#so now we are in a very uncomfortable cold war scenario AND I AM STUCK IN MY FUCKING BED UNABLE TO GET AWAY FROM ANY OF THIS

[karnalesbian]

Ah fuck dude not like this. My day did not need to get worse in any way and certainly not this way man

[kiriluvbot]

pros of shipping rare pairs: you have to make your own content, creative freedom, less ship wars

cons: you have to make your own content

so here i am, making my own content. also, manga spoilers ahead.

—

seroroki, post war arc, in the hospital

—

nothing felt real.

not the uncomfortable plastic seat beneath him, not the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, not the ticking clock on the wall. most certainly not the school uniform clinging almost too tightly to his skin.

he was aware of every loose string of thread, of the sickly scent of sterilizer in the air, of the voices humming in tune with the lights. a door slammed to his left and he flinched.

“we can’t reach them, i don't know what’s going on—“

the battle against all for one and shigaraki ended only a few days ago, but it felt like no time at all and all the time in the world had passed. the number one hero, endeavor, had nearly been killed. half of hanta’s classmates were in hospital beds, unconscious or barely able to speak.

“endeavor, he—he’s down!”

the world had been turned upside down. hero society as everyone knew it was falling apart of the seams. heroes were dead. civilians. classmates. dead. cities were flattened, disintegrated or on fire. the very earth seemed to be crumbling.

“that—that thing. it’s coming this way. we have to move. sero—“

hanta sero wanted to be a hero. hanta wanted to be a hero dammit, but when the time came, what could he do? what could his quirk do? he was not strong enough, not fast enough, not smart enough. he applied to the best hero school in the world and trained until he felt like he was going to die and it was not enough.

the whole thing had felt like some terrible nightmare. the worst nightmare, worst case scenario, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it. not as shigaraki during a whole city to dust, not as giantomachia flattened an entire forest, not as endeavor was knocked clear out of the sky. not as their friends lay on the ground dead or dying, not as civilians cried out for help under rubble, not as the bad guys slipped away like they were in no hurry at all.

“just—be careful out there, hanta. please.”

“sero, bub, come on.”

“come back to me in one piece. okay, shoto? promise me.”

a hand rests gently on sero’s shoulder. it makes him jump, immediately turning to search for the source. sero finds it’s just smiling kirishima, red hair down and framing his tired eyes. his heart races as another door shuts a little too hard.

“is it time?” sero’s voice sounds dry and foreign to himself.

“yeah,” kirishima replies. “let’s go see todoroki.”

the name alone is nearly enough to send sero buckling to the floor.

“shoto—where is he? why can’t i see him?”

“you need to calm down, kid. we’ve got everything under control.”

“tell me he’s going to be okay. tell me!”

sero is hardly aware of his own footsteps as a nurse leads them through a maze of blinding white halls. he’s numb and hyper aware all at the same time and it’s awful.

as soon as they’d gotten word that todoroki was awake, a small group consisting of sero, kirishima, satou, momo, and jirou left immediately to go see him. no word on bakugo yet, or midoriya. the three idiots dived head first into the worst of the battle. sero hadn’t known until hours later. he briefly recalls the dull look in kirishima’s eyes, how he merely clammed up and went silent. sero hadn't reacted quite the same. he only remembers falling to his knees, begging for answers.

not much comes to mind after that.

sero wishes now that he could see todoroki alone, that he could scoop him up and run away to some imaginary land where villains and heroes didn’t exist. where they could be safe.

he also considers turning tail and running back to his dorm and never leaving again. sero wasn’t sure how he could stand seeing todoroki in whatever state he was in—

“i am touya todoroki, the eldest son of endeavor.”

the flames, the smell of burnt—

the nurse leading them says, “his voice isn’t completely back yet, but he’s awake and doing well. just be careful, please.”

then the door opens. kirishima leads the way and sero finds he’s okay with that, because he’s quickly realizing that he’s not at all prepared. not even close.

shoto todoroki is leaned up on his bed, wrapped almost entirely in bandages. his baby blue hospital gown is too big for him; it dips off one shoulder. nearly his entire face is bandaged, his right arm, his chest too, it seems. what skin can be seen is dull, but his eyes are not. they shine with unshed tears that sero can see even from this distance.

“todoroki,” kirishima starts. “so glad to see you, man.”

the others chime in, smiling softly and hiding their hands behind their back, keeping a vice like grip on their self control. sero finds, for the first time ever, he can’t say a damn thing.

todoroki opens his mouth. the sound that comes out is horrible and broken, but he rasps out a simple hey, guys.

“you’re gonna need a full time translator,” kirishima jokes, and sero’s lip quirks despite the heaviness in the air.

and after a while, one by one, this little group dissipates. kirishima and sero are left, and then kirishima goes, too. his hand finds sero’s shoulder once more, and he shoots a see you later at todoroki before exiting.

and then it’s just them. sero and todoroki.

just like it’d been before this whole shit show started.

legs tangled, fingers entwined, promises made, confessions unsaid.

“hanta—“ that voice comes out again, raspy and shattered. “i—“

“you came back to us in one piece,” sero says, interrupting. “please don’t start to apologize.”

what he doesn’t say is: i didn't tell you before we left—i didn’t tell you because i was scared. and for a bit i thought i’d never see you again. for a bit i thought i was going to die. i thought you were going to—

sero sits on the bed, todoroki’s legs just barely a ghost behind him. this lighting makes him look paler than usual, makes his scar stand out, makes his hair look like fresh—

stop.

todoroki doesn’t even know where to start. he was sure he was going to die on the battlefield. he was sure he was going to die in dabi’s—no, touya’s arms. he was sure his brother was going to kill him.

when todoroki woke, all he could remember was the sheer terror he felt on that hill, his supposedly dead brother right in front of him, dancing like a mad man, laughing hysterically. it was like everything had been ripped out from underneath todoroki. he had become very unsure of everything he knew about himself, about his father, about his whole family at that moment. even more unsure than he’d been previously.

as much as todoroki wanted to deny it, wanted to scream that dabi was nothing but a meddling lunatic, the sensible part of him knew it was true.

endeavor may be number one hero but he had not succeeded at a single thing except making a monster out of his first born. the rest, well—you know how the story goes.

the truth made todoroki feel tainted, stained. it made him feel contaimniated and heavy and like maybe—maybe he should’ve let dabi finish the job. maybe, by killing shoto, touya would finally be free of whatever he had weighing on him. get rid of the thing that replaced him.

it had been on todoroki’s mind since he woke up. the truth would rage through the world like wildfire. endeavor would be scorned. shoto would forever been stuck in the shadow of his failures. he’d never be free—never—

sero grabs his hand.

sero watches as todoroki grimaces, turns his face away. he watches as todoroki starts to guard himself, starts to clam up—

todoroki pulls his hand free.

“sho—“

“you should go,” todoroki hisses. even as he speaks them, he regrets every word. it all comes out wrong and harsh, rough around the edges.

what he doesn’t say is: you’re too good for me, hanta. why can’t you see that? why can’t you see i’ll only ever weigh you down? my family’s a disaster, i’m a mess, and you’re—you’re you.

there’s a pause. the air is heavy. sero’s hand is cold. he watches as todoroki avoids his gaze, as more tears well in his eyes. nothing feels real.

“you—what?”

“hanta,” todoroki whispers. “go. please.”

and it’s like the world is ending, all over again. if he hadn’t been sitting, sero might have collapsed at the knees again. he wonders briefly if his ears need to get checked, if he heard him correctly, if the world really is ending.

and to make it so much worse, todoroki says, “you deserve better, dammit.” his voice barely raises a single octave. “don't want you getting dragged down because of me. ‘cause of my family.”

he says me like it’s poison on his tongue.

todoroki pulls into himself completely, pulling entirely out of sero’s orbit, leaving the room icy and feeling nearly empty. sero isn’t sure exactly what he’s feeling, but he knows it must be something close to anger. his brows knit together as he tries to keep a tight leash on his emotions, but sometimes even hanta sero loses control.

sero stands so fast his vision blurs for half a second. todoroki looks meek and small beneath him, hands clamped together, eyes dull and face wrapped up. sero’s heart beats all the way down to his toes, the room closing in on him slowly. it’s iciness seeps into his bones, fear and anger and confusion simmering in his veins.

“you’re out of your goddamn mind if you think i’m gonna let you shove me away so easily,” sero cuts out, ignoring the bewildered look on todoroki’s face. “i know you’re hurting, shoto. and i know you're strong, but you don’t have to do this on your own.” sero unclenches his fists but god, his chest feels tight. “we’re just kids, dammit! you don’t have to carry all this weight, just let me help you. let me be here for you!”

“hanta—“

“i’m here because i—“ you know, sho, i really— “because i care about you.”

the room seemed to shrink in that very short time period, sero’s chest heaving with all the things he didn’t say, all the things he wanted to say, all the things he wanted to do. he’d spent nearly every single day in the past year-ish by todoroki’s side, training, laughing, sharing manga. he’d grown close to someone who seemed so untouchable when he first met him. sero got to be there as todoroki brought down his own walls, came out of his own shell, became someone todoroki himself could be proud of.

and now this idiot wanted to push sero away? because he deserves better? because todoroki didn’t want sero to see the ugly truth of his family history? because todoroki thought he himself was too much for sero?

“just trying to protect you,” todoroki mutters, not daring to look away from sero’s face. not yet. “i’ll only—“

“don’t—“ sero snaps. “don’t say it. you know it’s not true. you know it isn’t.”

todoroki finally breaks eye contact, gaze dropping to his hands. his shoulders heave as he takes a shaky breath. if he could just get it into hanta’s thick skull that he hung the stars, that he was a god send, an angel on earth, that todoroki was unworthy and undeserving of someone like him—

todoroki doesn’t have time to reel in the tears as they start to fall. slowly at first, then all at once like the dam had finally broken. sero is at his side in an instant, like todoroki hadn’t just told him to leave, like todoroki didn't just try to make it obvious he’s undeserving of someone as kind and caring as sero. and here sero is, further proving that point as he sits carefully on the bed and gently takes todoroki’s face in his hands, fingers ghosting over bandages. the touch is searing and unbearable and not enough all at once.

“‘m sorry,” todoroki chokes out. “sorry, sorry. hanta—“

sero lifts todoroki’s face ever so slowly, and todoroki finally sees the redness of his dark eyes, the bottom lashes clumped together from a cry that might have happened just before he got here. todoroki can’t seem to get a handle on his own tears, can’t seem to reel in his uneven breathing, can’t seem to stamp out the shaking nerves dancing up his arms. grief rages inside him, grief and guilty and that same achy breaky loneliness todoroki hadn’t felt in so many months.

“please, shoto,” sero whispers, so close todoroki can’t even breathe. “everything is a mess right now but please. let me stay by your side. don't—“ his throat catches, “—don't shut me out, okay?”

“someday you’re gonna realize you don’t have to carry the weight of the universe all on your own, todoroki.”

“sero—“

sunset colors begin to pour in through cracked curtains, washing them in gentle warmth. sero’s gaze doesn’t waver, his touch doesn’t disappear. he’s light and he’s holy—pure and too kind. todoroki wraps hesitant hands around sero’s wrists, trying his hardest to reign in his tears. he lets their foreheads press together slowly, carefully.

promises are made, confessions stay unspoken. todoroki doesn’t let go, not again, not ever.

—

[peachydyoung]

money talks | k.dy (m)

— genre ➙  sugardaddy!au + smut + angst — words ➙ 8k i love writing doyoung please kill me — member ➙ kim dongyoung — warnings ➙ graphic smut, dirty talk, rough sex, softdom!doyoung + sub!reader, oral sex, fingering + strong language + inappropriate scenario // 2 smuts in one

The owner of a multi-billion dollar company plans to invest in your career for a small price. He gives you one rule... Don’t get attached.

↳ 01 completed

— ⚠️ DISCLAIMER⚠️ ➙  This contains a very problematic scenario. I personally do not advocate for this, and please know that this is writing, a story with an intriguing topic to read about, not to act upon. Each fic will have their own set of warnings, look at them and evaluate if they are for you. My intention is not to offend, or trigger anybody, I am here to entertain you and exercise my passion as a writer. a/n here’s a nice long doyoung smut, 2 sex scenes cause there is never enough and doyoung my bias. 

“I haven’t seen you before,” A dark-haired, broad-shouldered man smiled, raising his wine glass in front of him. His penetrating eyes and gummy smile made you unconsciously lift yours. Although it was your first time at this party, you wondered why you hadn’t seen him earlier. He was senselessly gorgeous.

You were insecure under his stare, he stood there in front of you with his fancy suit and handsome face. The only dresses you could afford were the ones from forever 21. And even then it was still a little much. Nonetheless, you could always manage to make five dollars look like hundred.

“Uh, yeah, I’m a plus one,” you said apprehensively, but the man seemed to catch on to it. Taeyong had brought you along and asked that you mingle to make more connections. He noticed that you were becoming more and more insecure about your photography with every new job that turned you down.

“Mmm,” He hummed, taking a sip of his wine and letting his eyes rake over your body. “So you’re here with a man? Women? By yourself?” He was easy on the eyes, especially wearing an expensive black suit and being in his mid or late twenties.

“My friend… you might know him, his name is Taeyong. He’s pretty popular amongst the mainstream dancing thing. He has a lot of friends.” His eyes widened comically, a big smile playing on his youthful skin as he let out a laugh. You didn’t wanna be here at all, but you knew coming here meant photography connections and you needed that before college ended.

“Me and Taeyong? We go way back,” He said grinning as if he was reliving a past memory. “Can I?” he gestured to the open chair next to you, his smile making you say yes to anything he could have asked.

“Yeah of course!” You adjusted your body to look more presentable. With a nod, he sat on the stool next to you, placing his glass on the counter of the fancy bar and drumming his fingers on the granite counter.

“So…has no other man come to talk to you yet?” Your cheeks were blanketed in a red sheer glow as he asked the question. To answer his question, no, nobody had come to talk to you. You either scared them away or were a ghost to the rich and snobby crowd.  “I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable it’s just a question a man has when they see a beautiful woman sitting alone—I’m Doyoung by the way, Kim Dongyoung.” He had manners too, something you liked in a guy. And this one wasn’t a frat boy, he was a real man with a job.

“I’m Y/N, and no, nobody has.” The beginnings of a smirk were present on his small lips. His answer didn’t shock him,  he knew that you would be his by the end of the night. “And if you’re wondering, I don’t have a boyfriend either,” You added on playfully, earning a chuckle.  He sipped his drink, mischievous twinkling in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t have a girlfriend either.” A smile illuminated his face, he looked down, something about it was bittersweet. “So what do you do?” He asked. “What do you do to make a life for yourself.”

“Photographer, I’m a photographer.” He nodded. “I uh, I’m going to college right now majoring in photography, which is going very well. I want to break into high fashion photography for models, especially nude shoots, those are always fun.” He laughed, it was deep, low, and genuine. “It’ll never happen though, should've become a dentist like my mom suggested.” You paused momentarily, holding eye contact with the man. His eyes were dark, narrow, and discerning.  “Fine art photography is my backup, but it’s even harder to make a name for yourself. Photography is hard to break into now, you know.” You laughed awkwardly. “Part-time jobs are my income and will continue to be that way.”

“Consider yourself lucky. At Least you’re doing something you love. Do you know how many people have money and office jobs and hate it… a lot, I’ll tell you that much.” You guessed he was right, he looked rich enough to make the assumption. “ If photography truly makes you happy, pursuing it is the only way to go. We live most of our lives in work anyways,, don’t play dentist because your mom said so. Novelty wears off.”

“And are you happy?” You tilted your head, earning a silent laugh from him.

“Do you know who I am?” He inquired, looking more and more smug by the minute. “Never heard of KDY Enterprises? Or Entertainment?.” You were ashamed of not knowing, nodding your head no shyly. He didn’t seem to mind, he actually looked a little… happy?

“So you have money? And an office job?” He was hesitant to answer you but decided to say it anyway.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“So, tell me first hand, do you hate your job, does the novelty of money wear off?” He cocked his head to the side, his tongue poking from his cheek as he swallowed your playful retort.

“You know what people don’t know?” He asked, setting down his drink and narrowing his eyes at you. “I might have a busy job, but money never gets old. Despite what people think, I can buy happiness.”

“Sure you can. You can buy food, mattresses, houses, plane tickets, all of which that would make one happy, me included. But what’s the point of buying a house when it’s empty? You can have a bag of groceries, but you won’t finish all the food. Mattresses get cold when one side is slept on more than the other.”

A shaky sigh left his lips, you guessed that nobody had really talked to him like this, after all, he was the CEO of his own company. “My penthouse is pretty empty,” He shrugged, ogling you. “My bed’s cold as well.” A sly smirk found its way to his face. “I like sharing. With my friends… family...charity.” You chuckled at him, sipping wine from your own glass.

“I know people in the fashion business, I know models, I know photographers.” You knew a business opportunity when you saw one, you cocked your eyebrow and looked at him through hooded eyes.

“I don’t follow.” You looked everywhere but him, at the ceiling, at the ground, just left of his head. You even spotted Taeyong talking to some girl. But you were too nervous to look at him, too nervous to hear what he would propose.

“Because I’m lonely and rich as you so kindly pointed out,” He retorted. “Why don’t I help you with your photography dream. And If you’re so willing we can even share a  bed.” You started at him, watching as he got up from his chair and stepping in front of you.

“And how did you intend on doing that?”

“Sweetheart, come with me and let me show you.”

With his arm outstretched and his hand offered. You took it, not knowing you made a deal with the devil.

A year later

Your eyes hurt and were dry from keeping them open. Your photoshop was broken, and you couldn't email the photos without your computer shutting down. No matter how hard you tried none of your photographs were looking the way you’d imagine them to turn out like. Fine art photography wasn’t supposed to be forced, but you’ve been in a rut for at least a month.

It wasn’t always like this. Your creativity would be bursting at the seams when he was there. Everything seemed to be going right when Doyoung showed up. When he was gone it was like you were living your days in an endless loop of loneliness and fame. The world went on without you, life passed you. It was when you were with Doyoung that you could catch up to it again. Without him, you were stuck, life stopped.

Doyoung offered you an easy out of your part time jobs with mediocre pay and wage times. He introduced you to a world of magic and wealth. Although you were skeptical at first, you had no choice but to agree, there was no way you could get through college and then get a decent job. College at that point was getting pretty shitty with all its stressful exams, and you needed a way out. And there was your opportunity.

Of course, there were rules you were to follow religiously. If you were to break any of them you don't know what Doyoung would do to you, he could be super creative at times. Regardless, you followed them because you were grateful for all he did for you, not just because he told you too.

You weren’t stupid, you knew that he had other girls spread across the world waiting to be fucked just like you were. They were probably held up in a penthouse just like you. But you didn’t ask questions, you didn’t care. You broke rule number, don’t get too attached. And that was the first mistake you made with your dangerous life with Doyoung.

You shut your laptop and groaned, pulling the instant noodles you made earlier towards you. You took a spoonful of the now cold and mushy noodles. You had been able to pay back Doyoung the million dollars he gave you to start your photography career and made nearly 20 times more. Yet you still stayed and ate less than mediocre food. Bad habits never change.

“This is fucking disgusting,” you muttered to yourself, snatching the cup of noodles up in your hand and sauntering over to the kitchen.

The house was pretty minimalistic. It was mostly all white with black furniture, cool toned things and such. It was all open concept, the kitchen, living room, and dining room. Every countertop was white quartz, every cabinet war of the highest quality wood, you lived lavishly.

You opened the trash can and threw the mushy noodles in. Doyoung had promised to bring you dinner that night, and as the clock struck closer and closer to twelve you knew it was a lost cause. And instead of calling, you turned into a muttering mess. “Doyoung, when you come back I’m gonna fucking kill you for making me wait—”

“Now baby,” a familiar voice cut through the air behind you. “You’re not actually planning on doing something  stupid, right?”

The familiar sight of his white button-down shirt came into vision. It was a nice sense of normalcy when you saw him sweaty after work,  his white shirt clinging to his skin. It made you feel like one of those conventional couples, the ones where the wife greets the husband when he gets back from work.

He dropped his briefcase on the ground and lean up on the counter across from you.

“Fuck you.” He pretended to look shocked from what you had said, but to be frank, this whole month you had been giving him attitude and you yourself didn’t even know why. This doesn't surprise him.

“Cute,” he remarked. “It wouldn't be the first time I have.” You had become so comfortable with him in the year you knew him. But as you grew comfortable,  his slide remarks didn’t turn you on like they used to, his broken promises actually hurt, the relationship actually meant something to you. And you didn’t know if any of those things mattered to him ” I wonder  when  you’ll  learn to behave and not disobey me.” He ran his finger through his black hair and smirked. “I’m in need of a destresser.”

“You have other whores for tha—”

“Aren’t you brave tonight?” He raised his voice at you. “Like I said.” He pronounced each word clearly and loud. “I’m stressed and I missed you. I’ll dismiss the fact that you just said that to me as well.” He looked around the kitchen, finally locking eyes with you. “You should be happy I’m here, I’m a busy man you know.”

“Oh my god, thank you Doyoung for gracing me with your presence that wasn’t even spontaneous, it was promised!  Better yet! Thank you for being five hours late!” You never really got mad at him, even now the anger wasn’t at its breaking point, but this month things started to change.

“I don’t understand why you have to be so rude. You’ve been doing it a lot lately.”

You narrowed your eyes at your employer, finally a real anger brewing inside of you for all that he put you through. He sensed that, and despite his usual half-assed sorries, he pulled one out of his ass and made it sound even a little real. “I’m sorry Y/N. What can I do to make it up to you? Money? Jewelry? You name it. ” You were fully prepared to make an escape to your room and not see him for a couple of more months. You walked away.

“Y/N, don’t leave—” But you were already walking, walking, and walking away. “Y/N stop walking…  stop now.”

If it hadn’t been for how scary his voice was when he yelled, you might’ve not stopped, but maybe a part of you still would’ve.

“Get the fuck over here, right fucking now.” His voice was deep when he shouted, it was scary. In that moment you knew you were gonna fuck him, from the moment you saw him you knew.

“Why don’t you get the fuck over here, since you miss me so bad.” You turned around and looked at him. He was still leaning on the counter, staring at you. He reluctantly got up with a huff and paraded over meeting you at the dining table. His hand cupped your cheek while his other brushed some stray hair away from your face, pulling your face up. 

“Who do you think you are?” He said just above a whisper. “I don’t like fucking attitude,” he spat at you. “You should remember how you acted when you first got her, cause you weren’t like this.”

This was the fourth time he’d visited that week. Each time he came he was more stressed than the last, and you were becoming more reluctant as the days went on. It was one of the longest times he came. 

You wondered wh yourself was giving him attitude, he was generally a nice person with good intentions and you could tell that this was hurting him. But he was hurting you, he was always hurting you. Maybe the attitude would compensate for the fact that you actually had feelings for the man and pushing him away would help in the long run. “Bedroom, princess.”

He was right behind you quickly heading into the master bedroom like he was your parent tucking you to bed at night. You hated when he did that. He pushed you down on the bed roughly, letting you get enough time in to look up at him. He ripped the buttons of his button shirt open so hard you heard the little sounds of beads falling on the ground. He pulled down his pants so quickly you thought you heard a tear.

Faster than a heartbeat, his lips were pushed against yours feverishly. Doyoung always kissed rough and quick, always being careful of not kissing you too long so you never got the wrong idea. He was pulling on the hem of your shirt, leaving a trail of warm kisses down your neck as he struggled to pull it off your body.

Doyoung was everything you needed in bed. He was confident, caring, rough, and surprisingly exciting. Once he had pulled you top off, he was pulling down your jeans, throwing them somewhere behind him and chuckling. He ground his hips against yours. Enough to get you wet and leave your juices on soaking your panties.

Despite what people thought Doyoung's lips were soft and warm, not cold at all like the media portrayed. He was warm and inviting. So as he kissed you, you let your hands knot in the roots of his hair and pull.

He sighed pushing his tongue deep inside your mouth, a moaning. Your hips rocked against his, creating more and more friction for the both of you. His hands slipped to your waist, pulling the panties down on the right side. It was the fourth time this week his body was on top of yours, and you loved it.

“Doyoung—”

“Sweetheart you lost the right to talk,” He hummed, pulling your panties down and teasing your slit. He looked down at your pink pussy and intricately pleasured you, making you gasp. He was always in charge—always. He was the one that would leave you thoroughly fucked or in a crumpled up mess waiting to be. That was the way it was, and you liked the high stakes. A suppressed moan fell from your lips and was caught in his when he pushed the pad of his thumb on your clit.

“You can moan baby, I won’t stop you from doing that, ” He snickered, feeling your wetness gather up around your clit and entrance.

“You’re already dripping.” He smiled against your mouth than peppering kisses down your neck in sloppy unorganized kisses.

Without warning, he pushed a finger inside you, and you tried hard to suppress the scream that crawled at the back of your throat. Normally Doyoung liked to rile you up, he thrust his long fingers in and out of your pussy, in a search for your sweet spot. When he curled his fingers, he found it, rubbing it gently to push you over.

“Doyoung.“ He pushed his lips onto yours again roughly, surely leaving a bruise from how hard. All you heard were your muffled screams as his fingers were buried deep inside your pussy. You arch your back into him, letting your tits cover his bare chest.

“Baby I’m want to fuck you so bad now.”

Doyoung wasn’t the longest, but he fit you, he fit you better than a lot of men could and he knew how to fuck. You could see the outline of his member through his white tenting boxer shorts. He was painfully hard, he palmed himself through his boxers and groaned.

“Let me,” You sat up,  reaching out towards his boxers pulling them down steadily. He let you, watching the excitement in your eyes as his cock sprung free from his boxers. But he pushed your hands away.

“Let me be inside of you right now.” Doyoung was so incredibly gentle with you, no matter how many times you saw him in bare skin it excited you. Even when he was rough, he always found a way to make you feel okay, and you hated that he shared that with other girls.

“But I—”

“Please baby, please.” He spread your legs slowly across the bed, peeling each leg from the other to accommodate for his lanky body. This wasn’t how he usually liked to fuck you, he was normally rough, very rough. Him skipping a blow job, using a gentle touch, not calling you names was weird for you. Nonetheless, you didn’t object to it. No matter how you felt, one thing remained certain. You wanted him.

On his knees, he stroked himself, spitting on his hand and beginning to pump his shaft slowly with one hand. He lined himself up, slowly beginning to lay down on top of you. Within seconds he entered you in one hard thrust that made you moan out in pleasure. You never got over how well he fit inside you. Your friends would always talk about how their boyfriend had the biggest cock, but you doubted the notion that they pleasured them well or even at all. With Doyoung, every flaw you both had, everything about you two fit together, he knew what you wanted and made sure to give it to you. And you were sad to say that you felt at home with the whore hoarding CEO.  

“God, you always feel so good,” He hissed, his face falling into your neck and a loud muffled groan drop from his lips. He moved slowly at first, pulling out of you with little force before burying himself in your walls once more.

You moaned, head thrown back on the silk sheets and your hands knotted in his hair. “Doyoung,” You croaked. “Why aren’t you going faster?” you could barely talk, your voice came unsteadily. Gripping your hips tightly with his slender hands.

“I wanna take my time tonight.” He wanted his time for you. Regardless of how many girls he had, he wanted to savor this. He made sure to thrust deep, hard, but slow. Working to find your sweet spot than to blindly fuck you. You could feel his tip hitting your cervix in painful pleasure.

“Doyoung!” You squealed, as he thrust harder, followed by a high moan.

“Keep moaning like that.” He grunted, eyes falling to your face.

So you did as he asked, performing for him, you cried even louder. A chain of panicked moans left his mouth as you involuntarily clenched around his cock, he was hitting all the right spots inside you, but he needed to do more to compensate for the slow speed.

“Can I touch you?” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to find the words to tell him to do it, to make you writhe at his will. But instead, you nodded, seeing his hand travel down in between you, and rubbing small circles over the swollen bundle of nerves. “Like this?”

“Y-yes.” You choked out. Doyoung was so calm, yet filled with so much pleasure. You didn’t know there could be this side of him. Through your gasps and unprompted shudders, he had to lean only a centimeter to capture your lips in his.

His slow thrusts continued, alongside his fingers, still rubbing your clit as he tried to kiss you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, letting them dance across his back, he drove his tongue into your mouth widely. All at once a collective wave of emotions swarmed you, an urgency filled the room as you climbed closer and closer to your climax.

“I’m going--to come…” You groaned. Your fingers pulling the roots of his hair.

“Y/N.” Your vision blurred, you pulse around him, breathing shallow and sweat gathering over your body.

“Oh my god…” You whimpered, you had become oversensitive. Your legs began to rattle against his body, a loud string of low moans leaving Doyoung as you felt him realize into you. His head fell into your neck, moaning against your sweet skin.

He held you in his arms, continuing to moan until you both finally released. You both stayed in each other's arms for a moment, catching your breath, breathing ruggedly as Doyoung rolled off of you. Just as quickly as he got into the bed, he slung his legs over the side and got up, pulling on his discarded clothes.

“You’re leaving so soon?” He looked at you, zipping up his pants and shrugging silently. Your heart sank.

“I need to. We have a meeting tomorrow and I need to take a quick flight to Busan, I’ll be back princess, you’ll see me tomorrow, don’t worry.” You wanted to act like a man, your man, your boyfriend, your husband, but you knew you would asking too much. As much as you wanted him to be yours, you knew he never would be, and so your anger showed in your attitude.

“Why bother with Busan, we’re in Seoul.” A small smile played on his face, he seemed happy that you didn’t want him to leave. You wrapped the pale pink silk sheets around your body, and slowly ascended from the bed. You stood in front of him, hoping he wouldn't leave. Still smiling, he leaned forward and kissed your head, a little too lovingly.

“I got you something just before I came. I waited a couple weeks for it. It’ll  atone for leaving so soon.”

You glanced at him curiously, your eyebrow cocking inquisitively. He did it again. He came, fucked you, stayed, and then left. He did it over and over again until the cycle felt never-ending. At first, you didn’t see a problem, but now, now you were in too deep.

He disappears behind your door, you can hear his quick footsteps as he goes to retrieve whatever it was he got for you. You couldn't help but be excited. Doyoung had money, Doyoung helped you with your career, but it wasn’t every day that he got you something without a request. He came back, a black necklace box in hand.

“For you,” he said, handing you the back box and excitedly awaiting your reaction. You opened it, a surge of happiness and shock flowing through you.

“Doyoung. How?” Your eyes widened, an ear to ear grin appeared on your face as you opened the box.  

A month ago you had managed to get a seat at one of the most famous auctions there ever was. All the proceeds went to charity, but you were there for one thing. Taeyong always said you looked best in pearls, but not any pearls, not counterfeit imitated ones. Real, natural white pearls. And he was right, they looked gorgeous on you.

You had a budget of a 1.5 million, now that you could afford to make such a risky purchase, but someone outbid you. You were so upset when you found out you wouldn’t get the pearls that Doyoung had to spend at least a week putting up with your rants, irrational mood swings, and attitude. But now you were staring at the pearls, and it was because of him.

“I knew you wanted them so I had to get them. I want you to wear them tomorrow, you look sophisticated and elegant, and beautiful in pearls.” Doyoung’s voice sounded sensual as it trailed off.

“Thank you so much—Oh my god, I could photograph this! Did you know Pearls promote centeredness, faith, loyalty, truth, and purity. I mean, my fine art project could really—oh my god, thank you so so so much.“ Your mind ran in every which way, thoughts of gratitude and respect raced through your head, while there were ideas of love and photography. You lunged at him, arms wrapped around your waist, playfully pulling at the sheets. “It must of cost so much—”

“Don’t worry about it… but Y/N, I really need to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled away from you.

And without another word he was gone. And there was no proof he ever was actually there.

“I need to turn down that offer, I’ll take new photos for the design, but I won't allow you to use my past works!” You folded your hands together, glancing around the room at the businessmen that observed your photography portfolio. There was one girl there. She looked like she was plucked from a gucci store in some beautiful country, but she had a mental capacity of a fifteen-year-old.

“I mean, using your old ones would ensure they would turn out good, you photos recently have been pretty—”

“Pardon me for asking, but who  are you, I haven’t seen you here before.” You sat at a table with reputable officials of Dyoung's company. You were held in high esteem at his enterprise. You were someone who was able to give Doyoung's company a mainstream vibe, generating buzz with the main media.

“Oh,” She laughed obviously as if you should've known who she was. “I’m new, but I’m Kim Dongyoung assistant, I take care of all the office needs and his needs as well.” You knew what she was. You never met his assistants, but people told you he went through them like cigarettes to an addict.

“This is a professional meeting with esteemed entrepreneurs, executives, and merchandisers. In this world, you build yourself up to power by connections and talent. I commend you for having such a difficult job, and starting a path to invent yourself. But you’re an assistant, know your place. Especially around people at this table. If I say that I don’t want past photos used then you can give me a concept or we can end the meeting and the company doesn't need me. Are we all  clear?” Everyone nodded, taking what you had said into consideration.

You learned very fast that your vocabulary and persona had to change at places like this, sometimes you let yourself slip, as you did now. But you couldn't help it,  she had this aura around her like she was fucking the CEO. Nevertheless, the rest of the people nodded, some smirking at your statement. To say the least, nobody really liked her.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I think since it’s going to be for the new computer he’s making, maybe we could go in the path apple had gone in. Great landscapes, flowers, I know you could absolutely make those amazing.” You smiled at the man, glancing at the girl momentarily and writing notes on your notepad. Where the fuck was Doyoung.

“Yes! I like that, but we could also do hipster things maybe,” the older women smiled. “My daughter, she goes to a lot of festivals and takes fantastic photos, they look so amazing, maybe we can get in touch with the interest of modern media and take pictures of those things.

“What’s your name Miss?” You asked flipping a page in your notepad to write it down.

“Oh!” She grinned happily.

“Ho Hyang-Soon. Spelled H-Y-A-N-G-Soon.” In the blink of an eye the door slowly creaked open, tensely, Doyoung appeared from the door.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I was held up at another meeting, if I had known I would have been late, I would have canceled, my deepest apologies,” He bowed down at everyone. He was good at lying sometimes, this was a lie he was particularly good at executing. You knew he had to be with one of his other girls. Regardless of what he was doing, you never asked you just nodded and did as you were told.

The meeting got pretty boring from that moment forward, they told you what photographs they wanted you to take and then you were basically done, the rest of the duration consisted of Doyoung calling more shots on the design of his computer.

You had never felt more happy to leave a meeting. Sometimes you thought they were fun. It was like coffee hour when Doyong wasn’t around. Other times they were absolutely boring.

You stood over Ms. Ho Hyang-Soon’s desk discussing her ideas towards the desktop art and photograpghy. You could tell she was flattered you had decided to talk to her and acknowledge her idea, it was very hard to do that with Doyoung.

However, the smile soon disappeared from your face when the doors to Doyoung’s office opened and revealed him and his shotty new assistant. Her hand was placed on his shoulder as he talked to one of his office friends, her smile wickedly evil as she glanced at you. You touched the pearls on your neck, realized that you had worn something he had given. You looked weak.  Despite having an agreement, you felt betrayed.

Dismissing yourself from the women and sauntering past the couple, you got angrier. As tempting as it was, killing someone in a workplace would be incredibly unprofessional and you were no insufficient pirahea. You in fact were a great, great businesswoman. You reached to back of your neck, unclasping the pearls that burned your skin with embarrassment and shoved it into the pocket of you pants suit. How could he do this to you? In a workplace as well.

You didn’t turn around, although you did hope he would call your name to go after you, he didn’t.

Minutes later, of more pining and pitying of yourself, you decided to get back on track and talk to more people. It was as if every minute Doyoung wasted, made you more and more anxious about him not coming at all. It almost hurt how much he didn’t care. As much as Doyoung had helped you, somehow you felt that he still thought of you as a little girl. You tried desperately to show him you were women, in more ways than one.

You excused yourself from yet another person and strolled over to his office. You loved being in there, it was massive, it had a huge window with a view of all of Sueol. You reached his door, pulling it open. “Doy—oh my god.” You stood at the door, seeing at the door, opened halfway seeing his assistant on his lap, her dress pulled up, and his pants pulled to his ankles. Doyoung's eyes widened, glancing at the girl who had taken his cock. You closed the door, making sure nobody behind you had seen.

You shook your head, trying to get the visions out of your mind and to keep going. But all that was racing through your mind was the disgusting pictures playing through your mind. You didn’t think sex was disgusting. But when you watched someone you liked doing it, it got hundreds of times more abominable and atrocious than just watching porn. You had immediately set off to find that women again, you had been having a nice conversation with her before this whole mess started.

And then not so long after he came out, leaving his assistent behind. It was amusing to you how composed he looked, it was as if nothing ever happened. He fixed his tie while looking around the fancy office searching for you. It was as if he wasn’t just being pleasured. Frankly, you didn’t care if he had sex, it was who it was with the mattered to you. You wanted that to be you, and only you.  He took long strides over to you, brushing his black hair from his eyes and standing in front of you and the women.

He bowed to the women, verbalizing something in Korean, before turning to your and motioning his head in another direction.

“Could I please talk to you Y/N?” His eyes looked everywhere but your eyes, too embarrassed to look at you.

“It’s okay Ms. Y/N, I’ll be fine.” Bashful about turning down Doyoung in front of someone in public, you had no choice but go with him, and you weren’t looking forward to what he was going to discuss with you.

Pulling you into an empty corridor, he heaved a heavy sigh and knotted his finger in his hair. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” He whispered quietly. “I didn’t mea—”

“It’s fine, luckily I found you and not somebody else.” You felt defiled, dirty even, awaken to what scandalous deed you two were actually doing.

“Yeah, but still, I don’t know how I would feel If I saw you bein—Why did you take your necklace off? It looked nice.” You felt like hitting him very, very hard. If you don’t know how you would feel, then why do it?

“It’s not like we’re dating Doyoung, it doesn't matter.”

Everyone at the meeting was praising you, but even with recognition from everyone in the world, if you didn’t have Doyoung’s you weren’t satisfied. He shrugged, after hearing from you.

“I guess your right,” He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “But why did you take it off?”

“I think pearls aren’t for me,” You trailed off. “But what about the symbolization, didn’t you say it promoted centeredness and such. “

“Loyalty actually.” Doyoung nodded, his big brown eyes soft as he looked at you. He didn’t say anything, making your uncomfortable under his stare. “Like I said, I don’t think they’re for me. And I should get going.” You started to walked away, but his grip on your waist stopped you.

“Is Ji-Su bothering you? I heard what happened before I got to the meeting.”

His stare held concern and a twinge of sadness, continuing to search for your shifty eyes.

“She seems nice.” You complimented. “When she isn’t acting like a bitch.”

“I’ll fire her,” He blurted out shifting on his feet awkwardly. “If you don’t like it, I mean. I’ll fire her. You have to come here, and I don’t want it to be unbearable.”

You turned to look down the corridor at the elevator. “Yeah, well, my work here is done. I need to get home.”

It’s funny how things like this work. One moment you’re a struggling college student and the next you’re a world-renowned photographer, loved by artists and models. Now you were in Japan taking landscape photos and plant photos for Do-young's new computer system, trying to find the perfect default screensavers. That day after you caught Doyoung, you got home and threw yourself into your photography, being able to get more fine art pieces out, before you esteemed Calvin Klein campaign you were shooting a week later.

Doyoung had said he wanted to come with you, that he would be arriving a day after you in Japan to help choose things to photograph. But it’s been four days in Japan and four weeks since you’ve seen him.  You figured like always that he was either busy with work or with one of his other whores.

But maybe they weren’t as dumb as you, breaking his first rules and actually starting to like him. This was a deal, a partnership, not a thing for you to break your heart over. He had money to throw away, which is probably why he was letting girls take his money so easily. He was in fact, despite what he says, a very, very lonely man. Even with all the girls on his side,, there was no denying there was a void inside his lonely heart.  Sometimes you asked yourself why you stayed with him. And then you realized that you had no desire to leave because you would be just as lonely as him.

When it read eleven PM on the illuminated digital clock, you knew he either didn’t care or simply forgotten. It was most likely the fact he didn’t care. You set the teapot on the stove of Doyoung's unused Japan vacation house and set it at a low heating level, letting the fruit tea settle in the sifter. You heard the door slam, and the familiar footsteps of Doyoung’s dress shoes. You turned around, his hair was disheveled, but his suit remained classic and elegant. He stormed towards you, passing the dining table and living room to get to the kitchen.

“I’m so so sorry Y/N,” He pushed you into the counter, brushing the hair from your face.  He was out of breath as if he just ran here. He kissed you suddenly. The smack of your lips filled the room as he continued to kiss you. And then he put both hands on your waist, steadying himself and his kisses changed, something you never got from him before. He kissed you slowly, passionately. His hands roamed up your body and cupped your throat, moving to your cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” Your arms tangled up around his neck, wanting it, wanting him.

“You’re always sorry,” You mumbled on his lips, kissing him slowly again.

“I mean it this time. I do.”

“Mmm,” You joked, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. His fingers were like matches to your skin, even a graze lit you on fire.

You knew he didn’t love you back or even like you. But you didn’t care, you couldn't resist his touch. He pulls away softly, brushing his lips against yours again. It wasn’t sexual, no, it was innocent as if he was having his first kiss again.

“Doyoung what’s wrong with you.”

“Nothing.” He kissed your cheek, a defensive lilt in his voice. His kisses traveled down your neck towards your ear. “I just missed you so much.” You couldn't believe him.

“Are you sure? Where have you been?”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but all I want right now is to fuck you. Can you do that?” He said a little annoyed. But you didn’t listen to the annoying part, you listened to how scared he was.

“Yeah baby, we can.”

In an instant, he grabbed the underside of your thighs, pushing you onto the counter and tearing your sweatpants down your legs. Trying equally as hard to pull off your pink panties you wore just in case for scenarios like this. He peeled your legs from each other and looked down at you, the most exposed you. He ran his dainty finger over your slit all the way to your clit. He looked pulled your legs above his shoulders, leaning down slowly and coming face to face with your heat. He kitty licked you slowly. You squirmed at the feeling, waiting for him to do more to you. He didn't always eat you out, he used it as a reward system, but you didn’t know what you did that was worthy of his reward. And then he pushed his head into you, his tongue darting deeper and deeper inside of you, licking up your wetness that he started to create.

In pleasure, you took a fistful of his black hair, pushing his head further, you could hear his muffled moans as you did. His mouth was placed gently of your clit, sucking and darting your tongue under the little hood. You bucked your hips into him, your legs beginning to shake against his broad shoulders. And then he pushed two fingers inside of you.  Gasping at the sensation, a high moan leaves your lips.  With every thrust of his fingers, you feel yourself reaching your climax.

“C’mon baby, come for me.” And just as he said that you came onto his fingers, your juices quickly being lapped up by his tongue. You were never good with polyamorous relationships, you got too jealous for your own good. You didn’t want anyone else being pleasured by Doyoung but you, and you wanted to be the only one to touch him. He pushed your legs off of him, glancing at you momentarily, before taking his lips onto yours.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He whispered his breath on your lips. You nodded slowly, feeling him grab your thighs and lift you up in his muscular arms. You turned your head and glanced at the counter, there was still a small pool of come next to the stove, and you suddenly became hyper-aware of how wet you were. You could be dripping onto Doyoung right now, or even on the floor.  Nevertheless, he carried you to the Japanese bedroom.

The room was nearly pitch black except for the tiny leak of moonlight that spilled into the room. Something about him now was so gentle, the way he lightly set you down and watched you as he took off his clothes, peeling the black suit off his body. He did it early slow, observing your body furthermore. You sat up, waiting for him.

And when he sat down on the bed, fully naked except for his black boxers, you threw your legs on either side of him and got comfortable on his lap, continuing the slow, fervid kissing. He moaned into the kisses, his hands moving to your ass, to your hips, all over the place.

Ever so slowly, you place both your hands on his chest and pushed him down until he was lying on his back. You kissed and licked behind his ear, nibbled on his lobe, and kissing down his jawline to his cheek.  You could feel the beautiful man’s clothed member hit your bare pussy, and you wanted him, you had wanted him so many times before this. But now, you didn’t just want to fuck him, you wanted to make love. And although you didn’t know quite what that was, you thought you could do it with, you thought you could find it.

You kissed his bare chest, worshipping every part of his body you came across until you got to his boxers. You took his boxers off, sliding them down his legs while your head followed, kissing his thighs, the inside of his knees. And now that the boxers were gone, you were going to take what you wanted for a long time.

You put your hand on his shaft. Feeling it smooth and under your touch. You stroked it gently. Up and down. It needed lubrication and I had just the perfect thing. Beads of pre-cum oozed from his head, licking it up with your velvety tongue. Doyoung mumbled something in Korean, looking down at you and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

Circling it slowly in your mouth, you moaned on his cock, finally feeling it in your mouth after months. He was smooth under your tongue, probing the tip and igniting every nerve. You licked lower, beneath the head and all the way down to the shaft. You massaged his balls in your hands, and slowly took his laugh in your mouth.

He was a good six inches, but a thick six inches, which was probably why he felt so good. To you, there was nothing better than a thick above average sized cock. You bobbed your head, moving up and down, hollowing out your mouth. You wanted him to make you his favorite, nobody could do it like you.

He pushed your head down, you could feel the tip of his cock hit your throat eliciting a gag, but you regained a hold of yourself. And soon you weren’t in control anymore, it was him, pushing your head up and down along his cock. Moaning words of encouragement to make him come. Then he stopped, slowly sitting up, prompting you to mirror his actions. He let you steady yourself on his lap, holding onto his shoulders.

“You have the mouth of a slut,” he whispered into your ear. “In and out of my beds.”  He kissed down your neck and moved the strap of your tank top. “Take your shirt off, princess.” 

His fingers played with the hem of your shirt, helping you pull it out. Luckily you wore no bra and you were completely naked in front of Doyoung. He took your breasts in his hand, kneading them roughly as you moaned. He chuckled a little, capturing your lips and kissing you.

He took your nippled between his fingers, rolling them over and making them hard.

“You’re so sexy princess,” He whispered, bringing your nipple to his mouth and sucking on it slowly, holding eye contact. You grabbed onto his shoulders, throwing your head back and moaning.

His slender fingers traced around the area, grabbing your tit and sucking softly, moving to the other breast.

His mouth hovered over you, his hot breath washing over your just-kissed skin. He squeezed your nipple again, while he took the other in his mouth, with enough force so you barely had time to register the pain. He left a couple hickeys. His hand gliding over your side and look down at where your bare pussy met his pelvis.

“Are you going to ride me, princess?” You nodded, getting up on your knees and holding onto his shoulders so he could position himself to enter you. You didn’t ride him a whole lot, it was when he was at work sitting in his chair or tired, maybe even a little vulnerable that he let you ride him. It meant having you in control, and he didn’t like that. He was a CEO, he wanted to be in control.

A stuttered groan came from Doyoung, reaching for your hips guiding your up and down as you made out slowly. He kept biting your lips and squeezing your ass. He leaned back a little, watching his cock plunge deep into your pink pussy.

You sped up, harshly slamming down on his cock, prompting high moans, and low moans.

A guttural moan released from his throat, he through his head in your neck and kissed you there, pleasure clouding his actions as he groaned at the feeling of your pussy.  You loved how he acted when he was being pleasured, it was as if he couldn't take what you were giving him, he acted helpless, sometimes desperate.

You started fucking faster, Doyoung was meeting you halfway, slamming into your further, his thick cock stretching you out even more. You almost screamed, gripping on his shoulders and digging your nails into him. He moaned, flipping you quickly so he was on top of you.

“You’re marking me now?” He growled in your ear.

One thing he hated was being marked, that was one of his rules. Don’t mark him. You always thought it was because he was a businessman and he never wanted people to see it. But that wasn’t it. He must have liked being marked since he did it to you a lot, but even if you accidentally left bruises. “You can’t help yourself can you.” He took one hard thrust into you, making you whine out in pain and pleasure. You felt his warm seed fill you up a chain of profanities leaving his mouth. It came in spurts, one creaming into you, and the other shooting hard. His breath grew ragged and he whined out.

He gripped your hips. He wanted to fuck your harder. And he fucked you until you came, but he didn’t stop, he kept going, despite the fact he knew you had never gone farther when getting fucked with a cock. He increased speed as you held with him each thrust. He pushed into you so hard his breath got even shakier.

You were both panting, whining. Way over your breaking point, but you liked it. You wanted to come again. Even though Doyoung was at his wit's end, he wouldn't stop pushing himself until you came again, until you couldn't take his cock anymore. Your legs began to shake, they usually did whenever you had sex with Doyoung, and you came all over his cock. It was too much, he had fucked you to hard and too thoroughly. He pulled out of you slowly, watching your face relax.

You fell next to you, sitting up slowly and glancing over. You took heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then. What hotel are you staying at?” You said, reaching over and snatching his black pants off the ground. He took them from you but didn’t make any advances to get up or put them on.

“Actually…” He said softly, reaching his long arms over to grab his boxers. “I think I want to stay the night.”  He glimpsed at you shyly, asking for some seal of approval.

“Why?” He was silent, getting up momentarily to pull his black boxers up his legs. “Doyoung, what’s wrong?”

You asked the questions knowing he wouldn't be able to answer the question. He wasn’t good at articulating his emotions. He didn’t like putting himself out there, he didn’t like feeling vulnerable or looking at it. But he just ended up looking vulnerable anyways, keeping everything bottled up.

“You’re the only one,” he said whispering.

He wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead, his face illuminated from the moonlight. “What?”

“I want you.” He said more firmly. “I want you.” “Again? I mean we can go for one mo—” “No,” he stopped you, looking into your eyes softly. “I want you.” You finally knew what he meant. That he wanted you just a little more than what he was getting. That this sex was good, but he wanted a little more.

“Do you like me?” You asked, seeing him nod no slowly. But you knew he liked you, he admitted right then and there. “Do you love me?” He looked away from you, a shaky sigh leaving his mouth.

“I—”

“You don’t have to say it… if you do, you don’t have to say it.”

Love is a beautiful and scary thing all at the same time. For someone like Doyoung, he’s never tied down, so feeling something like that was new to him. Saying it to someone was weird and otherworldly. It made him feel vulnerable and you knew that. Baring out your heart and soul might leave you prone and vulnerable to hurt and pain, but sometimes taking the risk and letting it all out is one of the most amazing things that you’ll be able to experience. Doyoung needed his time, and he didn’t need to say it to you for you to know he did love you. He showed by his actions. Like the beautiful pearl necklace he got, and the relentless sorries he would always give.

So as he got up, pulling the covers off the bed and slipping in right before you did. A whisper left his lips.

“Thank you.”

And that’s how you knew he did. That’s how you knew he felt the same back. That you weren't just fucking him all this time, you were making love.