#nct dojaejung fanfic

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 21: exhibitionism

nct 1.6k words female reader insert Reader x NCT DoJaeJung suggestive/SFW

🖤 warnings: exhibitionism without prior consent (kind of?), undernegotiated kink, a little bit of a mind game, the Perfume mv but if they could show dick🖤

kinktober masterlist

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This resort hotel is fucking weird.

For one, it seems like only very, very hot people are vacationing here. The stunning girl in the room beside yours, who's been hanging her bikinis and her lacy nightwear out to dry on the little wrought-iron fence between your room's balcony and hers. The statuesque older couple, elegant and perfectly dressed and incredibly sweet when you greet them in the lobby for breakfast.

And the beautiful guy whose room backs up to yours, across the little courtyard, who does not close his bathroom shades before he indulges in a bubble bath.

At first, you feel bad for him.

You're trying to catch some early morning sun on your balcony before heading into town for the day. But when some motion catches your eye, and you glance across the courtyard, you see him. Naked from the waist up, windows open to let in the crisp morning air, music just barely audible over the gentle sounds of the wind.

The bathtub is full. There are flowers, and candles.

He's going to have a bath, and anyone who hazards a look in that direction will be able to see him. You do feel bad.

A call to the front desk - I'm not complaining, I just wanted to know, could you check on another guest who has the window open while he's...undressed? - yields nothing when you fail to give them any description beyond second floor, across from B-209, handsome young man.

If it was you, getting nude in front of an open window, you would want someone to tell you.

So you swallow your fear, and you calculate the room number. You'll tell him yourself.

It seems like A-207, if your Google Maps aerial view snooping and your hotel floor map scrutinizing are correct.

You swap out your room slippers for a pair of sandals, and you set out to save this dude from a little bit of public humiliation.

As it turns out, you are right on one assumption, and wrong on another.

You were right that his room is A-207.

When you knock on the door, that guy answers. Blessedly, he's wearing pants.

But you were wrong that he would want your advice, on the matter of his open windows.

"Oh, I know," he tells you flatly.

You're floored. "You..."

"Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the looking out," he says, with a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "But I'm the one who opened the windows. I know they're open."

"Oh." You really don't know how to respond to that.

"Very nice of you to tell me," he assures you.

"But you want them open," you say.

His expression drops fully into that grin, deep dimples appearing and charming what's left of your wit right out of you. "Maybe I want people to see."

And with that, he nods, and closes the door on you.

When you get back to your room, you can't help but check. If he meant it.

You peek out your balcony doors again, toward that room so close across the way. The bathroom windows are still thrown wide, the sunlight streaming in and music trickling out.

He's in the bath, now, lounging on his back with his head pillowed on his folded arms.

Like you'd shouted for him, his attention turns toward you. He meets your eyes. Your heart stops for a second, embarrassed.

He smiles again. You can see the white glint of his teeth.

And then his hand slides into the water. Down, down, under the scant cover of bubbles.

You gasp, realizing what he's about to do, and you scuttle away from the doors.

Dude's weird.

--

You don't ask his name, before the guy staying two doors down from you pulls you into his room and shuts the door.

Mimosa-tipsy is a good look on him. Though, you suspect that pretty much anything would be a good look on a face like that. He's beautiful, like every other person at this resort. Classically handsome, perfectly proportioned. He's tall, and broad, and what he absolutely lacks in game he makes up for in unabashed passion.

That's how he got you here.

A quick compliment over brunch turned into a pitcher of mimosas for the table, more than a few peeks at the daring neckline of your comfy dress, and and invitation from you to do more than look. He's here with friends, he says, but they would understand if he's a little late to their afternoon plans.

It wasn't what you planned to do on this vacation, either, but it's a welcome turn of events.

"You're not too drunk for this, right?" you ask.

The guy scoffs. "Not even drunk. How about you?"

"I'm nearly sober," you say.

He doesn't look drunk, but he's got that flush to his cheeks and that looseness in his limbs that suggests he's a little warm. You trust his judgement.

"Let me know if anything isn't okay," you say.

"Of course."

His bed is artfully unmade, white linens strewn across the mattress like he'd thrown them all back at once and leapt out of bed earlier that morning. A breeze makes the curtains puff out in pretty waves, warm sunlight and cool air coming right in the open window.

He lays down, still in his crisp shirt and slacks, and he cuts a gorgeous figure against the pristine bedcovers.

You just look at him for a moment, taking in the vision of a man that you have every intention of devouring, before you go to the window and take hold of the curtain.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Can I close these?"

He hums. "Do you think we could leave them open?"

For the second time in two days, you feel your heart fluttering with nerves and shock and something like...anticipation.

"I...guess we can."

"Don't take that the wrong way, hey, you can close them if you want," he offers. "But if you're down..."

You hook up with him, trading body heat in the sun-warmed linens, those curtains wide open.

And when you've finished, and he's finished, and you're standing up to stretch out the kinks in your neck, you catch a glimpse out that open window.

The guy from yesterday has his bathroom window open again. And his main room's window, too. The balcony doors, wide open. You can see him. Facing back into the room, a bottle in his hand, he's just standing there on his balcony. If he turned around, even halfway, he would be looking right at you.

Fucking weird.

--

You meet your third beautiful man outside a cafe, on the shopping street just outside the resort gates.

"Jungwoo," he says, going in to shake your hand with the one of his that isn't clutching a big paper-wrapped bundle of flowers.

You introduce yourself in turn.

It's three bundles of flowers, actually. Wildflowers in different colors, some that you can name and some that you can't.

"Want one?" he asks.

"What are they for?"

He shrugs. "My friend is trying to get me into photography. We have a background planned. Long story."

You accept one long-stemmed clipping of baby's breath when he offers it, and he smiles.

"Are you staying around here?" he asks.

"The resort," you thumb behind you, at the courtyard you'd just left.

He brightens even more. "Me too!"

What with the apparent beauty standards for resort guests, that doesn't surprise you.

Jungwoo hoists the flowers higher in his arms. "You can totally say no, if it's weird, but...would you wanna come help me arrange these for the shoot? It's a boudoir kind of thing, gonna be all fancy furniture and closeups and flowers, and stuff."

"Why me?" you ask, amused.

"You look like you have an eye for aesthetics," he answers, smooth and sincere and prompt.

His voice is light and innocent, but there's a sharp intelligence in his eyes that suggests that he has every intention of putting this invitation to...another kind of good use.

"Maybe I don't," you say, "Maybe I'm hopeless."

"I want to find out for myself," he answers.

Well, you can't just leave the poor guy wondering. You follow Jungwoo back into the resort.

The main entrance is at the other side of the courtyard, lined on two sides by your building and the opposite one and the lobby space making a tight U shape. Chatter and music and liveliness from the balconies above makes you tilt your head back to look.

Two figures on their balconies.

Your bath guy, fully dressed, this time, but barely, in a sleeveless top under a delicate knit.

And across from him, two doors down, your brunch hookup, in yet another crisp buttoned shirt, done up only halfway.

"Took you long enough," the bath guy calls. "We don't have all day to play models for you."

"I made a friend," Jungwoo calls back.

Brunch guy laughs. "Looks like a friend that I made the other day."

"So familiar," bath guy agrees.

Here with friends.

Wanting people to see.

"They're a pain," Jungwoo says to you.

You're still following him.

"I understand if you really just want to fix the flowers," he tells you. "That's okay. But if you wanted to, oh, I don't know..."

"Do you know them?" you ask.

Jungwoo nods. "We're here all week. Yearly trip, for the old college roommates."

"If we..." you swallow hard. "If we...I mean. And they..."

You don't get your thoughts out, but you don't need to, it seems.

Jungwoo pauses, looks over your head in the direction where his two friends wait, on their facing balconies, and his smile returns.

"Don't worry about those guys," he tells you.

He leans in a little, like he's got a particularly juicy secret.

"They like to watch."

[gonelike-ach00]

Chapter 4

chaebol! Kim Doyoung x chaebol! Original Female Character

Word count: 2,021

Summary: What truly goes on behind the lights, the stages and the performances? Kim Doyoung has lived his idol life quietly, getting ample exposure and being in a popular group. He was now fully independent and plans to continue his life in this direction.

Yet all things are easier said than done. Once his old life begins to creep up to him it was getting harder to escape and runaway. What does this humble and scandal free idol truly hide?

Genre: fluff, angst, arranged marriage, drama

Warning(s): eventual smut, violence, trauma, guns, blood

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There was no space to grieve.

If the weight of the world were to be measured, it would be added upon Doyoung’s own body weight. The moment he woke up the following day after leaving his father’s remains in its final resting place, he had been running around the house. He was wearing old clothes, obviously outdated from his high school days, yet it was what was available. He hasn’t stepped foot inside his dormitory since the whole incident with Jinah, nor has he faced his label, managers and other staff. They probably were wondering where he had disappeared off to for the week. 

“Secretary Kim,” Doyoung calls out the secretary as he sat down in his father’s study checking on the details of the board that his father did not finish, “where is the data for Director Go’s department?” Hoping his father’s long time secretary would know where the data was. 

“It has yet to be submitted.” 

Doyoung could simply sigh, who was to blame when his father set the deadline on the day he passed away. He simply runs his hand through his unkempt hair, “can I have his contact info?” In almost an instant, the secretary opens his phone and sends him the director’s details. 

Just as he was about to give Director Go a call, a face that he has never met in person, or as he recalls never met at all, the door to the study opens. Unlike how it was when his father’s viewing was in process, his cousin and the vice president of Byul group of companies, walks through the door in a pressed gray suit and cleanly styled hair. “What are you doing this early and on a weekend?” 

“I have to finish the reports to present to a few investors and clients next week, some of them are seeking partnership from us for the past few days we were gone. A lot of them are foreign expenditures, I can’t waste the--” 

“And why are you handling all this on your own?” Youngbin immediately stands right beside him. “Is this on Uncle Kijoon’s report?” He refers to the director as their uncle, as they were a cousin to their parents, as he glances down at the monitor on the desk.

“He was on a meeting with a client abroad, the company he manages has been huge on international expenditure.” Youngbin sighs and reports to him directly. “Your father gave him a go signal to submit his report late.” 

Doyoung nods his head and leans back. “I guess with all the various notification sounds popping out of my father’s computer, I couldn’t ignore the responsibility that I’m about to take over.” He honestly replies as he closes his eyes. 

For more than a century, the Byul company has proven its worth by remaining as one of the biggest economical contributors to the country. Even when faced with calamities, wars and economic collapses, they stood strong. Some attribute this to the rigid process of creating their company leaders. The Kim family who owns Byul were known to teach possible presidents and chairs the moment they are able to walk and talk, and only those who were taught were considered to sit in the position. With the current generation, there were only two who can take charge and lead the company, yet a few years ago after the birth of his first child, Youngbin renounced all rights to be elected into position. 

This left Doyoung the only eligible heir to the Byul throne. 

Doyoung knew why Youngbin retreated from the position, it wasn’t safe for his family to be involved in politics of the upper elites. He knew that the moment he chose to run for position, Doyoung’s parents and his mother would go at odds with one another even if they were siblings. Youngbin knew all too well that this was a war on greed for power, yet he cannot be selfish enough to drag his still young children into such a world just as they were able to open their eyes. 

“You,” Youngbin pulls Doyoung out of Dongmin’s chair, “should,” he pauses to finally take a look at what his younger cousin was wearing, “really go get some clothes.” 

“I’ll just get them from the dorms,” Doyoung tries to shrug him off. “I have to eventually move out of there anyway.” 

“You should go buy some clothes instead!” Youngbin pushes him further out of the office. “You look like you rummaged through all your old clothes and forced yourself to fit into them.” He teases.

“You know full well that’s exactly what I did.” Doyoung was about to be pushed out the door of the house when they heard the front door opening. 

While Youngbin was pulling him out of the house, the door swung open. Doyoung was then meeting Jinah in the eye while being headlocked by his cousin. “I should return later, shouldn’t I?” Jinah was about to turn around, putting the keys she had in her hands straight into her pocket.

“Jinah!” She gets stopped by Youngbin who called out her voice in such a tone that made Doyoung sure his mother could hear what was going on outside the master’s bedroom. That nearly sat at the opposite side of their ancestral mansion.

Once she peeks her head back into the house, Youngbin immediately pushed Doyoung towards him. In fact if she wasn’t ready to catch a falling Doyoung he would have skidded on the sparkling marble floor they were all standing on top of.

“Take him out to buy some clothes.” Youngbin claps his hands together as if he took out the trash.

“I can just pick up--”

“Yada! Yada!” Youngbin makes his hands talk, stopping Doyoung from speaking any further. “If I don’t see a new set of clothes when I come visit again, I’ll make sure everyone knows of your deepest darkest secret.”

“That is?” Doyoung jumps off of Jinah as if she were a plague.

“That until you still peed on the bed until you were thirteen.” 

Jinah snickers behind him. 

Doyoung glares at Youngbin and Jinah. 

Honestly, at this point there was no use in shielding things from Jinah when it comes to all family secrets about him. She knew the smallest of detail, both from his parents and this cousin of his, both tend to overshare a little bit. 

“Then,” Youngbin puts his hands on both Jinah and Doyoung’s shoulders before guiding them through the long hallway out of the mansion they were in.

“Are you making me leave in these?” Doyoung looks down at his clothes once they were standing outside the main house. 

“You’re going to buy clothes anyway.” Youngbin waves his hand once again before closing the door on their faces.

Doyoung grunts before running a hand through his unkempt hair. “Seriously.” 

“Well,” Jinah lifts her car keys, “if you don’t have anything else to do might as well just do as he says you know.” 

Doyoung raises an eyebrow at her. 

“What is it this time?” Gone immediately was the kind expression on Jinah’s face.

“Did you guys plan this?” 

She takes a deep breath in and crosses her arms over her chest and then glares at him. “Is it because I walked through your door right when he was forcing you out of the office?”

Doyoung nods his head slowly. 

“Just so you know, your mother was the one who called me because she wanted to have breakfast with me.” Jinah puts her car keys back into her pocket just to pull out her phone and show Doyoung the text she got from his mother.

“Well, if she wanted to have breakfast she should’ve told me.” After checking the text and confirming that what she said was true he stands upright mimicking her arms crossed over her chest.

“I think you should tell your mother that.” 

Then they go quiet. 

“Should we go then?” It was clear with her tired tone that Jinah wasn’t looking forward to going to the mall with him to get him clothes, because it was Doyoung. She knew Doyoung just as his family knew him, and he was quite popular among the aunts and cousin for being a picky dresser.

Doyoung doesn’t even respond as he walks up to the only car sitting at the entrance of their house. Most of the cars they owned won’t usually sit on the curb, they would settle in the garage, so it was easy to tell that the car was hers. 

It was a different car from the one they used to drive to the hospital that day.

“Now that I think of it, I never saw you drive.” That was the first thing Doyoung told Jinah as soon as they were seated.

“Relax, my brother has always told me I’m a much better driver than him.” She starts the car.

Doyoung’s eyes grew wide. If anyone knew Minki the first thing that they would think of aside from his affluent family is his inability to drive a vehicle. It wasn’t like he never took lessons or he never passed the exam, he was just extremely… reckless when it came to driving. 

“Oh no.”

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[cigarettesaftersuh]

bf jaehyun ii.

[taetr4ck]

PLEASE MAKE MORE NCT 127 TEXTS AS RANDOM ASS JOBS 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

NCT 127 AS YOUR UBER DRIVER TEXTS !

uber driver!nct 127 x reader, no warnings — crack. taglist form.

a/n : YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND ANON 🫡 i actually love making these so much these are just so.. unhinged 😭🙏🏻 also ty, mark, and haechan’s aren’t mine! (at some parts lol)

taglist : @soul-is-a-strange-kid @haechansbbg @bath1lda @k-labels

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

[jhdyuiee]

Mirrors

-‘๑’- pairing: HUSBAND!jaehyun x WIFE!y/n

-‘๑’- warnings/tags: smut!, dirty talk, pet names (baby, good girl, wife, beautiful), unprotected sex, finger-fucking, squirting, spanking, heavy making out/kissing, breast play, cursing, multiple orgams, riding

-‘๑’- w.c: 1.6k

-‘๑’- a.n: hii!! i’m sorry for being MIA for the last month, school has been rlly overwhelming with midterms & testing but i’m on break rn which means ill be back to uploading! look foward to all the content i’ll be releasing starting with this one!! i love u all & thank you for waiting. i’m truly sorry 🤍

. . .

The hard crash of his lips on mine as the faint sound of the door slamming shut rung in my ears.

“Naked and on the bed,” he said as he pulled his lips away, his voice so deep.

Without a second thought, I went into the room and rid myself of every piece of clothing I had on. The cool air brushed against my wet aching core and hard nipples. Jaehyun walked in moments later, his hard cock leaking with precum. I wanted nothing more but to get a taste of it in my mouth, and fuck me til’ I forgot who I was.

Only he could do that.

His fingers grabbed my chin, lifting my head so I could look at him, eye-to-eye.

“Open your mouth,” he whispered, and so I did; slipping in two fingers into my mouth. “Suck.”

I sucked on his fingers, while he looked at me in a taunting way. His face saying, What a slut. I swirled my tongue and sucked on his fingers. ‘Is it weird how I find this oddly hot?’

Soon I was put in a haze, Jaehyun must’ve noticed it since he took his fingers out and managed to position me on top of him.

“You shouldn’t be thinking about anything else besides me,” he said, pinching one of my nipples roughly. I unconsciously grinded against him, his hard cock resting against my ass.

“S-sorry-“ I muttered, before he picked me up and sat in front of the mirror that stood in the corner of the room. I was positioned with my back resting against his chest, and his hands opening up my legs. I watched through the mirror all his movements and the way my cunt drooled.

“So wet for me,” he taunted, as he ghosted his hand around my cunt. Before I was able to mutter a sentence, a word, he slapped my cunt. I omitted a low yell, earning me another slap. “Oh! Fuck. J-Jae.” Slap. “Please ‘m nn-no.”

His hot breath warmed my ear, and he whispered, “No, you deserve a punishment after the show you put on at dinner.” His lips lingered for a while longer, then kissed down my neck. I felt like I was going to crumble any minute now, just by his harsh slaps and taunting words. I was so close, so fucking close, but then his slaps came to a hault.

“J-Jaehyun?” I questioned, turning my head back. His lust-filled eyes staring back at me.

He smirked, “Oh my pretty wife, you don’t get to cum yet.”

“Wha-What? I-“ He interrupted me halfway when his fingers intruded inside my cunt. No warning, Nothing. His two fingers going at an unmerciful pace, my stomach fluttered. The knot threatened to unleash any moment now.

“Pl-Pleas’ let me c-cum. I’m cl-close Jaehyun…”

His pace slowed, then halted again. He was torturing me. I couldn’t handle it. “No, no, no. Please Jae let me cum,” I begged him. I needed to release.

His hand grabbed my jaw, turning me to face him. “Apologize then,” his hazy voice said. “Apologize?” I questioned. “Yes, apologize for the show you put on earlier.”

The last hours came rushing back into my hazy mind. The incident at the restaurant. The incident in question was when I put on a dress—so short in his words—that it kept lifting up, nearly exposing my ass.

In truth, I wore it to piss him off, and because I might’ve felt a little needy for him today. However, I underestimated how many people would have their eyes on me, and the amount of fumes erupting from Jaehyun's head.

“S-Sorry… I’ll never do that again Jae.” His face didn’t change, “And?”

“And I’m only yours. I belong to you Jaehyun.”

He smirked, his lips finding mine. The kiss distracting me from his fingers that once again intruded inside my cunt, continuing their pace. His thumb playing with my clit, stroking, and circling it until it had me begging into our kiss. I wanted more.

“Please fuck me.” The words came out of my mouth, when I pulled away from the kiss.

Jaehyun didn’t say anything, he just lowered his head into my neck, sucking on my sweet spot as he continued relentlessly finger fucking me. I involuntarily clenched around his fingers, signaling him.

“It’s okay baby, let go all over my fingers beautiful.” Jaehyun's words were the tip of the iceberg, I came crashing down. Loud moans erupted from my lips, tears streamed from my eyes, and the faint touch of his lips against my shoulders.

“I always love it when you squirt,” he whispered. When my eyes finally fluttered open, I witnessed what he meant by that. I squirted all over his arm, the mirror, and the floor. The scene in front of us; a mess.

He brought his hand that was inside me to his mouth, licking himself clean of all my juices. He let out a satisfied groan. When he finished, he picked me back up and threw me gently on the bed. His cock aching for it’s release.

“Spread nice and wide for me baby,” he said. I grabbed my legs, spreading them for him. In different circumstances I would’ve hesitated, but the lust clouding my mind cut out any logic or emotions.

“Good girl.”

He brought himself closer, his tip prodded outside me. He was teasing me, but I was running out of patience. I shifted closer until his tip was the only thing inside my cunt.

“Impatient aren’t you my wife,” he teased as he watched me. He was enjoying this so much, I saw it in the way he look at me.

“Please hurry Jae, I need you to fuck me already.”

“Fuck you drive me insane Y/N.”

We both moaned when he pushed his cock further in, stretching me out so well. Jaehyun groaned, taking my arms to pin them above my head.

“So fucking tight,” he chuckled. “Even after all that squirting.”

Jaehyun thrusted hard and rough. The squelching sounds echoed in the room along with my moans. I would’ve been scratching his back if it wasn’t for the hold he had on my wrists that he pinned above my head.

“Ri-Right there,” I moaned out when he hit the spot he knows will have me crashing and crumbling. “Deeper… Harder.”

“As you wish,” he said. Jaehyun angled me slightly, his thrusts reaching me more deeper. The hold on my wrists disappeared, his hands now coming down my body until one reached my clit. He circled and pinched the already swollen clit as he thrusted even more relentlessly into me.

“Cum,” he groaned. One thrust, then two, until I finally came. I came hard on his cock, clenching around it while he fucked me through my climax.

His thrust then slowed down, going sloppy. He was close too. A couple thrusts more and he came too. His white seeds painting my insides white, filling me up so well.

“Good job baby,” he whispered, kissing my lips gently, a total contrast to his demeanor earlier. He laid beside me, and we waited until we caught out breaths. However, I was far from satisfied, I wanted him back inside me.

I turned to his side, he was already looking at me. He smiled, his dimples appearing. I got up, staring at his cock, which was still semi-hard.

“Not satisfied,” he said. I turned to him, seeing the smirk plastered across his face. I nodded. “Then ride me baby, you know what to do.”

Before I entered him, I stroked him to get his cock harder. I positioned myself on top of his cock, lowering myself until the tip poked me. I slid him in slowly, until he was all the way in.

“Fuck. Feel so good,” he groaned, bringing his hands to the sides of my hips.

I started bouncing, increasing my speed the more I go. His fingers dug into me, marks sure to appear. “Keep going baby, like that. Fuck. You’ll be the death of me.”

His praises only ignited me even more. “You like that?” I said when I leaned forward to capture his lips. He only let a satisfied groan into the kiss, but his hands traveled down to the flesh of my ass. He kneaded it, smacking it moments later. His smacks didn’t stop, but they did once I got back up.

“Keep riding me beautiful, I’m close to cummin’ now.”

And so I continued, his hands now on my tits. He fondled them, playing with both my nipples and later pinching them while I bounced on him. “Come down, I wanna suck on em’” he commanded.

My hands on the headboard, while my tits came in front of his face. I felt as his tongue darted out, and sucked on one like a child.

Slap. “Keep moving,” he said, biting down on my nipple.

It didn’t take long until we both came. My third climax erupting from me, in a hazy and euphoric way. I only saw white.

“Fucked dumb my little wife,” Jaehyun said, looking down at me. My legs trembled, tear stains all over my face, drool escaping my lips, and his love marks scattered all over my body.

“Yes,” I muttered. His head came down next to my ear whispering, “You did well.” His voice caused an eruption of butterflies in my stomach. I always loved his praises.

“Go to sleep now baby, I’ll clean you up,” he said. “And the mess you made in the mirror,” he teased. I pouted at his words, earning a laugh from him.

“I’m sorry, I love you.” He kissed my temple saying, “Good night my wife.”

“Good night Jae, I love you.” I muttered into the night before I drifted off into a quiet and deep sleep.

. . .

© jhdyuiee

2024.03.23

[ohmytyong]

douceur

⤹ now playing: k. by cigarettes after sex

PAIRING: boyfriend!jaehyun x female!reader

GENRE: smut (minors dni!!), fluff

WARNINGS: explicit language, alcohol consumption, pet names (kitten, honey, baby), short appearance of roommate!jungwoo, explicit sexual content; thigh riding, slight voyeurism (?), praise, suggestive scene of oral (m receiving)

not proofread, let me know if i missed any!

WC: 2k

A/N: this was sitting completely forgotten in my drafts. the first wip wasn't meant to include smut but oh well. anyway, perfume jaehyun has a very strong effect on me, so here's a little present from me to you

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

the glugging sound of the deep red liquid pouring into the tall thin glass echoed in the silent room. soft breaths were coming in and out of your nose as you watched your boyfriend jaehyun placing the glass on the counter top and taking the other empty one to pour some wine in it too.

you were sitting cross-legged on the sofa of jaehyun's dim-lit apartment, your body angled towards him and your back turned against the window looking down on the busy city streets. even though it was just a bit past midnight, the whole city was lit up as if it was new year's eve.

you and your boyfriend jaehyun had just got back to his apartment after your date to the movies. the streets were lively, the sky was gleaming, the mood was dazzling, yet the night was chilling, so you and jaehyun decided to take your date back to his apartment. before you could even think about arguing, jaehyun reassured you that he would lend you his clothes as nightwear, as always, and that he had also bought those baby wipes that remove your makeup. that's what he called them.

jaehyun placed the bottle of wine on the counter, grabbed the two half-full glasses he just filled with the red liquid and headed towards the couch where you were sitting. he sat down with a huff and handed you one of the glasses.

you smiled before your glasses met with a clink and then the two of you took a small sip of the alcoholic substance that filled the inside of the glass. "let's put on some music, go and pick something kitten" jaehyun motioned you to the shelf next to the tv set where he stored his vinyls.

you squirmed excitedly and placed you glass on the coffee table in front of you before you got up. jaehyun playfully patted your butt as you got up from the sofa and waited to see which vinyl you would pick. you had been through his vinyl collection many times before, but you knew exactly what you were looking for.

you fingers brushed softly against the spines of the vinyl covers, rummaging through them until you found the so familiar cover you always chose.

you took the black and white cigarettes after sex vinyl out of the shelf and went over to jaehyun's record player to put it on. jaehyun rolled his eyes at the sight of it. "out of so many different vinyls, you always pick this one. "we're having a good time honey, why the sad music?" jaehyun asked you in a way to make you change your mind, but your actions were quicker than his words as the vinyl had already started playing.

you sat back down on the sofa and leaned to the coffee table to grab your wine glass. "don't act like it's not one of your favorites either. and i don't care if it's sad, it sounds so calming and beautiful" you defended yourself and jaehyun couldn't do anything else but laugh.

you started swaying along the soothing sound of the music, taking in your surroundings. you had been in jaehyun's apartment many times before, it also felt like your apartment too. it radiated warmth, serenity, and a kind of comfort you only felt when you were wrapped in his arms.

you unconsciously started humming along to the tune that filled in the silence that previously occupied the living room, slightly swaying your body along to the soft melody. jaehyun noticed that and smiled to himself, thinking  how lucky he was to have you in his life, thinking how much he loved you.

without even looking at him, you noticed his eyes trained and you and turned your head towards him. you instantly returned his smile at the sight of his almost beaming face. "what are you smiling at? come on, let's dance" you urged him and took his hand to drag him from the sofa onto his feet.

jaehyun sighed at your actions, but he only did it because he knew it irritated you. deep down, he had been waiting for you to do this ever since the song started playing. 

the two of you stood in the center of the living room, jaehyun's arms wrapped around your waist and your arms stretching up to reach the back of his neck. as if somebody casted a spell upon you, your bodies became one and with the cue of your feet, the two of you started swaying to the soothing sound.

you rested your head on top of jaehyun's chest, your ear sitting at the exact spot that allowed you to listen to his heartbeat. at this action of yours, jaehyun moved one of his arms from your waist to caress the back of your head. you felt calm. at ease. this is the place you always wanted to be at. the only place you only wanted to be at.

this beautiful moment between the two of you was suddenly interrupted by the jingling sound of keys and the banding of the front door opening, revealing the tall slender figure of a rushing jungwoo. you and jaehyun practically jumped out of your reverie at the abrupt emergence of the loud sound.

with quick and almost nervous movements, jungwoo kicked the door shut behind him and placed the keys on top of the kitchen counter before he went on to take off his shoes. he flashed you a bright smile that spread across his entire face and spoke up in a soft yet cheerful voice. "hey guys, sorry to ruin the mood, i'll be out of your feet in a minute. i'll stay in my room, don't bother about me. have a good time!" he said and hurried to his room.

you and jaehyun looked at each other and bursted out laughing at jungwoo's straight-to-the-point comment. he was actually true to his word; he sweeped his feet on the floor on his way to his bedroom and without even turning his body, he closed the door with a thud behind him.

jaehyun sighed after his laughter slowly faded and pulled away from you and went to sit on the couch. you immediately felt empty without his touch and you instatly found your body gravitating towards his, aching to be touched again.

but this touch you were aching for was tranferred in the spot right between your legs. you wanted jaehyun. you needed him. and you needed him right then and there.

without thinking, you shifted your body in a way that allowed your thighs to meet closer in order to give your aching area some kind of friction. you could already feel your panties getting wet, and the sight of jaehyun sitting in front you on the sofa with his upper body leaning back and his legs spread made your aching sensation even worse.

jaehyun looked at you and patted his hand on his thigh, signaling you to go towards him. you didn't need to be told much at that moment. you practically hurried to his lap and straddled him, putting your legs on each side of his thighs.

jaehyun rested both of his hands at the back of your thighs and gently pushed you closer to him. you pulled him in for a passionate kiss and he responded to your touch in an instant, deepenign the kiss even more than you initially wanted.

jaehyun kissed you slowly yet roughly and full of hunger. he was eager to taste more of you and he was as desperate for you as you were for him. his grip on your thighs tightened and you felt your pussy clench around nothing, longing to be touched.

you shifted the weight of body so that your thighs were pressing with more force on jaehyun, which only made you even more wet as you felt his growing hard length through his pants. an uncontrollable whimper left your lips into jaehyun's mouth and he smirked during the kiss at that sound.

without breaking the kiss, jaehyun spoke. "what is it kitten? something wrong down there?" his voice was muffled and bore a suggestive tone. your response was again another broken whimper and jaehyun chuckled at your already undone state.

you shluggishly started rocking your hips against jaehyun's clothed length in order to somehow relieve yourself from the almost painful sensation between your legs. jaehyun noticed your eagerness and with steardy hands, he lifted your hips and moved your body so that you sat on top of his thigh.

"there we go. this is much better kitten, isn't it?" jaehyun spoke with a low raspy voice. "now go ahead. help yourself honey, i'll watch" he said and you could swear you could feel your wetness drip down you leg.

you didn't need jaehyun's words to get you going though. you were moving your hips along his thigh, pressing onto it so that you could get as much friction as possible through the fabric of both your pants and his. you were too impatient to take them off, you just begun riding your boyfriend's thigh, gripping onto his shoulders to support your body from completely falling apart.

all this time jaehyun had his gaze fixated on you, his eyes darting from your face, to the spot your aching core met his thigh, and then back to your face. the expression of pleasure on your face and the breathy moans that left your lips had jaehyun reaching between his legs, cupping his dick outside his pants.

a low squeak escaped your lips as you were coming closer to your climax and jaehyun quickly moved his free hand to cover your mouth. "shhh, baby, you don't want jungwoo to come out of his room and see you like this" he whispered and you closed your eyes shut, muffled moans leaving your mouth into jaehyun's hand. 

you felt you climax almost there. the movements of yous hips became faster and sloppier in an attempt to reach your high. jaehyun sensed it too and he flexed his thigh bone, which gave you a harder surface to grind on, finally reaching your climax. you buried your head into his shoulder, your body trembling at the relief of all this tension. jaehyun moved your hair away from your face and placed a tender kiss on your cheek. "you did great, baby. you were amazing" he praised you and you don't know how it was possible for your panties to get even more soaked than they already were.

you stayed like this for a moment to catch your breath and slowly lifted your head to meet jaehyun's eyes and kiss him. the kiss didn't last long though, as you heard jaehyun undoing his zipper and try to remove his pants. you grabbed his arm and stopped his movements before he could go any further.

"uh uh, what are you doing?" you asked him, teasingly.

jaehyun scoffed in desperation. "i mean, you gotta help me out on this one kitten," he said.

you got up from his lap and dropped down on your knees in front of him, right between his legs. you moved your hands at the waistband of his pants and with painfully slow movements you pulled them down to his ankles, dragging his underwear too at the same time, revealing his hard length already leaking with precum.

you leaned your upper body closer to him, taking his dick into your hand. you ran your thumb with a circling motion along his glistening tip, spreading some of his leaking cum across the sensitive area, which earned a low hiss from the male.

you brought his dick closer to your mouth, your lips barely touching his lenght. you looked up at jaehyun with an innocent puppy-eye look before you whispered right on top of the tip of his aching cock.

"let me handle this, babe"

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

TAGS: @matchahyuck @peachjaem00 @hyuckieslove @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @xxxx-23nct @doieslefttoe @uwuheeseungie

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Desiring You

SUMMARY | When Jaehyun has an inkling that you were touching yourself and thinking of him, he wants to know all your sexual fantasies. PAIRINGS | Jaehyun/Fem!Reader GENRE | college au, friends to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, fellatio, fingering, female masturbation, cunningulus, dirty talk RATING | Mature LENGTH | 6,435 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | 🙂 and now I will take a mini break from writing. (I'll be back next week lol)

"Fuck..."

After your date with Doyoung, you came back home feeling sexually frustrated. You were expecting to get laid tonight but that obviously didn’t happen. Even though you don’t really regret going on a date with him because he was nice and you enjoyed talking to him, you were hoping to have sex with him afterwards. But since that wasn’t happening, you decided to go ahead and try out some self-pleasuring.

You ran a hand along your chest while sitting on your bed. You knew your roommate and friend Jaehyun wasn’t coming home any soon. There was no reason for him to come home after his shift ended so early. He usually worked until midnight, sometimes later.

So it was a good thing that you were home alone. You wouldn’t have anyone interrupting you if you did decide to masturbate. Although, if he found out that you get off thinking about him it might not be such a great thing.

Not that you would ever admit that you get off thinking about him. If he found out he would definitely become curious and wonder why you fantasize about him. Of course, that wouldn’t bother you at all.

Thinking about him brought a smile to your face. How could you not think about him? Every time he looked at you with those beautiful eyes you immediately felt a little blush creep up on your face. How the hell did you start thinking about your friend in a sexual manner? Did you do something to inspire these feelings?

You weren’t sure what to call them; love or lust maybe? Those two terms seemed too strong. It was probably more of a sexual attraction towards him. Maybe that would be a better term to use.

Yeah, that sounds right. Sexual attraction sounds good.

What made you feel these feelings toward him? You’ve been friends for years. He has done nothing to make you feel this way other than be friendly and act like a normal person. You haven’t even kissed yet. Although, you would give anything to kiss those chocolaty lips of his.

Okay. Maybe this is starting to sound like you have a crush on him. A small crush. Yes, definitely a tiny crush. But is it possible that it could grow bigger?

You started to wonder if he felt the same way. Is he having fantasies about you too? Are you one of his many female fantasies? Is that even a possibility?

All this questioning made you wet.

Thinking about Jaehyun made you wet.

No matter how many times you go through this situation, you always end up becoming wet.

Well that’s convenient.

When you thought about this sexy man making you cum over and over again, it only added fuel to the fire. So naturally, when you were done touching your breasts, you reached under your bed and grabbed your favorite dildo. It was long, hard, and thick. Perfect for taking care of yourself whenever you need to.

As you slipped it into your pussy, you began thinking about your conversation with Jaehyun earlier today. What would happen if he discovered your secret desires? Would he think less of you? Would he still want to hangout with you knowing that you wanted to have sex with him? Was he already aware of your fantasies?

Just thinking about it was making you even more horny. Your mind was filled with images of you naked underneath Jaehyun while he fucks you from behind. His hands wrapped around your waist as you grinded against him. He leaned down and planted soft kisses on your neck before giving you another firm thrust inside of you. The sounds of his hips slapping against yours got louder and faster until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your orgasm rushed through you as you fell onto the floor panting.

Oh god…

This is exactly what you needed right now!

“Fuck, Jaehyun.” You said letting out a loud moan.

You picked up the pace of your movements as you became even more turned on by your own thoughts. It had been a while since you felt this way. As you sat there with a dildo buried deep inside of you, you let out a sigh of relief. All of the stress from school and work finally washed away as you lost yourself in your fantasy.

There was a knock on your door and you stopped mid stroke. Fuck! Was Jaehyun home? You grew anxious at the sudden thought of your roommate being home while you were masturbating about him. Could he tell what you were doing?

Oh my god, you are acting like an idiot. Of course he won’t know what you are doing. Just calm down.

Your heart began to race as you quickly finished off your session and removed the dildo from your pussy. It slid out with ease as you closed your legs together tightly. Leaning forward, you rested your head on your pillow and stared up at the ceiling, pulling your sheets to your naked body. After a few seconds, you finally relaxed and your breathing returned to normal. You heard your door creak open. When you lifted your head you saw Jaehyun standing in front of you.

“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” he said quietly.

“N-no. That was just me getting myself off. It was nothing,” you replied. You knew what he was implying and it didn’t surprise you. Of course he knew what you were doing. “You didn’t hear me pleasuring myself did you?”

“Uh…” he paused, clearly trying to think of something to say. He scratched his head awkwardly before saying, “I guess I must have heard something but I wasn’t sure what.”

He tried to hide the fact that he knew exactly what you were doing. Well, of course he knew. Your rooms shared a wall. There was no way he didn’t hear anything. But it didn’t seem like he cared either. That actually made you feel pretty damn happy. “Sorry about that, I just got carried away.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, “are you ready for dinner? We’re meeting everyone else downstairs in twenty minutes.”

“Dinner? I thought we weren’t going anywhere tonight,” you said, getting up from your bed, ignoring the way Jaehyun looked at your naked body before he looked away. It's not like you haven't seen each other naked before. There were times where you would shower and he would walk in on you and vice versa. You pulled on some clothes, combed your hair, and grabbed your purse before heading downstairs. “Where are we going anyway?”

“We’re eating at the place on the corner. There is a special for the night, half price drinks, so I told Johnny and the guys that we should check it out. He agreed,” Jaehyun explained as he led the way out of the apartment building and walked down the street.

Once outside, you realized that you hadn’t put on a bra under your tight cropped shirt. You shrugged it off though. You weren’t the kind of girl who wore bras unless she absolutely had to. Besides, no one was looking at you. In fact, most people were staring at Jaehyun. At least that was what it felt like. There were quite a few women gawking at him as they passed by.

Jaehyun didn't pay them any mind. Instead, he seemed to be looking at you. His gaze seemed to linger on your breasts longer than usual. And when he glanced at your bare stomach, you could swear you saw a bulge appear beneath his pants.

Was he getting a boner?

As you walked, Jaehyun asked you questions about work, school and the upcoming summer break. But his focus was never on the conversation. Instead, his eyes kept returning to your body. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just flattering. You liked it when he looked at you. In fact, you loved it.

The restaurant you arrived at wasn’t very big. It consisted of three booths on each side and a bar in the middle where they served food and drinks. It wasn’t very busy so you were seated right away. It wasn’t long before you placed your order and ordered your first round of drinks. Once your orders were taken, Jaehyun turned to you and said, “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave without me.”

And with that he headed towards the restroom. Once you heard the door close, you lifted your glass to your lips and took a sip of your drink. Then you glanced over at the table next to you and noticed one of the girls sitting there with her friends. She was checking you out. You were the only single woman in the group. So of course she was paying attention to you.

Shaking off the awkward moment you felt on your skin, you continued to look around the restaurant. You noticed several men who were also checking you out. Some had their heads turned towards you and were talking amongst themselves while others were just staring.

They were all checking you out, but they all averted their attention when Jaehyun returned and slid into the seat beside you. The rest of your group arrived shortly after that and you ordered your second round of drinks. Soon enough you were drinking more and giggling with the guys, discussing various topics ranging from sports to celebrities.

You couldn't help but be aware that Jaehyun placed his left hand on your right thigh. To him, it was probably nothing. This was a casual setting and everyone around them was doing the same thing. It was innocent and fun. But for you, it was different. You were tipsy and feeling horny. So when Jaehyun placed his hand on your thigh, you were caught off guard.

At first, you froze. You wondered if he would remove his hand once he realized you weren’t comfortable.

But then you realized he wasn’t removing it because he enjoyed doing it. No, it was much worse than that. He was purposely putting his hand on your thigh because he wanted to. And what’s more? He knew you were going to like it.

That realization made you a little bit nervous. Did he do this often? Does he do this to every woman he meets? And why does it turn you on so much? Why can’t you stop thinking about him? It was making you crazy. Your entire body started to tingle and your pussy began to get moist. Suddenly, you had the urge to rub your clit and reach down between your legs.

Just the thought of doing that sent waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body.

After finishing your nth round of drinks, you excused yourself to go to the restroom. Once inside, you locked the door and leaned against the sink. You gripped the sink and took deep breaths. You needed to relax. Despite your raging need to actually get laid, you could wait until you get home. This was not the place nor time to satisfy those urges.

You walked back to the table, and was about to sit back down, when suddenly someone cleared their throat. Startled, you looked up to see Jaehyun smiling down at you. “How’s everything? Ready to leave yet?”

“Yeah, we should probably head home soon,” you responded, attempting to smile.

Jaehyun stood up from the booth and motioned for you to follow him. Walking behind him, you thought about asking him what he meant by leaving but decided against it. Instead, you chose to act like you didn’t notice anything. Maybe it was his intention to drive you wild and you would eventually ask him about it later. Who knows?

“Yeah, the guys want to resume the party back at our place.” He muttered, noticing the look of confusion you had on your face.

The walk back to your apartment seemed like forever. All the while, you attempted to ignore Jaehyun’s presence beside you. You tried focusing on the tall buildings that lined the streets instead. You listened intently to the conversations surrounding you, nodding your head occasionally in agreement or disagreement. Even though you weren’t really listening, you still managed to keep up with what everyone was saying. By the time you reached your building, you were exhausted.

When you entered the elevator, the doors closed shut and the elevator began its ascent. As you waited for the elevator to stop at your floor, you sighed deeply. What was happening to you? Years ago, you were fine and able to control your feelings for someone. Now here you were. Unable to control yourself and frustrated at the same time. You couldn’t take it anymore.

As soon as you and your friends all passed through your front door, you pushed your way through the crowd and headed straight for your room. Once inside, you locked the door and lay face down on your bed. You reached down between your legs and gently stroked your clit. You could feel the warm wetness flowing from your pussy as you began to moan softly.

Please let him come in here. Please let him come in here and fuck me hard. I want him to use me, make me cum over and over again. God please, just come in here and take care of me. Make me forget everything that has happened today. Fuck me until I scream out your name.

You began to rub harder as the pleasurable sensations intensified. Your fingers slipped between your wet folds and found their way inside of you. You felt an orgasm building up within you and increased your speed even more. Suddenly, you felt a finger slip inside of you and it caused you to groan loudly.

Your breathing became heavier and you tried to hold it back. But it was too late. You couldn’t control yourself anymore. The wave of pleasure overtook you. As you felt yourself climaxing, you closed your eyes and burrowed your face in your pillow to drown out the noise. When you finally regained your senses, you looked down at your fingers. They were coated with your juices.

Fuck. You really needed to get laid.

Wiping your hands clean on some clean towelettes, you walked back into the living room where the rest of your friends were waiting. They were having another great time chatting and laughing together. While some of them were talking about sports and entertainment news, two of them were sitting on the couch sharing a bottle of wine. Others were talking about future plans and vacations. None of them paid you any mind.

Except for Jaehyun.

He watched you carefully as you passed by him and smiled when he caught your eye. You immediately looked away and continued walking to the kitchen. Once there, you opened the refrigerator and took out a water bottle. You unscrewed the cap and took a quick drink.

Then you walked back to the living room. You avoided eye contact with him and pretended to be engrossed in what was being discussed around you. He did the same thing. Not wanting to make eye contact, you forced yourself to listen and participate in the conversation. It was difficult, especially since you were unable to take your eyes off of him. Every now and then you would catch him watching you and would quickly avert your eyes away. But when you turned your head away, you would catch him doing the exact same thing.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually, your friends decided to call it a night and left the apartment. When it was just you and Jaehyun in the living room, you grabbed a blanket from the couch and stretched it across your lap.

Jaehyun sat down on the couch opposite of you and picked up the remote. For the next half hour or so, he flipped through the channels on the television and settled on a cooking show. But every now and then he would glance at you. Sometimes he would smile and other times he would frown. But either way, you couldn’t look away. He was fascinating. 

And attractive. 

Very attractive.

Finally, you found something to say to him. “Jaehyun, what the fuck happened back at the restaurant? When your hand was on my thigh?"

Jaehyun shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Well you better try. If I hadn’t been so fucking tipsy, I would have kicked your ass out of here.”

Jaehyun chuckled and shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t have done that. That wasn’t your intention.”

"What is my intention?" you asked.

Jaehyun tilted his head to the side and cocked his eyebrow. "Hmm... I think you know, Y/N."

"Don't play games with me, Jaehyun," you snapped. "I'm not in the mood for it tonight."

"Why not? Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"Yes, actually there is. And you're partly responsible for it. You and your stupid hand. Do you do this to every woman you meet? Or are you doing this just to me?"

Jaehyun laughed. "You mean you've never had anyone touch you like that before?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course I've had people touch me like that before. I'm not a virgin."

Jaehyun's expression grew serious. "Then how do you explain the way you reacted to me touching you?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I guess I was caught off guard. I didn't expect anyone to touch me like that. Especially you."

"But you liked it, right?" he asked.

Suddenly, you had no idea what to say. Part of you was embarrassed. But most of you wanted to get it over with. You didn't know why, but the sexual tension that was building between you both was unbearable. But the problem was you didn't know how to respond. After spending months fighting your attraction to him, you didn't know how to handle it now that it was happening.

"I suppose I did," you said quietly.

"Is that so?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Maybe..." you responded, trailing off.

"Tell me. Tell me exactly how you liked it."

There was no doubt in your mind that Jaehyun was completely dominating the situation. You just didn't know how to handle it. But at the same time, you also found it incredibly arousing. It was making you wet. So wet. So very, very wet. Your pussy felt like it was ready to burst. Yet at the same time, it was driving you crazy. How was that possible?

The sexual tension in the room thickened as you and Jaehyun stared each other down. You swallowed hard and stared back at him. “Okay. Well first, it felt good. But then it felt even better when I realized that you knew exactly what you were doing. That you knew exactly how I liked it.”

You heard Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle and leaned back on the couch. “That’s interesting. Why did you say that it felt even better? Was it because you were imagining that I was the one touching you?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation.

Jaehyun placed his feet on the coffee table and crossed his arms over his chest. His intense gaze bore into yours. “So you enjoyed fantasizing about me? About how good it would feel if I touched you like that? Did you ever imagine what I would taste like? How I would feel inside of you? How many times you would cum?”

He paused and gave you a smug grin. “Now that I think about it, I can’t help but wonder what else you imagined. And who you imagined it with. Did you picture me?”

You felt your heart race. He was reading your mind! You couldn’t believe it. But as much as you hated to admit it, you were flattered. And aroused. God, you were so turned on right now. The thought of having sex with Jaehyun was making you weak in the knees.

Without realizing it, your mouth started to water. You swallowed and tried to keep yourself from drooling. It was almost impossible.

“So tell me,” he pressed. “Who did you fantasize about?”

This was it. This was your chance. Now or never. You couldn’t waste this opportunity. “You,” you whispered.

“Oh really?”

You nodded slowly. “You… you’re the only person I ever pictured.”

Jaehyun leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees. He pursed his lips and stared at you. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you said firmly.

He stood up and stepped closer to you. “So when you were getting off earlier, did you think about me?”

His words sent shivers down your spine. You nodded slowly and bit your lip. You could see the desire burning in his eyes.

“Did you dream about my body? Did you dream about the way I would feel inside of you? Did you picture our faces as we kissed?”

You gulped and closed your eyes. Oh god. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop.

Jaehyun smirked. “Do you like that image? Do you want to feel my cock inside of you? Do you want me to fuck you until you cum over and over again? Would you let me eat you out until you begged me to stop? Would you let me cum all over your pretty little face?”

As soon as he said those things, you knew he was going to do it.

And you were going to let him.

You were suddenly overcome with excitement. Your clit throbbed and you desperately needed release. Your breath hitched in anticipation. All you could think about was letting Jaehyun finally give you what you wanted. All you wanted was to feel his warm tongue teasing your inner thighs. To feel his fingers pressing against your swollen clit. To feel his cock filling you up. You moaned loudly and dropped your head back on the couch.

“Oh yes,” you moaned. “Please. Please. Please. Fuck me, Jaehyun. Please.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Very nice.”

“Oh please,” you begged. “Just do it. Just fuck me already.”

Jaehyun's eyes darkened. “Oh, baby. You sure are begging for it. Are you sure you want it? Are you sure you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

Jaehyun removed his belt and unbuttoned his pants. Then he unzipped his fly and pulled out his stiffening cock. As soon as he saw you staring at it, he gasped. “Look at you. You’re absolutely beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

His eyes drifted down to your exposed breasts. “Your nipples are getting so hard. They’re practically bursting through your shirt. Do you want them sucked? Do you want me to suck them until they’re red and swollen?”

You nodded frantically. Yes, please.

“Fuck, baby." Jaehyun moaned out. "Get on your knees so you can suck me off. Get on your knees and open your mouth wide. Open it up real big so I can fit my dick in your mouth. Let me hear you moan. Suck me off until I cum all over your pretty little face.”

With trembling hands, you pulled your shirt over your head and threw it onto the floor, your nipples hardening. Without thinking twice, you moved to kneel in front of Jaehyun. When your knees met the ground, you grabbed hold of his cock and brought it close to your mouth.

“Open up,” he ordered.

Without any hesitation, you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock. A wave of pleasure rushed through you and you took more of him into your mouth. Inch by inch, you continued sucking him off. You were amazed by how big his cock was. It was thicker than any cock you had ever seen. And judging by the way he was stroking it, you could tell he wanted it bad.

“Mmm, baby,” Jaehyun groaned out. "That feels so good. You’re such a good little cocksucker. God, you’re so hot. You look so sexy sucking on my dick. You’re so fucking hot. I’m going to fill you up so full of cum. I’m going to cum so deep inside of you.”

It was only seconds later when you felt his warm jizz begin to coat the insides of your throat. His dick twitched and pulsated in your mouth as you felt his cum hit the back of your throat. He groaned and pumped his hips, pushing himself deeper inside of you. You gripped his shaft tightly and let out an agonized cry. He thrust harder and faster, hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. With each thrust, his balls smacked against your chin.

Finally, after several minutes of continuous stimulation, he collapsed onto the couch next to you. You held his still erect cock in your mouth and gently licked his head clean. His eyes remained closed and he seemed to be breathing heavily. When you finally released his cock from your mouth, you watched as a small amount of his seed oozed out of the tip and slid down your cheek. You wiped it away with the back of your hand and licked your lips. You looked over at Jaehyun, whose eyes remained shut. Suddenly, his eyes flew open and locked onto yours. He stared intently at you, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Was that okay?" he asked.

You shrugged. "Mmhmm."

"Good. Because I have another fantasy I want to fulfill tonight."

Jaehyun pushed himself up off of the couch and reached for your hand. Pulling you to your feet, he led you towards the bedroom. Once inside, he reached for the rest of your clothes and quickly began taking them, and his, off. You shivered as his cool touch brushed against your skin.

"Lay down on the bed, baby."

When you got onto the bed, Jaehyun climbed on top of you and ran his hands up your legs, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. He leaned in and gently kissed your neck.

"Fuck, you're wet."

"Jaehyun, I've been wet since the restaurant. I'm so horny," you confessed.

"Don't worry," he reassured you. "I'll take care of you. I promise."

He sat up and ran his fingers up and down your inner thighs, making you tremble. He smiled. "Are you excited?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"Then spread your legs."

You parted your legs and watched in amazement as Jaehyun slipped his fingers between your folds. A gasp escaped your lips when he rubbed your clit, sending tingles throughout your entire body. He bent down and softly kissed you on the lips.

"Mmmm, baby. I love tasting you. You taste so sweet."

He kissed you again and then began kissing down your stomach. After several long moments, he stopped and glanced up at you. "God, you're so beautiful. Look at you lying there naked. So vulnerable. So wet. So ready."

His words caused your heart to flutter. He gazed down at you, studying every curve. "You know, I used to have dreams about you when we were younger. The first time I saw you naked back in high school, I knew I'd want to make love to you one day. Even though you didn't want me."

"Who said I didn't want you?" you teased.

Jaehyun laughed. "You're too adorable, you know that? But seriously, it wasn't just your physical appearance that made me fall in love with you. It was your personality. You're so carefree and innocent. But underneath that innocence is a naughty girl who needs to be taken advantage of. You need to be seduced. Tempted. And most importantly, you need to be fucked."

You whimpered and squirmed beneath him. "What else are you going to do to me?"

"Just wait," he replied. "You haven't even seen anything yet."

He placed soft kisses along your stomach, working his way down to your navel. Finally, he got to your pubic bone and ran his tongue around it. He looked up at you with lustful eyes.

"Spread your legs wider for me, baby."

Slowly, you parted your legs, exposing yourself completely. Jaehyun stared hungrily at your pussy, which was now glistening with moisture.

"My god, you're so beautiful," he whispered.

He dipped his finger into your slit and stroked it around your tight opening. He put two fingers inside of you and stroked them back and forth. His eyes focused on your face, which displayed your complete submission to him. Your cheeks flushed pink as his actions turned you on.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Your pussy is so tight. God, you feel so good. I could spend hours playing with this pussy."

A low moan escaped your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of your body. Every thrust of his fingers sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Tell me what you want," he instructed.

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to go for it. You looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Fuck, Jaehyun. I need you to eat me out. I need you to lick my pussy. I want you to make me cum. Please. Please. Please."

He smiled. "Are you sure? Do you really want me to eat you out? To get between those thighs and pleasure you?"

"Oh god, yes. Please."

Jaehyun wasted no time and started licking your pussy, slowly moving his tongue in circles around your clit. He flicked it against it occasionally and sucked on it. He kept going until you were writhing under him. You grabbed hold of his hair and jerked it as he pleasured you. Within seconds, your body went limp and you screamed out his name as your orgasm overtook you. You bucked your hips up against his face, forcing his tongue deeper into your wet pussy. He continued licking your clit, driving you insane with pleasure. Soon, he removed his fingers from inside of you and lapped at your juices, continuing to massage your throbbing clit.

As you lay panting, you looked up at Jaehyun, who was staring down at you. You stared deeply into his dark brown eyes and let out a satisfied sigh. You were pleasantly surprised to see a satisfied smile forming on his face.

"You liked that, huh?" he asked.

"Absolutely," you answered, smiling back at him.

"Well, you better get used to having me between your thighs. I'm not going anywhere." And with that, he flipped your bodies so that you were now lying on top of him. Your bare breasts were pressed firmly against his chest and your legs straddled his hips. He smiled as he began rubbing your back with his hand. "I want you to ride me. Put my cock in your pussy and ride me like you mean it."

"Yes, Jaehyun," you answered breathlessly. You reached behind you to grab his hard cock. Slowly, you lowered yourself down onto his throbbing length. The feeling of it filling you up caused a wave of pleasure to wash over you. As you buried him to the hilt, you gave a slight moan.

"Do you like that, baby?" he asked.

"Oh fuck, yes," you responded. "You feel so fucking good. So good."

Jaehyun lifted his hips slightly, increasing the friction of his cock inside of you. At the same time, he moved his right hand to squeeze your left breast. "That's it, baby. Ride me."

As you continued riding him, he switched up his rhythm and began pumping his hips back and forth. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

"Fuck, Jaehyun," you moaned. "This feels amazing. Fuck. I can feel your dick all the way inside of me. That's it. Keep doing that. Yes, oh god, please keep doing that."

His pace increased and soon he was pounding into you harder than ever before. The sight of you on top of him was incredible. He pulled you tighter against him, giving you a deep kiss. His lips devoured yours, causing you to shudder with pleasure.

"Faster, Jaehyun," you demanded. "Fuck me harder. Harder."

He slammed into you over and over again, moaning as he did so. Your hands were braced against his muscular chest, leaving your fingertips lightly touching. 

"Harder, baby," you cried. "Give it to me. Give it to me hard."

"That's it, Jaehyun. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," you yelled, as your orgasms came upon you. 

He suddenly rolled you over and pinned you to the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. Your arms were trapped above your head as he continued slamming into you. The friction of his dick rubbing against your sensitive clit had you struggling to breathe. His movements became increasingly rough and demanding, prompting you to bite your lip. His breathing became labored as he slammed into you repeatedly. You felt his warm seed splashing against your lower abdomen and between your legs.

Suddenly, he withdrew from you and flopped down beside you, panting.

"Jesus fucking christ, Jaehyun, that was amazing," you panted.

Jaehyun nodded his head in agreement. "It was. I don't think I've ever had sex quite like that."

You grinned. "Me either."

He propped himself up on an elbow and studied your naked body. "So did this live up to your wild fantasies about me? Are you happy with how things played out?"

You shook your head. "No, it exceeded them. It was beyond what I expected. I loved every minute of it."

He smiled and reached over to run his fingers through your hair. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier," you told him. "But thank you for tonight. For everything. For fucking me and eating me out. For doing whatever the hell you wanted to do to me. You were perfect."

Jaehyun's eyes lit up. "Really? Thank you, baby. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Honestly, if it hadn't been for you, none of this would have happened."

You tilted your head curiously. "What do you mean?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Ever since high school, I've always fantasized about being with you. I told my friends that you'd be the one. They thought I was crazy, but now they agree with me. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Why didn't you ever tell me these things?"

"Honestly, I was afraid of scaring you off. I didn't want to lose you. We'd grown up together, after all. I figured if I talked to you about this stuff, it might change the way you felt about me."

"How did I change the way you felt about me?"

He shrugged. "I guess the whole thing just scared me a little bit. You were my childhood friend. Our relationship meant something to me. But I guess now that it's finally happened, I feel relieved. Like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders."

He sat up and looked down at you. You could feel his eyes burning into you.

"Jaehyun, I feel the same way." You started. "We've been friends forever and I don't know when and how it happened, but I guess I started to have a crush on you. And then starting college together and becoming roommates, I started to feel sexually attracted to you. Not only that, but I started to become extremely jealous whenever you talked to other girls. I always wondered why you never tried to ask me out or kiss me."

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you admitted to your feelings.

"Shit," he murmured. "Don't cry, baby. It's okay."

"So why now?" you asked. "Why all of a sudden, you finally decide to make a move tonight?"

"Because you moaned my name when you were getting off earlier," he explained. "I was just sitting in my room, reading up on some assignments and then all of a sudden, I heard you moan my name. It made me think that you saw me as something more than a friend. I couldn't stop thinking about you. About us. Tonight, I couldn't stand it anymore. I knew that I needed to be with you."

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you heard his words. There was nothing sexual about his confession. It was pure honesty and desire. You threw your arms around his neck and buried your face in his chest. You felt his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly.

"God, baby, I love you," he said. "And I can't wait to show you how much I love you. In fact, I can't wait to do everything you ever dreamed of doing to me. I can't wait to see your face light up when you realize how special I am to you. When you realize just how beautiful and sexy you are to me. How incredibly lucky I am to have found you."

His voice grew husky and serious. "Let me take care of you. Let me protect you. Let me give you everything you ever wanted and more. Let me show you how great life can be."

You pulled away from him and gazed into his eyes. You could tell that he meant every word he had said.

"Promise me something," you said.

He furrowed his brow. "Anything."

"Promise me that this will never end. Promise me that you'll stay with me. I know that we're still young and that things might change, but please promise me that we'll always be there for each other."

Jaehyun was speechless. He smiled at you softly. "Baby, that's all I could ever hope for. I swear that I will always be here for you. Always. Whatever happens. No matter where our lives take us, I'll be there for you."

A tear fell down your cheek. "I'm so sorry. I'm such a fucking mess."

Jaehyun gently wiped the tear from your eye. "No, you're not. Look at you," he whispered. "Look at how beautiful you are. Look at the way you look at me. God, I wish you could see how gorgeous you are. You make me fucking weak in the knees."

He leaned forward and kissed you tenderly on the lips. His soft touch sent shivers down your spine. Before long, he pulled away from you. "Just relax," he said. "I want you to fall asleep with me. Please."

"Okay," you agreed. You snuggled closer to him. "Your bed tonight and then we'll sleep in mine tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me," he replied. "Now go to sleep. I love you."

"I love you too, Jaehyun."

You closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man who had stolen your heart.

[8myass]

.. "soft" bf texts with jeong yoonoh/jaehyun .. pairing. jae x gn reader genre. fluff, smut a/n. second work for jae's birthday event!!

[nctstar]

one, two...

“Oh, so she’s like that with all men. I see.”

“No, no,” you whispered. “Only you, only…you three.”

pairing: dojaejung x fem!reader 

other members: none

word count: 3k 

genre: smut

warnings: this is purely a graphic smut so minors please dni!! foursome, everything is consensual (verbal + use of the traffic light system throughout), dom!dojaejung, sub!reader, sir kink, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy), rough sex (+ reader is manhandled a LOT), degradation (liberal use of the words slut & whore), praise kink, multiple orgasms, fingering (everywhere), oral (female and male receiving), breast play, (sort of size kink idk they all have big bananas), penetration, use of vibrator, kissing, spitting in mouth (sorry), anal, double + triple penetration, lots of cum, profanity

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: some people tell me that I need therapy after reading the smut I write and I think they're onto something

The thin fabric of your dress clung onto your skin, droplets of pool water sliding off the seams and dripping onto the floor. You watched the carpet darken with every drop. Drip, drip, drip… Your gaze didn’t leave the floor once, despite feeling eyes boring holes into your skull, the tension thickening with every passing second. Goosebumps prickled across your skin, but you felt hot, your face flushed and your heart pounding, feeling restless on your feet.

“Are you just gonna keep staring at the floor?”

Before you, Doyoung was sprawled out on the couch. Donning the shiniest pair of black pants elongating his legs, his shirt hung off his body, casting shadows across his ribs. The remnants of the long past music show was evident in his done-up hair, straight black tendrils shrouding his forehead and dark lined eyes piercing through the strands like a dragon. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, and you felt like you were melting like putty under his intense gaze.

This wasn’t the energy you had carried hours ago backstage when you were moaning in his ear, running your hands across his torso shamelessly while you got carried away with your words…

“Come here.”

He patted his right knee. You walked over, swallowing a shudder as you felt wind prickle at your wet skin. You perched yourself on his leg, more and more aware of just how flimsy your dress was. He pulled you in closer from the waist, his other hand bringing your face closer to his. Yet, he stopped short of the kiss. “Are you cold?”

“No.” You had no idea why you lied. In reality, you were fighting the urge to shiver, your nipples being pricked everytime your dress slipped across your chest. In fact, as you shifted in his lap, you brought one hand to fix the strap of your dress, now threatening to expose your entire torso.

Doyoung’s hand grabbed at your wrist. “Don’t. You came here to be a whore, right? So act like it.”

“Doyoung-ah,” you whined, the word whore making you slide into a different headspace. You felt his hands dip between the plush of your thighs, making you squeeze your eyes shut in response. Every time he touched you, it was gentle but immediately passionate and relentless. And every time he closed in on you, he felt familiar and unique at the same time, jolting your body awake with something different blooming every time.

“You guys are here already.” The statement hung in the air with a hint of finality. You pulled away from Doyoung and were met with Jungwoo’s unmistakably toned body. The beige shirt from before was now hanging off his arms, letting rays of moonlight dance across the skin of his chest and stomach. His eyes met yours, his expression serious and unmoving.

Not at all the way he was an hour ago when his mouth was tangled with yours, the bottle of wine you’d had mixing dangerously with the sweet smell of his perfume and the dim lights, making you dizzy and him more and more eager.

“Jungwoo, uh…hi.”

He stepped closer to the arm of the couch and dramatically rested one knee up on the edge in an almost comical display of dominance. Yet, it made something in you switch, and you felt your body aching to be in that bar again, tasting him in the corner of the room.

“Tell us again what you told me backstage,” Doyoung broke the silence, his icy fingers now bringing your face back towards him. “You know, back when you were rutting against me like a bitch in heat.”

Damn, that was harsh.

“Oh, so she’s like that with all men. I see.”

“No, no,” you whispered. “Only you, only…you three.” The word three quietly slipped off your tongue and trailed off like it was a long-held secret, something that you would have taken to your grave if you weren’t in your current predicament.

Memories ran through your mind, of yourself. Mere days ago. Your head in between Jaehyun’s spread legs, scalp tingling from his random pulls on your ponytail, the bony part of your knees feeling sore on the cold tiles as the beat of the song beyond the door thumped on.

“Right, right.” You watched Jungwoo’s demeanour crack as he smirked, looking at you teasingly.

At first you hadn’t noticed Jaehyun leaning on the doorframe, lurking in the shadows like an outsider. But as he took a few steps forward, the darkness began to leave his slender frame, and he was standing in front of you and Doyoung in no time. Your eyes began to scan the outlines of his waist, and the way his jean shorts hung on for dear life. Despite how much you had fooled around with all three of them the past couple of months, not once did you think you’d be here, dripping onto the carpet on the lap of one man while two others watched you with hungry eyes.

“Staring at his cock, are you?” Your eyes widened at the filth of Doyoung’s words, him usually striking you as a missionary-reserved kind of guy. But you looked away immediately, mortified, and he only chuckled.

He pushed you onto your back then, letting your head rest on the armrest of the couch and the small of your back on his legs. You felt breathless as he manhandled you around, your dress slipping and sliding around to expose you in obscene ways.

“Open up.” You met Jungwoo’s face upside down. You were no stranger to his casual dominance that molded you into submission every time, but today you hesitated slightly, having never taken him in your mouth before. Let alone like this.

Almost like he read your mind, he immediately added, “It’s okay.You can do it, baby. I’ll help.”

“So nice, isn’t he?” Jaehyun finally spoke, and you looked down to see him on his knees, towering over your bottom half. Doyoung had lifted the ends of your dress to your stomach, exposing your pussy now dripping onto his lap like some sort of cheap porno. You whimpered as Jaehyun ran his fingers over your folds, holding your breath in anticipation. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“Oh, Jae.” You sucked in a sharp breath as his mouth landed on your pussy, making you pull away involuntarily. You felt a sharp sting on the inside of your thighs. “Mmm, sorry. Please, please fuck me. I need it so bad, fuck.” You drawled out your words as he ate you out with the vigour of a young bachelor, Doyoung keeping one of your thighs anchored down.

“You hear that, Doyoung? So pathetic. Any common whore could have come up with that.”

“A-ah,” you moaned as his fingers entered you, the rush of sensation making you feel scatterbrained. “No, wait, I didn’t, ah…I meant…”

“We’ll give her another chance later.” Jungwoo hooked under your chin and bent your neck up, letting you open your mouth and engulf his girth. Your hands fisted tight as you choked, drool running down your chin and onto your collarbones. You closed your eyes, letting yourself be used as he pleased. “Good girl.” he groaned, and Jaehyun began to pump his fingers inside you at a steady pace.

Your cries and moans were getting lost around Jungwoo’s length, his hips now pistoning in and out of your mouth, and you felt Doyoung play with your nipples, making you jerk on his lap. You felt an impending orgasm build up inside you, your whines getting stronger as you pushed Jungwoo off to release your mouth. “Gonna cum!”

“Who said you could?” Jaehyun’s pace remained unchanged, and you shut your eyes, your brain turning into mush as ripples of pleasure took over your senses.

A sharp pull on your hair brought you back to reality with a yelp. “Answer him, baby.”

“Ah, s-sir.” Your eyes glazed over, making Jungwoo’s figure look less and less definite. His grip didn’t falter, but he let out a gentle sigh. “Do as he says, or you’ll regret it.”

“I can’t…I can’t hold it in,” your voice shook, your muscles stiff as your body was pinned down. “Please, ah, let me cum, ah, ah…shit!”

“Go ahead, princess.” You came with a cry, soaking Jaehyun’s fingers in the process. Your head felt floaty, and you faintly registered being shifted around until your legs were pressed up against your chest and you felt a hard bulb press against your hole.

“Nghhh…” With little energy left, you were painting the air with incoherent sounds. Doyoung pressed his lips against yours, his hands slipping on your thighs. “You gonna be a good whore for me?”

“Y-ye…yeah.” You sucked in a breath through your teeth as his wide girth filled you to the brim, your walls stretched thin. “So big.”

“Yeah?” He breathed, before slamming into you, knocking the air out of you in the process. You opened your mouth to scream but no sound came out at first, your body almost feeling helpless to the sudden intrusion.

“Does it hurt, baby?” You felt someone stroke the hair on your face, and you shook your head. Jaehyun patted your cheek harder, as if to snap you out of your haze. “Don’t lie. Use your words.”

“No, no, feels…feels good.” Your voice wavered with every stroke, and you looked up to meet his eyes, filled with lust. Standing beside Jungwoo, both watching you get ruined making you surprisingly wetter. You threw your head back, feeling Doyoung rack your body with his strong thrusts. You closed your eyes in response, but a slap on the side of your face made your eyes fly open again. “Look at me while you’re getting ravished like this, baby. Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

“Ah, yes, s-sir!” Doyoung’s face was now in front of yours, his thrusts getting sloppier and more desperate as he went along. “You like being watched, too? You keep watching them and squeezing around me, you filthy girl.” You only moaned in response, your eyes rolling on the back of your head, all logical thoughts spilling out of your mind as his release poured out of you, hole left gaping as he pulled out.

You felt like you blinked and Doyoung was just gone, replaced by Jaehyun. Before you could register anything, you felt his cock slap against your dripping hole, making you yelp and shut your knees together. “Ah, wait, wait…” Your chest was heaving, the bottom of your dress now slick with sweat and release.

“Colour?” You felt Jungwoo’s whisper on the side of your head, Jaehyun’s heavy gaze on you, and you didn’t hesitate with your answer. “Green.”

“Fuck, you’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” Doyoung’s words and Jaehyun’s hands prying your knees apart made your stomach churn with anticipation. You felt another tug on your hair, gentle this time, and you looked up to meet Jungwoo, his face now closer to yours. “Tongue out for me.” You whimpered as he engulfed your open mouth into his, the kiss sloppy and wet. He pulled away, one hand now shoved under your dress and playing with your tits, another stroking your face, driving you crazy with his simultaneous gentle and rough handling. Without warning, you felt something hard and almost plastic rest on the top of your pussy, and you immediately felt Jungwoo block you from looking down. “No. Keep looking up.”

As soon as you felt the vibrations start on your already spent core, you squealed and began to writhe away. Much to you dismay, you were being held down mercilessly. “Oh my god, oh my god, it’s already too much…”

“I don’t care. Pay attention up here. You think you can get away with not making me cum?”

“Fuck, fuck…”

“On your knees, _. I don’t have all day.”

You supported yourself up, wobbling the entire way, your entire body feeling the effects of this vibrator that was sucking the life out of you today in mere seconds…or minutes, you no longer could tell. Feeling the cold edges of the Jaehyun’s rings against your bare thighs, you realised he was probably the one rolling the end of the toy on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. “Good fucking slut. She’s good, isn’t she?”

You whimpered, feeling the vibrations ebb away, almost missing the way it was letting you build up to your climax. “Yes, sir…”

You heard Doyoung’s laugh next to you, making you feel both embarrassed and hornier than ever. “Gosh, she’s so out of it already.”

You looked up to be met with Jungwoo’s length, your hair shrouding your face as you stared thoughtlessly. Jaehyun breathed into your ear, “Need some help with that, baby?”

You nodded, all self-respect leaving your body at this point. “Let’s make a deal then,” he continued. “If I help you suck his cock, you let me fuck you from behind.” You inhaled sharply, the vibrations now slowly building up again. “Or we use the toy. What do you want?” You knew he was being gracious by asking, but his tone was mocking, almost scathing.

“Your cock…a-ah…please. Want to be stretched out and…fu-fucked, please. In all my h- ah, oh my god,” Your thighs shook, the last of your inhibitions leaving you as you felt a hot combination of your and the mens’ release leak down your inner thighs, naked and needy in front of all three.

“What was that, hmm?” Doyoung placed a hand on the small of your back, tipping you towards the vibrator, making you pant louder and louder.

“Nghh…fuck, please fuck me, in, all my holes, oh my-” you were cut off by the vibrator leaving your clit, the sudden loss making you want to fight back tears.

The steady silence that followed made you realise then the gravity of your words.  

“Mmm, we better give her what she wants then.” Jungwoo stated as a matter of fact, but you sensed a sudden arousal rise up within him, and your stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety. “Here I was thinking you’d be satisfied getting fucked two at a time.”

You yelped as you felt something cold on your rim, and you heard Doyoung shush you immediately. “It’s alright, baby, it’s just lube. You okay with this?” You bit your lip, trying to hold in your moans already. “I-I think I can.” Your voice was tiny and shaky, and Jungwoo tipped the bottom of your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. “What’s your colour? Be honest, it’s okay.” You felt Jaehyun hum in agreement, patting your thigh comfortingly.

“Yes, yes I want this. Green. God, I need to cum so bad.”

Jungwoo’s fingers changed you squeeze roughly around your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. Bending over, he spat inside, making you shut your eyes and whine. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“Ah, you, you…all of…y-you.”

“That’s a good girl. You look so pretty like this. Just waiting for cock.” You hummed in pleasure, feeling fingers enter and begin to stretch you out. Gasping and moaning, you let Jungwoo guide you to his length, Jaehyun pulling the hair away from your face as promised in a tight, unforgiving grip. As you gagged, the two men swore and pushed you down deeper, Jaehyun holding your head in place while Jungwoo pushed his hips forward. You held back tears as you accommodated to his length. “That’s it.” The sounds of you choking replaced by a broken scream as you felt Jaehyun slip back inside your sopping hole. Shaking your head, the two men released you as you groaned incoherently, feeling your eyeballs slip to the back of your head. “Oh, haah…I think I’m gonna…c-cum.”

You kept your promise as Jaehyun thrusted inside a handful of times, the squelching sounds a testament to the juices that just kept flowing out of you. In the post-orgasmic haze, you felt Doyoung’s fingers stretch out your rim, the unfamiliar sensations feeling both uncomfortable and so good. “How’s that, babygirl?”

“So good,” You heard Doyoung groan. “How on Earth are you so wet…”

As if a trained response, you opened your mouth as Jungwoo tipped your face up, letting him enter your mouth again. “You suck me so good, baby. Gonna make me cum like a good cockslut, aren’t you?” You furiously nodded, the wet noises filling up the entire room as his cock slammed in and out of your mouth. “Keep going, keep going, baby, good girl.” You became aware of an otherworldly stretch and tears sprung to your eyes. You pulled off. “Ah, oh my god, I’m so…full…” the words fought to leave you between your open mouth gasps of air, your head turning to watch yourself be stretched to the brim. Jungwoo pulled your head back to his cock. “Thought you wanted this, being fucked by three…” You engulfed him whole, your desperate moans vibrating his entire length as you felt Jaehyun and Doyoung fuck you into the couch. Jungwoo threw his head back. “…fuck, three cocks. Fuck, just the sight you like this is gonna make me cum.” It wasn’t too soon after that Jungwoo came, his hot load escaping down your chin onto your chest as he pulled you off him. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You screamed as you came, your sensitive walls fluttering and struggling to take so much stimulation. You felt a few seconds of shushing as you whined and tried to clamber away, the men holding you down until you were well and truly stuffed with loads of cum, the feeling of it hot deep inside your abdomen.

You collapsed onto the couch when all of you were done, your vision now seeing stars. As you slipped into an exhausted slumber, you felt one hand stroke your hair, a gentle kiss placed on the top of your head. “Shhh, you did so well, baby. Go to sleep.”

[hexonthepeach]

perfume - k.dy

pairing: f4!nct doyoung x fem!reader (past johnny x reader mentions)

genre: hana yori dango/boys over flowers/meteor garden/f4 thailand reverse harem au (mild allusions and characterization only)

warnings:

bully-to-friends-to-lovers, established relationship, polyamory, dom!doyoung, glucose father adjacent, scent kink, control over food consumption/bathing (for scent kink purposes only), gratuitous use of the l-word by anti-romantics, angst/feelings, flashbacks and history

🔞 edging, cockwarming, orgasm denial, oral (m/f receiving), passionate sex, rough sex, spanking, creampie, bukkake, consensual negotiated kink (degradation, somnophilia), anal play (f receiving)

wordcount: 20k

author's note: this is a doyoung-centered continuation of my ongoing F4 au. it can stand on it's own but i recommend reading Dive for more context. Doyoung's role in the F4 is Sojirou Nishikado/So Yijung/Ximen/Kavin (playboy control freak) so this fic incorporates elements of his secondary romance within the original/adaptations, now with y/n.

read on AO3

fic headers / dividers credit to @ saradika + please do not repost

Freshman year, Kocher International. 

Head down in your books at lunch, trying so hard to escape scrutiny from above, you pretend to be no one. 

It shouldn't be hard to be nobody, otherwise ignored and immune to whatever social contract deliberates your life. In a better world you'd be invisible. It's a superpower you'd wish for much more over the usual playground answers of super speed or control of the weather. 

Let me be unobserved, you'd thought. Let me open a door and not worry about a bucket full of dirty mop water falling on my head or the inevitable posting of a grainy video of it, posted in a Telegram channel to fulfill some checklist made up by bored, rich monsters. 

Your four-generation-behind phone with its cracked screen proved useful in some regards; you never heard about these public pillories until some kind stranger sent you a screenshot of them, usually in the context of whatever plans they'd made to torture you again.

Every notification is already a pain, driving splintered glass into the pads of your fingers. Just now you're reading a text message from your father asking you to pick up more cheap instant noodles from the convenience store on your walk home to round out whatever scraps he's picked up from the local restaurant your mother bussed tables and cleaned dishes at when she needed extra money.

"Why is Saint Kim watching you?" your friend asks across the table. She's been looking up at the room this entire time, unable to give you even a moment of her attention or assistance to finish the English homework you'd been working on. You'd been rushing all day to finish it before afternoon class, after a late morning of delivery driving for your family's drycleaning business.

"Are you sure it's not the Devil?" you ask, parsing through the lines of a book you'd bought secondhand, trying to match verse for verse.

"No," she says, shaking her head when you finally look up. "Don't react. He's coming this way."

"Shit," you say under your breath, eyes flicking to your untouched lunch. "I need you to leave now. Take these trays and dump them and I'll meet you outside of 4th. If I make it."

You don't look up from your book as you mutter, but you follow her path and her hesitancy as she internally debates whether to heed your warning or watch from a safe distance.

Your handwriting becomes a scrawl of nonsense you have to cross out in sharp lines. You begin the verse again, holding your breath as you will your entire body and mind back to a manufactured calm. 

If you can't be invisible, you can at least play your role. You're copacetic by the time you see the tips of polished black wingtips beside you, before you hear the Saint clear his throat.

“Y/N.”

He drops a familiar, school-mandated clear cosmetics bag next to your ratty backpack. The already embarrassing stash of tampons and old chapstick has a new bounty including a "used" pregnancy test stick with a second line drawn in with pink gel pen jumbled into its contents.

"You left this . . ." he says, not finishing the sentence to indicate where he'd found it. You immediately hear a titter. Your flock of spectators is growing by the second and the useful idiot at its center seems wholly unconcerned.

"Thanks," you say, not bothering to look up or to even hide the bag. You keep writing, blindly, the English words just rounded shapes flowing from your shaking hand. 

Their kind fed off attention, your only defense is to starve them of it.

The Saint clears his throat, again. Apparently he’s not just unconcerned, he’s also unwilling to leave.

"Aren't you grateful Doie found it before someone else did?" You don’t have to look up to know it's Miranda who’s asked, glimpsing her manicure as she picks up your bag, green gems shining on perfectly-tipped nails. 

"Oh this must not be hers. I didn't think she could afford this."

You think she might be diving into the stash for one of the Lilies' pointed additions but no–you watch in horror as she plucks out the bottle of perfume you'd been carrying with you since your parents had gifted you a single, tiny box last Christmas. 

"Chanel?" she says, laughing. "No wonder you smell like my grandma."

"Probably a knock-off," another of the Lilies says. Ginger, by the sound of her grating voice. Her handwriting on the board in homeroom listing out your abortions is as familiar as the pink gel pen script on the extra large foil condom with xoxo slut written on it staring at you through the plastic.

"Definitely a knock-off. You have a nose, don't you, Doie?"

You look up, finally, at Saint Kim. He's alone for once–the other one, the Devil Kim that shadows him is still up on the second level, leaning on the railing over his shoulder. You watch the Saint’s small mouth turn into a moue of distaste, nose wrinkling at the proffered bottle.

"Authentic," he says, capping it before offering it back to you. Your field of vision is obstructed by that veined, pale hand–fingernails as perfectly groomed as the rich girls who surround him.

You reach up to take your most prized possession back only to find he doesn't let go, holding tight when you try to pluck it from his fingers.

"You should know . . . " he says, sniffing slightly.

You look up at him with alarm blazing in your eyes. Every word Kim Doyoung says to you writes your next damnation. You should ignore him, run, anything–but you can't look away once you've met his assessing gaze, his tall frame limned in the fluorescent cafeteria lights like he's carrying his own personal halo. 

Even seeing him at a distance every day can't depreciate how ethereally handsome he is. You know better than to swoon at that elegant face, night-black hair pushed away from his forehead. Beneath his family’s charities and his PR-scripted concern you know he’s just another ungodly creation birthed of nepotism and curated genes.

He leans in, carefully, musical voice a whisper. 

"You should know it doesn't suit you."

The laughter that follows is deafening.

No, you think. He's just as soulless as the rest of them.

“What do you mean actually sleep?" you ask, coyly, unbuttoning your romper. "Like after we . . . ?"

"I've managed 6 hours of sleep in 36 hours, y/n–” Doyoung seems to hesitate, dark eyebrows raising, hand pushing his hair back from his pale forehead. He snaps his laptop closed, at last, shoving it to the farthest edge of the bedside table.

No–you think–not hesitation. 

Frustration.

You've seen this man before. 

All work and no play made Saint Kim into a Prince of Hell. He'd spent the first 8 hours of your date day half-present–the other in the 4 hours of sleep he's gotten since some crisis at his family’s headquarters in London that usurped your vacation. 

A whole 2 days in which he hasn't held you at all. His rules, his chance, but you can't help but wonder what has him so clenched that he's barely even touched you since your date began at 6 am Bangkok time.

You'd taken two extra strength melatonin and slept like the dead, anticipating his early-riser schedule. Only you and God had to know you'd fallen asleep next to your day tour fit ready to be fucked in it. 

You’d made yourself so pretty only to find him in the kitchen hunched over his phone, laptop softly pinging with notifications. Doyoung had still been dressed in the clothes you'd seen him in the night before, ending his conference call to laser in on you hovering in the kitchen.

"Are you upset?" Doyoung asked.

"No," you'd lied, pushing the piece of paper he'd left the staff on the counter, his English handwriting crisp and formal. "What’s this?" 

"We have a few dietary restrictions today," he’d said. 

"Are you saying I am what I eat?" You’d asked, taking a bite of a plump strawberry. "Is this some kind of prep?"

"It's for the date," he'd said, resigned. "Just be patient with me."

Then he'd smiled, disarming you with a casualness you hadn’t seen on him in a long time, rubbing his eyes blearily under his thick glasses. 

"Can we go back to sleep?"

And so you'd settled into his grasp on your made bed, scrolling Insta and waiting for the inevitable alarm–which turned out just to be Jungwoo delivering two iced Americanos in some gambit of checking your progress.

"Missed the floating market opening?" Jungwoo asked, eyebrows raised at the sight of Doyoung face first in a pillow.

You'd silently mouthed your thanks, leaving the drinks to sweat on the bedside table as you changed into your second outfit of the day, occasionally drifting in to check on your sleeping beauty.

It was a rare delight to have him so vulnerable beside you, blanket rucked up beneath his chin and his white teeth visible past the sweet curves of his mouth. Without consciousness your partner for the day is just Kim Doyoung, the gentler side of the same creature who you knew would often choose a couch to watch serial television with you over a day trip if you wanted it. 

But this was different.

Now instead of using his precious time to fulfill what you'd felt promised in his casual brushes against your back when you'd finally traveled out, or the way he'd stroked your leg at brunch under the table (every bite chosen by him, of course), you're being railroaded into lying still while he sleeps. 

Again.

You continue undressing, letting him drink in the sight of the lingerie set he’d left in your room. You knew it was custom made by the way it lifted each curve he’d already had access to, tailored for you as if every millimeter of your body was to account for.

Doyoung's cheeks are hollowed, lip chewed. He pulls his glasses down and regards you even more as you continue to undress yourself.

"You do know what the word 'nap' means, don't you?"

"I'm not the one who hasn't slept," you say. "At least let me get comfortable."

His stare pierces into you as you turn around, stripping for utility rather than give him a show he clearly hasn’t earned. You check yourself in the floor-length mirror beside the bathroom, viewing yourself through his eyes as you pluck the lace over your curves to sit just right. 

“Do you like it?” you ask.

You may as well be speaking to the floor when you turn around, finding him buried in the pillows only by the dark fall of his hair.

“You can’t be that tired,” you say. 

You're used to taking a late afternoon siesta in peak summer but you're far too excited to even consider sleep right now. For one, it's sweltering–windows open to allow the noises of hawkers and traffic not far off to drift in.

Second, you've never been more turned on in your life. 

You can still feel the tingling in your toes from when he’d slipped his hand up under the hem of your shorts, teasing at the velvety smooth skin on your inner thigh as you tried not to choke on your mimosa.

You make your way to the bed languidly, crawling up the thick white duvet with a teasing smile.

"Just stay on your side of the bed, please," Doyoung says.

"Oh," you say, collapsing on top of the covers beside him. "Well you're no fun." 

"And you're impatient and uncouth," he retorts in a way that makes you wonder if he really means it. 

"Will you at least hold onto me?"

"Too hot." He rolls on his back, flapping his half-buttoned shirt in the breeze from the fans. You sigh dramatically, collapsing into the pillows in the middle of the bed. 

"You should get naked, then.” You say. “Don't be modest on my account."

He opens one eye to glare at you, finding you relaxed and inviting beside him. His throat bobs, gaze flicking to the ceiling.

"That year of celibacy really took a toll on you, didn't it? Two hours. Indulge me."

"Please, sir," you whisper. "I've been such a good girl."

It had been a stipulation of the F4’s latest deal–24 hours for you to recover from your first night before the gauntlet began. Doyoung had been more than strict about the terms, leaving you your own set of instructions including–not surprisingly–not touching yourself.

Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t think about masturbation constantly, at all hours of the day. He may as well have told you to try not to think about a white bear for how powerful the intrusive thought had taken over since then.

"You'll get your reward. Later," he says. He's an impassable wall, stretched out beside you, so you content yourself with staring at his profile. Even under these oppressive circumstances you appreciate the light dusting of freckles on his cheek brought out by the sun, the dark lashes dusting his cheeks over the slight bluish marks of sleep deprivation.

"Yes, sir."

It only takes a few minutes for him to snap at you again.

"Stop that," 

"Stop what?" 

"Getting so handsy."

You hadn’t even realized your hand had drifted over the plane of his belly under his white shirt, too absorbed with watching the muscles in his cheek spasm as you inched nearer. 

"Can I help it when you're right there?" you ask. "I thought this was your–"

Doyoung rolls you before you can slither any closer, pressing your back into the sheets with his hands on your wrists, knees digging into your thighs. 

If the intention was to get you to stop being uncomfortably turned on it has the opposite effect: you let out a moan of pleasure, legs twisting together for friction. He slams them shut between his own, groin pressed into yours.

He's as hard as you hoped, and you lift up into him to let him know you know it.

"If you don't behave I'll have to cancel this," he warns directly in your ear, sounding as choked as you feel. "I thought you were already trained." 

"Trained to fight back," you correct, pressing against him with your own strength.

"That's not trained," he says, lifting up. "I'll blame your lack of experience and experienced partners. Nothing we can't work on. Until then you'll follow my rules or I pull you from the game. Understood?" 

You let a few beats pass, accepting there's no way out and you don't have anything to throw back at him.

"Yes, sir," you pout.

"Now that's a good girl," he says.

Just as quickly as you were taken down you're let go, inhaling deeply now that you're not being pressed into the soft bed. 

"You really don't want to play with me before you sleep?" you ask, brushing your lips against his chin as he crouches over you. You’d be a liar if you didn’t say you enjoyed the way his nostrils flare a bit, working his pink bottom lip between his teeth. Whatever arbitrary rules he’d set for your time together you can tell he’s at least regretting it right now, stiff length brushing against your bare leg as you lift your knee to test it. 

“Are you trying to make me punish you?” he asks, voice husky. 

"I thought you liked it when I was a brat," you say, cocking your head. 

Doyoung sighs, eyes half-lidded. "I do. But not when you're using it to avoid intimacy."

Your throat clenches, a hard knot forming in it you can't seem to swallow as your face gets even hotter.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. 

“I think you know what I mean,” he continues. “It’s not like we both don’t have a habit of using sex as a distraction from anything emotionally challenging.”

You gape up at him in disbelief. 

Of course you’d never been able to hide that aspect of your last relationship with him when he’d often been right outside the door. All of the F4 knew how many times your arguments with he-who-should-not-be-named-especially-not-while-in-bed-with-his-best-friend had ended in you shutting him up by any means necessary. Not that you didn’t enjoy it at the time–but rather you understood it wasn’t the most healthy template for a relationship. 

"I thought this wasn't going to be about feelings," you blurt out.

“Proving my point.”

Doyoung tsks, tapping your cheek with his fingers–nowhere near a slap but just as effective, soothing the spot with his thumb. Soon he’s brushing your tears away when they inevitably spring up and you have to turn to hide their seep into the mass of pillows.

"If I wanted therapy I wouldn't be here, Kim Doyoung," you say, trying to bury your face in the piles of soft down. 

“Shh, silly girl,” He gently pulls you out from hiding, soothing you with a warm kiss against your forehead when you stop struggling and let him hold you, releasing that surge of emotion and writing it off to hormones and the sting of rejection.

“You know I’m speaking to myself here, too,” he states softly. “Bear with me, I’m learning.” 

"Do you even really like me?" you ask, face pressed into his chest. 

It’s horrible to admit this specific insecurity but you can’t help it. Being abandoned multiple times in your life when you’d finally, finally let your walls down would damage anyone’s trust. You’d hoped this day with him would be easy and carefree and light, not dimmed by the shadows of your anti-romantic histories. 

"I adore you, actually." He settles partially on top of you, leg wrapped over yours as he props himself up on his elbow. "Which is why I want to start this right. You wanted the F4 boyfriend experience. This is mine."

"Last I checked you’ve never seriously dated anyone," you groan, sniffling. 

"Last I checked, neither have you." 

Well, that connects. You swallow your fears, relaxing into the cage of his embrace, retreating a little from the vulnerability of being exposed.

"What kind of girlfriend experience were you expecting, then?"

A lazy smile gusts across his features. You can't help but find it a bit sinister after being handled so indelicately. 

“I don’t always know what’s going on in that empty little head of yours." He accompanies his statement with a brush of his thumb across your flushed cheek, tracing your semi-parted lips in a way that sends sparks down to your core. 

"I’d like to stop guessing and actually get you to let me treat you the way you want to be treated. Have you ever asked yourself what you want?"

You panic a little, considering his words. Living with disappointment had made this question a hard one to even consider. 

"I just want a good time. Isn't that what you want, too?"

Doyoung seems to ignore your ask, drifting into a relaxed state against the pillows. His hand traces the hairline at your temple. "You know I worry about you. All the time, actually.” 

His voice is lower, a little wistful, and it’s doing just as much as the slight brushes of his fingertips to make you throb all over again. A lack of sleep must have made him delusional, you think. This is not the Kim Doyoung you know.

“You’re always thinking of how to take care of the people around you, I think you’ve forgotten how to relax and let other people take care of you.”

"Is that why you're always involving yourself in my business?" you ask, matching his tone in how breathless you are. You expect a quip, not the sincerity written on his face when he swoops in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, too fleeting to be anything but sweet and sincere. 

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time? It certainly wasn’t just to get into your pants. I want you. All of you.” 

You're taken aback by his honesty. You'd always suspected his constant meddling in your affairs came from a place of interest but you'd never wanted to give him too much of a response–maybe a little afraid his fickle nature and fear of commitment would mean he’d give up on your friendship, too. 

Another thing you knew about Saint Kim: he had a tendency to run like a frightened rabbit at the first sign of emotional neediness in his partners. You'd never given him reason to believe you expected anything from him, but you'd also stopped fighting him on giving you what he desired to give.

It wasn’t just presents or expensive experiences, of course. He’d found out quickly those weren’t welcome without some cajoling. No–his art was in knowing what you needed even before you realized it, nudging it across your path. 

You’d figured out his deviousness after the umpteenth time someone was charitable at your little florist shop part time job, offering to fix your scooter in exchange for a nice arrangement for a proposal. As soon as you’d seen the fully restored bike outside and the customer didn’t return your texts you’d called Doyoung, completely unsurprised to find he was at the coffee shop next door, waiting to pick up his flowers.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you’d said. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“What makes you think I’m giving you charity,” he’d responded, dropping a department store bag and your own custom coffee order on the counter. “You’ll wear this when I come to pick you up tonight at closing, including the jewelry and perfume. I need you to play your part again. The flowers are a consolation for the heart we’re breaking.”

He’d enlisted you as his defacto “new girlfriend” for the more difficult separations, and though you’d gotten your share of a glass of expensive wine thrown in your face more often than he ever experienced it (his type always went after the easier target) it wasn’t like he didn’t have a replacement dress ready and a nice dinner waiting after you’d cleaned off the Chateau Lafitte Rothschild. 

You have to face the fact that no matter how many times he’d treated you like his girlfriend, you’d never actually expected him to want you to be one. 

“I’ve waited a very long time for this, Y/N. Which is why I want our first time together–alone," he adds quickly. "–To be special."

It's difficult to believe him but you're spellbound all the same, watching pink dust his cheeks and his ears turn a shade darker as he most likely realizes how ridiculous it is considering him fucking you senseless the other night with the help of two other men. 

But you can empathize with his anxiety. Yesterday's Thai massage he'd arranged had helped you work out the flight or fight of anticipating being alone with him. It’s back now, but different. The way he's looking at you makes you feel infinitely naked, infinitely unlocked.

"What do you mean special?" you ask, wary, hoping to see some glimmer of uncertainty or falsehood in his gaze. You want to believe it's a lie or just some artful prank, trying to ignore your heart flip-flopping in your chest. 

It’s a mistake to let him see you squirm considering it’s Doyoung’s drug of choice–his lips twist into another menacing grin as he plays with the charm on your necklace. Another of his little gifts.

"Do you think you can handle it?" Doyoung asks, dripping self-satisfaction. “Or are you going to chicken out on me?”

You turn over so he can't see your expression, realizing he’s throwing your own words from the night before right back at you.

"I haven’t decided if I want to date you, yet,” you say. 

"Maybe not," he says. "But you'll have to pardon me for wanting to show you this good time you supposedly want while also treating you decently. Unless we're no longer friends?"

"We are," you say, biting your lip, "even if you enjoy torturing me."

"Torture?" He laughs, breathy. 

"Metaphorically speaking."

"You have no idea, do you?" You can feel the edge of his glasses as he bites the place where your clavicle connects to your shoulder, his hand snaking around your bare middle.

"You could show me," you invite, mid-gasp, as your body responds to his long-awaited touch. His fingers are almost cool in contrast to the heat in the room, tracing circles in your skin that have you squirming. 

"Is that a challenge?" he asks.

Why not?

"We don't have to have sex," you offer. "Maybe you could just–"

"Shh," he says, fingers skimming lower. "My terms. Are you going to stay quiet for me?"

You nod into the comforter, breath hitching as he touches you through the thin layer of your underwear, veined hand flexing as he molds the damp fabric to your body. It's such a delicate pressure but he's already memorized your shape, index finger sinking into your folds, gently rubbing a ring around your throbbing clit.

You're sticky and swelling with each pass, entranced by how good he is at teasing you, cherishing the way he sucks in his breath when he pushes into the indent of your hole.

“Doie,” you whine, leaning back into him, trying to get him to kiss you as he laughs into your hair. 

“Quiet,” he reminds you, kissing your cheek and teasing the seat of your underwear where they're soaked the most. "You want to take these off?" 

You shake your head, sensing it would be too easy of you to give in.

"That wasn't a question," he says, tugging down the band, leaving them trapped tight around your thighs. "I don't want you to wear them until I tell you that you can." 

You feel your core clench at the way his voice cracks, his fingers sliding back up to slowly and delicately draw a thread of moisture from your bared slit. You whine a little when he stops touching you, bringing his fingertip to your lips.

"Taste it." 

You let your mouth fall open, let him run it over your tongue, beginning from the middle and swirling over it. 

"Describe it," he murmurs. "If I like your answer, maybe I'll indulge you more." 

"Salt," you say, immediately. 

He tugs your hair, making you meet his eyes. 

"Have I taught you anything? I want specific notes. Flavors." 

You're transported back to the time he'd taken you to your first (and last) wine tasting. Spitting into a bucket and being lectured about body and tannins and soil conditions was the last thing you'd wanted to do after an hours-long trip to a vineyard but you'd indulged him, allowed one glass of what he considered the only drinkable wine on the premises. 

An unrefined palette, he'd called you. 

"Fruity and floral," you make up. "A nice lingering finish. Want a taste?" 

He looks down at you behind his glasses, equal parts amused and unimpressed. "Did you use the soap I asked you to?" 

Your brain glitches at that. Had you? You'd been in such a rush to go out–

You gasp when he palms your breast, squeezing the meat of it through the breathable fabric of your matching bra.

"I'll take that as a no," he says. "I guess you're not ready." 

He rolls off of you, leaving you in a lurch as you realize your legs are locked together by your underwear. You move to remove them, taking off your bra as well to avoid the awkwardness of being partially dressed.

By the time you're done you realize he's on his back, the hand that had been stroking you buried in his loose khakis. 

"What are you doing?" you ask, more than a little pissed off at the sight of him masturbating as if you aren't ready and willing to assist beside him. 

"Getting ready for our date. You can watch. No touching." He cracks an eye to look at you before closing it again. "Either of us."

"Are you edging me, Kim Doyoung?" Your menacing tone is entirely natural.

He hums a bit, working himself at a more punishing pace, knuckles peeking out from under his boxer briefs with each full pass over his length.

"Can't even look at me? Afraid you'll lose control?" You sidle down on the bed, beside his tensed thigh. You can smell a bit of the ozone on him from a morning in the sun, your knees knocking into his calves when you move over him.

"I don't trust you," he says, voice deeper than you've ever heard it.

"Is it touching if you finish on my face?" you ask when he finally blinks up at your presence, hovering over him with your breasts dangerously close to his clothed thighs.

"Absolutely not."

"Not touching–"

"Just. Watch," he orders.

He pulls himself free from his pants, surprising you with how dark and weeping his tip is as his thumb encircles it. Pools of white precum spatter on his lean, pale belly, your head dipping dangerously close–

"I said watch." He grabs at your hair, denied when you bend up again, showing him your dirty tongue.

He groans, fingers clenching air. "You were put on this earth to test me, weren't you?"

Still, he doesn't break his attention on the way you roll the drops you'd licked from his clean skin in your mouth, swallowing once you've fully enjoyed the taste.

"A little sweet you say," teasing him. "Drinking pineapple juice?"

"Brat," Doyoung says, but he's almost gone–eyes dark with desire, gently gripping your skull as you continue to ease in.

You're a master at following his lead, blowing a breath over the spot you'd licked, and then his length until his movements slow, cherishing the way you hold your mouth over his cock.

"If you can't give me what I want, then at least give me a taste," you say, sticking out your tongue in offering. You love the way he responds to the sight, needy and losing it when you hold eye contact, drilling into him.

"No," he echoes, weakly. He's too smart to push into your open mouth, instead driving his hips up to fuck his fist as you watch his glasses slide down his nose, eyes clenching shut. 

"You're no fun," you say. "Just a little swallow can't hurt?"

"No. Don't want to ruin it," he says cryptically, making a choked noise as you brush his fingers with your nose and he has to pull you away.

"I promise you it . . . It will be worth it," he manages. His jaw clenches as his movements relax, finally in control of you both.

"It better be," you say. 

You lower your lashes as your eyes flick between his cock and his face, stretching out your tongue to the point that drool begins to drip down your chin, splashing on his whitened knuckles and the tight stretch of his balls peeking out from his underwear. He bites his lip, breath holding as he starts to spiral.

The first thick rope of white rockets up his half-bared chest. Soon he's spurting even more, cum reaching his rucked up shirt, a little getting on his glasses. 

He's so out of it he doesn't fight as you wrest out of his limp hold. You clean up the sticky mess on his skin with your tongue, his abdominal muscles twitching under the light flicks and drags. 

"Want to give me some notes?" you ask, straddling him without resting any weight down, taking off his glasses. This time when you move to kiss him he rises weakly to meet you, lips parting to accept what you haven't swallowed. 

In truth, he tastes wonderful. Coffee, a little menthol from toothpaste and a hint of the watermelon you'd shared earlier mix beneath the coat of his spend.

He licks into your mouth until you moan, your body throbbing with unfulfilled pleasure. You follow him as he sinks back into the pillows, enjoying having him at your disposal, your core leaving wet trails on his thigh when you brush against the fabric.

"I'm going to wait until you're asleep and use you if you don't help me get off," you threaten, pressing soft kisses to his slack face. It’s no use. Doyoung has passed out again, lower teeth visible as he snores softly, forehead sheened with drying sweat.

Fuck it, you think. 

You ooze off of him to take your second cold shower of the day, and maybe get acquainted with one of the fancy showerheads in his massive walk-in while you use his special soap. 

It's not–technically–touching yourself.

Your mystery destination isn't an unknown–it's in every tourist booklet and blog you'd skimmed before your trip, thinking you'd be on your own to find a good spot to traverse to. But it still takes your breath away the moment the car door opens in the sprawl of motorbikes and delivery trucks and Doyoung takes your hand to pull you into Paradise.

Pak Khlong Talat is a bustle of energy well after dark, the time you know its treasures are delivered fresh and unbloomed, wrapped in newspaper and steeped in crushed ice. For as far as you can see the market sprawls along Chak Phet road, but even more overwhelming than the sights and sounds is the scent. 

Jasmine, roses, lavender. Thousands upon thousands of blooms strung up and tended to by night owl vendors, delicate arrangements hand-sewed by artisans streetside into garlands so well-crafted Doyoung has to tug you to keep you moving, onwards to some other unspoken destination. 

"I was worried you might hate flowers after working with them for so long. I take it you like it?" he asks, indulging you when you ask if you can take his picture at a particularly lovely hang of garlands, the purple-blue light perfect for the film you'd loaded into your father's old camera. Photography had never been your craft, but after your dad had passed you'd made an effort to capture more of your memories, cherishing what you'd taken for granted before.

“It’s perfect,” you say, admiring him through the viewfinder. "But can you look like you're having fun?" 

Your model is stiff, mouth a moue as he checks the street for other observers or a possible collision with a laden handcart. 

"Fun?" Doyoung asks, and you snap his picture on the offbeat, enjoying his look of surprise. 

“Like you've taken your date to one of the most romantic places on earth, after buttering her up with a night cruise of Chao Praya and finally letting her eat real food." 

He sniffs at a fall of marigolds, a smug look on his face that you commit to film, right before he sneezes. 

"For the record, we're eating after this. Som tam hardly counts as a meal, I just didn’t want that drink going to your head." 

You're shepherded through the vast warehouse of the main market, to an adjacent street, and into a non-descript building painted in a funereal white.

"Are we even allowed to be here?" you ask, once the key code is entered and you enter the strange business. 

"I called in a favor," he says, taking your hand, leading you up a metal staircase past a simple storefront of dried blooms and shelves laden with boxes and bottles alike.

An apothecary? An alchemist's shop? The purpose of the space eludes you.

"An atelier," Doyoung explains. "One of the most sought out in the world."

There's the distant hum of the city outside and a central air you're unused to in this climate but the upstairs is quiet–by all accounts either an office or a laboratory, or a mixture of both. The central working area is a chaotic but organized space filled with tables of glassware and dried floral arrangements contrasting potted orchids, small beakers of coffee beans littered amidst rows of labeled brown bottles.

"So this is how they make perfume," you say, inspecting a stoppered bottle labeled "Gerianol 10%".

"Not just any perfume. The best. Here." Doyoung leads you to a much less cluttered workstation, the desk arranged with the lights still on, a note detailing some instruction you can barely read before he slips it into the pocket of his slim-tailored pants. Beneath it is a notebook, scrawled with a perfect cursive English you recognize from the cards he’d included in boxes or bags whenever he’d bothered to claim their contents. 

"Sit," he instructs. You think he means the comfortable chair but before you can sit down he presses you to the desk, caging you in. 

"Sit," he repeats, hands on your hips through your slinky skirt, lifting you to the bench. You scoot back, carefully, the white blooms of some exotic flower brushing against your cheek until he can move the vase a careful distance. 

"Do you understand what we’re doing here?"

You can't possibly know what he means, eye level with the graceful column of his neck and his exposed collarbone beneath his translucent button-down, drowning in the melange of scents but most especially his clean, neutral cologne. 

"No," you say, honestly, heart beating fast. 

He picks up a corked flask from some kind of metal scale, dipping a thin thread of paper into it to waft it a fair distance from your nose.

"Before we came here--before you even agreed to this trip–I sent instructions to my friend for a specialty blend of their creation. It took quite a bit of back-and-forth–I even visited here last month to take a private class and make sure we prepared the base and middle to your standards."

"For me?" 

You feel dizzy, reaching out to take the sample and smell it again, his hand capturing your own before you can bring it too close to your nose. He wafts it for you, expectant as you absorb the details.

Indeed, it smells divine–exactly the kind of warm, bright notes that make your heart feel at ease. There’s something floral and citrus worked in, not too heavy, the finish leaving you with an impression of a lazy summer afternoon. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say. “Did you make this to match what you knew I liked?”

"Yes.” Doyoung exhales, looking almost sheepish. "I had some references. That cheap shampoo you never stop buying, the Lush exfoliator with the orange blossom, even–" he shudders a bit– "that awful Chanel you doused yourself in, in high-school."

"Coco Mademoiselle," you say. "It's been years since I–"

"It didn't suit you," he says, standing up to sample another bottle from the neat row. 

Something dawns on you, a distant memory locking into place.

"It was you," you gasp in realization. "You're the one who got rid of it. I should have known when you tried to give me that bottle of Jo Malone–"

“It had already turned. You need to store your scents away from direct light.”

“It was a keepsake!” There were very few possessions from your youth that you’d been able to hold onto–not only because your parents had been barely able to afford your school uniforms, much less gifts. What little you’d had was lost when your house was destroyed by the men your father owed money to, this small thing neglected in the destruction.

“It didn't suit you because it wasn't made for you," he continues. "You wore it because you thought it would make you fit in, when you should have made what you wore wear you–"

"Please, stop."

You have to bite your lip to the point of pain, remembering how excited you'd been to unwrap that tiny bit of luxury your parents had saved up to buy you, your mother sure the brand name would save you from another day of humiliation. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that the cutout ad from the magazine on your wall was for the model, not the actual perfume, but you felt loved by the gesture all the same.

Hundreds of thousands of won an ounce for it to only turn on your skin, well before afternoons spent on the basketball court under the thankless sun. That memento had aged from pink to a sickly rose unused on your cosmetic shelf, a totem from a time when you imagined yourself belonging. Before it had disappeared, like so many other things.

You can't remember the last time you'd worn anything, had never even gone near that section of a department store after the humiliation of being made fun of for smelling cheap.

“My dad skipped lunches and my mom worked double shifts to get that for Christmas my first year in Kocher,” you say. “Mira was the brand ambassador for that campaign, you know.”

Mira had been your idol even before you won the scholarship she’d established to attend Kocher. Perfect, beautiful, but most of all the first girl in their sphere to show you genuine kindness.

"It must be so easy for you," you say, wiping your face. You rarely cried these days but that memory was particularly painful, a reminder of how often you’d assumed Doyoung found you just as offensive. Not just your scent, you thought, but you.

Something to be tolerated. Below his regard. 

"Whatever you want, you can have. Whatever you don't like, you can get rid of. I'm sorry, I don't live in your world. I can’t just throw something away when it’s not useful."

"No," he says, quietly, abandoning his explanation. "That was thoughtless of me. I can replace it–"

“Can you?” You glare up at him. “Is this what you really want? To dress me up like your perfect doll and feed me from your hand so I’m more able to suit you?

Doyoung looks like he's going to be ill, every design in his head unraveling before your eyes. You’d feel sorry for him if you didn't know this was a lesson worth imparting.

"Don't ever offer to replace what you don’t know the true value of," you say, voice trembling.

There's a weighted silence as he considers his next words. You still haven't slipped away from him, choosing to hold your ground. How many times had you been forced to be the antagonist in some fruitless class warfare, unresolved? But then you also had a habit of finding battles in peacetime. 

You pluck the newest scent strip from his frozen hand and waft it between you, at the designated distance.

“Thank god this smells nothing like it,” you murmur. You offer him a wry smile, anger fading. “I couldn’t stand it.”

You feel Doyoung’s relief as he collapses against you, forehead against your hair as his arms wrap tight around your middle. You relax after a bit, cheek pressed to his collarbone as you breathe in his unique scent–a little like fresh laundry left out in the sun.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “All these promises and plans and stupid details and at the end of the day I really . . . Don't know what I'm doing."

"I really don’t know what you’re doing, either," you say. "But I like that you try.”

"You do?" The hope in his voice makes your iciness melt a bit. You let your hands twine around his neck, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease with the gesture.

“I know it’s not easy for me to admit but I do appreciate everything you do for me, Doie,” you say. 

He doesn’t respond in words but you savor the shift in his demeanor, like a weight has been lifted from him. You think even he didn’t know it was there. You ignore the glassiness in his eyes when he pulls back, choosing to look at his notes instead.

“Are these all the ingredients?” you ask, working out a few of the more familiar words. “What’s op–?”

“First things first,” he says, rolling up his sleeves.  "Did you touch yourself?" 

"No," you say, surprised by the shift. "I followed your instructions. No products with scents. No underwear."

You spread your thighs to make your point. His hands hike your skirt up, over the breadth of skin to your hips and then to the curl of your belly, his breath hitching as he finds you already glossy.

It had been a bit of a gambit considering your riverside excursion but he'd allowed you a lemongrass-based repellent–the scent of which is still clinging to your bare skin as he kneels down to press a kiss to where his fingers had traced earlier.

You jerk a bit, conscientious of the workspace as he spreads you, just that light touch making your nipples harden beneath your thin shirt and bra.  

“Are we allowed to–”

“Shh. Relax and try not to spill anything,” he interrupts, breath cooling your wetness. “I just need some inspiration.”

“What?” 

"You’re so good already," he says into your sex, spreading you so he can lightly tongue at your skin. “Perfect little flower just for me.”

After waiting so long, you're torn between begging and shoving his teasing licks away, hand threading through his raven hair as the notebook slips from your hand.

"Kim Doyoung–” you gasp as he spears his tongue through your upper folds, nose nudging the sensitive bud. “–if this is another round of teasing I will murd–”  

You yelp as he hunches down to wrap your legs around his shoulders, hands re-occupied by exposing you as you try to stay upright. 

“Don’t worry. You can come like this. I want to know if you taste different after.”

You don't know what he means until his mouth closes over your clit, sucking just right. You jolt, pinched on the meat of your thigh until you can relax again, making little mewls as he rolls his thumbs alongside the point of contact.

“I want you inside of me,” you beg, feeling that fluttering sensation that heralds a build-up. “I wanted to come with you inside me.” 

“Soon. Just need to be good while I sample you.” 

“Sample?” Your hand sinks into his hair in panic, tugging, but Doyoung is too lost alternating between suckling at your sex and palpating you with a circling thumb, his beautiful hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread.

“Drip for me, first.” 

“I don't think I can–”

“You giving up already?” Doyoung scoffs, smirking up at you with reddened lips, tongue-tip darting against your clit. Every brush of soft muscle makes you spasm a bit, belly tightening unfulfilled.

You shake your head, panting. “I just . . . Doie I want you inside me.” 

“You can relax and take it,” he says, tongue wrapping around your labia, sucking slightly. Your head is buzzing, every stray thought removed by his exploration of you.

“Relax. If you don't I'll just have to try until you're begging for me to stop.” 

“No, please, Doie. I'll be good,” you plead. “Just . . . need something inside. Hurts so bad being empty.”

“Hand me a pipette.”

“What?”

“The one that looks like an eyedropper,” he says, hand open to accept like he’s performing surgery. You fight to find the right glassware with his mouth still on you, efforts more focused and intense as your legs tense with each hit. You find the rubber-stoppered glass cylinder, stomach dropping. 

“Is this safe?” You ask, gripping his mussed hair tighter when he pulls away for a moment.

“If you hold still, yes,” he taunts. You seize when you first feel the tip slip inside you. The glass is cool but warms to your body heat quickly, too slim to feel anything.

“Good girl,” he says. “You’re even pushing this out, you must be so tight.”

“I am. Too tight,” you groan. “Please don’t tease me anymore.”

He ignores you, focusing on his work, pulling the instrument free when he’s satisfied.

“Not bad,” he says, dropping it on the desk beside you before he’s back on his knees with his nose buried in your cunt. “Bet you can do better than that.”

“No, please, I need you–”

“Then drip for me,” he laughs into your leg, tracing the wetness down the crease in your thigh. You tense your hold on the desk’s edge when you feel his tongue prod at your entrance, muscle breaching your hole to lick into you. He makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat that has you plummeting just as he resumes stroking your clit through the slippery coat of your arousal. 

Finally, you think, feeling the advent of tears for how wound tight you are, how desperate you are to feel him give you just one more point of contact with the ache inside.

“Oh god, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you repeat, the noises obscene as he drinks you in, other hand on your hip to hold you against his face. It’s not even the stimulation that makes you begin to come but the audible groan he releases as he feels you quake against his mouth, heels snagging on his shirt when the first wave breaks and those little tics inside you turn into powerful contractions around his tongue-tip taking everything you can give him. 

He keeps licking you even when you’re begging for him to stop, nose tracing down to catch a stray drop from the back of your knee with a playful dart of his tongue. 

“Was it worth it?” you ask, folding over him as he wipes his mouth clean in your drenched skirt. You know it’s just the start but you already feel wrung out and feather-light, wicking away the sweat that’s beaded on your own face despite the cool, dry air of the room. 

“Hmm?” he hums a bit, disentangling to stand up and hold your face in his hands. His pupils are blown, sweat beading on his temples, but he looks as satisfied as you hoped he would be, your arousal drying on his slender features.

“All the prep,” you say. “Isn’t that why–do I taste as good as you expected after all that?”

Doyoung looks down on you, amused. Already you feel like you’re heating up again, with how his dark eyes flit to your mouth and back up again. 

“You think I prefer you prepped?” he asks, angling his head down besides yours to whisper in your ear. “The next time I eat that perfect little pussy of yours I want it to be filthy.” 

He traces the lobe with his teeth for good measure, pulling another moan out of you. “I’ll even make sure to wait until the other two have a go at you, first.”

You feel your heartbeat stutter as he presses his lips to your pulse point, tongue darting past his lips to dab at the sweat there.

“No, precious, I wanted to make sure the perfume we make tonight matches all of you.” Doyoung’s nose brushes your ear as he breathes in your scent. “Every time I wear it I’m going to remember the way you sounded when you first came for me and me only.”

The promise of it has you feeling a different kind of heat, dizzying for how much you want it to last past this night. 

“Fuck,” you whisper explosively, eyes clenched shut to stay fixed upright, fisting the thin material of his collar as he pulls you from the countertop and against the hard planes of his body. “I need you. Now. Please.”

“I like hearing you say that,” he chuckles a bit. “But I’m going to make you earn it. You can wait a little longer. You made me wait years, after all.”

You let him guide you into his lap, in the chair, pushed into the desk as he opens the notebook to another page. And another, until you take over and explore it for yourself. In the dim golden light from the street outside you catch glimpses of colors and drawings, notes written of impressions and memories you’d all but forgotten in your haze of grief these past few years. 

There’s even photographs taped to some of the pages–ones you know well by the fact that they’d been taken on your camera. Doyoung didn’t have Jaehyun’s artistic training but he did have an eye for capturing candid moments.

November, your first year of college. You’re standing in the first snow of the season, catching flakes on your tongue. You can still feel the burn of them, hear the murmur of the city dulled in a fresh blanket of white and taste the roasted yam you’d eaten, tossing it in your mittened hands until it was cool enough to peel. 

Doyoung’s shoulder is off-kilter beside yours, unable to capture himself in the frame for all his long reach. The peek of the striped scarf you’d knitted for him in gray and blue is all that’s visible of him under his peacoat, the mismatched weave of it captured even in this poor exposure.

“Base note: cedarwood,” you read, carefully, eyes hazing a bit with emotion. Evergreen.

“I still have it, you know,” he murmurs against your temple. “I only stopped wearing it because it started unraveling.”

“I’d make you another but I quit knitting after making three scarves,” you say, wryly. “Well two and a half, actually, I ran out of yarn on Jungwoo’s and made him a hat instead.”

“I thought you were just trying to get him to hide that ridiculous military haircut,” Doyoung muses. “Keep going or we’ll be here all night.”

“Now you’re impatient?” you ask, cementing your flirtation by shifting in his lap. You can’t ignore the feeling of his erection folded against the curve of your ass, or the way he grunts when you find a better seat with it nestled between your thighs.

“Sometimes I forget you were put on this planet to vex me,” he says. You’re lifted up by the waist, a hand on your lower back the moment you’ve found the desk for support, face above the book. 

“Why don’t you try reading until I’m satisfied you know exactly what you’re getting?”

You don’t fight him, elbows bent as he rucks up your skirt. You feel your face grow warm with blood as you find yourself exposed to him again, locked in by his legs and his groping touch reaching up beneath your shirt. 

"Base notes: amber and–" you have to fight to keep your voice steady as he swats your exposed curves, hard enough to sting. 

"Ambergris,” he corrects, voice fried with delight.

“Ambergris,” you repeat. “And white musk."

"Good. And?"

"Bisabol–" you begin, corrected with another slap on your ass that hits, hard, glass jingling on the table.

"Did you jump ahead?" He asks, knowing full well your eyes are swimming with tears. 

"No sir," you say. “I didn’t think that was a real word.”

"Opoponax." He says, reaching over you to grab a bottle, dropping a thick oil on you and rubbing it into your bruising skin. "Also known as sweet myrrh. Go ahead. Keep reading."

"Source: distilled from resin from ancient groves in Somalia, bought in Mogadishu from a local orchard, all profits to fund schools and clinics for women displaced by civil war." 

"Do you believe this to be a charitable effort?" He asks, hand spreading over your buttocks. You think he might be referring more to your arrangement than whatever is written on the page.

"No," you say. Your history and political know-how might be lacking but you've seen the wrong side of kindness. "It sounds like what people write to make themselves feel better about exploitation."

"Clever girl," he answers. You feel his nose brush against your skin, testing the mingling of scent with it. "Keep going."

You turn the page, swallowing back your protests. This spread is rich with text and color, a veritable garden bursting from the page. You fix on the first entry in the upper corner, bracing yourself for another faux pas.

"Heart notes: Turkish rose," you say. "What is this, poetry?"

"Aren’t you familiar with it?"

You shake your head, lips pursed in delight at the scrawl of English. “No.”

You let out a gasp as he bites the flesh nearer your back, the sting of it surely leaving a mark by the way the pain lingers.  

"Read it," he says, dipping over you for another bottle. “You’ll remember.”

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows," you dictate, stumbling over every word and yet never punished for it. Instead Doyoung lets a steady drip of the bottle fall down the back of your leg to your knee, his fingers bringing up the rest to mix what he's already poured on you.

"Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, with sweet musk-roses and with eglantine." 

You end your recitation in a whisper, leather binding and paper gripped in your fingers as he massages the oil gently into your tingling skin, careful to avoid where your legs are locked together in arousal. You're heady with scent and sensation, awaiting some reminder that this isn't just a strange dream you’ve wandered into.

"There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, lulled in these flowers with dances and delight," he finishes for you as he paints the rest up your spine beneath your shirt. You let him ministrate on your body as the words settle, as time recedes and you face a version of your youth you’re not sure isn’t just fiction. 

That book beside you, the first time he’d spoken to, long forgotten.

“Midsummer’s Night Dream,” you say, turning to face him again, settling between his thighs as he fails to meet your gaze. You lift his face with your fingers, cheeks indented by your gentle hold. “You remembered that, too?”

“It was the first time you ever looked at me,” he says. “And it felt like you saw right through me.”

No, you’re not dreaming. You’re the architect of this moment just as much as he’ll claim to be a cursory observer if confronted on it. 

You take in his mismatched eyes–one folding a little more than the other when he smiles at you ruefully. Those freckles you’d never really spent time examining, a happy accident of the time he’d spent with you in the sun. His fingers catching yours for a moment when you weren’t paying attention.

But most of all, the haunted cast where he’d lost sleep managing someone else’s problems. When he’d still been worrying about yours.

“You’re always thinking of how to take care of the people around you, I think you’ve forgotten how to relax and let other people take care of you.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t think I ever really saw you until now.”

“What didn’t you see?” he asks, expectantly.

Six years of his careful distance from you, that coldness and disinterest just another mask for someone who was as raw and vulnerable and real as you if you managed to pry open their shell. His tendency towards control, towards the knife’s slice of cutting you so cleanly from his life no one would know your name unless he spoke it aloud.

There wasn’t another human being in their right mind who’d last that test, your only grace being that he’d thought you were untouchable. His best friend’s girlfriend, of course. But beyond that, one of his best friends. 

No, one of his only friends.

“What didn’t you see?”

It wouldn’t require money or taste or a family name to bring Saint Kim down to earth. Just time and small acts of resistance, like the beautiful shell remnants you’d spilled into his hands on that last trip to Maui together, when it had still been the five of you. Each ground down to a small disc with a perfect spiral at its center, a reminder of the beauty remaining in broken things.

You place the notebook in his hands, curling your fingers around his. The pages it’s opened to are sparsely constructed, besides the photographs nestled between. Only you two know what’s there, buried in black sands and blue waters. You can see his handwriting falter where he’s written the notes for this moment in your shared history, sketches of those shells, and flowers.

A single photograph of you watching the others playing in the surf, his shadow cutting across the stretch of your legs.

Top notes: Jasmine for sensuality. 

Orange Blossom for innocence. 

Plumeria, for admiration. a new beginning . . .

You recognize the creamy yellow-white flower he’d tucked behind your left ear when you’d fallen asleep beside him. A non-native plant to the island, you’d learned, worn to indicate one was taken. A weed, like you, now prized as a treasure.

“What didn’t you see?”

You pull back to look at him, giving him yourself without reservation. 

“That I think you love me . . .” you say. “. . . Like I think I love you, too.” 

He looks up at you, astounded, the chair beneath him creaking as he collapses. 

For once you regret being beside him when you’d heard the same words spoken to him by other people, pulled into their lives without you ever remembering their names. The difference between you, you once believed, was that they didn’t mean it. 

Now, you understand, they just never knew the true cost of losing him. 

You watch him collect himself, running a hand back through his hair and curling into his seat, memories forgotten in his lap, bedamned. You’re sure the engines of Hell are running hot for the way he can’t even look at you right now. 

He needs a way out, you think. You’d rather be drowned in other women’s wine poured over your head than be on the receiving end of his disregard again, the script already constructed in your mind before you’d found you had the nerve to sleep with him.

"You can be honest with me,” you say. “Tell me it's been fun but you're not interested in a relationship.”

“What?” Doyoung is just as confused as when you’d told him you loved him, as honest as you’ve been in both sentiments. 

“Your family will never approve of me. I’m just another fling you happened to take a more lasting interest in. It’s better this way. Cut me off, forget about me and move on.”

It's his turn to balk. You expect his pre-programmed response. Saint Kim's gospel for turning down the interested but uninteresting party: deflect, dissuade, detach. 

“No,” he says, face draining of color.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I can handle it. Really. We can still be friends.” 

“No,” he repeats, more forcefully.

“What do you mean, no?” you ask. “Isn’t that how this always ends?”

“You stupid girl,” he says, grabbing your face in his hands so you can’t escape, making you look into his warm gaze. 

"Don’t you get it? This was always about feelings.”

When his lips crush against yours you don't have to speak to respond, catching his head so you’re not suffocated by the raw emotion you can feel in every movement. You return each kiss until the breath is out of your lungs, until you're drowning in his scent as he forces you back onto the desk.

You’re impatient to feel him, everywhere, aware you’re ripping buttons as you open his shirt to gain access to his smooth chest, trailing kisses as far down as you can go, still unable to escape his tongue sliding over yours.  

“I wasn’t going to do this here, like this, but fuck it,” he says once he’s free, fumbling with his belt as he holds you to pepper your face and neck in a steady reminder of his affection. “I need you.”

“I need you, too,” you echo wholeheartedly, helping free him out of his clothing, pulling his length to where you’re still slick with oils and cum and ready for him. God, you think you’ve never been more ready to break around him, to show him what he’s brought out of you with this game.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore,” you whisper. 

You watch his face, breath held and heart stuttering as he sinks into you slowly, both of you gasping at the way your heat resists each measure of his continuous thrust. It feels like he’s barely in you when he stops, making you moan in dismay.

“Doie, please,” you say, trying and failing to wrap your legs around his slender hips to capture him deeper. You’re half out of your mind with that burning weight inside you remaining still.

“Say it,” he says, taking off your shirt to have access to your skin. He pulls down your bra, nipples tugged between his fingers as he assaults your neck with his tongue and teeth.

“It’s special,” you choke out. “Thank you, please–”

“Say it,” he corrects, twitching inside you but not moving an inch more. He curls down to nip at your breast above the lace, sucking a mark into the softest part. “Without the ‘I think’.” 

“No,” you resist, realizing what he’s asking too late. Your nails sink into his half-bared shoulder, head rolling against his. “You don’t get to torture me for that.”

“Don’t chicken out on me now.” Doyoung laughs against your cheek, hand splaying around your hip to still your squirming. “I can do this as long as it takes.”

He thrusts, just a little more, making you cry out in desperation as the contents of the desk tinkle behind you. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “You think I love you?”

“So, so close.” He pulls out, rocking into you again to feel the seize of your entire body when you anticipate just how far he’ll go before denying you. A little more, at least, and you can feel how much it’s taking for him, see the strain in his body as he holds back.

“You love me,” you tease, this time not a question, no you think. “Saint Kim loves me.”

He sheathes himself in you fully, gripping your nape to kiss you as you clench involuntarily around him, protests in the back of your throat muffled by his tongue sliding across yours. He tugs at your bottom lip when he breaks free, fully smiling now like he isn’t buried completely in your cunt just warming himself instead of chasing his own bliss.

“What did you call me?” he asks, leaning over you to retrieve something. 

You take advantage of his distraction to snake a hand between you, slipping beneath your skirt before it’s grabbed, tight, and brought up to his lips. 

“Don’t cheat,” he says, wrapping your fingers around the cap of a bottle. 

“You never heard anyone call you that?” you murmur, opening it. 

You smell spring flowers and delicate citrus before it’s taken away, set aside when you nibble and suck at his sensitive ear to make him twitch, hands drifting across his ticklish belly down to his hipbones. He reads your intent again, stopping whatever silly task he’s doing beside you to lift your wrists to his shoulders. 

“The name is a little ironic, isn’t it?” you say, squeezing him experimentally with your thighs as you stroke his nape with your nails. You flex other muscles too–earning the grunt he makes as he feels you squeeze around his girth. 

He angles your head, pressing something wet and soft to where your pulse flutters in your neck. You’re immediately permeated with a light, airy, sweetness, the different scents revealed like a melody that ends in that richer, warmer scent from earlier. 

“Is that my perfume?” you ask. 

“An anointment,” he says, blowing across your skin to dry it and sending a shiver down your spine to where your bodies are locked together, that fullness and muted pleasure of him radiating down to your toes.

“I do seem to have a demon inside of me,” you sigh into his neck as you rest your head against his shoulder. “Do they do that in exorcisms?”

“Blessings,” he corrects, adjusting with another grunt. “We’ll find out if it worked in about an hour.”

“An hour?” you grumble. “You think you can keep torturing me that long?”

“I think I gave you the key to your own cage,” he says, checking his watch. “About five minutes ago. Does it feel like longer?”

You mumble something into his rumpled collar, making him laugh beneath you. Even just that tiny movement has you involuntarily gripping him, abdomen clenched. 

“What’s that?”

“I’llsayitifyoumakemecome,” you repeat, embarrassed enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck again. 

“You think this is a negotiation, Y/N?” Doyoung’s hands are back on your breasts, thumbing the areola in slow circles that are very much a reminder of his touch earlier on your throbbing clit. You whimper, trying to stay still so he doesn’t figure out that if he continues to do that you might have a chance–

“You trying to make me come squeezing me like that?” he asks, breath ragged. “That seems like a quick way to end this.”

“You . . . you could just fuck me,” you wheeze, feeling the way he teases your pebbled, hard nipple with lighter brushes, his mouth quirked where it’s pressed to your forehead. 

“What if I want to make love to you, instead?” he asks. He inhales sharply at your body’s response. 

“Fuck, you liked me saying that, didn’t you?”

You nod, unable to speak, holding onto him in desperation as the combination of his words and soft strokes make you melt into the pleasure of every small motion of him inside you. You realize he’s unconsciously pushing into you, too, unable to keep his hips from pressing into yours. 

Overstimulation is making you hyperaware of the scratch of his unzipped jeans against your burning thighs, the random brush of his open belt against your belly. Time seems to disappear as he holds you quietly, letting you soak up the fragrant, radiating warm reality of him.

“I can wait all night for it,” he threatens, even just his lower register making you quiver a little around him. “Count every time you twitch and moan on me until you break.”

You’d felt him flag a little while he worked but now he’s fuller inside you, stretching you wide as he twitches to life. It’s even hotter than all of this build-up, you think, knowing he can act a menace but that the idea of you surrendering to him is what’s really getting him off.

Of course, you think, mentally steeling yourself like you’re preparing for war. In a way this is something like it, up against as formidable a foe as he is. 

“Doie,” you whisper, threading your hands in his hair as you nuzzle for his lips, kissing him softly and intimately, like it’s your first time. “When did you know?”

“What?” He goes a little rigid against you, unable to hide his rapid heartbeat with how close you’re pressed to him. You blink up at him, expectantly. 

“When did you first know you loved me? Really?”

He smiles, shyly, but you see the hint of anxiety on his features beneath his arousal. There it is, you think, having to hide your own satisfaction. 

“Is this a trick question?” he asks, warily, eyelashes half-lowered.

“Not if I know the answer,” you say, smoothing his kiss-swollen lips with a touch. “I don’t think it’s in that book, either.”

“Really?” He’s intrigued, a tentative rock of his hips against you making you dizzy. “Tell me.”

You shake your head, just as playful. 

“I’ll tell you later,” you say. “After.”

He sighs explosively, nose wrinkling. “You don’t know.”

“Want to bet?” you ask. It’s always a little thrilling seeing Doyoung presented with an opportunity he can’t resist. He fumbles for the notebook beside you, almost slipping out of you when he has to reach even farther for a pen.

“Write it down,” he says, smug as a cat who’s caught something small and easily toyed with. 

“Only if you do, too,” you say.

His answer is a pained sound of agreement, adjusting himself against the desk. 

“No peeking,” you say, flipping to a page in the back. 

“Wait,” he says, grabbing the book before the nib of the nice pen touches the creamy paper. “What are the terms?”

You ponder for a moment, feeling a grin slide onto your lips. “Doesn’t our perfume need a name? Whoever is right, gets to name it.”

You can practically taste his delight as he leans in to kiss you, forcing you to pull your page closer to you. You make him wait, filling the blank space as best you can with detail as he fidgets between your legs, sending small shocks of pleasure through you both. 

“Thank you,” he says in earnest once you’ve handed him it open to a new leaf, his hand and the notebook shaking a little as he tries to write mid-air, finally resting it awkwardly atop your head in order to scrawl out his own answer.

“My eyes are closed, Kim Doyoung.” 

“You’re a cheat,” he says, shushing you with an added thrust of his hips. 

You settle back on your elbows, already enjoying your victory as you feel the tiny pressure of his handwriting, hear the scratches of his sketch. You're more emboldened than ever when the leather binding snaps shut.

“Now tell me,” you say, looking up at him coyly. 

“Can’t I just show you–”

You snatch the book from him, turning to your entry. Then, to his horror, you rip your page free and fold it shut, tucking it into the pocket of his open shirt.

“Tomorrow morning,” you say. “You had 24 hours, right? I’ll give you my answer tomorrow morning.”

Doyoung looks as if he’s tasted something sour. “You won’t tell me.”

“I’ll tell you that you won,” you say, looking down at his page. You trace the fresh ink with care, admiring his tight script and explanation. “February to April? How could I have guessed an entire season?” 

“Did you at least guess the year?” he asks, looking a little better for your affirmation of his win. 

You nod, finally feeling the discomfort of your position and resting your head against his warm chest. There’s nothing awkward about being wrapped around him like this, the late hour and strange, still space making it easier to forget the world outside.

“Hard to forget,” you say. “I thought for sure I’d never see you again after that winter holiday.”

Another break with Johnny, of course–but this one had been your choice. You’d finally felt the crushing weight of two years of contempt from the people around him, the Suh family matriarch at the center of it all, doing everything in her power to crush not only you but the people you loved. 

And then, when you’d needed him the most, Kim Doyoung had walked away from you, too. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you, either,” he sighs. “It was the first time in a long time you weren’t with us. With me. And it was my fault for pushing you away when you were just trying to–”

“It’s in the past now,” you cut him short with a finger pressed to his lips. 

The memory is painful, still–and you don’t want to sully this moment with it. You appreciate that even in his roundabout admission there’s a clear understanding for all you’d been through. You’d hoped he remembered that time from the past, when you’d first peered between the cracks in his carefully-manufactured facade.

Now you could be sure of what it meant to him. You feel like your own walls are crumbling, the light shining through. 

“So you chose the period of time when we didn’t speak to one another, at all?” you muse. “Not just one day?”

“You know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he says. “You were on my mind every minute and every hour of those three and a half months.”

He pauses, sigh warm against your brow. “I couldn’t tell you when I knew, for sure. I certainly couldn’t admit it, then, even to myself. But sometime then, I realized I cared more about you than a friend.”

You’d never doubted he was capable of it, never doubted it might be true. But hearing him admit it, now you know why he wants to hear it from you, too.

“Say it,” you say.

He finally looks at you again, tired but alight with amusement.

“You first,” he says.

“Who knew three simple words would be so difficult for Saint Kim?” you tease him.

“Alright. Come here,” he motions, slipping out of you with a shared groan. He pulls you to a couch under the shuttered window, settling down and forcing you to straddle him. In this position he can’t stop you from immediately taking all of him, his eyelids fluttering when you bottom out.

“You feel like heaven,” he murmurs. 

“You��re not going to last,” you laugh, delighted by the way his nose scrunches when you clench around him. 

“Says the girl who’s sucking me in like you never want me to leave.” He grabs on to your hips to roll them against his own, fingers tightening when you wriggle against him. “You’re gonna say it first even if I have to fuck it out of you.”

“Whoever comes first, then?” you offer.

“I can live with that,” he sighs, head resting back on the couch. 

You rock on your knees slowly, satisfaction warming you throughout as you force him all the way inside you. You let him hear how he makes you feel, pleading sounds and whispers every time he hits that place in your upper walls, curved inside of you perfectly. It doesn’t matter if you're in control you can’t help but hunt down that lovely rush of pleasure in your belly, twining your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself. 

“Good girl,” Doyoung praises, watching you in awe through half-lidded eyes. “You’re so beautiful. I always wanted to know what it would look like when you lost yourself with me.”

His words make you shiver, brushing his lips until he holds you against his mouth to show you how he likes it, less exploratory and more confident. It’s maddening how good he is at this, making you feel every single sweep of his tongue across yours, hand on your neck keeping you from escaping. 

“Don’t you want to–” you protest as he helps you to lay flat on your back across the length of the wide loveseat, settling between your thighs. 

“Oh god, Doie,” you whimper when he takes over, finally, finally, beginning to fuck you. It’s just as slow but at least he penetrates you fully before pulling out almost all the way, shoulders quaking as he holds himself up. 

“Promise me you'll let me dote on you for the rest of your life,” he says, not waiting for your response before driving into you again. His movements are barely controlled, grunts escaping the back of his throat when his hips snap into yours again.  

“I promise,” you hold onto him, back arching off the cushion to meet him, blissed out in the relief of each, careful stroke against your fluttering walls. That crescendo is happening whether you want it to or not, every overworked knot of muscle threatening to snap loose. 

“Promise me that no matter who you fuck you’ll always let me treat you right,” he says, voice breaking. “You’ll let me show you how I feel even when I can’t say it.”

“Yes, Doie. Yes.” You pull down on his shoulders, trying to move for you both, kissing his jaw and throat.

“Stop fighting me and take it,” he says, moving more easily with the thick coat of your cum, establishing a gentle rhythm. 

His voice has always made it hard for you to pay attention to anything else but he abuses that power now, murmuring guidance into your neck that has you tightening around him as he fucks you deep and slow. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises. “You’re taking me so well. Take all of me.”

You feel shivers up and down your body, nipples hardening tight as they brush against his chest, his hair tickling your forehead as he blindly kisses and licks at your mouth and chin. 

You’d thought he’d be concentrating on something else in his head to keep from losing himself but instead it’s you who's floating, breath captured in your lungs when he adjusts on top of you to pin your hips down, pressing your leg wide to bury himself to the hilt.

“You feel so perfect. I could really do this all night, you know,” he smirks down at you from where he’s supported on his elbow. “Is that what you want?”

“No, fuck, please,” you whine. There’s no thoughts in your head besides just how much you want that ache inside of your cunt to melt into real pleasure. 

“You want me to stop?” he asks, feeling how you begin to pulse around him as he swirls his hips up into that most sensitive part of you, his flat belly grinding into your clit. You gasp, leg locking around his, helping him work you apart.

“No no no,” you beg, face hot. “Just . . . just kiss me through it, please.”

Doyoung’s smile grows wider. “Say what you already told me.”

You twist your head against the cushion, earning his hand on your jaw as he makes you look at him while you break, kissing you between panting breaths. His confidence is written in the cocksure grin remaining on his mouth, more cruel when he bites at your bottom lip, hard, before licking the pain away. 

“Say it,” he breathes, slowing down on purpose. 

“I . . . ah,” you cry out, “I love . . . please don’t stop.” 

“What’s that?” he asks, pace punishingly slow. Your legs lose feeling, vibrations starting in the back of your thighs and tremoring down to your feet. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you repeat, nearly tipping off the edge, “I’m coming, I’m finally–”

He slows down right as you hit that crest, making you cry out in frustration. 

“Doie, I’ll kill you–”

“Say it,” he says into your lips, pulling out–too far–

“Iloveyou,” you exhale, seizing around him in time to your wildly beating heart.

“Louder.” He slams into you again, merciless.

“I love you, you stupid bastard,” you say, hanging on to his shoulders. “I love you!”

“Good enough,” he says, drilling into you until he can feel you break, orgasm sustained through the painful pressure of him losing himself in your throbbing heat, finding your mouth again, finally, to silence the repeated mantra on your tongue.

You kiss him fiercely, unloading everything words aren’t enough for, legs tied around his waist to keep him locked inside you until he’s fighting back, fucking you so hard the sound of it fills the quiet room. 

“I love you,” you repeat a final time for him, just to watch the way it makes him break, jaw slackening when he loses control, finally. 

He stutters into his own orgasm, teeth scraping against your locked lips, forehead pressed into yours as he empties inside you for what feels like forever, finally collapsing on top of you with a whimper when his arms give out and he’s as limp as his cock inside you. 

You scrape your nails across his scalp, soothing him. You don’t mind his weight, or the way you’re still pressed together with sweat and your combined spend. 

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he rasps, eyes dazed as he looks up at you. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head tightly. “Not for me, at least.”

“You’re not mad?” 

You know he means his inability to say the magic words but you crack a smile, just as pleased with yourself. 

“About the bet?” you ask. “No.”

Oh, it’s delicious seeing realization dawn on his face, little glimmers of surprise and horror bubbling up from his afterglow. 

“Fuck,” he says. You’re grateful he doesn’t deny it, rolling to the side in defeat. 

“Who told you? ‘Woo?”

You laugh softly, rolling over to pin him down with your leg, trapping him against the back of the couch. 

“You did, right now,” you say, relishing having him where you want him. “I had a hunch. And I know you, you’d never beg for someone to say something during sex–”

“I didn’t beg,” he corrects, grimacing.

“What was it? The first one to get me to say it? Bonus points if it’s on your cock?”

“Ah, well,” he says, perking up despite the fist pressed to his forehead in embarrassment. “Then you don’t know.”

“I’ll find out soon enough, Jaehyun wouldn’t–”

“You’re really not mad?” he asks, painfully reticent as you pull his hand away from his face and twine your fingers together.

“Not if it means I can use it as leverage,” you say, kissing his knuckles.

That doesn’t seem to surprise him, at all. 

“Good girl,” he says. “What do you want?”

A few years ago, give or take 

You’re a little too happy, an awful fact considering how much he'd missed seeing you this way.

Lately you’ve been sleepwalking through your life, all those tiny fractures and bruises finally having the time to mend–but healing is a painful process in itself. Doyoung had returned from his family’s formal Chuseok gathering in Singapore, eager to check in on you after receiving sparing responses from you via text.

You didn’t have a friend he could check in with instead any longer–not after that one girl had fled the country, the other ghosting you after their father was mysteriously laid off from a company he well knew did business with Suh International. 

He’s worried about you long before that, terrified that one last straw would break you even if by all indications you were strong enough to take it. After you’d had Johnny arrested and solicited a no-contact order you’d cut your ex off completely, moving to a tiny apartment far from where you’d grown up, changing your number. 

Only Jungwoo knew about it, and it was he who’d reluctantly offered your whereabouts to him after a few glasses of whiskey in their usual club. 

“She asked me to keep her info on lockdown. Got that hacker kid, what’s his name–Haechan? Wiped her socials off the map, so he can’t find her. He did good but you know Suh.”

Doyoung nods. They hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, probably because the idiot was combing through every civic office and apartment building in the city. Hell, he’d probably driven around until he found her by sight alone, knowing that animal wouldn’t rest until he knew her whereabouts, as stubborn about chasing her down as he was about refusing the F4’s help. 

“His mother called me to ask if the place he bought in cash was for her,” Doyoung says, knocking back his drink as he receives a text, heart sinking that it's not you. “Did you help him buy it for her?”

Jungwoo sighs. “No. I just got her rent halved with some coercion, you know? But then he goes and buys a unit in the same building with whatever stash he thought the Old Tiger didn’t know about.” 

The Devil Kim leans back, long legs akimbo as he gestures towards the server for a refill. “He’s waiting for her to go back to Chicago before he moves in. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I did not,” Doyoung affirms, turning away from the group of women at the bar sending looks towards their private table. “Let’s plan for when Madam Suh leaves. I can have her pull him into the London offices, considering he’s failing his courses.”

“Stone cold,” Jungwoo says, smirking. “Glad I’m not on your shit list.”

“Just don’t fuck with her,” Doyoung says. “Or fuck her.”

Jungwoo laughs into his glass. “Even I’m not that stupid.”

He’d thought he wasn’t, either. 

Not until you’d called a few days later, your speech a little slurred. He couldn’t have told you if what he was doing was important even if he was in a meeting, showing up to find you picking at a bowl of bar snacks in what he thought might be one of the nicer bars in your shitty part of town. Not as shitty as your old neighborhood, but it wasn’t a competition.

“Saint Kim,” you’d heralded him, raising an empty glass still smelling of watermelon and hibiscus. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking alone, here,” he’d said. 

You were dressed in one of your few nice outfits, a little on the revealing side for his tastes, but those had been Johnny’s you’d conformed to–animal print and thin straps, tastefully tasteless.

“I wasn’t,” you say, hiccuping. “Alone.”

For the first time in a long time fear spikes his blood pressure into overgear. Were you drugged? Was he going to have to fend off another predator who'd found you vulnerable?

You deserved the chance to move on but there was a real threat in what would happen to anyone who approached you without their permission. Johnny’s, yes, always, but the F4 had also agreed to look out for you well before your last incident at a club. 

“Who?”

“She left,” you say. He feels instant relief, reaching out to adjust the thin coverup slipping off your bare shoulder. 

“You make a new friend?”

You shake your head. “She’s nice. Met her in one of the ikebana classes work is paying for. Thought we were hitting it off but I must have said something dumb because she ran out of here, fast.”

You look up at him cautiously, too inebriated to realize he can recognize a set-up before it begins.

“You didn’t just talk about your ex, did you?” he asks, settling beside you at the bar. He orders something less ridiculous than whatever you'd been drinking, while you scroll through an Instagram feed, finger trembling over the screen. 

You look up at him, color-stained lips curving in an easy smile. “You want to see what we’re working on?”

Doyoung finds himself looking through a grid that is immediately obvious is not yours. His mouth goes dry, seeing rows of beautifully-staged floral centerpieces, the backgrounds as familiar as the back of his hand. You don’t seem to notice, going to the user’s story and tapping in vain to find the picture she’d posted.

“She deleted it already. Huh. Well, she texted me the picture–”

“Stop.” Doyoung places his hand over yours, his palm damp from the immediate flood of adrenaline. 

“So you do know Mona,” you say. You look up at him, expectantly, eyes glassy with the brand of hopefulness and naked curiosity he’s seen you charm everyone else around you with before. 

“She’s the one, isn’t she?”

Doyoung pulls cash from his pocket, not caring how much he puts down except that he’s sure it’s enough to cover the amount he’d like to drown himself in right now. Enough to go blind and burn out the phantom of that face he’d put behind him years ago. 

“Put your coat on,” he says. “I’m driving you home.”

“But I’m not–”

“Now,” Doyoung says, grabbing your wrist. He’s barely ever touched you in the years that you’ve been friends, and it sickens him when he feels you freeze in fear and confusion, that trauma response buried so deeply it's in your bones.

He wants to be kind, he wants to be patient with you. He just doesn’t have it in him to be anything to you right now.

“What’s wrong, Do–?”

“We’re leaving,” he says, dragging you out into the bitter cold evening, the streets slick with sleet, your heels catching on the pavement as you stumble in his wake.

“Stop,” you yell at his back, trying to yank your arm free from where he’s bruising your skin with whitened knuckles. “You’re hurting me–”

“You’ll live,” he says, pulling you to where he’s parked his car, the engine roaring to life the moment you manage to close your door. He can barely look at you, realizing too late that your crestfallen expression is making him more upset than the lightning strike of seeing her name again.

“You didn’t ask my address,” you say, quietly, met with his silence as he drives much more dangerously than the weather permits. He's forced to speak with you once he's slammed the brakes at an intersection, red light shading you through the windshield.

“Tell me one thing,” he says. “Did you try to set us up by having me come there?”

You’re petulantly silent now, an answer in itself.

“Answer me,” he orders, hands gripping the wheel.

“I thought you’d want to–”

“Do you think we have the kind of relationship where you can just do whatever you want and get away with it?” Doyoung’s voice is calm but he sees you flinch at his words and tone, your shoulders moving under your jacket as you begin to quietly cry. 

It drives him deeper into anger, hitting the gas with a roar of the engine the instant the light turns green. 

“You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself for this one, Y/N,” he says, already regretting every word tumbling out of his mouth. “You fucked up.”

“I just thought you could both have some closure after that–”

The car jerks as he brakes in the side lane of the service road, cars roaring past them honking their horns. Your sobs are barely audible over the idling engine and the blink of the hazards he turns on while he tries to find calm, your face turned away from him. 

“You thought that interfering in other people’s personal lives would make you feel better,” he says. “No wonder you don’t have any real friends.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see your full body shakes still, can feel as that armor encasement you’d put together piece-by-piece over years of dealing with loveless reality falls back into place. And, years later–no, even hours later–he’ll remember how at the time he was stupid enough to think it was the right thing to say. 

You needed a reality check, he’d thought. A reminder that all the wishes and hopes in the world wouldn’t change the bleak architecture of it, uncaring by design and much easier to navigate without them. That moving on was the only path to this idiot’s dream of closure, something you knew nothing about for how often you’d let them pull you back into their world, blinded by sunk-cost and loneliness. 

All the things he wished he believed for himself, but without the benefit of your optimism.

“Fuck you, Kim Doyoung,” you say, opening the car door and slamming it shut without so much as a glance behind you. He’d waited to make sure you reached the nearest bus stop before driving off, calling Jungwoo to let him know you were here–crying in the cold. 

He'd seen you in passing.

His best friend knew a lie when he’d heard it, most especially from him. 

He wouldn't hear from you again until spring.

Kim Doyoung can’t sleep. 

He’s not allowed to. 

He can’t move either, arm going numb beneath your curled body, your breathing finally easing for the dozenth time since his trial began. You have horrible sleep habits–kicking off the covers, stealing the pillows–but tonight you’ve passed out with that same bone-deep tiredness he’d felt earlier, face beatific in the slivers of light piercing through the slatted shades. 

It’s close to dawn, he thinks, the cacophony of insects and birds outside transitioning from a quiet chorus to a full orchestral suite. Soon it will be too loud to sleep deeply. 

“Y/N?” he whispers, tentatively, not daring to move.

You don’t respond, relief rushing through him. It’s not that he’s desperate to join you in slumber but that he’s waited for you to finally surrender to REM. He needed you down. 

And you needed it, too. 

He’d negotiated with Jaehyun when you’d been in the shower, earlier, sacrificing precious moments of shared time exploring your skin and the new taste of you under the water to supplicate himself to his best friend and worst enemy in this moment.

“It’s a charter,” Jaehyun said, blinking sleep from his eyes but awake enough to be angry. “You’re not finding another one short term.”

“I emailed you the tickets. Cattle car but first class, at least,” he says. “Jungwoo agreed to give you his day, he doesn’t want to take her out until after dark, anyway. You can sleep in tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Jaehyun had slammed the door shut in his face, but he hadn’t missed the budding smile on his friend’s face. At least one person was rooting for him.

That’s how he’d earned another morning with you. As always, making up for lost time.

You’re half out of the covers, one leg sprawled over the duvet as you sleep. You’d put on one of his softer button-downs, inhaling the smell of it after he tried to steal it back. 

“Please let me wear you,” you said. “I want to dream about you.”

Being around you like this is more comfortable than he imagined, as if you’re being slotted into a position he didn’t even know there was an existing space for. He’s woken up to women in his bed but you’re the first who’s ever asked him for this, particular experience.

“I used to have this fantasy, you know, whenever we crashed at your apartment.” He’d watched you go sheepish recalling, dates omitted for a reason. “Sometimes I’d lie there and touch myself thinking about you crawling into that guest bed–maybe a little drunk or you’d forget which room. Or maybe, you just wanted me to think that. I’d be awake but I’d pretend to be asleep while you . . . used me.” 

He experiments by tracing his fingertips up your bare leg, the peek of your lace underwear beneath the hem of his shirt maddening for how it curves into the crest of your ass, presented for him. A treat dangled before him, the command to partake only that you wanted him to make it slow–you wanted to wake to it.

He sucks a breath in, erection in his sweatpants hard against the band already from just watching his sleeping beauty. He finds every mark on your leg, every fine hair, thanking Heaven above you aren’t overly sensitive or ticklish like he is when his hand slips beneath his shirt to your belly. 

He slots himself against you, carefully, as if adjusting in his sleep. He has to wait for your breathing to even out again, slipping his free hand up to your breasts. 

“Used you? Did you not get off in this scenario?”

“I mean, yes. But it’s mostly about you. You wouldn’t say anything at all, you’d just fuck me full of your cum and then you’d leave me leaking it on your sheets and go back to your room. Or sometimes I’d crawl in your bed, if you were alone, and you’d cover my mouth so the others couldn’t hear it. And the next day it would be like nothing happened, you wouldn’t even bother to ask how I’d slept.” 

He loved how much of a slut you were, when you felt comfortable enough to share that side with someone. Johnny had certainly never appreciated the subtleties of your nature–too blinded by adoration to even consider degrading you on purpose. 

No, Doyoung had known for awhile you pushed the boundaries with him to see if he’d break.

Your nipples harden even though he’s barely handling them, discovering what shape your breasts make in repose as he tries desperately not to rut into the swell of your ass. Warming himself in you earlier had been one of the hardest challenges he’d faced but it had been worth it to learn you inside and out, to know how to make you grip his cock with that delicious little cunt of yours with just a kiss or a word that pleased you.  

You don’t wake but he knows he’s gotten through to that little lizard brain of yours when your legs rub together unconsciously, pushing back into him so his cock is settled between your buttocks. The friction from the lace is like the proverbial pea under a mattress–rubbing against his cock through the layers, catching on the veins and scraping the underside of his cockhead. 

It’s already a nice ache, one he ignores as he adjusts to better continue plucking and teasing at your body beneath your shirt, until you’re used to his touch enough to truly fall back under, once more.

You're so vulnerable, completely at his mercy as he brings his hand down to test the patch of moisture growing in the fabric, that lace sticky with your dreams of him. 

Use you, he thinks. You have no idea what he wants. 

Doyoung can play with the fantasy of you crawling into your boyfriend’s best friend’s bed while he’s passed out in the other room, determined to be punished for waking a sleeping monster . . . but it’s not what he's fantasizing about now. 

He takes time in stroking you, a single finger digging in between your lips through the fabric, listening intently for your breathing to change. You sigh, one of those full exhales one does in their deep sleep, but you arc back a little, into his touch, leg falling forward crooked so you’re a little more spread. 

Doyoung wishes he could move down there and use his nose to push you apart instead of his hand but that’s not your fantasy–not this time. You didn’t want him to spoil you anymore, completely underestimating his love for it. True, he didn’t often eat other girls out, too personal or just too much of a chore to figure out what they liked, but you weren’t ever going to be with him and not come from that first. 

Just the thought of tying you up so he can spend hours fucking you on his tongue is making his cock pulse, too hard to be ignored. He quietly pulls down the drawstring of his sleepwear, freeing himself so he can replace his finger with the much wider tip of his cock, biting back a groan as he rubs into that damp, soft lace he’d known would suit you the moment he’d touched it in the display box brought to his private buying room. 

You'd never know he’d already fucked himself with it before ever giving it to you, that errant fantasy of touching you finally realized as you whimper a little in your sleep at the soft push of him between your legs. He finds where your clit is getting just as swollen as the rest of you, bouncing against warmth and the promise of unspooling that need with his help, again.

Just his precious little cocksleeve, spoiled and worshiped, showing your gratitude by begging for it even when you’re unconscious. He tests the waters of the scenario by slowly pulling the seat of your underwear to the side, easing in between the fabric and your folds. 

You twitch against him, sheets rustling. He holds still, cock jumping and balls tightening with a little anxiety. 

He only has this one chance. 

Outside in the dark and quiet of the house sleeps the man everyone knows you’re really with, the one who doesn’t have to fight for an I love you to pass your lips. You’d never understood what it felt like watching you climb into Jaehyun’s lap whenever the whim took you, pretending you didn’t know what it did to him or the other two of them watching you.

Your breathing is shallow and your hand flexes a bit, against the pillow, but that’s it. Within a minute he’s grown more confident that you’re still asleep.

He reaches over you, pressing the pads of two fingers against the front of your underwear while he slips a little deeper between your legs, eyes almost rolling back in his head at the contrast between the satiny slide of you and the rougher cling of your panties. It’s a relief as he loses himself to it, rutting from the back while he applies constant pressure to your bud.

“Mmm.” You make a soft noise, but he doesn’t pull free, choosing instead to keep a hypnotizingly steady pace fucking against you. Your hips twitch against him, seeking out more contact, but he doesn’t rush–pressing his head against the back of yours and melding with you in the softness of the pillows and sheets. 

You’re so wet you’re soaking his pants, everything he collects tickling down to his balls pressed into your ass. He’s going to stuff your mouth with his fingers, when you finally open it, make you gag on them while he fills you full from behind. 

You moan now, voice syrupy with sleep. He doesn’t care if you’re still down, not with you gently pushing back, trying to get release.  

Not yet, you little harlot, he thinks, hips going still again. He’s burning at the wait, your cunt continuing to glide against him as you act out whatever is going on in your dreams, the movement making him insane for how closely it adheres to his desire to have taken you back when you were innocent, his little virgin weed learning what her body wanted, seeking it out in his bed.

“Treat me like one of the girls you don’t really like. Use me.”

Such an unending fantasy of yours that he never wanted you, almost sweet for how dumb you are–or just willfully ignorant. He’s always liked the second one better–your little game played out that you were one of them. Dressed in that school uniform, kicking your skinned knees, sucking on a piece of candy while four college-age idiots hid their bathing-suited boners under their robes, fighting or fucking around in front of you so you could keep up that precious little illusion of immunity. 

“Johnny,” you murmur in your sleep. 

It should make his blood run cold but as with all twisted-up and tangled desires it only makes him feel ignited, pulse pounding in his head. You’re still asleep and thinking of someone else, someone not even in this house, the guilt of it passing over him faster than a cloud on a breezy day. 

He rocks back into you, this time pulling out enough that he can find your soft hole, already tight again–the only part of your body not relaxed as he forces his way past the flutter of your opening, cockhead sensitive enough to sense the more textured g-spot where he knows you’ll come fast and easy if he fucks into it. 

“Shh,” he says, finally trailing his mouth against your jaw, pushing into you softly. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

“Mmhmm,”  you reply, nuzzling into the pillow, curling into him. He pushes a knee between your legs, folding you into the bed beneath him as he begins to fuck you, finally taking you for himself and himself alone. 

You’re so warm inside, body adjusting to take him easily for how boneless you are, kitten-like mewls muffled by the pillow. It turns him on hearing the edge of pain there, the way you struggle when he pulls your underwear up so tight it sticks between your folds, clit rubbing against it the way he’d stroked himself to completion with it tied tight around his cock.

“Stay quiet or I’ll stuff your mouth full instead,” he whispers against your shoulder, feeling as always a little stupid but losing that internal cringe when you choke on a moan.

“Is that what my little slut was dreaming about? Gagging to tears on another man’s cock?”

He feels you tense at a bit at the suggestion, letting him use you in spite of the rougher handling. 

“That’s right. You said another man’s name in your sleep. Do you think that's acceptable?”

You shake your head, whimpering. 

“Such a whore you can't keep track of who's dick is inside of you. Tell me, who's fucking you right now?” 

“Doie,” you say, music to his ears. He'd always hated the nickname until you started using it. You were the only one–you were always the only one who made his chest burn with unsated desire when you said his name.

“Who owns this tight little pussy?” 

“You do,” you gasp out. 

“Are you going to forget me? Maybe I need to fuck you so hard you only think of me when you spread your legs for another man.” 

Doyoung feels electric at how easily you begin to crumble with just a few words, squeezing his dick so tight when he says something you like, even more when he makes it hurt. 

“Sleepy baby going to let me stuff every one of your holes until I’ve had enough? Use you like my own little doll?”

You nod, no longer capable of speaking except in a plaintive moan when he leaves you to shuck off his pants and pull down your ruined panties, pillow pulled beneath your belly to force your ass up. In this position he can drill into you deeper, burying you into the mattress with each thrust. 

“That’s what you get for crawling in here,” he says, fingers digging bruises into your hips to hold you down. “Keep your mouth shut and take it.”

The pleading, almost scared noises you're making have him hard and pulsing, two steps away from coming himself but in no hurry to. He pulls your hair to bring your head back, shoving his fingers in your mouth. 

“You like that?” Your cunt can't hide it, sucking him in. “Get them wet for me.” 

You drool over his knuckles, gagging as he fucks your mouth with them in an awkward rhythm to his merciless rutting. He spits into his hand when he's satisfied, fingers swirling around the tight rim of your ass so quickly it makes you buck. 

“Don't scream,” he murmurs, giving you two fingers at once. You make a noise through the pillow you're biting, gripping him tight. He's gentler with this, slowing, letting you adjust to take him.

“This is my favorite, right here,” he groans. “Feeling my cock inside you with my fingers. I'd fuck this tight little ass again but I want to feel you come like this.” 

He begins to stroke you harder, deeper, wet and sticky when his balls slap against your abused cunt. He keeps his fingers buried in you, scissoring you open as you take it.

“Come for me, Y/N, grip me good so I can fill that pretty mouth of yours.” 

It's a beautiful feeling when you begin to throb, contractions in your ring of muscle letting him know when you hit your peak. He fights the tingling in his balls, the urge to come with you painful for how long he's been holding it back. 

He talks you through it, instead.

“Such a good little hole,” he says. “You're coming so hard, baby, can feel it so well.” 

You moan, loud, as you break, loosening almost immediately, flooding him with sweet, hot warmth. He makes sure the last of those tics is gone before pulling out.

“Roll over,” he says, straddling you with a hand on the headboard, delighted by the sight of your flushed face and starry eyes. You already know what to do, tongue lolling and uvula exposed as he guides himself into your mouth, soft tongue swirling around his tip. 

God help him he's been thinking about this since yesterday, pushing deep enough to gag but not choke, fucking your mouth and the hot tightness of your throat when he hits it. It’s the sight more than anything that drives him to spill hot white ropes of cum into your mouth, pulling out to milk the last few splashes on your parted lips and delighting at the sight of you licking them with your spend-covered tongue.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, dropping down and kissing you, finally, tongues stroking each other until you finally pull free to breathe, blinking up sleepily at him. 

“You do taste different,” you tease.

“I taste like you,” he says, pressing soft kisses all over your face. “My sweet, sweet girl.”

“Did you like that?” you murmur. 

“I loved–” he pauses, watching the smile spread on your wet lips. 

“I love you, you know,” he finishes. You reach around his neck, comforting him out of instinct, but he doesn’t need it. 

“I love you,” he repeats, testing the words on his tongue now that they've flown out so easily, the tightness in his chest easing as you rise up to kiss him. 

“It's beautiful to hear you say it,” you say. “But you're right, I know.”

“I think I even know the exact time and date,” you say, reaching between you into the pocket of your shirt to pull out that torn and folded art paper scrawled with your words and an amateurish sketch.

Tomorrow morning . . .

[Unknown number] [Tomorrow morning April 13th dawn is at 6:17] [I have something to show you. Meet me on the roof of the East Wind Hotel]

Doyoung looks at the text message again, hand hanging over the railing of a dance floor, conversation with the woman by his side forgotten. With the blur of a late night and a trip to a different hotel room, with a different woman, he'd almost missed it.

Probably one of the innumerable flings he's had, Jungwoo recruiting him to get every last lick of enjoyment out of Seoul before he enlisted. His friend snatches the phone from his hand.

“No business,” Jungwoo slurs, eyes bloodshot as he focuses on the text. “I thought you weren't working hospitality anymore.” 

“It's not . . .” There's something nagging at him, like a bird pecking at his skull in time to the drone of the EM, the buzz of conversation. A sense of deja vu so strong he's forced to cycle on it. 

“Pfft. I know you don't bring girls back to your kingdom,” Jungwoo says. “Stop working and party.”

Doyoung doesn't know why he feels compelled to see the cryptic message through, doesn't know why he races across town at 5 am, reeking of whiskey and another woman’s perfume, doing his best to sober up as the designated driver talks about the change in weather, the cherry blossoms in full bloom outside the window.

The morning commute is already surging and the destination central to the city so by the time he makes it he's out of breath from running two blocks away from a jam, head pounding.

“ . . . restricted for non-guests,” someone is saying, voice recognizable as an intern he knows from his leadership program, still stuck on night front desk duty. 

“I just need a few minutes, please. I need to take a picture–” He'd recognize that voice in a hundred years if he hadn't heard it, not just a hundred days.

“What's going on here?” 

You freeze, shoulders stiffening as you turn to face him. Not much has changed–a new haircut, same ratty old sneakers–but you look different. No longer a ghost, but just as untouchable for the skittish way you hold when he approaches, only the barest relief on your beautiful features.

You don't smile, don't even say hello.

You're scared of him, again, just that thought making him spiral.

“You came,” you say, exhaling. “We need to hurry. We need to get to the roof.”

Doyoung turns to the staff. “Is the roof access still shut down?”

“Stair access only, sir.” 

Your eyes go wide at the interchange, something like embarrassment passing over your features as you begin to laugh. 

“Of course this is your hotel,” you state, smacking yourself on the forehead. “Of course, why didn't I think to check that. God, I'm an idiot.” 

“We didn’t change the name when we acquired the chain so it would be unlikely for you to have guessed that,” he says. “What are you doing here?” 

“There's no time and it's easier just to show you. We need to get to the roof, now,” you say, grabbing his wrist and tugging on it towards the stairs. 

“Y/N,” he says, holding you fixed and pointing at the elevator. “We can take it up as far as we need to.” 

You're still laughing maniacally twenty floors up. “I was going to cry if I had to go up another flight of stairs.” 

“Are you really taking pictures?” He asks, gesturing at your camera.

“No, but I started carrying it the first time someone called the police on me thinking I was going to jump,” you giggle, wiping away tears. He feels delirious from lack of sleep, so maybe you are, too, but it doesn't seem to be the case as you spring out the doors, forcing him to guide you when you're lost in the executive suite hallways.

“I managed to sneak in last time, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten this far. I'm glad you came just in time, I think they were going to kick me out.”

He's surprised at how easily things have snapped back into place between you, no mention of anything that's happened as you race up the stairwell to the roof access. 

“Will you tell me–”

“Oh thank god,” you say once your through the heavy doors and collapsed on the green helipad, growing impatient when he props the door open out of habit. He's been up here many times, nothing remarkable about the space besides the legacy sign on top, view crowded by other buildings at varying levels. 

“Stand here,” you say, pushing him into place, turning him by the arms. “Do you see it?”

“I don't even know what I'm looking for,” he says, beginning to grow annoyed. 

“Look over there, at the People's Bank. Relax your eyes, it will only take a minute.”

He feels increasingly foolish but he does what you ask, cool morning breeze clearing his muddled head. The sky is washed in a pink and blue haze, the sun cresting the more mountainous region of the city behind you to bathe the city in solid gold.

“There,” you breathe, letting out a little sigh.

“What?” All he can see is a few birds passing over the vista of crowded advertisements and neon. 

“Do you see the light?” you ask. 

“There's tons of lights–” he begins, cut short by the blinding catch of the sun's reflection on one of the characters, then another. He spells it out slowly, guided by your hand holding his to each one. 

The bank: Sa. 

The next building over, also burning brighter with the touch of the sun: Rang. 

Then an advertisement that has been up long enough most of the original message is lost. Hae.

“How did you find this?” he asks, knowing it would be impossible for him to have ever seen this without knowing the trick of the light. 

“I didn't find it. Well I did–I had to search some buildings for it.” 

Later he'll find out you climbed close to fifty flights of stairs in the last two months, had spent every waking moment not working or in school breaking into buildings before sunrise to find that exact spot, forever amused at the thought you hadn’t checked his family's flagship hotel first.

“You don't remember getting the same message from someone else?” you ask. “I was worried you wouldn't come, again.”

Again. Something tugs the memory up from the oubliette he'd locked it into, Mona teasing him about sleeping in and missing their appointment.

Mona. 

His stomach falls, checking back behind him at the door as if that particular ghost will return to haunt him.

“She's not here. I wasn't trying to set you up,” you say, recognizing the dismay he can't hide. “Honestly. And I know whatever closure you find is yours and yours alone. You were right about that, too, I'm sorry.”

You twist your hands in front of you, suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety. “I did this for me. Because I wanted to know what she tried to tell you, even if she couldn't say it aloud.”

You don't look at him, can't in order to continue. Doyoung feels like a live wire, exposed, two months of painful loneliness and a lifetime's worth of avoidance of this fact all surging through him in this moment. 

As much as he would prefer to leave he's not going to run like he did back then, when he'd ignored the hard parts to pretend like a friendship wasn't something more. Not with the stakes of losing this one.

“You once told me you were just friends, even if you couldn't be one anymore for her after you realized you loved her. How it broke you to be with someone you couldn't be with, who wanted something different.”

“Now you know. She didn't want to stay one, either,” you say. You look up at him nervously, regaining your confidence.

“I just wanted you to know that you were loved, Kim Doyoung. You still are.” 

You turn away towards the door, pretending not to have seen the tears dripping down his face under his glasses. He ignores them, too, not knowing what to say or do to make sure you never leave him again.

The spot never mattered to him, the word and it's confession forgotten in time. What changed that day was having you in front of him after so long, the way you were a reflection of him so many years ago, fighting to be by the side of someone who didn't know how to love you back, the right way.

He'd promised himself than that even if he couldn't say it, he'd show you.

“Thank you for coming. I'm sorry for interfering with your life, but that’s what friends do.”

You'd almost made it to the stairs when he'd wrapped around you from behind, the first ever time he'd held you in an embrace, unsurprised to find you shaking like a leaf as he rested a wet cheek against your hair. 

“I'm sorry,” he says. “Thank you.” 

You relax a little, squeezing his hand. In that small gesture everything is reset, everything is okay again. They won't talk about this for the next few years, even when Jungwoo asks how you'd come back into their lives so suddenly and without any indication that things had changed.

But they had. Deeply. 

“You can make it up to me by buying me breakfast,” you say, smiling up at him, wiping his cheek with your sleeve. “We have a lot to catch up on.” 

“Did I win?” you ask. 

Doyoung can only laugh, giddy, as you burrow into his side to smother him in kisses and teasing. You were put on this earth to challenge him, after all–always right there to match him in stubbornness and competition.

He presses his nose to your neck, inhaling the remnants of the scent you'd made together, one bottle for each, though you didn't have to know his formula was just a bit different.

“‘Tomorrow Morning’ has a nice ring to it, I suppose. It lingers well.”

“It was my answer, actually. I needed to see if I could break Saint Kim's vow of romantic abstinence before I made up my mind,” you say, smug as you move to get up. “Glad you were able to find out before your time was–”

You shriek as he pulls you down again, pinning you to the bed. 

“I still have a few hours,” he says, voice dangerous. “I'd like to hear you say it again.”

[23lvrs]

NCT masterlist

main masterlist

NCT 127

ot9

nsfw links one two three four

taeil

taeyong

johnny

nsfw links one

yuta

doyoung

nsfw links one

jaehyun

nsfw links one two three

the suit (18+)

sexting jaehyun one

jungwoo

sexting jungwoo one

nsfw links one

mark

sexting mark one

nsfw links one

hidden (18+) one

haechan

you know

nsfw links one two

sexting haechan one

NCT DREAM

ot7

nsfw links one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen

mark (check nct 127)

renjun

socials w u

nsfw links one

jeno

socials w u

nsfw links one

haechan (check nct 127)

jaemin

drunk ex jaemin accidentally texting you part 1

nsfw links one

sexting jaemin one

chenle

jisung

nsfw links one two

WAYV

ot6

kun

ten

nsfw links one

winwin

xiaojun

nsfw links one

hendery

yangyang

DOJAEJUNG

ot3

doyoung (check nct 127)

jaehyun (check nct 127)

jungwoo (check nct 127)

[yeoosaangg]

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 (╥﹏╥)

[gonelike-ach00]

Crazy Rich Idol | Doyoung

Chapter 3

chaebol! Kim Doyoung x chaebol! Original Female Character

Word count: 2,021

Summary: What truly goes on behind the lights, the stages and the performances? Kim Doyoung has lived his idol life quietly, getting ample exposure and being in a popular group. He was now fully independent and plans to continue his life in this direction.

Yet all things are easier said than done. Once his old life begins to creep up to him it was getting harder to escape and runaway. What does this humble and scandal free idol truly hide?

Genre: fluff, angst, arranged marriage, drama

Warning(s): eventual smut, violence, trauma, guns, blood

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He bows to faces he both recognized and had no idea who they were. Right now, he was the only one standing by his father's grave. His mother did not sleep for two days, since his father passed and the first night of his visit. That was the case for his father's two older sisters and his only cousin. Outside, there were people from the house serving people food and drinks, he was lucky to have them as he was unsure whether or not he could smile and serve people food. He was sure among the crowd outside the main room was his cousin's wife's, since she did greet him earlier, he wasn't sure if she's left already. He can't blame her if she did, their kids were very young and staying too long here would mean leaving the kids with their still emotionally unstable father.

Doyoung stands on his feet once he hears someone approaching the viewing room. As soon as they enter he bows his head first. 

There was no need to look up, they would all say the same thing. They would sing praises for his father and whisper their condolences, yet the moment they sit with their colleagues and co-workers they would mutter all kinds of things about the family owned conglomerate, and him.

"Dongyoung," a hand runs down his arm, which surprised him. Instead of being greeted with a fake smile and infinite praise for his deceased father, he was greeted with a warm smile.

"I heard you were here alone." Her hand goes down to his hands, Jinah then proceeds to squeeze it in assurance, before standing right beside him. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Standing beside you, what else am I doing?” If anyone walked in right now, unaware of who she was, they would think that she truly was a relative of the deceased. Her black attire, and cleanly pushed back hair, it was as if she was mourning as he was.

“People are going to get the wrong idea,” his hand points between the two of them, “between us.”

“Will you calm down,” she swats Doyoung’s hand away, “my brother just got stopped by some snar faced old man who was trying to suck up to him.”

“Your brother?” Doyoung stands up straight and shifts his whole body towards her as if she was joking. If his gulp wasn’t audible for Jinah, it sure did echo inside his head. 

“What’s with you?” Jinah makes him turn back into where he was facing earlier by turning him by his shoulder. 

At the moment where she had both her hands on his shoulders someone entered the room. Instead of flinching off of his body just like how anyone would react if seen standing a little too close with an idol, both their eyes only turn towards the person slowly. He stands there in absolute confusion at first before a smirk grows on his lips. He then lifts his hand then points between the two of them. “Are you two dating?” 

Jinah takes her hand off of Doyoung’s shoulders before she starts shaking her head aggressively. 

“We just saw each other for the first time since I dropped out of high school.” Doyoung smoothes out his suit.

“And anyone could date within that period.” Jung Minki was a walking teasing machine to the two of them. He may have been the reason behind the whole rumor of them engaged back in high school. He was the type to make fun of their relationship when things were purely platonic between the two of them. As MInki, himself, would say he was the biggest Dongyoung and Jinah shipper among the family.

“I’m kidding!” This time Minki smiles apologetically at Doyoung. He simply opened his arms and in an instant had Doyoung in his arms, just like the older brother he was. “My condolences, Dongyoung.” A hand, for the first time, one that wasn’t shaking, soothes his back. This was the first time he felt truly assured, as if he could bawl inside his arms. 

“You arrived a little too late, don’t you think?” Doyoung hides the tears wanting to fall with a joke.

“My father hasn’t been himself since your father passed,” Minki moved back and placed his hands over his arms, “so, Jinah and I have been doing all his work and meetings.” He squeezed Doyoung’s arms before standing right beside Jinah.

“There’s no one who can understand him more than you could.” Doyoung comments as they all stand by the wall waiting to greet another person who would view his father’s memorial and offer their condolences.

“He probably has it worse than me.” 

Their conversation was cut when a group of younger employees entered the chairman’s viewing room. 

If there was one thing Jinah and Minki had understood since they were young, it was that Doyoung was one that catches anyone’s attention. In the split moment that the younger employees looked at Doyoung, the two of them heard them gasp. His small face, and bunny like features seem to astound them, not to mention the build he worked so hard for. He truly was a textbook definition of what it means to be hot. 

That, or they recognized the young man who was often on TVs. 

Just as quick as they reacted to standing in front of the good looking son of the chair, they were quick to bow their heads towards them and run out of the small room with such a good looking guy. 

“How does it feel to be good looking?” Jinah teases the man standing beside him, who didn’t seem to be flustered by the reaction. 

"A burden," she sees him hide his smirk, "but the greatest way to inflate my ego." He leans in closer with a full blown smile on his face. 

"I shouldn't have said anything," Jinah rolls her eyes and hits his shoulders making him stand straight once again. 

It was weird, he was mourning, Doyoung was sure he was. There was fear surrounding him, the sound of condolences seemed to deafen him as well, yet in the presence of these two siblings, things were much lighter on his shoulders. He glances at the two of them who were whispering between each other, and all he could think of was his gratitude. As a smile slowly makes it on his face, the lady beside him, who seems to feel his sight set on the two of them, turns her head.

Immediately the smile on Doyoung's face gone, since her face was contorted in a manner that felt like she was mocking him. "Dongyoung," she pauses and takes a step back, standing closer to her brother, "what's with you?"

As if the tension shared when she entered the room was gone, or the tension shared not so long ago in her work place was now also gone. Instead, there was that comforting presence of their shared youth. Probably the most constant image in his life was her, and how she was acting right now, it was as if they didn't spend a day apart.

"I was just…" Doyoung can't find the right word, "...observing."

"Observing?" Minki's eyebrow raised at his choice of words. "It's not like this is the first time you've seen us—" 

Doyoung knew Minki had much more to say, but his brain zoned out the moment a group of young men entered the room in which they stood. Their all black attires and unstyled hair should blend them in, yet they stood out like a sore thumb. Brightly coloured hairs, small faces and lean builds, they were hard to miss. "Doyoung," not to mention the use of his stage name, one that was never recognized and used among all the workers, clients, and VIPs he greeted earlier.

"Taeyong," he was only able to call out the name of their leader, but seven other men stood beside him, "thank you for visiting my father's grave." He bows his head, this was the only thing he could think of at this moment. He had heaps more to say, one filled with apologies and regrets, yet this was the only thing he could do right now.

"NCT 127, right?" Jinah intervenes in the awkward interaction between the two members.

"Yes," was their simple reply.

"I apologize for the other day," Jinah quickly bows her head and pulls Doyoung back into standing position by his arms, "I received a sudden news about this guy's," she points at Doyoung with her thumb, "father, one that involved life or death." Jinah, as humbly as she could, bows her head in apology.

“It’s fine,” Taeyong, the leader, took charge with conversing with the director of JBG, but as soon as took a good look at the altar filled with flowers and a photo in the middle, it became abundantly clear how things turned out, “it was a situation far more important than work.” His eyes then traveled over to the man who stood there quietly and was opening and closing his mouth.

“You must be Dongyoung's group, right?” Minki’s bright personality threw the tension off of them immediately. He put out his hand and began shaking all their hands individually. “I’m Jung Minki, this one’s,” he points to Jinah using his thumb, “older brother.”

Then there was an immediate change in expression among the boys in the crowd. Jinah was one that they couldn’t believe was present in their shoot, aside from being the daughter of the JBG conglomerate, she was also a director for one of the biggest conglomerates in the country. It was harder to comprehend how they were standing right in front of the president of JBG.

“Looks like we have to compensate for the disturbed shoot that you have experienced.”

“No,” the group, including Doyoung, shakes their heads. 

“Well then, can I ask you one small favor then?” 

“Sure!” This time it was Johnny who responded the quickest. 

Minki walks over to stand beside Doyoung. He puts his arms around his shoulders, his face immediately turns sour at what Minki was doing. “This little brother of mine,” Minki pats Doyoung’s chest, “needs some explaining to do, to his group mates. Would you mind hearing his explanation?” 

Looks were exchanged between the members, as if it was already a given that Doyoung needed to explain himself. It was simply up to their standards on whether his explanation was one that they would quickly forgive. 

“Well then.” Minki no longer waits for a response from the group, “go ahead before Dongyoung gets all busy with sucking up to those weird elder men.” Minki pushes Doyoung towards his members and with a smile, assured him that they were going to stand as his father’s family for the few moments that he would be gone.

Of the thoughts he was plagued with, he never thought that there would be a day where he had to explain to his members who his father was. He was hoping that eventually his father would come to accept the choice of pursuing his career, and eventually greet his members. He never once thought that their first encounter with his father would be in his death. 

“I think we’ve figured out a number of what is going on here.” Haechan was the first to speak as soon as they all sat down. With eyes watching them navigate through the crowd and watching them sit down. “That your father works for JBG, probably one of the directors right?” 

Doyoung wanted to tie his lips down, but with what was about to unfold there was no way he could hide this any longer. He knows that this news of his father’s death should be all over the news already, whatever his cousin and aunts were doing to suppress it, they were doing phenomenally well. 

“It’s much more than that.” Doyoung’s statement makes all heads turn towards him. As he raises his head, he takes notice of their eagerness to know. “My father’s name is Kim Dongmin,” he hears them gasp, “as in, the chairperson and president of the Byul Conglomerate.”

He bows to faces he both recognized and had no idea who they were. Right now, he was the only one standing by his father's grave. His mother did not sleep for two days, since his father passed and the first night of his visit. That was the case for his father's two older sisters and his only cousin. Outside, there were people from the house serving people food and drinks, he was lucky to have them as he was unsure whether or not he could smile and serve people food. He was sure among the crowd outside the main room was his cousin's wife's, since she did greet him earlier, he wasn't sure if she's left already. He can't blame her if she did, their kids were very young and staying too long here would mean leaving the kids with their still emotionally unstable father.

Doyoung stands on his feet once he hears someone approaching the viewing room. As soon as they enter he bows his head first. 

There was no need to look up, they would all say the same thing. They would sing praises for his father and whisper their condolences, yet the moment they sit with their colleagues and co-workers they would mutter all kinds of things about the family owned conglomerate, and him.

"Dongyoung," a hand runs down his arm, which surprised him. Instead of being greeted with a fake smile and infinite praise for his deceased father, he was greeted with a warm smile.

"I heard you were here alone." Her hand goes down to his hands, Jinah then proceeds to squeeze it in assurance, before standing right beside him. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Standing beside you, what else am I doing?” If anyone walked in right now, unaware of who she was, they would think that she truly was a relative of the deceased. Her black attire, and cleanly pushed back hair, it was as if she was mourning as he was.

“People are going to get the wrong idea,” his hand points between the two of them, “between us.”

“Will you calm down,” she swats Doyoung’s hand away, “my brother just got stopped by some snar faced old man who was trying to suck up to him.”

“Your brother?” Doyoung stands up straight and shifts his whole body towards her as if she was joking. If his gulp wasn’t audible for Jinah, it sure did echo inside his head. 

“What’s with you?” Jinah makes him turn back into where he was facing earlier by turning him by his shoulder. 

At the moment where she had both her hands on his shoulders someone entered the room. Instead of flinching off of his body just like how anyone would react if seen standing a little too close with an idol, both their eyes only turn towards the person slowly. He stands there in absolute confusion at first before a smirk grows on his lips. He then lifts his hand then points between the two of them. “Are you two dating?” 

Jinah takes her hand off of Doyoung’s shoulders before she starts shaking her head aggressively. 

“We just saw each other for the first time since I dropped out of high school.” Doyoung smoothes out his suit.

“And anyone could date within that period.” Jung Minki was a walking teasing machine to the two of them. He may have been the reason behind the whole rumor of them engaged back in high school. He was the type to make fun of their relationship when things were purely platonic between the two of them. As MInki, himself, would say he was the biggest Dongyoung and Jinah shipper among the family.

“I’m kidding!” This time Minki smiles apologetically at Doyoung. He simply opened his arms and in an instant had Doyoung in his arms, just like the older brother he was. “My condolences, Dongyoung.” A hand, for the first time, one that wasn’t shaking, soothes his back. This was the first time he felt truly assured, as if he could bawl inside his arms. 

“You arrived a little too late, don’t you think?” Doyoung hides the tears wanting to fall with a joke.

“My father hasn’t been himself since your father passed,” Minki moved back and placed his hands over his arms, “so, Jinah and I have been doing all his work and meetings.” He squeezed Doyoung’s arms before standing right beside Jinah.

“There’s no one who can understand him more than you could.” Doyoung comments as they all stand by the wall waiting to greet another person who would view his father’s memorial and offer their condolences.

“He probably has it worse than me.” 

Their conversation was cut when a group of younger employees entered the chairman’s viewing room. 

If there was one thing Jinah and Minki had understood since they were young, it was that Doyoung was one that catches anyone’s attention. In the split moment that the younger employees looked at Doyoung, the two of them heard them gasp. His small face, and bunny like features seem to astound them, not to mention the build he worked so hard for. He truly was a textbook definition of what it means to be hot. 

That, or they recognized the young man who was often on TVs. 

Just as quick as they reacted to standing in front of the good looking son of the chair, they were quick to bow their heads towards them and run out of the small room with such a good looking guy. 

“How does it feel to be good looking?” Jinah teases the man standing beside him, who didn’t seem to be flustered by the reaction. 

"A burden," she sees him hide his smirk, "but the greatest way to inflate my ego." He leans in closer with a full blown smile on his face. 

"I shouldn't have said anything," Jinah rolls her eyes and hits his shoulders making him stand straight once again. 

It was weird, he was mourning, Doyoung was sure he was. There was fear surrounding him, the sound of condolences seemed to deafen him as well, yet in the presence of these two siblings, things were much lighter on his shoulders. He glances at the two of them who were whispering between each other, and all he could think of was his gratitude. As a smile slowly makes it on his face, the lady beside him, who seems to feel his sight set on the two of them, turns her head.

Immediately the smile on Doyoung's face gone, since her face was contorted in a manner that felt like she was mocking him. "Dongyoung," she pauses and takes a step back, standing closer to her brother, "what's with you?"

As if the tension shared when she entered the room was gone, or the tension shared not so long ago in her work place was now also gone. Instead, there was that comforting presence of their shared youth. Probably the most constant image in his life was her, and how she was acting right now, it was as if they didn't spend a day apart.

"I was just…" Doyoung can't find the right word, "...observing."

"Observing?" Minki's eyebrow raised at his choice of words. "It's not like this is the first time you've seen us—" 

Doyoung knew Minki had much more to say, but his brain zoned out the moment a group of young men entered the room in which they stood. Their all black attires and unstyled hair should blend them in, yet they stood out like a sore thumb. Brightly coloured hairs, small faces and lean builds, they were hard to miss. "Doyoung," not to mention the use of his stage name, one that was never recognized and used among all the workers, clients, and VIPs he greeted earlier.

"Taeyong," he was only able to call out the name of their leader, but seven other men stood beside him, "thank you for visiting my father's grave." He bows his head, this was the only thing he could think of at this moment. He had heaps more to say, one filled with apologies and regrets, yet this was the only thing he could do right now.

"NCT 127, right?" Jinah intervenes in the awkward interaction between the two members.

"Yes," was their simple reply.

"I apologize for the other day," Jinah quickly bows her head and pulls Doyoung back into standing position by his arms, "I received a sudden news about this guy's," she points at Doyoung with her thumb, "father, one that involved life or death." Jinah, as humbly as she could, bows her head in apology.

“It’s fine,” Taeyong, the leader, took charge with conversing with the director of JBG, but as soon as took a good look at the altar filled with flowers and a photo in the middle, it became abundantly clear how things turned out, “it was a situation far more important than work.” His eyes then traveled over to the man who stood there quietly and was opening and closing his mouth.

“You must be Dongyoung's group, right?” Minki’s bright personality threw the tension off of them immediately. He put out his hand and began shaking all their hands individually. “I’m Jung Minki, this one’s,” he points to Jinah using his thumb, “older brother.”

Then there was an immediate change in expression among the boys in the crowd. Jinah was one that they couldn’t believe was present in their shoot, aside from being the daughter of the JBG conglomerate, she was also a director for one of the biggest conglomerates in the country. It was harder to comprehend how they were standing right in front of the president of JBG.

“Looks like we have to compensate for the disturbed shoot that you have experienced.”

“No,” the group, including Doyoung, shakes their heads. 

“Well then, can I ask you one small favor then?” 

“Sure!” This time it was Johnny who responded the quickest. 

Minki walks over to stand beside Doyoung. He puts his arms around his shoulders, his face immediately turns sour at what Minki was doing. “This little brother of mine,” Minki pats Doyoung’s chest, “needs some explaining to do, to his group mates. Would you mind hearing his explanation?” 

Looks were exchanged between the members, as if it was already a given that Doyoung needed to explain himself. It was simply up to their standards on whether his explanation was one that they would quickly forgive. 

“Well then.” Minki no longer waits for a response from the group, “go ahead before Dongyoung gets all busy with sucking up to those weird elder men.” Minki pushes Doyoung towards his members and with a smile, assured him that they were going to stand as his father’s family for the few moments that he would be gone.

Of the thoughts he was plagued with, he never thought that there would be a day where he had to explain to his members who his father was. He was hoping that eventually his father would come to accept the choice of pursuing his career, and eventually greet his members. He never once thought that their first encounter with his father would be in his death. 

“I think we’ve figured out a number of what is going on here.” Haechan was the first to speak as soon as they all sat down. With eyes watching them navigate through the crowd and watching them sit down. “That your father works for JBG, probably one of the directors right?” 

Doyoung wanted to tie his lips down, but with what was about to unfold there was no way he could hide this any longer. He knows that this news of his father’s death should be all over the news already, whatever his cousin and aunts were doing to suppress it, they were doing phenomenally well. 

“It’s much more than that.” Doyoung’s statement makes all heads turn towards him. As he raises his head, he takes notice of their eagerness to know. “My father’s name is Kim Dongmin,” he hears them gasp, “as in, the chairperson and president of the Byul Conglomerate.”

He bows to faces he both recognized and had no idea who they were. Right now, he was the only one standing by his father's grave. His mother did not sleep for two days, since his father passed and the first night of his visit. That was the case for his father's two older sisters and his only cousin. Outside, there were people from the house serving people food and drinks, he was lucky to have them as he was unsure whether or not he could smile and serve people food. He was sure among the crowd outside the main room was his cousin's wife's, since she did greet him earlier, he wasn't sure if she's left already. He can't blame her if she did, their kids were very young and staying too long here would mean leaving the kids with their still emotionally unstable father.

Doyoung stands on his feet once he hears someone approaching the viewing room. As soon as they enter he bows his head first. 

There was no need to look up, they would all say the same thing. They would sing praises for his father and whisper their condolences, yet the moment they sit with their colleagues and co-workers they would mutter all kinds of things about the family owned conglomerate, and him.

"Dongyoung," a hand runs down his arm, which surprised him. Instead of being greeted with a fake smile and infinite praise for his deceased father, he was greeted with a warm smile.

"I heard you were here alone." Her hand goes down to his hands, Jinah then proceeds to squeeze it in assurance, before standing right beside him. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Standing beside you, what else am I doing?” If anyone walked in right now, unaware of who she was, they would think that she truly was a relative of the deceased. Her black attire, and cleanly pushed back hair, it was as if she was mourning as he was.

“People are going to get the wrong idea,” his hand points between the two of them, “between us.”

“Will you calm down,” she swats Doyoung’s hand away, “my brother just got stopped by some snar faced old man who was trying to suck up to him.”

“Your brother?” Doyoung stands up straight and shifts his whole body towards her as if she was joking. If his gulp wasn’t audible for Jinah, it sure did echo inside his head. 

“What’s with you?” Jinah makes him turn back into where he was facing earlier by turning him by his shoulder. 

At the moment where she had both her hands on his shoulders someone entered the room. Instead of flinching off of his body just like how anyone would react if seen standing a little too close with an idol, both their eyes only turn towards the person slowly. He stands there in absolute confusion at first before a smirk grows on his lips. He then lifts his hand then points between the two of them. “Are you two dating?” 

Jinah takes her hand off of Doyoung’s shoulders before she starts shaking her head aggressively. 

“We just saw each other for the first time since I dropped out of high school.” Doyoung smoothes out his suit.

“And anyone could date within that period.” Jung Minki was a walking teasing machine to the two of them. He may have been the reason behind the whole rumor of them engaged back in high school. He was the type to make fun of their relationship when things were purely platonic between the two of them. As MInki, himself, would say he was the biggest Dongyoung and Jinah shipper among the family.

“I’m kidding!” This time Minki smiles apologetically at Doyoung. He simply opened his arms and in an instant had Doyoung in his arms, just like the older brother he was. “My condolences, Dongyoung.” A hand, for the first time, one that wasn’t shaking, soothes his back. This was the first time he felt truly assured, as if he could bawl inside his arms. 

“You arrived a little too late, don’t you think?” Doyoung hides the tears wanting to fall with a joke.

“My father hasn’t been himself since your father passed,” Minki moved back and placed his hands over his arms, “so, Jinah and I have been doing all his work and meetings.” He squeezed Doyoung’s arms before standing right beside Jinah.

“There’s no one who can understand him more than you could.” Doyoung comments as they all stand by the wall waiting to greet another person who would view his father’s memorial and offer their condolences.

“He probably has it worse than me.” 

Their conversation was cut when a group of younger employees entered the chairman’s viewing room. 

If there was one thing Jinah and Minki had understood since they were young, it was that Doyoung was one that catches anyone’s attention. In the split moment that the younger employees looked at Doyoung, the two of them heard them gasp. His small face, and bunny like features seem to astound them, not to mention the build he worked so hard for. He truly was a textbook definition of what it means to be hot. 

That, or they recognized the young man who was often on TVs. 

Just as quick as they reacted to standing in front of the good looking son of the chair, they were quick to bow their heads towards them and run out of the small room with such a good looking guy. 

“How does it feel to be good looking?” Jinah teases the man standing beside him, who didn’t seem to be flustered by the reaction. 

"A burden," she sees him hide his smirk, "but the greatest way to inflate my ego." He leans in closer with a full blown smile on his face. 

"I shouldn't have said anything," Jinah rolls her eyes and hits his shoulders making him stand straight once again. 

It was weird, he was mourning, Doyoung was sure he was. There was fear surrounding him, the sound of condolences seemed to deafen him as well, yet in the presence of these two siblings, things were much lighter on his shoulders. He glances at the two of them who were whispering between each other, and all he could think of was his gratitude. As a smile slowly makes it on his face, the lady beside him, who seems to feel his sight set on the two of them, turns her head.

Immediately the smile on Doyoung's face gone, since her face was contorted in a manner that felt like she was mocking him. "Dongyoung," she pauses and takes a step back, standing closer to her brother, "what's with you?"

As if the tension shared when she entered the room was gone, or the tension shared not so long ago in her work place was now also gone. Instead, there was that comforting presence of their shared youth. Probably the most constant image in his life was her, and how she was acting right now, it was as if they didn't spend a day apart.

"I was just…" Doyoung can't find the right word, "...observing."

"Observing?" Minki's eyebrow raised at his choice of words. "It's not like this is the first time you've seen us—" 

Doyoung knew Minki had much more to say, but his brain zoned out the moment a group of young men entered the room in which they stood. Their all black attires and unstyled hair should blend them in, yet they stood out like a sore thumb. Brightly coloured hairs, small faces and lean builds, they were hard to miss. "Doyoung," not to mention the use of his stage name, one that was never recognized and used among all the workers, clients, and VIPs he greeted earlier.

"Taeyong," he was only able to call out the name of their leader, but seven other men stood beside him, "thank you for visiting my father's grave." He bows his head, this was the only thing he could think of at this moment. He had heaps more to say, one filled with apologies and regrets, yet this was the only thing he could do right now.

"NCT 127, right?" Jinah intervenes in the awkward interaction between the two members.

"Yes," was their simple reply.

"I apologize for the other day," Jinah quickly bows her head and pulls Doyoung back into standing position by his arms, "I received a sudden news about this guy's," she points at Doyoung with her thumb, "father, one that involved life or death." Jinah, as humbly as she could, bows her head in apology.

“It’s fine,” Taeyong, the leader, took charge with conversing with the director of JBG, but as soon as took a good look at the altar filled with flowers and a photo in the middle, it became abundantly clear how things turned out, “it was a situation far more important than work.” His eyes then traveled over to the man who stood there quietly and was opening and closing his mouth.

“You must be Dongyoung's group, right?” Minki’s bright personality threw the tension off of them immediately. He put out his hand and began shaking all their hands individually. “I’m Jung Minki, this one’s,” he points to Jinah using his thumb, “older brother.”

Then there was an immediate change in expression among the boys in the crowd. Jinah was one that they couldn’t believe was present in their shoot, aside from being the daughter of the JBG conglomerate, she was also a director for one of the biggest conglomerates in the country. It was harder to comprehend how they were standing right in front of the president of JBG.

“Looks like we have to compensate for the disturbed shoot that you have experienced.”

“No,” the group, including Doyoung, shakes their heads. 

“Well then, can I ask you one small favor then?” 

“Sure!” This time it was Johnny who responded the quickest. 

Minki walks over to stand beside Doyoung. He puts his arms around his shoulders, his face immediately turns sour at what Minki was doing. “This little brother of mine,” Minki pats Doyoung’s chest, “needs some explaining to do, to his group mates. Would you mind hearing his explanation?” 

Looks were exchanged between the members, as if it was already a given that Doyoung needed to explain himself. It was simply up to their standards on whether his explanation was one that they would quickly forgive. 

“Well then.” Minki no longer waits for a response from the group, “go ahead before Dongyoung gets all busy with sucking up to those weird elder men.” Minki pushes Doyoung towards his members and with a smile, assured him that they were going to stand as his father’s family for the few moments that he would be gone.

Of the thoughts he was plagued with, he never thought that there would be a day where he had to explain to his members who his father was. He was hoping that eventually his father would come to accept the choice of pursuing his career, and eventually greet his members. He never once thought that their first encounter with his father would be in his death. 

“I think we’ve figured out a number of what is going on here.” Haechan was the first to speak as soon as they all sat down. With eyes watching them navigate through the crowd and watching them sit down. “That your father works for JBG, probably one of the directors right?” 

Doyoung wanted to tie his lips down, but with what was about to unfold there was no way he could hide this any longer. He knows that this news of his father’s death should be all over the news already, whatever his cousin and aunts were doing to suppress it, they were doing phenomenally well. 

“It’s much more than that.” Doyoung’s statement makes all heads turn towards him. As he raises his head, he takes notice of their eagerness to know. “My father’s name is Kim Dongmin,” he hears them gasp, “as in, the chairperson and president of the Byul Conglomerate.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

prev | MASTERLIST | next

[doiesfav]

hi i was wondering if i can get gamerbf!jaemin txts pls 🧎‍♀️ i love ur acc and ur writing sm!!

gamer bf! jaemin texts ･.｡.:*☆

“gamer bf! jaemin x fem! Reader”

Requested: by @jaeminpookie

Content: suggestive and a pic of a bra!! and fluff ofc

a/n: remember requests are open thanks for the support🫶🫶 (OMFG SORRY FOR THE MISSPELLINGS THIS WASNT PROOFREAD😭)

MDNI‼️

TEXTS MASTERLIST

FICS MASTERLIST

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

thanks for requesting and would appreciate any notes!!

[taetr4ck]

NCT 127 WHEN YOU RIZZ THEM OUT !

bf!nct 127 x reader (separated) — crack. warnings: cursing

a/n: i kinda need a doyie and yongie in my life ngl (real)

requests are open 🤍

[jhdyuiee]

On You

༶•┈┈⛧┈

༶•┈┈⛧┈

-*♧ pairing: jaehyun x y/n

-*♧ warnings/tags: smut!, making-out, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, name calling (slut, whore, baby, good girl), spanking, nipple play, squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (reader is on pill though & pls stay protected!), overall rough sex!, dom jae (?), spitting, cursing

-*♧ wc: 1.6k

-*♧ a.n: this is pure smut, so if u feel uncomfortable, i advise to pls not read & ill see u on my next work. technically this is my first smut, short, but durable until i release my next long work. i started school again so i will be releasing small works in the meantime. thank u all & see u next time, jiji out 🤍

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It all happened so fast, so quickly I didn’t have time to think. We hurried to a nearby motel, opening the door and letting ourselves run wild. His lips smashed against mine. Desire, Lust, Want. This was not some sweet delicate kiss. Yeah, maybe he was some guy I barely met at a bar, but he was the most—beautiful?—handsomest guy I've seen, Jaehyun.

His hands traveled further down my body, until he placed them on my ass. I moaned into the kiss when I felt him grope it. He pulled away after a while, staring into me deeply with still very much want and lust.

“Take your clothes off,” he said, his voice sounding so deep.

I complied, pulling my shirt up and pants down in no time, leaving myself in nothing but my white lace bra and panties.

His hands grabbed my hips, pulling me towards him.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he kissed me from my jaw all the way down. My collarbones, shoulders, the valley of my breast. He kissed my nipple through the material. Sending shivers throughout my body. I was getting even more wet, my arousal sure to be evident once he looked at my soaked panties. I watched him as he continued his kisses, until he reached my pussy.

He looked up at me, “How do you like your pussy fucked? Fingers? Tongue?” He gave a slight smirk, before he pushed my panties to the side. “So what is it? Tell me baby.”

“E-Anything, please just touch me,” I said, pleading with the man below me.

He chuckled, settling his head between my thighs, he darted his tongue out, licking a strip up my pussy. He kept repeating the action. The pleasure was so good, I couldn’t hold back my moans. He then gave my clit a few kitten licks and the sensation almost had me orgasming right then and there. His mouth traveled back to my cunt, where he used his thumbs to spread my labia apart. I felt as his tongue entered me, fucking into me. I grabbed his soft locks, pushing him deeper.

“Jaehyun,” I chanted over and over again. He hummed, the vibration sending me over the edge.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” I said, almost incoherently.

He took his tongue out, whining at the loss of sensation. “Not yet baby, you haven’t felt my fingers yet.” He grabbed me sitting me on him, my back against him. Spreading my legs apart, shoving two fingers inside my pussy. I clenched around him at the sudden action.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby. We have to get you prepped if you wanna take my cock.” His digits moved in and out of me, you could even hear squelching of how wet I was. He kissed my neck, sucking it surely leaving hickies. He kissed my jaw until he grabbed my head with his free hand, capturing me into another passionate kiss. His hand then traveled down to my breast, his fingers playing with nipples. I continuously moaned into the kiss, the pleasure was so much I felt something in my stomach. I pulled away, “Wait, w-wait Jaehyun please.” He didn’t stop, ignoring my pleas.

“It’s okay, be a good girl and come on all over my fingers.”

He pinched my clit. Sending me over the edge, my orgasm coursing through me. I’d squirted, something I rarely even do, yet someone I just met was able to make me. He pulled his fingers out, placing my body back on the bed. I hazily watched as he licked my arousal off his fingers, not missing a single drop. He smirked at me as he pulled his shirt up. I admired his toned body, he sure was a fit man.

“Stop admiring me and come here,” he said, his tone slightly rough.

I made my way towards him. “On knees,” he said. I sank down in no time. He pulled the waistband of his boxers down, pooling around his feet. His cock springing out, it was long, thick, hard, and stood proudly. I might’ve been drooling at the sight.

“Open,” he commanded. I complied, he slowly stuffed my mouth with his cock. He let out a string of curses as it went deeper. I felt the tip hit the back of my throat, tears began gathering in my eyes. I looked up at him, complete and pure pleasure on his face.

“Come on suck it, take it all like the slut you are,” he said.

Slut. It turned me on more than it should have. I pulled his cock out, grabbing it, licking the head of his cock, over and over. He groaned at the sensation. I started taking his cock in again, no matter how big he was, I just couldn't stop. He grabbed my head, fisting some hair into his hand, letting out a moan around his cock. He thrusted his cock in and out of my mouth, moans and groans escaping his mouth. I was beyond turned on, that I slid my hand under my panties, fingering myself as he sped up.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in your this pretty little mouth of yours so take it all like a good girl.” Tears spilled from my eyes, as I felt his hot seeds spill inside my mouth. He pulled his cock out slowly, trying not to drop a single drop of his cum.

“Now swallow it,” he said, looking at me. As he said, I swallowed everything down to the last drop.

I got up, embracing him in another kiss. My lips were sure going to be swollen by the end of this. I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling his cock against my ass. As we kissed he managed to unclasp my bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. He then made his way to the bed again, gently placing me down. He moved his mouth to my nipples, liking and biting on them. He then took his free hands down to my panties, pulling them down where they met the same fate as my bra.

He pulled away, looking at me. “Ready?” he asked, appearing more softer than earlier. I nodded eagerly. “Words, baby.”

“Yes, please Jaehyun, I need it. I want your cock in me,” I begged the man once more.

He groaned at my plea, rubbing his cock on my wetness before he slid it in. I screamed as his cock went further and further in. His cock was stretching me out so nicely, no other man’s cock could compare to his.

“Shit, you’re so tight, I prepped you well yet you’re clenching around my cock,” he said.

The harder he thrusted in me, the deeper he felt within me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. I felt my second orgasm coming up the more he roughly pounded into me. I started scratching his back and he pulled away.

“You gonna cum baby?” he asked. He must’ve felt when I started clenching around him.

“Ye-Yes,” I moaned rather loudly. “Please let me cum-“ I tried saying as he picked up his pace even more. I arched my back, jaw flinging open. He took this opportunity to spit into my mouth and I unconsciously yet consciously swallowed it. His finger made its way to my clit where he abused it, pinching and rubbing it. That was my final straw, I came, with my eyes rolling back and back arching. I was at my wits end, nearly falling unconscious. He kept going, though, fucking me through my orgasm until he was ready to cum.

“Shit, fuck I’m gonna cum,” he said. “Are you on the pill?” I nodded and that was all it took for him to paint my walls white.

He pulled out, his chest heaving. We both were sweating and the room smelled like sex. It wasn't even a minute after he came, when he flipped me over.

“Ass up,” he said.

Like I did all night, I obliged. My ass up facing him and my face on the sheets. I felt as his hands felt around my ass before he landed a hard slap on my ass. I yelped, moving slightly forward.

“You like getting your ass slapped? Like some whore,” he chuckled softly. Landing a couple more slaps, I felt tears spilling from my eyes again.

“Please,” I mumbled.

“Hm? What is that baby?”

“Please, put your cock in me. I need it.”

“Fuck,” he cursed as he slid his cock into my cunt again. His cock hit even deeper from the back, I'd surely reach my third orgasm in no time. He fisted my hair, pulling me back to face him. He brought his lips to mine, kissing me as he pounded even deeper into me.

I love it. This was best sex I’ve had in years, fuck scratch that, ever.

“You’re gonna let me cum inside you again? Take all my cum like the slut you are?” he said near my ear.

“Yes, give it all to me, Jaehyun.”

He let go of my hair and grabbed my hips, pounding even more roughly into me. His cock touched my g-spot, in which I then saw white. My orgasm ripped through my body. Jaehyun’s orgasm ripped through him shortly after and he finally pulled out. He gave my ass one last slap, before I collapsed to my side. I hazily watched as he watched his cum oozing out of my pussy.

“Let’s go shower and I’ll clean you up there,” he said, carrying me into his arms, to the bathroom. He did as promised, cleaning me, but of course sneaking in another round or two.

By the time we hit the bed, I was beyond conscious. Today felt too good to be true. He was too good to be true.

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© jhdyuiee

2024.01.14

final a.n: I wrote this today & luckily finished it yay! as of tomorrow i’ll start writing my doyoung x reader x jaehyun fic again, the plan is to release it a month from now, yes on jaehyun’s birthday. thank u though, for reading my first smut, i hope u all enjoyed it & let me know if u want me to write for another member. love you all && see you soon - jiji 🤍