didn't mean a poly relationship

JOHNNY

Johnny always makes sure to treat you like a princess, pampering you any chance he gets and giving you everything you ask for. Even in the bedroom. There’s no denying he loves being in control, but he always puts your pleasure in the front line. Sometimes even too much��

Just like right now. Johnny’s pounding deep into you, pressing you down into the mattress while his fingers keep torturing your already sensitive clit.

You lost count of how many times you came from his fingers and tongue but you don’t care and neither does he.

Johnny loves when your brain shuts down completely because he’s fucking you too good. He loves watching your eyes roll back and your mouth part open, slightly curled up in a cute, dumb smile, while you moan his name — the only thing your brain can remember. You feel like you’re floating into another dimension and you can barely make out Johnny’s face as another orgasm washes over you, but he doesn’t stop.

“Good girl,” Johnny whispers, fingers leaving your overstimulated clit to caress your cheek in soothing motions, “let go of everything. You don’t have to worry about anything, you have me.”

You hear him but you’re still overwhelmed, tears piling at the corners of your eyes and moans getting messier. Your hands try to grab on something but you feel like you have no hold anyway and when you start to mumble his name with urgency, Johnny leans down.

“Shh, pretty girl, it’s alright,” he whispers, kissing your lips and caressing your hair, hips still fucking against you but slowing the rhythm as he checks in. “Can you take my cum? Just one last orgasm, I promise.”

You force your eyes open, meeting his sweet gaze before nodding weakly. “Ju-just one,” you plead, tears spilling down your face as you uselessly try to don’t come another time.

“Just this one, babe. Let me fill you up, alright?” Johnny coos, kissing you again, knowing how much that calms you even if pleasure has gotten to your brain completely.

It doesn’t take him long to come, hips slamming the last few times against your ass while he keeps you pressed against the mattress, muffling the loud groans caused by his orgasm — and the soft ones from you — in a heated kiss.

“It’s alright, princess, it’s alright,” he whispers when you start sobbing, trying to come down to earth but feeling your body on fire and the shock of the climax still buzzes in your veins. “I’m here, alright? I’m right here,” Johnny says, pulling out of you and falling to the side, dragging you along with him so he can wrap his arms around you, caressing your hair as you lay your head on his chest. “You did so well, love,” he praises, lulling you in his arms, kissing the top of your head, and caressing your back.

You let yourself go in the warm sensation, snuggling close to him slowly starting to feel your body again as the high dims.

“What about a shower?” Johnny asks after a while of sweet nothings whispered to your ear.

You groan, shaking your head, and hiding more in his embrace. “Later.”

Johnny chuckles, throwing his head back like he always does and then kisses your forehead again. “Fine, later. Anything my princess wants.” And those are the last words you hear before falling into a deep slumber.

DOYOUNG

Maybe it’s the weight of life and responsibilities, but when you’re with Doyoung, you just want to give him full control and turn your brain off.

And Doyoung loves it, the trust you put in his hand makes him feel powerful — and loved — so he always makes sure to give you what you want.

Gently guiding you with a tight hold on your hair as he moves your mouth on his dick, delicately using your mouth like a toy, hearing the clicking of your heels as your feet swing side by side as you try to create friction between your legs.

You barely made it past the door when you clung to him and begged him to fuck you, and how could he say no?

“Good girl, just like this. You only have to suck my dick, that’s the only thing you’re here to do,” he whispers, gently caressing the skin of your neck while his head falls back.

You don’t see it, too lost in what you’re doing, eyes closed as your mouth sucks him like you know he likes. There’s little to no pleasure in giving oral for most people, but not to you. You love doing it, and something about it makes your head feel light and disconnected from everything.

It doesn’t take him long to reach his high, hips fucking up into you unconsciously while the hold on your hair tightens. You keep sucking until you’re sure he’s done, swallowing before looking up at him, silently pleading for a kiss.

Doyoung is quick at kissing you back before lifting you up and taking you to the bedroom.

“You’re that wet already, love,” he voices out, running his fingers on the wet patch of your lingerie. “Let me finish to fuck your brain out, then.”

You emit a shaky moan when his dick enters you, stretching you so nicely and hitting deep into you. You’re soaking wet, and it’s easy for Doyoung to drive his hips against you, setting a steady rhythm from the start.

“Fuck, babe, sucking my dick got you so wet. It really turns you on, uhm?”

You nod weakly in response and your mouth opens right away when you feel two fingers tap against your lips and your pussy clenches as soon as they make their way into your mouth.

“Can you take them further?” He asks, teasingly pushing his digits down your throat, watching your eyes water as he tests your gag reflex. “Yeah, just like this, good girl,” he praises, watching as slowly nothing but lust fills your eyes.

You’d love to keep them open but they flutter shut the moment you start sucking, arching your back as Doyoung starts fucking you more intensely, he holds you close by the waist while his lips smear kisses on your skin.

“Look so, so pretty like this,” Doyoung praises, “my messy pretty baby. Are you close?” He asks, already knowing the answer, feeling it in the way your pussy is squeezing around him, and how much cum it’s dripping out, but he still loves to see you blink your eyes open, tears rolling down the corner and muffle a low ‘yes, please,’ before you go back sucking his fingers. “Yes? Are you gonna come with my fingers in your mouth?” He coos, tilting your head to the side, it’s kinda like a mockery for him but he can’t fight the smile on his face when you nod swiftly and smile at him.

Doyoung loves seeing you like this, all your walls falling down around him, and being so vulnerable only in his hands. He truly means it when he says you’re beautiful even with spit on your face and tears streaking down your cheeks as you try to fuck back into him to reach your high.

And when it finally hits, is so strong that you bite his fingers for a split second, body tensing up as the pleasure overwhelms you. Doyoung follows soon after, grunting and moaning as he thrusts into you a few times, every stroke sending you a bit more into that spiral of mindless pleasure.

“Fuck, babe, that was good,” he breathes out, fingers leaving your mouth so he can kiss you. “Are you okay?” He asks but you’re not back to earth to reply to him yet, in fact, you’re still shaking and panting, and your eyes are closed. If he didn’t know you by heart, he’d be worried, but he knows it’s just a sign the sex was extremely good.

So he keeps you close to him caressing you and whispering nice words to your ear. When you’re back to earth, still a bit shaken, he smiles.

“We still have dinner to make, I wanted to prepare your favourite dish but you suddenly changed all my plans.”

You laugh, hiding in the crook of his neck in embarrassment before moving back again. “Sorry, it’s pent-up stress leading to extreme horniness,” you laugh. “But I guess we can cook together?”

“Mhh,” Doyoung hums, pretending to think about it. “Sounds like a good idea.”

JENO

Jeno knows you trust him completely, and that’s the hottest thing for him. When he has you tied up and blindfolded and he can play with your senses watching rationality leaving your body with each passing second, he knows he got incredibly lucky to have you.

Jeno also knows you’d do anything he asks you do to with no hesitation, especially if you can get something out of it. It’s cruel of him to make you do all the work, especially after he already made you come twice, rubbing the vibrating wand on your clit until you were shaking and moaning, but he can’t help it.

You’re too cute like this. The white bra still covers your boobs while your chest heavies trying to fill your lungs with air, your lips puffed from how much you’re biting on them, and some tears staining your temples, slightly wetting the black blindfold. But the best part is the way your hips are grinding against the palm of his hand, ‘work for it,’ he ordered just a few minutes before when his fingers started teasing your drenched pussy, and here you are, doing exactly what he told you to do.

“Look at you, such a desperate, pretty little thing,” Jeno coos, grinning as you try to do your best. Your movements are messy, legs struggling against the restraining that keeps them parted, and he knows your body is moving automatically, not a single coherent thought in your brain, just instinct and greed. “Come like this, and then I’ll reward you. Do you want my dick?”

An embarrassing moan rolls from your lips as a reply and your hips start chasing the high faster, eager to have him.

“Won’t it be too much for you? Are you sure you can take it?” He teases but you nod either way.

Proving him right is not what you want, but when he’s into you, fucking his dick deep into your wet walls, you know he was. Maybe it’s not too much, but it’s surely a lot. You can’t move, you can’t see him, and everything feels doubled, every emotion having a bigger effect on you.

“Always playing with fire,” he tsks, “what would you do if I wasn’t here, uhm? What would you do if I didn’t know your limits?”

“I — I,” you mumble but nothing that makes sense leaves your brain, so you just moan his name.

“You don’t have to worry, kitten. You have me, I know exactly what you need. I know exactly how to take care of you,” his voice is reassuring but his fingers rubbing against your clit make you moan loudly, hips squirming trying to move away.

“I can’t — I can’t take it,” you cry out, shaking your head.

“You can, babe. Trust me,” Jeno hums, kissing your lips, dick twitching inside you when you whimper in the kiss and clench harder around him. He knows that if you weren’t tied up you’d be hiding your face, so he decides to get rid of the blindfold and see your wrecked expression. “You’re so pretty when you look like a mess for me,” he praises.

At this point you can only smile numbly, letting your head roll back as another orgasm washes over you, triggering his soon after. Legs shaking, and cheeks stained with tears as you moan his name like a chant, that’s all he needs to come into you.

“Fuck, babe,” he moans breathlessly, shaking his hair out of his face as he slowly pulls out of you, “you did so well. Let me get you out of this, uh?” He says as he undoes the knots and runs his hands on your skin to caress it even if there are no marks on it. “Are you okay?” He asks when he lays next to you, pulling you close to him. You can only hum and nod, feeling your eyes heavy.

“There should be some ice cream left, I think you deserve it,” Jeno proposes, caressing your hair and then rubbing his thumbs on your cheek.

You giggle, nodding weakly. “If you drag me to the kitchen.”

HAECHAN

Haechan starts with subtle touches, on your back, on your arms, on your thighs, and then it moves to kisses, every now and then, each one in more daring places, but all with no sign of giving you what you want the most.

And only after edging you for hours, he has you on his bed, squirming, moaning and crying as he edges you over and over again. His mouth is his favourite thing to use to watch you fall apart, sucking your pussy eagerly while his hands roam on your body, torturing your clit until your hips start bucking against him and your thighs clench around his head.

Now, there’s a very specific reason why Haechan loves teasing, edging, and overstimulating you.

The first time you stopped answering him, he panicked, thinking he had done something wrong, but after a while, he realized you only did this when the sex was particularly good. So after he talked to you, and made sure it was something normal for you, he never missed the chance to tease you.

“Oh, what’s wrong, babe? Dick so good you forgot how to talk?” He taunts, a smug smirk on his face as he slightly slaps your cheek to make sure you’re at least listening, and when you nod, pleading, almost apologetic, eyes looking up into him, he chuckles. “Yeah? That’s alright, babe. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Just be my pretty, good doll and take everything. It feels good, right?”

You nod mindlessly, sinking your nails into his skin as you come again, pleasure never ending as he keeps fucking into you, hitting your sweet spot until your legs shake.

Haechan groans, holding himself back to don’t come and keep stimulating you, driving you past your limits.

“Can you take another one for me?” He still asks, watching you nod and vainly open your mouth to let out a verbal reply. “It’s alright, I don’t need your words, babe. Just stay with me.”

So you nod, eyes squeezing, tears rolling down your temples while your mouth is open only to suck in as much air as possible.

“Fuck, babe, do you hear how wet you are? All the pretty sounds your pussy is making? Do you love me that much?”

Swift movements of your head are the only answer you can give him, feeling like you could explode from how much pleasure you’re feeling. You came so much already, and you know this next one will hit harder than all the ones before.

“My pretty baby, is it too much for you? No? You can take it a bit more? Yes, you can, I knew you could,” he praises, keeping his eyes locked into yours. It shouldn’t turn you on like this, but you honestly find it so hot how he can understand you even with no words. Just a look, just a gesture and he will always know what you need.

And Haechan thinks the same, it shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but the fact that you don’t pull away and you trust him completely even when your brain acts like this, means the world to him.

This time your lips part to say something that doesn’t make it past your throat, it’s a call of his name to beg him to make you come, but once again, he doesn’t need words. Even if tonight he pushed you a bit further your limits, he still knows them.

“You’re close, I know. It’s getting a lot, babe. Don’t worry, come for me one last time, okay?” He reassures you, fingers moving to rub on your clit, watching your eyes snap open. That’s the last drop, the orgasm hits you like a rough wave, finally dragging out of your mouth a long, high moan as your back arches off the mattress and your legs still.

“Shit, I —”, Haechan’s words die in his mouth as he reaches his orgasm too, hips slamming faster against you before coming to a stop.

He lays on top of you for a while, keeping his weight off by standing on his elbows, as he kisses your cheeks. “You did so good, babe. I love you so much,” he praises, leaving one last peck on your mouth before gently pulling out and laying on your side.

Haechan doesn’t say anything to don’t overwhelm you, he stares at you, caressing your hair and cheek, and only when you shift closer to hug him, he speaks up. “Are you okay?”

You nod, still whimpering as you feel sensitive. “Good.” You’d say more but you fear you won’t be able to make a phrase that makes sense soon.

“Was it a lot?”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to explain what you mean. “Yes but no. It was — it was good.”

Haechan chuckles, “It’s alright, it’s alright, let’s not do too much now. I just wanted to check in, you can put your brain to rest again. We can bathe and then worry about the rest tomorrow.”

You smile brightly, feeling so comfortable he doesn’t find you weird, and kissing him again. “Big tub, please.”

Haechan lifts you up, starting to walk out of the room. “Yes, in the big tub, I think you deserve it after everything.”

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

#anon answered #johnny smut #doyoung smut #jeno smut #haechan smut #suh johnny smut #kim doyoung smut #lee jeno snut #lee haechan smut #nct hard hours #nct 127 hard hours #nct dream hard hours

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ronjunnie · 15 days

Text

DOYOUNG FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

SERIES

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TIMESTAMPS

7:41 am

9:05 am

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jaemskitty · 2 months

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Tão Dengosa — Kim Doyoung

gênero: smut

n/a: doyoung se você não fosse um canalha sonso o que você seria?

Cada grunhido choroso seu era capitado pelos ouvidos do mais velho, o incentivando a ir cada vez mais forte, mais fundo, mais rápido.

Doyoung olhava no fundo dos seus olhinhos aguados e via ali um universo de coisas, sabendo o quão insana você estava; longe.

— Puta burra...— Ele sussurrou e impulsionou o quadril para cima, contra suas reboladas. — Shhh...— Te ouviu soluçar e quase gritar com aquele movimento proposital, e se perdia em seu aperto extremo contra o próprio cacete.

Doyoung desaparecia e ressurgia em seu ventre a cada estocada, deixando você completamente bobinha e hipnotizada enquanto mirava aquilo, aquele pau que te fodia e te empalava. Te preenchia e te machucava todinha por dentro. Kim Doyoung era um desgraçado.

Essa era a verdade.

Não conseguia pensar em mais nada a nao ser rebolar e tentar cavalgar naquele homem embaixo de si. Estava fraquinha, molinha, cansada e ofegante. Era uma bagunça de gemidos e lágrimas, aquele arrepio subindo desde os dedinhos dos pés até a sua nuca.

As grandes mãos de Doyoung agarraram-se em sua cintura e quase chegaram a fechar, detalhe esse que te deixava tonta, tomando impulso e você sabia o que aquilo significava; era seu fim.

— D-doyoung...P-papai, por favor...— Entre lágrimas e ofegos tentou alguma coisa conexa, mas não sabia sequer quantas vezes havia gozado ao redor daquele pau que te enchia.

Tão duro e profundo em sua bucetinha. Estava tão sensibilizada que qualquer movimento do Kim seria seu fim mais uma vez naquela noite.

— Por favor o quê, bebê? Me chama outra vez, vai...— Beijou seus lábios e o puxou entre dentes devagar, engolindo um solucinho seu. Doyoung queria te devastar.

— Pa-papai...— Suspirou e tentou soltar qualquer mísero som. Qualquer coisa que te desse uma liberdade.

Contraiu-se inteirinha nos braços do maior e porra, ele era enorme. Você era só uma garotinha desesperada em seu colo, empalada e suadinha. Esbanjando chororô se agarrou em Doyoung.

— Papai...Papai...P-papai por favor...N-não consigo...E-eu não posso...É d-demais...Ahn! — pornograficamente choramingou no final, desesperada, se acabando no pau daquele homem. Encostou a testa no ombro forte do mais velho e ouviu o sorriso nasalado do mesmo, e então se molhou inteira outra vez.

— Porra...Que bagunceira...— Te assistir revirar os olhinhos enquanto lágrimas escorriam e sua bucetinha o apertava era surreal, bem como ouvir os soluços. É, era esse o ponto que ele gostava de chegar antes de te encher de porra.

Com um sorriso ele te abraçou o corpinho, fechando os braços fortes ao seu redor como quem pega uma boneca de pelúcias, deitando então suas costas contra a cama e não desgrudando os peitos daquele abraço.

— Shhh... — Foi tudo o que se lembra de ter ouvido antes de se perder em algum lugar muito longe, suplicando por favor para sabe-se lá o quê.

Doyoung se enterrava em seu interior quentinho como se você pudesse dar conta de tanto, daquilo tudo; e você não podia.

Chorava como uma bebê levando aquela surra de pica que nunca havia levado. Todavia seu papai sabia o que era bom pra você. Suas perninhas balançando a cada investida e os barulhos molhados mesclados com os grunhidos graves de Doyoung e seu choramingado foram mais do que suficientes para que ele viesse.

O homem em cima de seu pequeno corpo então te puxou ainda mais pertinho, como se fosse possível, enfiando-se o mais profundo que conseguia e fora de si ele tocou-lhe o colo do útero e ali esporrou tudo o que tinha e o que não tinha.

Doyoung era possessivo. Com uma mordida entre seu pescoço e ombro ele sentiu cada sensação fodida daquela gozada.

A respiração pesada e os grunhidos ainda eram combustíveis para você, que mesmo inconsciente, ainda de olhos abertos o corpinho reagia com espasmos e arrepios.

— T-tão cheia... — Quase babando você sussurrou, longe.

— Tão dengosa...— Ofegante ele sussurrou, entre um sorriso e outro beijando sua testa suada demoradamente.

#joy things #smut #kim doyoung #kim doyoung smut #doyoung smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct smut #doyoung x reader #hard hours #eu to fora de mim

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tyongf-nct · 4 months

Note

Hello! Can you write something with Doyoung incubus? That black wings he wore at the fanmeeting just gave that vibe

this is also saurrr late so i apologize 😓 i could not for the life of me find a picture of this despite knowing what you’re talking about so i channeled the energy from these pics instead

‼️ mind the tags folks ‼️

dynamic: kim doyoung x fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut, somnophilia, penetrative sex (fem receiving), tiny bit of dirty talk, dubcon from the outside but it’s actually consensual i just don’t have time to give an entire backstory okay i have no patience for plot 😔, oral sex (fem receiving), dream/reality confusion

A dark shadow passes through your vision, your eyes cracked open to slits. No discernible shapes are visible as you writhe in pleasure, a second orgasm coiling deep in your abdomen.

Without your knowledge, Doyoung glances up at your half-asleep face, grinning fiendishly as he tongues inside your hole. The heady taste of your arousal spurs him on, his luminous skin slobbered with it. You vaguely hear the wet squelching of Doyoung eating you out, unsure if the wetness between your legs is your dream or reality.

Between your legs, Doyoung nips your inner thigh once before moving to grip your ankles with either hand. He pushes them back until your hips pop from the stretch, relishing in the sight of your exposed core. You unconsciously let out a whimper, shifting in your sleep as the cool breeze from the open window drafts by. Doyoung adjusts the both of you until he’s positioned at your entrance, swollen cock in hand. He pumps himself languidly, staring down at you with dilated pupils.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking needy. Even in your dreams you crave me so badly,” he murmurs. The low timbre of his voice nearly wakes you, but an overpowering wave of calm washes over you, and you find yourself nestled back into a deep sleep. You dream of pale hands running over the dips and valleys of your body, nipples peaking under sensuous touch. You dream of a thick cock fucking you full of hot come, the excess of it spilling out as an indistinct figure wrings climax after climax from you.

In the real world, Doyoung is doing something similar, thrusting madly into your soaking center as he fucks you into the night. Animalistic desire drives him to an almost crazed level, his face contorting in pleasure as you toss your head back and forth in your sleep. Small whimpers leave you in time with every deep thrust, the old bed creaking loud enough that Doyoung is convinced you will awaken. It isn’t enough to stop him, though, as you suddenly cry out and your thighs shake with your second orgasm.

“Fucking hell,” Doyoung grunts, fingers tight on your ankles as he pushes in and out of you savagely, hot come spilling into you just as it did in your dream. Doyoung shudders and stills, letting his come fill you up and refusing to let a single drop out. He releases one leg to brush his thumb over your lips, feeling your soft breath as you slumber innocently. Doyoung collapses on top of you, letting himself soak inside your tight pussy and inhaling your sweet scent.

#tyongf-nct #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct smut blurb #nct 127 smut blurb #doyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung smut #kim doyoung smut #doyoung smut blurb #kim doyoung smut blurb #asks #anons

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jinisnuggets · 25 days

Note

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.

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luvyeni · 1 year

Text

—｛🎂｝BLOWJOBS; W/ NCT 127

pairings. boyfriend!nct127 x fem!reader

wc. 1.3k+

warnings. oral (m. receiving) , facials , cum eating

authors note. remember i write mark and haechan with dream

—｛🍰｝... TAEYONG ⋮ at the studio !

your boyfriend always gets so stressed when he's in the studio , luckily you're there to relieve him of that stress.

"i'll be back in a few , and then we can finish." the producer got up , leaving the room. as soon as the door closed , you were on your knees , unbuttoning his pants. "let me take the edge off." he groaned , lifting his hip , letting you pull his pants and underwear down. "fuck , baby put it in your mouth." he groaned. you took him into your mouth , he sighed knocking his head back. "fuck baby just like that." his moans were whiny and airy as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. "fuck baby , hurry up before they come back." you took him all the way down your throat , gagging around his cock. "sh..shit baby , -fuck- im cumming, ngh! " he filled up your mouth with his cum , griping the chair so hard his knuckles were white.

"fu..fuck baby i feel so much better."

—｛🍰｝... TAEIL ⋮ waking him up !

he often woke you up with oral , knowing it made your day much better. so you one day you decide to return the favor.

you woke up earlier than he did , so he wouldn't have a chance to get up before you did. shimmying up the the covers , pulling his pants down his morning wood standing tall , precum forming at the tip making your mouth water. you licked his tip , his thighs twitched, you smirked , lowering your mouth on him , he groaned , still sleeping. you stroked off what you couldn't fit into your mouth. taeil's eyes fluttered open , the feeling of your mouth on his cock had stuttering. "o..oh fuck , fuck baby your mouth feels so good." he whimpered, trying not to thrust up into your mouth , the blanket now on the floor , the full few of your mouth on his cock , finally waking up. "oh shit babe , im gonna cum." his head thrashed against the pillow as he came , you sucked on his tip , finally taking him out of your mouth.

"fuck princess , thank you for waking me like that."

—｛🍰｝... JOHNNY ⋮ in the kitchen !

you're just an insatiable girlfriend with a oral fixation who wants your boyfriend all the time , even if that means blowing him in the kitchen with his friends right there.

johnny felt you following behind him into the kitchen , turning around to face you , you immediately getting on your knees , pulling at his pants. "whoa baby , what are you doing , the guys" you pouted , looking up at him. "please , i need you in my mouth." your eyes were glazed over as you pawed at his clothed cock. "o..oh fuck , okay." you moved quickly , unbuckling his pants , pulling them down with his underwear , his cock springing out. he groaned , biting his fist as you took him into your mouth , his cock heavy on his tongue, humming in satisfaction. "sh..shit baby , so desperate to have something in your mouth." he whispered , you bobbed your head up and down , swallowing around his cock , he gripped the counter. "oh shit baby im gonna cum." he groaned. "ngh fuck." his cum flooded your mouth , he pulled out some getting on your lip , he brushed his thumb across your lip , sticking it back into your mouth , you smiled finally satisfied.

"fuck you're so nasty baby."

—｛🍰｝... YUTA ⋮ before a show !

he calls it his warm up , pulling you into a random room , shoving his pants down , telling you to get on your knees.

"yuta , you have like 10 minutes before you have to go on stage." you said as he pulled you into empty closet , pulling his pants down. "that's fine baby , i can destroy your throat in 10 minutes , get on your knees." he pulled his cock out , grabbing it , slapping it against your lips. "come on open your mouth baby." he stroked his cock , you opened your mouth and he shoved himself inside your mouth, pushing you all the way down on his cock , before thrusting inside your mouth. "fu..fuck baby , take my cock." he groaned , taking all your hair gathering it into a ponytail , holding your head still as he used your mouth , gagging around his cock. "fuck , su..such a slut , letting me use your mouth like this , fuck im gonna cum." he pushed your head all the way down , cumming. "shit." he pulled out of your mouth , you cough, spit and cum covering your lips.

"poor baby , your face is such a mess , they're definitely gonna know what we were doing."

—｛🍰｝... DOYOUNG ⋮ while he's on the phone !

sometimes you just like being a brat , and to get under his skin , catching him while he's on the phone is a sure way to piss him off.

you were literally in the the position , ready to take him into your mouth , when his stupid phone rang. "don't answer." you whined , kitty licking his tip. "sh..shit , i have to , it's my manager , just stop for a minute." you scoffed as he answered. you being the brat you were, you weren't gonna stop , kitty licking his tip once more taking his tip into your mouth sucking on it, he bit his lip , glaring down at you while he tried to listen to whatever his manager was talking about. you slowly sink down on him , he throws his head back as you bob your head up and down , the playfulness evident in your eyes pissing him off. "hy..hyung, i understand, i have to go now." he hung up , throwing his phone , grabbing your hair , pushing you all the way down , you gagged around his length.

"i was gonna be nice and let you go at your own pace , now im gonna use your mouth like the slut you are."

—｛🍰｝... JAEHYUN ⋮ in the shower !

surprising your boyfriend in the shower with a blowjob is a sure way to fucked hard every single time.

you pushed the door open , startling your boyfriend. "baby , what are you doing?" he smirked as you climbed into the shower , sinking down to your knees , looking up at him through your wet lashes. "fuck baby , you want me in your mouth?" you nodded , grabbed his cock , stroking it until he got hard. "please." you kissed his tip. "fuck no teasing." he hissed , and you took him all the way , gagging around his length. "fuck , your mouth feels heavenly baby." his licked his lips , moving his hips. "sh..shit , gonna cum on that pretty face." he groaned. "shit , baby girl gonna cum." he pulled out of your mouth , jerking his cock off until he came on your face with a string of curse words. "so fucking sexy." he pulled you up , pushing you up against the shower wall.

"gotta reward my pretty girl for taking my cock down her pretty throat like that."

—｛🍰｝... JUNGWOO ⋮ during a live !

you like catching him off gaurd , knowing that he'll have a hard time trying to conceal his moans , while trying to talk to fans.

you knew he was live , but that didn't stop you from getting on your knees , crawling under the desk , pushing his legs open , scooting in between his legs. his eyes looking down for a second , your eyes were low as you pulled his pants down to his ankles. "i'm sorry , im a bit distracted." his breathing hitched as you kissed his tip. "i..i'm sorry , i..i hit my toe." he swallowed hard as you licked up the base of his cock , taking him into your mouth. you scratched his sensitive thighs , a low groan coming from his mouth , his cock twitch , he was gonna cum. "o..oh my- i have to go , i love you guys." he waved , turning the camera off. "sh..shit baby , baby im gonna cum." he thrusted up into your mouth. "i'm cumming!" his eyes squeezed shut as he came into your mouth , catching his breath , you kissed his thighs , he whined.

"baby , they probably know something was going on."

©️LUVYENI

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jungwnies · 1 year

Text

syn ' a fight sends doyoung missing in action, will it make or break the relationship? pairing ' fem!reader x husband!doyoung

warnings ' cursing, marital problems, arguing, lowkey toxic

requested by @kang-yeosangs-initials

"this is bullshit doyoung!" you shout across the kitchen as he puts on his shoes. "we fight about this all the fucking time!"

"y/n, i don't know what you fucking want from me." doyoung argues.

the second walked out that door, your head was hot. you were angry. honestly, you were hoping he'd never come back through that door.

you grab a glass from the cabinet and pour yourself some wine, sitting alone on the couch.

when you woke up in bed alone, you sighed. "bastard." you mumbled to yourself getting up.

you get ready and leave the house, you didn't come back for the past three days.

if doyoung wasn't going to be there, then what was the point of you being there? the house was supposed to a be a sacred ground for the two of you, but it just felt wrong, even if it was originally your home, it still felt empty without him.

"he hasn't come home yet?" your friend asks you sitting across the cafe table from you.

you shrug, "i don't know i haven't been home in days, but if he was home i would've gotten a motion notification from the security cameras."

"maybe you should just get a divorce, he's not good for you anymore." your friend tells you hesitantly.

"that's if i even see him ever again." you tell her laughing. "he should've never left, we could've talked it out, but i don't know after this argument, it just seems like the end."

⎯ ts

you type in the code to your lock and go into your home, it smelled the same, but it didn't feel the same. you see doyoung in the kitchen sitting down with some take-out.

"hey." he says, with a smile.

you scoff and put down your things walking away.

"y/n, why aren't you talking to me?" he asks putting down his fork.

"seriously?" you snap turning around to face him, "you want me to talk to you after you've been awol for three days?"

doyoung looks at you confused, "y/n i don't know what you're talking about, i've been home."

you laugh, "oh my god, don't you think i would've known if you were home?"

"seriously y/n, don't be delusional." he sneered.

"either way doyoung, i don't want you here, so please just leave." you tell him, with a tired tone.

"what did i do?" he complained.

"what did you do?" you ask with a scoff, "are you seriously asking me that right now?"

"yes?" he says, confused.

"every time there's an argument, you just leave, you never fucking listen to what i have to say, you never want to fix things, you just leave, and then you come back like nothing happened!" you exploded. "you're not the same man i loved four years ago, and i want you out, i don't want you to come back!" you shout, tears coming out of your eyes.

"what?" doyoung asks, shocked.

"please doyoung, just stop acting like everything’s fine when it’s not fine!" you cried, trying to wipe the tears off your face as they kept coming down.

doyoung walked up to you and grabbed the sides of your arms, "y/n..."

you shake him off, "don't touch me, and don't act like you're sorry, because if you were this would have never been a problem."

doyoung steps back, "y/n please stop crying." doyoung said, crying with you.

"i just wish you never promised to love me till death did us apart." you tell him sobbing, "i tried really hard to make this work, and you just walked away every time."

doyoung looks at you with a bittersweet expression, "are you okay?"

you look at doyoung and you laugh as tears fall out of your eyes, "after you just ended our seven year relationship? yeah i'm just peachy."

you walk away from him and put back on your jacket, "when i come back, i want you and your things gone."

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ncityprincess · 11 months

Text

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“stay. still.” doyoung grits through clenched teeth. he watches with dark, sharp eyes as he presses the wand vibrator harder against your aching clit. he has your delicate wrists tied to the black bed posts. your head thrashes back and forth, trying to do anything to alleviate some of the overstimulating pleasure.

you let out a strained cry, well, the best cry you could muster with the ball gag taking up all the space in your mouth. you’ve been at this for at least an hour now. you weren’t sure how many times you came. you weren’t even sure if you were here on earth right now.

“huh? what was that? i can’t hear you. i can’t hear you because you couldn’t keep that slutty mouth of yours shut, so i had to shut it for you. isn’t that right darling?” his voice is laced with fake kindness. but you know by now that he is anything but kind when it comes to the bedroom.

it’s true, he had asked you to be quiet in the beginning of his little torture session. and you had tried your best to listen! but after your second orgasm, you couldn’t help all of the moans that tumbled out of your mouth. you knew by now that doyoung had absolutely no tolerance for disobedient sluts. so had no choice but to gag you.

you let out another muffled whine and bucked your hips against the wand. doyoung tsked and held your abdomen down with his large hand. you had nowhere to go. nowhere to hide. doyoung always got what he wanted in the end. all you could do was throw your head back and squirt all over the bed sheets, for the umpteenth time that night.

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hexonthepeach · 6 months

Text

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 23: regrets

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [22: sated]

wc: 7k

warnings: explicit smut, foursome, mmmf (including minor m/m), D/s (A/o dynamics), kinks: master/pet, minor humiliation/degradation, cuckoldry, bulge, breeding, heat sex with omega lock, oral (m receiving), double penetration one hole (ck/fingers), pet names (princess, pet, precious, kit/baby kit)

recommended listening: clockwork - taemin

"Don't laugh."

In a long, long list of mortifying experiences this might be one of the worst, if only because of how exposed you feel, propped up on the bed, your mate asleep beneath you as you cycle through another round of excruciating pain and dulled pleasure.

You'd managed to maneuver so you're no longer on your aching knees but seated, hiding the joining of your bodies with your legs locked together. It's little relief as Doyoung passes a washcloth over your heaving chest, clearing drips of sweat and blood.

This was not supposed to happen. Certainly not while the other two Alphas in the room try not to break down laughing at the sight of you.

They’re failing, miserably–or perhaps not even trying to hide it, in Johnny’s case.

Doyoung unbuttons his ruined dress shirt, lips working to hide his amusement, distracted by the sight of his own blood.

You feel horribly that you'd gotten him, in the heat of the moment so to speak, affected by Taeyong's descent into his fox and your increasing distress. But you’d also sucked the sweetness from your fingernails when he'd left to get a fresh towel to clean you, Johnny watching you intently from his post near the door.

Whatever you'd proven of your self-control earlier was not worth maintaining right now. You check your agent repeatedly, feeling the countdown in your head as the room goes dark, neon-stained snow drifts casting the whole scene in a gloomy iridescence.

"We could just bring them to the meeting ground like this," Johnny says. He’s still half-naked but wearing that stupid grin that's been on his face since they'd had to negotiate heaving you together out of the nest.

"It would not help our case," Doyoung says from the bathroom. He returns with water and a street-legal painkiller for you, smoothing down your hair as you drink while you maintain deadly eye contact with the Felid.

"Cold shower? Suppressants?" Johnny offers. "Knock her out?"

You sputter your mouthful, resisting the urge to throw the glass at his head to stop his fatuous commentary.

"It should go away on its own," Doyoung says. "Taeil says it’s common with non-traditional pair bonding. And it being her first time . . . Well. Longest recorded of your lineage was around six hours."

"Absolutely not," you say, gripping your aching head in your hands. "We don't have that time."

"Should have thought of that earlier," Johnny says. "You had all last night to start your little marathon, didn't you?"

He'd expected you to mate Taeyong as soon as possible, of course. You'd seen the impression at the end of the bed where he'd slept in his true form, curled, waiting for you to need him–his continuous offer of assistance left ignored.

No, you were still more than cross with him. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was what you needed, or allow your hollowed-out heart the opportunity to turn away from your duty.

"Surely you have something better to do than making this worse?" you bite back.

"Right." Johnny checks his fingernails, flexing his hand. "Are you ready to accept my help?"

"Absolutely not." You're self-conscious again, clutching your robe tighter around you.

"It's worth considering," Doyoung sighs. "If it's a matter of biology, there's something inhibiting your body from recognizing this as a completed mating cycle. Taeyong didn't claim you, did he?"

You know why he's asking, having easily seen the bruises and teeth marks indenting your body. To your credit, you think you'd given the other fox more. Doyoung cleans his mate as well, a little more expediently with him still passed out. Taeyong's reprieve looks peaceful by comparison to yours.

You shake your head. "We agreed to wait."

"There's several factors here. A deficiency of viable sperm for fertilization, and a proper knotting. Both of which can be resolved through being bred by your pairbond."

You wince, sniffing a bit. "I don't want him to mate me."

Johnny sighs.

"Then you really are in a bind, aren't you." Doyoung murmurs as he sits on the bed beside you, reaching around your middle to bring you into his shoulder and chest. You could sleep like this if you had the luxury, nestled into the soft embrace of the other Alpha with his sea-salt and herbal aura.

"Tick-tock," Johnny remarks.

You shudder, visibly. "I don't want that pig to even touch me."

Johnny’s fist thumps against the wall in his irritation. "That's a new one."

"What about Jaehyun?" you ask, glancing up at Doyoung.

His head swings away just as another thud shakes the room, hung art pieces sliding out of place with the percussion.

"Absolutely not."

There's a visible indentation in the wall from Johnny's fist–Doyoung sucks his breath through his teeth at the damage.

"You want to force him in front of me, again?" Johnny asks, quietly. "Make him do what you want against his will?"

Red hazes your vision, a little more your own than the anger you feel radiating off of him. You’re sure he doesn’t really see you like that, is just using any means to narrow your selection to him, but you still feel the cruelty in that statement.

It’s just her nature.

"Pig," you repeat.

It would be too embarrassing to explain, anyway, you think, rubbing frustrated tears from your eyes. No, best to make sure the only people that ever knew about this were already in the room.

"Fine, you can help me," you say. "But under one condition."

Johnny perks.

"You knot me." You punctuate your words with a tap of your claws on your target.

Doyoung looks down at you like you've just spoken another language, eyes wide. "Me?"

"If he gets to make decisions on my behalf and against my will I would like to make him regret them," you say, rubbing your face against his shoulder while watching your mate for his reaction.

You see Doyoung breathe in through his nose, braced as if ready to bolt. He holds, turning on the bed to face you instead of Johnny.

“I thought I smelled nice to you,” you say, demurely. From his reaction he’s unimpressed by this tack.

“____, you’re playing a dangerous game right now,” he says. “Do you understand what you’re asking?”

You angle your head, displaying your neck.

"Was all that talk about Alpha duty hot air to you?" you ask, pouting. "Or maybe you don’t want to. You're not afraid of the big bad pussycat, are you?"

Doyoung looks between you and Johnny as if he expects either one of you to suddenly explode from how intensely the Felid is staring you down. You expect it too, until you see a bright smile crack in the shadows.

"You think I'm going to regret it? Want to bet?" Johnny asks.

You maintain eye contact as well as you can as you curl into Doyoung’s hold, licking at the healed stripes of flesh beneath his collarbone. The Lepid tastes just as beautiful as he looks, a surprisingly marble-statue-like physique revealed under his clothing.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Alpha," you say in-between tonguing his lavender and cream skin, enjoying the little gasp he makes as you kiss his breast, moving to his slender throat as you rub your scent all over him, all the time meeting those green-glared eyes in the dark.

"Are you, though?" Doyoung asks, voice breathy.

Suddenly you're gripped by the back of your neck again, paralyzed as he pulls away to face you. There's unexpected danger in his soft features, the prey Alpha expressing disapproval with lowered brows and a sharp menthol spike in his scent.

“No, I don't think you are,” he says. “All I see is a trapped animal that will turn on me the moment it has the chance.”

All that kindness and uncertainty is gone, Doyoung's throat bobbing as he scents you, nose wrinkling at something immeasurably lacking. He hooks your upper lip to check your fangs–an intelligent thing to do considering the saliva filling your mouth at the fresh taste of his blood.

"You and Taeyong are two of a kind," he sighs. "But at least he's trained. You're not, are you?"

You wrestle in his grasp, submitting involuntarily.

“I thought you were supposed to be nice,” you hiss.

"Did I give my consent for you to taste me?" Doyoung asks.

He's trying to make you meet his eyes, fingertips embedded in your neck muscles as his thumb strokes your hairline. The movements keep the rage in your belly from boiling over. You shake your head, now more upset for having been caught overstepping.

“Look at me, ____.”

The hare’s eyes are brighter, their darkness hazel-touched. He should be afraid of you, bowing to your mercy. You’d expected him to speak sweet lies into your ear to make you compliant, but you're met with the gaze of a wolf instead.

A Kim, indeed.

Doyoung doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by your personality change, lashes falling as he scans your face and your fisted hands.

"Given enough time we could break you in properly but I'm afraid we'll just have to operate under the assumption that you'll behave if you know what's good for you, won’t you, gongjunim?"

You nod, dumbfounded.

"Say it," he says, no less a command for how willingly you comply.

"Yes, Alpha."

"Are you going to do exactly what I tell you to do?"

You hesitate long enough he squeezes a little harder to subdue you, making your ears fold down autonomically.

"Yes, Alpha," you repeat.

"Do you think it's acceptable to use your teeth and claws without permission?"

"No, Alpha."

"You want to bite me like you did him?" He forces your head down towards your unconscious mate with the barest gesture. No, his mate. Of course he would be upset you’d hurt him again–what had he said?

The next time you lay a claw on him, you’ll get like for like.

You whimper a bit remembering the threat, tail twitching, trying to escape even as your cunt twitches around the cock inside you with agonizing need.

“No, no. Never,” you add. You look at Johnny to see if he's going to continue to allow this handling, head yanked back so quickly you let out a yelp. From the corner of your eye you can see the big man rocking with suppressed laughter, entirely unfazed.

"You follow my orders, not his," Doyoung tsks, pushing you down into a crouch.

“An Alpha only provides care to an omega who is willing to submit and please him in turn, not try to devour him, or overpower him.” His hand moves down your back, fingertips tracing the scratches Taeyong had given you, beneath the ruined silk.

“Are you truly a princess? Or are you just a feral stray who bites the hand that feeds her?”

It should be humiliating to hear yourself referred to so lowly but there's almost something comforting about playing your designated role right now. Gods knew you needed someone to take charge and release you from this bind. However furious you are at the indignity you’re also desperate to be free.

“I’ll be good, Alpha,” you whisper into your knees.

"Prove it. Earn what you've requested.” You feel Doyoung bend down to ghost your neck with a kiss, a promise written in the press of his lips that has you trembling again, for entirely different reasons.

"Yes, master." You venture, peering up. You catch him smoothing away an unconscious smile as he stands, brushing his pants clean of the white guard hairs from your tail.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Johnny asks.

"We just need to get your cum inside her somehow," he says, catching your surprised expression and shaking his head firmly. “Indirectly, of course. We could get Taeil to bring us a needleless syringe–”

“No!” You sit up, dizzy from the context switch, no longer relaxed but terrified.

“Anything but that, please,” you beg the two men standing over you. “I’ll shove it in myself if I need to.”

Doyoung sighs. "Taeyong needs to be awake, then, I don't want to risk injuring him."

"I can keep him controlled," you say, forgetting yourself. Both of the Alphas look at you measurably, Johnny turning to watch his partner's reaction with an amused smile.

"Did I ask you to?" Doyoung asks, deadly quiet after.

"I didn’t mean–" you begin.

"Do you truly want to integrate into this pack?"

"Yes, Alpha," you say, bitterly. “I just meant–”

"Then hold your tongue or we’ll find something to fill that pretty mouth of yours."

You close your lips, bowing your head automatically to hide the look you know is on your face–aghast but intensely aroused at the thought of being given what you want as a punishment. It's excruciating feeling your body continue to tighten at the anticipation, oozing slick. Taeyong jerks beneath you, letting out a small noise in his sleep.

“You take care of her, I'll take care of him," Johnny says. You meet his eyes, registering how confident he looks as he approaches. "Wouldn't want to waste the opportunity to show her what she's missing."

You may be the architect of your current defeat but you promise him with a look you’ll find a way for him to go down with you.

“Don’t goad her–” Doyoung says, but Johnny ignores him, sliding on to the bed beside Taeyong, purposefully avoiding skin contact with you. A firebrand of jealousy pierces you at the sight, igniting further in your chest as he pulls the smaller man into his side, enthroning himself at the head of the bed.

"Sure you don’t want to switch places?" Johnny asks, softly, face dipping into Taeyong's wild hair. The foxes' ears tic in his sleep, moreso when he brushes his mouth across them.

“Stop,” Doyoung warns.

You feel the Lepid’s slender arms tighten around you, soft cheek pressed to yours as he helps you adjust. Johnny’s only a few feet away, but still too close, especially as he hoists Taeyong’s body–and by extension yours–onto him.

Doyoung grips your thighs in turn to keep you upright, similar to how they'd carried you earlier, tail pressed into an arc against the Lepid’s cool skin.

“Are you shy, pet?” He whispers, trying to gently prise your closed legs apart. “Ignore him or he'll keep toying with you.”

You try, you do, but a whine erupts out of you the moment Johnny's lips brush against Taeyong's exposed throat, tongue drawn across the yellow and purple bruising from your marks.

You can barely hear the order Johnny gives him over your own pathetic whinging, watching Taeyong blink awake. He's not as wild-eyed as before, the opposite actually–relaxed and languid, ears up and eyes closed as he accepts the grooming.

Johnny looks at you as he licks against the corner of Taeyong's mouth, bent head hiding a deeper display of affection. You hiss when the other fox's hips rut beneath you, your vision blurring.

“I can’t, I can’t–” you murmur.

You brace for Doyoung to punish you but he consoles you instead.

"Shh," Doyoung says, rubbing your head and your spine as you close your eyes against the sight of your mate caring for someone who is not you. "Relax for me."

"It hurts," you keen, not referring to the pain inside you as much as your fox crying out to be treated the same, loved the same. How pathetic, you think, but it can’t be helped. You’d spent a lifetime longing for that affection. Tears escape from your clenched eyelids, trying to turn to bury your face in the Lepid's chest like it's your only escape.

"I can't stand him," you whisper.

"I know," Doyoung says, much more softly. “But you need to let him take care of you.”

“I’m afraid,” you admit.

“He won’t hurt you–”

“No.” You interrupt him, exhaling shakily. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to say no.”

“Oh.” Doyoung looks up, shaking his head. “Do you think it would be easier if you didn’t have to see him?”

You nod, tears wiped away by his sleeve. You feel Doyoung slide the loose sash hanging from your waist, wrapping it over your already-closed eyes. You begin to nervously shake again when the light behind your eyelids is blotted out completely.

"Hey, it's alright," Taeyong urges you, drowsily nudging your cheek with his nose. You accept his gentle kisses, sharing the taste of your mate on his bruised lips. “I’m here. Well, mostly. I think if I come again I'll dissolve into dust.”

You laugh a little against his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

You can feel his amusement, not expecting the caress of his rougher hands sliding your clothing off, followed by his soft kisses and the roll of his face on your shoulder to mark you with his scent.

“I'm not. If I ever get a chance to be this close to you again,” Taeyong breathes, “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

You sigh in relief, holding him as he comforts you. He's still exhausted, but at least you think he isn't in pain the way you are, just sore and satisfied.

“She’s a gift, isn’t she?” Doyoung says. You hear rustling as he removes his shirt, expecting more until your tail is seized and drawn around your middle, out of the way. “Someday we won’t have to share you. But I think you like it, don’t you, pet?”

His voice is fricative in your ear, removing your robe fully so he can bring your back against his warm, lean chest. Even smooth it feels like the softest fur beneath you, Taeyong's ears tickling your jaw as he whines into your neck. From the movements against you he's receiving his own handling, thighs flexing as Johnny adjusts him.

"Yes, Alpha," you say, arching back. Doyoung follows your lead, kissing you chastely until you plead for more.

“We'll do this properly when we have the time. Right now you're going to give your Alphas what they need, won’t you?”

You’ll never think of him as weak again, you think, not with how he opens your legs and pushes his fingertips experimentally against the constriction where you’re tied together, Taeyong holding onto you as you both cry out.

“Too tight,” Taeyong mumbles for the both of you. Doyoung squeezes him around his root, palm digging into your folds.

“You’re knotted, too,” he says with an edge of disapproval. “Just a greedy little dog rutting into your bitch even if you can’t properly breed her.”

By the answering spurt of release inside you and his groan, Taeyong enjoys that kind of talk. The sensation is translated to you, hips wriggling until Doyoung pinches at the bundle of nerves in your swollen sex, making you jerk.

“You’re going to take it, too, even if it hurts,” he says. “We’ll loosen you up for a real knot, so I can fuck your Alpha’s cum into you.”

“Please, master,” you say, losing yourself. “Please, give it to me.”

“It’s not my choice, pet.” You feel your hand seized, your fingers splayed on a firm, wide chest that isn’t Taeyong’s, sunbaked pine sharp in your nose. “Use him. Make him give you what you need.”

"No, no, I can't," you murmur, pushed towards the inevitable.

"You're better than your animal," Doyoung says. "Do what you’re told and we'll show you what it means to be treasured."

You feel him pull away, extricating Taeyong from your breast in a way that upends you both, forced into your Alpha’s lap. Even if you can’t see it you can feel and hear the man trapped inside you held down to the bed, the soft pleas as he’s cared for in the way you need more than anything.

Johnny’s hand cups the side of your face. Only he can touch you that way–like he's cradling the most fragile thing he’s ever held.

"Don't worry, little kit," Johnny says, so close now his breath warms your ears. "I remember my promise.”

He takes you by the neck more gently just to angle you up, dipping down to kiss you as softly and shyly as before. He’s exactly what you need while also the worst thing possible, the longing and heartache amplified.

“I can wait. Just use me. Pretend I’m giving you what you need.”

The thought of him breeding you sends you down a spiral of desire, restraining yourself by blindly tracing the white and gold and green painted under your fingertips. You’ve tried not to look too much at the design but it’s already tattooed in your heart and mind, as it is over his.

“Would you like to see what’s yours?”

You pull your hand back but he catches it with that Felid swiftness, dragging it lightly down the center point of his breast bone and the contours of his abdominal muscles, defined and damp with sweat. He lets you feel everything you'd disallowed yourself before, breath going ragged when you finally cup him through his trousers.

"Stop being so smug," you whisper, unable to sound serious with how heavy you're breathing, too. His shape and scent is all you need to find yourself just as feral as you'd been in the nest, fumbling to unzip him, his hand wrapping around yours to guide you as you free his cock.

He’s erect but weighed down so much it hangs towards the bed. You're not afraid or disgusted as much as fascinated when your hand traces down the burning-hot, velvety shaft, finding the expected roughness beneath his glans.

“I’m allowed to be pleased. I know–feel how much you want it.” He sounds almost embarrassed; you realize he's stuttering with each pass of your hand down his length. “Is it too much for you?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

"No," he gasps when you squeeze him, testing him. “Fuck, yes.”

He's bigger than you imagined, thick enough his knot is less pronounced than a Canid's at his base, gently ridged at the end of his shaft. You expect his barbs but beneath your searching touch you find them less pronounced, more textured like his cat's tongue without the same density of spines.

“I want to taste you,” you say.

You can’t see his expression but you know his sense of control has been obliterated by the request. You don't wait for him to argue, bending down to find him with your mouth, lapping up gamey salt from his skin. His tense hand in your hair is all the encouragement you require.

You will use him, you think. You'll break him as much as he's broken you. But you won't be slow, you won't seduce him the way he has tried with you.

You dip your head and find the heavy tip, suckling to taste the dribble of hot liquid already leaking from it. He’s so perfectly bittersweet that you can’t help but wrap your lips around it, trying to draw out the rest. Johnny's hold on your head spreads and clings, not wanting to push you forward despite the rut of his hips into your mouth.

You treat him the way he had you the night he tasted you, smiling to yourself as drool seeps from the corners of your mouth, taking as much of him into your willing throat as you can handle. Within seconds you’re coughing at the sandpaper scratch, pulled free before you can mutilate him with your canines.

“No teeth,” Doyoung warns, startling you for how much you’ve forgotten he’s beside you. “Gently now. Relax your jaw. Don’t worry about making a mess.”

Simple enough instructions, difficult for how suffocated you are when you impale yourself on that length again, fighting the choke. Doyoung murmurs praise where your Alpha is inarticulate. Johnny’s presence glows in your mind as you feel him completely, all his attempts to keep the spend contained within him lost as you fuck him this way.

You sense when his abdomen and testicles tighten, reaching out to understand it with a careful slide of your hand down his shaft, hair and texture and scent incredible under your delicate fingers. You hold him as you take him, as you consume him the way he’s consumed you.

You listen for his grunts and groans of pleasure, the intake of breath, alternating between sucking and drawing your tongue around him as his lean belly flexes beneath the gentle flex of your nails. When you feel that wave crest inside him, so close to breaking, you pull off.

Again, and again.

You’d learned your new lessons well, you think, when the last tease of his heavy weight on your tongue coats it in a hot citrusy, mouthful of him–the rest trapped so painfully inside him you feel his thighs quake under your breasts.

The makeshift blindfold is tugged from your eyes, There’s murder in your gaze lest Johnny’s the one who took it off, but you find Doyoung’s hand against your hair and ears, his face flushed with arousal. Watching that must have done something to him, because he’s no longer attending Taeyong, his hand working himself out of view. The other fox appears to be semi-conscious, only a crack of his eyes showing.

“You have to see what you’ve done to him,” Doyoung says.

You peer up past all that honey, glistening skin to your Alpha’s face. Johnny’s breath is held where he’s fallen back against the headboard, expression completely and utterly shattered. For the first time since he’d held you in the dark–not this bedroom but a tiled room far below it–you see him as he really is.

There’s nothing calculating or cutting in that half-lidded gaze, no raging animal. Just a man who needs you more than he could ever tell you.

Your Alpha.

Completely at your mercy.

“Nothing clever to say, now?” you ask, tongue catching another spurt of white hanging from his thick cockhead, teasing the soft slit to gather every drop. “Did I ruin you for everyone else?”

"I’m not coming in your mouth, precious,” he says with the last reason left in him. He gives Doyoung a look that has your head pulled back, gently but firmly, even as your tongue curls towards your mate’s cock. You know why he hasn’t grabbed you, his own claws ripping the duvet into shreds once more.

“Why not?" you ask, tail thumping against Taeyong’s limp legs. "I can just spit it out."

Doyoung barks a laugh, falling further onto his side. “You’re so fucked.”

You know it isn't for you as Johnny struggles to sit up, pulling his cock away from your greedy hands and mouth. His sweat-thick, curled hair hangs over his face and jaw, making him look wild.

“The only place I’m coming is all over that pretty pussy,” he warns. “Present yourself."

Part of you resists the order but you know it's not made with anything but the desire to please you. You melt under the attention, arching your back and curling your tail for him when he takes his place behind you.

"Outside, of course," he assures you, and you have a moment to freeze up in fear before he's slipped his cock between your thighs, shaft so long that even from behind and forced to the side he curves up between your folds. He lets you adjust to the feeling, wrapping around you until you're caged by his long torso and limbs.

"You feel that?" He rocks his hips into your behind, your tail trapped erect between you.

You bite your lip, nodding.

"That's yours. Yours to use as you want, whenever you want."

He licks the soft fur of your ear, making your pussy clench again around Taeyong, your legs closing around him.

"I’m going to show you what it will be like when I take what's mine, once and for all."

His words scald you, make you whimper and grind against him until he takes the lead, moving with shallow and careful strokes against your slipperiness. Soon he's so coated with your slick the glide between your soft thighs is dangerously easy, the small nudges and bumps against your clit maddening. The worst is that tongue-like texture, catching against your most sensitive places to remind you what he really is.

"Is my little kit so needy for her Alpha's cock inside her she'd ride it raw? You want me to fuck you unsleeved and scrape out all that wasted cum you let the others stuff inside you?"

Ancestors, you think. He's such a contradiction in the way he can hold you and stroke you so sweetly but pour filth into your ear.

“I don’t think I have enough inside me, yet,” you whimper. “Need more.”

His jealousy is just as pervasive through the bond. That anger and pride under any other circumstances would make your own flare but in this moment it's the perfect accompaniment to the desire he has for you.

You belong to him, torturing him at how soft and good and warm he knows you are inside, how impossible it would be to deny himself that if he wasn’t moderated by your promise or the other Alphas watching him unravel so easily. You know he’s fucked them, feels comfortable with them, but they’re not what he wants.

He wants you, just you. If you gave it to him he wouldn’t let anyone else touch you, he would mark his territory so fully he’d fight every Alpha on the peninsula to stake his claim. You know it as well as he does, he would die for you. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

"They can't breed you like I can, can they?" he says between higher-pitched groans. You're not meant to answer but you do anyway, wanting to brush his cat's fur backwards to see how he responds.

"You'll find out soon enough," you murmur, lost as he brings his hand down to hold himself against the drive into your folds, increasing the pressure of his tip against your bud.

He nips at your ear. "What did you say, little kit?"

Your little cries are growing louder as your body seizes, the beginning of another climax burning brushfire through you.

"I said, 'I'm not letting you fuck me until I've had every one of your pack inside me.'"

He jerks a bit, pushing into the tight grip of your thighs. You’ve closed around him, trapping him like Taeyong, hands tearing into the bed where he’s ruined it.

"You can try,” he says, dangerously.

"You think they won't?” you pant. "I'll let you watch, of course."

His movements are growing more staccato as he chases his own release, tense hand holding his thrusts against you. The more near his climax the more his hold on his emotions begins to slip, the barriers you'd both enacted temporarily flooded with something other than resentment and animal desire.

You have an epiphany of sorts, mercilessly pushed into Taeyong's chest as he chases a fantasy in his mind of fucking you like this in front of them all to prove his claim, to show how broken you are for anyone else.

"I'm going to make you prove you're my Alpha," you whisper to him. "No combat. No bloodsport. No convenient opportunity. You'll earn it."

He bucks, hard, a wash of hot spend coating you as he starts to orgasm, snarling your name into something monstrous.

"You're going to suffer, Suh Youngho," you say, grinding back into the mess he's holding to you, edged to the point of fierceness. "You're going to know what it’s like to have your mate reject you and seek another in your stead."

His movements still but you realize he's laughing quietly, knot swelling between your thighs. He doesn't believe you, of course. How could you, with you still rubbing against him, unsatisfied.

"Oh baby fox, were you jealous?" With his cock no longer pressed to you he begins to circle your clit, his other hand massaging his hot spend into you from behind, still more oozing out of him he collects to press against your stuffed hole. At the first brush of the rough pads of his fingers, you're pushing back, trying to make him fit.

"You think I would rather fuck anyone else than the first to claim me? My omega? My mate?"

He broaches your lock with two digits, shoving his cum deep into you as Taeyong cries out faintly against the intrusion.

“Let him go,” Johnny says. “Let him go or you won't be able to fit me.”

Powerful contractions begin to roll through you immediately, no longer painfully tight but a rolling release that spreads through every part of your legs and hips and belly, nerves and hormones synchronized to take your mate as deeply as you can, into your womb. It feels incredible, electricity running down every path through your limbs to the top of your scalp and the claws on your toes.

“You're squeezing us so good, kit, want to feel it on me.”

Slick and thick spend gush down your legs as Taeyong is finally freed, an audible noise when he’s pulled from your snare. Doyoung is there to help him escape because Johnny shows no intention of stopping and neither do you, fucking yourself on your mate's fingers until he adds a third and fourth digit.

Your body is being prepared for him, you think, your orgasm extended by how much you want him to fuck you even knowing what that would entail.

"Don't stop, don't stop," you beg, rocking back to fuck yourself deeper on his hand.

"You're going to suffer every day you're not getting all of me." His words are punctuated by stroking into the sucking heat of your body, his bruising touch on your clit turning you into a live wire once more.

"It will hurt me to see you so desperate. I'll have to turn you down even when you beg me. But if that's what my little omega wants, that's what I'll give her," he promises.

"I hate you," you snarl, overstimulated, winding into another build too quickly to make sense. He makes you relax by nipping at your shoulder, keeping you still as he sets a punishing pace.

"Imagine. You could be coming on my cock right now, milking me of every last drop to fill you up," he says. "Don't you want your Alpha's cum inside you?"

"Yes, please, fuck it into me, please Alpha," you sob, jerking as he pulls his fingers away to press his tip against your fluttering hole and pull another wash of sticky heat inside you. That hint of the stretch of him has you demanding more, your hips canting back just as your mouth is clamped shut with slender fingers.

“That's enough,” Doyoung says. Out of the haze of the moment you can feel his hand wrapped around your Alpha’s cock, stopping you–or maybe him–from moving any further. You turn to watch Johnny thrust into the other man’s hold, taunting him to try and stop either of you.

The Lepid only has eyes for you, letting you go but not your mate. He’s calm, measured, as he strokes Johnny into releasing more onto his chest when his cock is lifted away from you. You turn to observe it, leaning down to take what you can in your mouth.

Doyoung warns you off by clearing his throat.

“No,” he says. “Ride his knot.”

You shake your head, legs already collapsed beneath you. “I can’t.”

“Show her still you’re in control. Thank her for the gift she’s given you.”

Johnny understands even if you don’t. You’re swept up in his hold, pulled down onto him, spread for him. But where he should be filling you he’s trapped between your bodies, your legs limp over his.

“What . . .?” Your vision blackens on the edges, nose buried in Johnny’s chest. “I can’t.”

“You will,” Johnny says.

“You will,” Doyoung repeats, holding your lower back to fuck into you with one clean push into your loose heat, no fight whatsoever with the amount of cum inside you. You cry out, held tight against your Alpha as a much longer, thicker cock than the one that’s been inside you for the past few hours is shoved mercilessly into your hole–knot slipping in without friction while another one grinds into your middle.

“Fuck,” Doyoung rasps when he pulls out, burying himself over and over again. If you weren’t held in Johnny’s arms you think you’d be fucked right off the end of the bed, instead forced into his arms, too boneless and weightless to struggle.

“You asked for it,” he says, the rumble of his voice vibrating through you against the sharpness of your half-hearted yelps. “Regret it now?”

You toss your head, regaining your strength to reach for him, burying your fingers in his hair. He’s so big you find yourself perched across his sternum, hips rolled into it and the coarse end of his cock as he curls up and kisses you like he’s the one inside you, like he’s the one coming undone.

From what you can tell you all are, Doyoung holding back nothing as he ruts into you so hard you can feel and hear the slick-stuck slap of him against you, or Johnny, it doesn’t matter with your bonded clutching at you like he might lose you. His hand threads through your wild hair to cup your jaw again, guiding you gently against his lips and tongue.

You moan into his mouth, protesting this new intimacy. You want to focus on the other Alpha and please him in turn so you can prove your resolve. You know he’d already come the moment he was in you as Lepids were wont to do but that he had more to give you–much more, if the knot stretching you is any indication.

You reach back to find Doyoung's damp nape to pull him to your neck. He understands, implicitly, fisting your hair to scrape you with his teeth as Johnny angles into your other shoulder to prove he's first, hesitating with his tongue on your scars when the other Alpha lets out a low growl.

You can feel Johnny rumble beneath you as he returns to kissing you, passion conferred in each brush of his lips against your own, holding you steady in his gaze. Another Alpha's teeth may be indented in your neck, but you're still at his mercy.

“You take my knot so well,” he praises, sinking his fingers into your hips. Doyoung, no longer able to guide you, chooses instead to circle up against your behind and your slick-coated tail like you’re a wall he can break through.

“Do you want to take all of me, little kit?” Johnny whispers.

Your body responds as if it were his threatening to lock you again, making you mewl. You know what he's saying, implicitly. He doesn't understand how it affects you. How could he, when he thinks this is just a game?

Johnny’s thumb spreads beneath your belly, indenting it to feel the cock dragging deep within you, bulging there under his touch. Doyoung inhales against your neck at the sensation, feeling it too in whatever way you respond deep inside.

“Yes,” you breathe, building tension making you seize. "Please."

Johnny looks deep into your eyes, pinning you with an emotion you want to look away from, but can't. You're forced to see all that's there, to bloom within it, like the flowers under your palm. Your shape etched into him: Nelumbo lutea, reaching for the sun.

"Accept me," he urges.

You can't.

"I'm yours," he says.

Not your mine, no. Yours.

You collapse as you begin to throb, pulse-like. It’s not the same horrible tightening as before but something different, a twinge and tremor in your womb that seems to signal completion.

You know your scent will change, your body will adjust. Your heat will break. But you’ll never be the same.

Doyoung says something you can't hear as you chase the fleeting ecstacy of this new release, different in so many ways but most of all for the ease in your chest as you rest on top of the man you love.

Love?

No. It's not possible.

“You’re so full of me already but I know you want more.” Johnny continues, not realizing you're gone. He should sound confident but his voice is raw with vulnerability. His head pushes against yours, pleading. “You can’t leave me. You won’t leave me. Not when you’re swollen with my–”

You scream soundlessly into him, enough of a high-pitched keen in your throat he can’t help but be startled, Doyoung stilling inside you as you break completely around him–all that pleasure tempered with unadulterated despair.

It should be peace, a relief, but instead it’s an instability in the levee holding everything else inside you at bay.

There’s no peak to climb down from in the aftermath of what’s moved through you, your only comfort is how much of a blessing it is to be held while you spiral–how afraid you are of losing something you didn't even knew you had.

"____?"

You feel the panic around you at your reaction, hear Taeyong’s growl as he sits up behind you. Doyoung is already at his side, as if he must protect him from whatever is inside you threatening to break out.

“I told you." Your fist clenches against Johnny’s chest as you roll off of him. “I told you I couldn’t.”

“What’s wrong?! What happened.”

You curl into a ball, defending yourself with your tail wrapped around you. "It's over."

You’d had your moment, your fill, but it would never be enough. Not now, not ever.

"Your heat?"

You don't answer.

"They're early," Taeyong explains.

Johnny finally turns to witness what’s been roaring in your ears for what feels like minutes now.

You watch as the snow swirling outside the window vanishes, pushed down by quiet blades to evaporate on an even warmer wind. Blue lights pierce the gloom, angled downward, blinding you through the dark, one-way glass.

The building begins to tremble, smaller vibrations translated upwards as AVs circle round below. They give a wide berth to an airship, blacker than a starless night and larger than a city block as it descends in a creep past the window, thankfully unable to pierce through the building's surface to see you so exposed.

It doesn't matter. Nothing can escape the surveillance of the people inside. It's only the second time they'd sent this means to bring you home, a symbolic gesture but also a threat.

There's no escaping your return to Old Seoul.

“The Imperial aerostat,” Doyoung sighs, checking his agent as he flees the bed.

“It’s time,” Taeyong says, looking at you with a deep sympathy and resolve.

You turn to Johnny, seeing a wetness on his cheek that can only be an acknowledgment of whatever you’ve let slip through the cracks of your bond.

You try to capture that image in your mind of him more worried for you than the threat of the fleet surrounding their headquarters, for the people inside. It's the last time you ever want to see it.

“I’m ready,” you say.

Inside, you know you never will be.

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