#kim doyoung x reader

[hrts4doie]

sloppy seconds (study buddies pt. 2)

wc: 4.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

haechan: we need 2 talk

haechan: about the bet.

doyoung: oh?

haechan: ur lucky she even agreed

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

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

haechan: [address attached]

when doyoung comes over, it’s awkward.

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

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

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

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

“thanks for coming over to-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

haechan feels stuck when he stares back at doyoung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tags: @haetrack @beidouvv

#haechan x reader #lee haechan x reader #doyoung x reader #kim doyoung x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #lee haechan #sub!haechan #dom!doyoung #kim doyoung #nct dream #nct 127 #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haetrack

[gyundo]

“A Neighbor Like You”

Kim Dongyoung (Doyoung) x Male Reader

SMUT! DNI if under 18!!!

Plot: Doyoung is Y/N’s older neighbor who takes an interest in the boy.

Y/N L/N was in his first year of college and was just moving into his new apartment. Excited to start a new phase in his life, Y/N put down the box in his hands and looked around to the place that would become his home.

Y/N’s parents walked in the door a moment after with the last of Y/N’s things. After a tearful goodbye, Y/N waved goodbye to his parents and went up to his apartment.

Y/N walked around the place with a deep sigh, having left home for the first time and unsure of when he’d see his parents next. Yet at the same time, Y/N was ready to begin his independent life.

In an effort to get to know his neighbors, Y/N decided to give some of his cookies to everyone on his story, starting with his next door neighbor.

Y/N quietly walked over to the next door and rung the bell, a little bit nervous about whether his neighbors would be nice and welcoming or rough and rude.

The door was opened by a handsome man in his mid 30s with a white T-shirt that showed off his muscular build. While not a bodybuilder, it was clear that the man had worked out for a good time, furthered by his significantly muscular thighs on display with his 2 inch inseam shorts.

Y/N looked up and down and was drooling in his mind before the neighbor said, “Can I help you?”

Y/N snapped back to reality, introducing himself, “Hello, I’m Y/N L/N, and I just moved here. I wanted to give you these cookies and please let me know if you need me anytime for anything .”

The man looked Y/N up and down, before teasing him by grabbing his hand and then the box of cookies before saying, “Thanks, I’m Doyoung and I might take you up on that offer real soon.”

Y/N quickly gave the rest of his neighbors cookies, who were mostly families. Y/N couldn’t get the image of the mature man who opened the door for him out of his sinful mind as he pondered on what they could be doing as they were only a wall away.

Doyoung knocked on Y/N’s door while Y/N has just finished stashing away all of his things. Y/N ran up to go answer and was more than excited to see the handsome man again. At a closer distance, Y/N was able to smell his cologne and naturally musky smell, attracting him more to the older man as he kept looking up and down the eye candy called Doyoung.

“You said I could call you anytime, Y/N. Here I am, I need some help with dinner,” Doyoung slyly replied while giving Y/N a smirk.

Y/N was too innocent to pick up on the smirk but thought it was very clever that his neighbor found a way to invite him over for dinner. Nonetheless, Y/N was very excited and followed his neighbor into his apartment.

Y/N’s eyes looked around in shock as he noticed Doyoung’s detailed wall accents, accessories, and furniture that was extremely well kept, especially for a bachelor. He was only impressed more and more by Doyoung, who invited Y/N into the kitchen.

“It’s making dinner and finishing it that I needed your help with,” Doyoung joked.

Y/N expressed his gratitude to Doyoung for letting him in and for the dinner while Doyoung instructed Y/N to cut some green onions for a garnish.

Y/N kept stealing glances of Doyoung’s body and face, enthralled by the square rim glasses falling low on Doyoung’s nose, the defintion and veins on his arms emerging with every chop he made with the knife, and the meatiness of Doyoung’s thighs.

Y/N just kept collecting images of Doyoung in his mind, probably for jerk off material later, but what he didn’t realize is that his gaze was obvious to the experienced Doyoung.

Doyoung knew Y/N was attracted to him and was ready to ensnare him in his trap. Making a small move to fluster him, Doyoung tsk tsked to Y/N.

“You’re not cutting the green part fine enough, lemme show you,” Doyoung claimed with a straight face, all the while walking over to Y/N and hovering over his body. Doyoung leaned in and held Y/N’s hand over the knife as he guided his chopping, while simultaneously moving his body closer to Y/N’s. His front side was eventually fully pressed against Y/N’s back, enabling him to feel Y/N smooth and bouncy ass on his crotch.

Y/N on the other hand, could not stop blushing after he felt Doyoung’s large cock, making it clear there was no underwear underneath Doyoung’s already revealing shorts. Y/N’s just let Doyoung’s hand take control of the knife and his hand as he felt the warmth from behind him.

Doyoung slowly moved away, knowing that Y/N was in a state like hypnosis and would do whatever the older wanted out of attraction.

The dinner was soon finished, as Doyoung asked Y/N questions and learned of the other’s young age, his college apprehensions, while informing the other of his age and lifestyle as well.

Doyoung and Y/N’s neighborly relationship had started on good footing, but things were only about to get better and closer.

Right before Y/N was to bring the plates into the dining room, Doyoung cleaver stashed away the second chair so there was only one chair left.

As Y/N brought the food to the table, Doyoung explained that he only kept one chair because it was usually just him at home, but it wasn’t going to be an issue.

Doyoung sat down and Y/N was shocked as Doyoung pulled Y/N down into his lap.

“Problem solved, you can just sit in my lap. There’s not going to be any trouble with that, right Y/N?” Doyoung teased with a smirk as Y/N blushed.

Y/N was struggling to prevent getting an erection while sitting on such a hot man’s thighs. Y/N enjoyed the warmth of Doyoung’s muscular things and abdomen more than the warmth of the rice bowl he was eating, and he convinced himself to relish every moment of sitting on Doyoung’s lap in case he didn’t have the opportunity again.

Luckily for Y/N, Doyoung saw through all of his antics as clear as day and let the younger have his way with maximizing the skinship between the two. Doyoung himself was having trouble restraining himself from an erection as the younger shifted on his lap, allowing Doyoung to enjoy the shape of Y/N’s ass as well.

Dinner was soon finished, and Doyoung took off his shirt, “Damn that rice bowl really heated me up (in more ways than one).” Y/N was still eating, but he kept sneaking glances at Doyoung’s abs, well defined pecs, and rounded, muscular shoulders.

As oblivious as a virgin would be, Y/N just kept getting hornier while not realizing Doyoung’s intent.

Doyoung knew that Y/N was a virgin from the way he acted and saw that his chance to take the younger was a pretty good one, as Y/N clearly swinged his way.

Doyoung got up once Y/N finished his meal and led him into the bedroom, “There’s something here I need your help with.”

Just as Y/N entered, Doyoung quickly shut the door behind him and pushed Y/N to the wall as he kissed him aggressively.

“My first kiss, mm, feels so good,” Y/N thought as he tried to kiss back Doyoung, whose tongue was encircling his in a dance that spoke of technique and experience. Y/N was shocked but due to his arousal, he melted right into Doyoung’s arms.

Doyoung moved their lower bodies closer as he pulled his lips apart from Y/N before whispering in his ear,“ It’s my cock that really needs your tight hole, the dinner was just a distraction,” all the while rubbing his hard on against Y/N’s.

Y/N was worried on how he would take a large cock in his virgin ass that had never even been touched before, but his horniness clouded his mind as he agreed, saying out to the other with a blank expression, “Please take me. I’ve been so horny painfully so since I saw you this afternoon. I want you to give me my first feeling of cock, please you’re such a DILF, Doyoung.”

Doyoung smirked back, “I had my eyes on you too, you seemed like such a fresh piece of meat that I knew I wanted to the be the first to pound your hole so you learn how good anal can be. Looks like all my tactics worked, I’ve ensnared another prey in my trap of attraction.”

Doyoung threw Y/N onto the bed before kissing him aggressively again. Doyoung took off Y/N’s t-shirt before sucking on his nipples.

“Milk me, D-Daddy. AHHH,” Y/N screamed as he felt a surge of sensitivity in the area before Doyoung moved onto the next one, prompting a light yelp. Doyoung then skillfully rid Y/N of the confinements of his shorts and underwear with just one hand, while the other muscular hand with veins and thick fingers rubbed itself all over Y/N’s abdomen, like a massage that was giving the other warmth and making his lower body feel a pressure to cum.

Knowing that Y/N was being stimulated extremely well due to his technique. Doyoung began to slowly pump Y/N’s cock with a tight grip as Y/N moaned out.

“It feels so good, it never feels this good when I do it,” Y/N said with a fucked-out expression.

“That’s cause I know exactly how to make you feel good, Y/N,” Doyoung proudly stated while rubbing his finger over Y/N’s glans, causing the younger to throw his head back and lift up his legs.

Doyoung stopped abruptly as the younger began to whimper for more pleasure, “Don’t you think it’s time I pound your ass nice and good, Y/N? You better only cum from having this cock inside you. Take a nice long, hard look,” while Doyoung took off his own shorts.

Y/N kept staring at Doyoung’s cock, which perfectly matched his body in its huge size. 9 inches long with a thick shaft and multiple veins that emphasized its power, Y/N never felt like he needed dick more in his life than in this moment.

Doyoung brought his fingers close to Y/N’s mouth, commanding the younger to lick. He scooped up a decent amount of Y/N’s saliva, rubbing it over his cock.

Y/N yelped as Doyoung flipped him over onto his stomach and got behind him, holding open his ass cheeks to reveal his tight, pink, virgin hole.

Doyoung spit onto Y/N’s hole, before getting on his knees right behind Y/N in order to rub his tip against Y/N’s hole.

“Ready to be a slut just for me, Y/N? Want me to pound your ass until you forget your name and your body is imprinted with the shape of my cock?”

Y/N groaned, “Mmm, please Mr. Kim breed me good.”

Doyoung chuckled, “Of course I will, not everyone opens up their virgin ass to a stranger within the first few hours of meeting them. No condom either, your ass need to know how real cock feels.”

Doyoung quickly pushed all of his cock into Y/N’s tight hole at once, feeling the need to do him nice and rough his first time. Y/N yelled out at the huge intrusion in his formerly virgin ass that had never been touched before, let alone penetrated by a huge cock.

“How does my huge dick feel,” Doyoung asked while reveling in the pleasure of having his dick surrounded tightly after a very long time.

“Mm-g-good,” Y/N managed to cry out while tears rolled out of his eyes due to the searing pain in his ass.

“Your ass is so tight, pretty lucky that you found a perfect cock like me to take it,” Doyoung cooed while thrusting further up.

Y/N’s tears increased as Doyoung’s thrusts only increased, in both frequency and depth.

Y/N thoroughly felt his ass being mangled and pounded deep as he struggled to cope with the initial pain, still crying out.

Doyoung stopped for a brief second, “Aww, is my baby crying? Does it hurt?” to Y/N.

Just as Y/N nodded, Doyoung resumed his thrusts at an even more increased pace, “You need to adjust to cock properly Y/N, that’s the only way you’ll learn to enjoy mine”.

Y/N’s tears increased as the pain remained the same but he slowly got used to the pleasure as Doyoung relentlessly thrusted into him from behind.

The warmth from Doyoung’s well exercised abs and soft pecs turned on Y/N even more as Doyoung reeled in the joy of Y/N’s tight ass, whispering dirty nothings in his ear as he continued his anal onslaught.

Doyoung’s thick, sweaty balls slapped hard against Y/N’s taint as he asked, “Enjoying getting done all rough like this by a huge cock. I’m not done yet?” while increasing his thrusts to an animalistic pace inside Y/N, as his ass slowly molded to the shape of Doyoung’s cock.

Y/N responded with a moan as Doyoung stuffed his mouth with his pheromone laced underwear that smelled strongly of his cock, while putting his hands around Y/N’s neck to lightly choke him.

“This is what a young boy like you truly needs, a real man’s cock ruining your ass deeply and teaching you the pleasure of having big dick in stuffing your tight hole. You like getting manhandled like this, don’t you Y/N. You wanted this all along, didn’t you?” Doyoung dirtily questioned the younger.

“Mhm-AAHH,” Y/N yelled out through the fabric stuffed in his mouth as his eyes rolled back from Doyoung’s large cock rubbing right against his prostate. Doyoung smirked at the reaction and began incessantly thrusting right at Y/N’s prostate as his cock began twitching uncontrollably.

“I’m gonna breed you and make you my personal boy. My cock is going to feed your ass with a huge amount of daddy’s cum. I want your ass to know my dick very well since this will be a daily thing from now on, right Y/N? Your tight pink hole is all mine,” Doyoung yelled out while moving his girthy cock through the tight and moist passage Y/N provided.

Every thrust had Y/N’s hole twitching around Doyoung’s cock as his walls squeezed and hugged his veins tightly. Doyoung was enjoying such a tight, pure ass after so long and swore to make it completely his by marking it up with his hot cum. He wanted the shape of his cock impressioned inside Y/N’s hole so it was clear it belonged to him.

“So-so BIG DOYOUNG,” Y/N yelled out with a muffled voice while simulate pulse licking the shorts in his mouth to enjoy the pheromones of Doyoung’s cock that was thrusting in his ass mercilessly, opening it up for the first time.

Y/N was full of overstimulation as he felt the warmth from Doyoung’s large muscles, smell from his underwear, and his huge cock abusing his prostate with perfect technique and precision, sending rippling waves of pleasure throughout his body.

Doyoung had succeeded, as there was no way Y/N wouldn’t be able to resist having this pleasure coursing throughout his body every single day. Y/N knew only Doyoung’s girth cock, still pounding away at his squelching hole, would be able to satisfy him.

Doyoung’s cock continued to fill Y/N’s ass perfectly to the brim, stretching out his asshole so much for the first time, and making the experience addictive for both.

“You want my cum now, bitch boy? You want daddy to cum in you and mark you his? You’re gonna take this big load, i’ve been saving it just for this tight ass. You want everyone to see that only I can pound you this rough and good,” Doyoung asked with pride as his thrusts got faster, never faltering.

“MAKE ME YOURS DADDY, FILL UP MY HOLE WITH YOUR CUM AND IMPREGNATE ME! I ONLY WANT YOUR HUGE DICK MR KIM,” Y/N moaned while pushing his ass back onto Doyoung’s cock meeting his thrusts.

“I’m the only one who’s good enough to take you and I’m cumming in your ass cause it belongs to me now. A youngster like you needs the semen of a mature daddy in your ass to really be broken in fully,” Doyoung moaned out as he felt his climax nearing.

Doyoung pulled out and slapped his humongous cock inside Y/N once again, bulging his abdomen and causing him to let out a loud moan of pleasure as Doyoung groaned, leaning his head back as his cock let out years of semen into Y/N’s ass, painting his pink walls fully with the color of Doyoung’s cum. The sound of large spurts forcefully landing on Y/N’s pink walls abused by Doyoung’s cock filled the room. Doyoung had finished taking and impregnating a virgin Y/N with his large cock and his cum that now squelched the inside of Y/N’s ass.

Doyoung slowly moved his cock back and forth to let Y/N’s ass feel the warmth of his hot semen as Y/N came from the feeling, releasing in giant threads all over Doyoung’s mattress, out of a great pleasure that Y/N had never felt before.

“Keep your huge dick inside my ass daddy, I don’t want any of your cum to leave me and prevent me from fully getting pregnant, Y/N moaned out slutily.

“Of course my Y/N-ie, I definitely needed a horny neighbor like you,” Doyoung smirked back as his cock became hard again and the thrusting resumed, overstimulating Y/N with a pleasure that made his mind go blank over and over again, as another session of many commenced.

#kpop smut #smut fic #kpop x male reader #male reader #m/n #y/n #kpop x male reader smut #kpop muscle #sm town #sm entertainment #sm family #sm x male reader #kim doyoung x male reader #kim doyoung x male reader smut #kim dongyoung #kim dongyoung x male reader smut #kim dongyoung x male reader #kim doyoung x reader #nct doyoung x male reader #doyoung fic #doyoung x y/n #doyoung x male reader #dongyoung x male reader #nct x male reader #nct smut #nct fanfic #nct doyoung #doyoung x male reader smut #nct 127 #nct 127 x male reader

[taetr4ck]

NCT 127 AS YOUR DOORDASHER TEXTS !

nct 127 x reader, mention of kys jokes on doyoung’s part — crack

a/n : special thanks to my biggest hypeman, ☄️ anon ! 🤭 (ty, johnny, doyoung, yuta, and hyuck’s texts aren’t mine!) (skz ver here !)

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

#ᨳ ✦ % : from the monochrome film 🎞️ #nct texts #nct 127 texts #nct #nct reactions #nct 127 reactions #nct 127 x reader #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct taeyong #nct mark #nct 127 #nct u #nct crack #nctzen #nct dojaejung #nct 127 scenarios #mark lee x reader #moon taeil x reader #lee taeyong x reader #johnny suh x reader #jeong jaehyun x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #haechan x reader #nakamoto yuta x reader #kim doyoung x reader #kim jungwoo x reader #dojaejung #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines

[hannie-dul-set]

fuck you, aphrodite! [1].

SYNOPSIS. ready, set— let the love games begin! the cupid industry is a competitive business. donghyuck, jeno, and johnny know that very well. right on the cusp of their sweet, sweet promotion (and finally graduating from petty match-making and making sure their assignments finally fucking hook up), the three find themselves in a three-way battle because for their last assignment, the love lottery just had to give them the same person to manipulate into falling in love with their respective assignments— you.

PAIRINGS. kim doyoung, na jaemin, jung jaehyun x fem! reader. TAGS. socmed! au, cupid! au, college! au, org! au, another reverse harem of weird/asshole/loser men! the hannie-dul-set holy trinity of leading men! rom-com, explicit language and jokes.

NOTE. it's been a hot hot minute since i wrote for nct again 😭 and to think it's gonna be a train wreck, hot mess that i impulsively vomited out instead of doing my readings HUAHUHA this is just a fun funky little things so updates will be whenever i feel like it (if any) so pls lmk if you wanna be tagged the future! enjoy!

[part 1] [part 2]

fuck you, aphrodite! © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#nct x reader #kim doyoung x reader #na jaemin x reader #jung jaehyun x reader #doyoung x reader #jaemin x reader #jaehyun x reader #nct imagines #nct social media au #nct x you #nct texts #jaemin texts #jaehyun texts #doyoung texts

[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.”

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

[00127am]

"it's a wonder how you don't have girls falling at your feet," "i have you,"

@ notyourmalelead top of his class, hallway crush kim doyoung isn't very interested in his semester long partnership with sailor moon obsessed, popular vlogger: you. until your larger than life crush on him is revealed. then he's much more interested in proving that he's not your male lead (and subsequently wishing he was).

@ information [🦀] class president! kim doyoung & afab! vlogger! reader genre smau, fluff, comedy, uni au, enemies to lovers, crush at first sight, mutual pining, lots of sailor moon references warnings dark humor (kys jokes), sexual humor/innuendos, cursing status updates every monday and friday @ 9AM ⤷ taglist always open!

@ masterlist @ ♡♡♡♡ @ soundtrack

follow others like this! playlists. yn ⟢ doyoung profiles. taeilenators ⟢ doyoung fan club ⟢ assorted

user notyourmalelead's posts C01. pretty sailor soldier meets her tuxedo mask C02. practically dating (give or take) C03. get an inch take a mile C04. chiba marmoru! or not... C05. in defense of usagi tsukino ⟢ new years special C06. on the dark side of the (sailor) moon C07. one step forward ten steps back C08. coming soon!

🧾 © 00127am 2024

#⏱ wake up! it's 00127am! #(ᓀ‸ᓂ) not your male lead! #nct #not your male lead! #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #kim doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung x reader #smau #nct smau #social media au #university au #nct university #enemies to lovers #academic rivals to lovers #im way too invested in this #if i forget to update pls don't kill me #im not as funny as i think i am sorrz #doyoung x reader #doyoung fanfic #doyoung fluff #doyoung nct

[joonggphilia]

☼Slumber Party☼

———————————————————————

☼Pairing: Doyoung x Male reader ☼prompt: “well, I almost fist-fought you for the blanket last night.” ☼genre: semi-smut ☼CW: reader is implied to be another member of Nct and doyoungs bf. Basically public sex, handjob, flirty do <333 ☼a/n: I love him. Hate writing about him at 12 am.

Read jaemmphilia’s version here!!!!

——————————————————————— You completely regretted having all of your members over to your personal home. Squeezing everyone onto the living room floor using futons and air mattresses was a disaster, all of you ending up being squished together no matter what. At least there was the pullout couch…oh wait, only the smallest pullout couch on the planet earth. Somehow it fit two people, you and Doyoung that is. Second mistake. You were freezing, doyoung taking all the blanket, and leaving you to grasp the sheets for warmth. His blood would be on your hands in the morning…for sure…. You were the first person to wake, probably the coldest to. You snatched the blanket from doyoungs sleeping form and moved to your side. “Hey, give that back.” His raspy morning voice rang, scaring you a bit. You silently shaking your head, letting out a dramatic sigh. “M/n, don’t be a bitch, give it back.” He groaned once more, reaching slightly for the blanket. You snapped your head around and have him a glare. “What’s your issue?” He whined. You couldn’t believe him, the audacity. “Well, I almost fist-fought you for the blanket last night.” You scowled, glaring holes through your boyfriend. Doyoung lightly chuckled, rolling his eyes. “So that’s what this tantrums about? I can make it up for you. Warm you up a bit.” He winked, pulling you close to him. You hated the way he flirted, knowing what he meant. “Do, everyone else is in the room and sleeping!” You whisper yelled as he tucked is face into you neck. He only hummed in response, placing small kisses into your neck. “So what. I couldn’t care less, all I care about is you~” he cooed, his tongue soon running up your neck. The sensation was so familiar, yet chilling, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. His hands traveled up and down your sides,adding to the overwhelming feelings. Doyoung was quite good at that, finding all your sensitive spots and teasing them. He suckled on your neck, leaving little marks of his love and affection. “I’ll get you for this.” You breathed, squirming in his touch. He only laughed and shook his head as he continued his attack on your body. This time his hands moved to the waistband of your sweats, teasing at the string. “Doyoung…please.” You whispered, looking into his eyes. He really couldn’t tell if you were warning him or asking him for more, but at this point it didn’t matter, your pants and boxers already off. He took your cock into his hand, stroking you to your full length. His thumb dabbed at your slit, a playful smirk on his face. “Already so excited?” He laughed, smearing the precum back onto your tip. “J-just hurry.” You moaned, putting your face into the pillow. Doyoung chuckled, your actions were pretty amusing to him, but he soon got back to business. His slim fingers running along your veins and sensitive parts. He soon grasped your whole length in his hand, pumping up and down. Just seeing you writhe and whine next you him was enough to get him going, already quite riled up. “Shhhh, songbird, they’ll hear you.” He whispered, squeezing a bit harder and moving his hand faster. He kissed you lightly, sweetly looking you in the eyes and you nodded, letting him know you’re close. He smirked and moved faster, his thumb rubbing along you slit. It really was all too much, your orgasm pulling a moan from your throat. Doyoung came untouched, just by your voice and the situation around him. He couldn’t help but smile at your perfect timing, Soon the members alarms went off. “Good morning m/n.” Doyoung smirked, discreetly licking his fingers and heading to the bathroom.

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#Kim Doyoung X male reader #Kim doyoung X reader #Doyoung X male reader #Bottom male reader #nct x male reader #nct 127 x male reader #Nct X reader #smut #writing collab

[jjunberry]

dinner & dessert

pairing! kim doyoung x fem!reader

genre! smut

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

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

wc! 700

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

requested! by @sadfragilegirl <3

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

tag list! @jjunieworld @304files

love, echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪

© jjunberry

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

[jaelvr]

You were beautiful

Home | NCT 127 masterlist |

Requested : no

Prompts ; 51. “Please, just stay a little longer.”  + 54. “Please don’t cry.”  + 50.  “I love you. Never forget that, okay?” 

Pairing : ex! doyoung x reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : angst, fluff

Word count : 1.2k

Warnings : mutual feelings, exes to lovers, idol! au, slightly ooc

Have a great day !! 

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"The things I'm about to tell you, aren't so you change what's already on your mind."

He looked through his bag, searching for the letter he'd been given earlier in the day. They'd had a fan meet for their newest comeback, something they were used to by now. Getting presents and letters was nothing new, but there was something about this one he couldn't quite put his finger on. It felt familiar - like a home of some kind. The writing seemed familiar to him and the person in front of him, despite not being able to clearly make them out, was someone he'd known - he was sure of it. He pulled the letter out, wasting no time in opening it to read it.

"It's just that I keep thinking about all the melodies you made asleep at night."

He got up carefully, not wanting to disturb you too much. A lovestruck smile on his face as he looked at your figure next to him, taking in your peaceful expression and how the sun lightly shone on your face, making you look like an angel. Doyoung leaned down, placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead, thumb softly caressing your cheek. He got up and stretched, about to head into the bathroom when he heard a tired yawn and eyes peering over at him. "Good luck today. I love you." you murmured, a sleepy smile on your face as you battled sleep to stay awake. "I love you too, sunshine. I'll see you later." he promised, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips and watching you for a few seconds before heading into the bathroom to get ready for practice. He could always get through the day if it meant coming home to you.

"I keep trying to forget but you were beautiful."

He thought back on it, remembering the way the pair of you would look at each other with absolute love. It was clear to anyone who saw you two how deep the connection truly ran. They'd been celebrating one of the comebacks, throwing a party to congratulate them. He'd come over when you were watching Jungwoo and Haechan drunkenly sing along to songs on the karaoke machine, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing fragile kisses to your neck. "Hey Doie." you grinned, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"You alright?" he muttered, brushing hair out of your face while his other hand gently ran circles across your hip. You let out a hum of content, nuzzling into his chest. "I'm so proud of you." you whispered, looking up at him with complete admiration and love, his face mirroring the same. "I couldn't have done it without you." he admitted, kissing your forehead. The way you looked at him made him never want to leave, always needing to either be next to you or have you close by. The way you called his name and how addictive he found it. You felt like home.

"I keep thinking about how we used to be. God, I just hate this part."

You'd known something was off the minute he'd walked through the door. He had said nothing, having a shower and getting into his pyjamas before curling up in bed, silent. You'd crawled in beside him, simply holding him and rubbing his back as his tears escaped, your embrace tight and not letting go of him. "You're okay. I've got you, love." you whispered, your head on top of his as you rubbed his back. You didn't force him to talk, simply letting him take his time and if he didn't want to talk about it at all, you never pushed him to. You stayed with him all night, comforting him in the morning as you caressed and planted kisses all over his tear-stained face, not making a deal or pressing on the issue. Just wanting to be there for him to soothe him.

"Think I've cried more than I had imagined."

The scene taunted him constantly whenever he couldn't fall asleep. The look on your face when he'd uttered the cursed six words. Doyoung was almost convinced he'd heard your heart shatter at his words. He wasn't sure what had broken him more between your desperate pleas to not leave or the tears that streamed down your face. “Please don’t cry.” he pleaded, his own tears falling. He wanted to tell you he was joking or he'd changed his mind, but he couldn't. He wanted to stay but knew it wasn't possible.

Not with him being an idol. He couldn't. He laid awake that night, your face and his actions constantly haunting him, knowing the pain he'd caused which he tried to ignore, convincing himself it was for the better. He'd give anything to go back to how you two were before, his heart hurting more as he read over the letter, realising you'd forgiven him despite the damage he'd caused you.

"'Cause the last time that you looked at me, I did all I could, I watched you leave."

He refused. He got up, and quickly headed to the entrance of the dorm, pulling his coat on and tying his shoes on. "Doyoung? Where are you going?" Taeyong questioned, looking at his phone which read eleven o'clock. "The letter." he murmured once his shoes were done, Taeyong looking at him in confusion as he pushed the letter into his best friend's hands. "They were there. They gave it to me today at the fan meet." he hurriedly explained. Taeyong skimmed through, the end of the letter catching his eye. Besides the “I love you. Never forget that, okay?” was a scrawled sunshine. The nickname Doyoung always referred to you as. Taeyong looked back up, a small smile on his face as he knew what he was doing. He nodded, squeezing Doyoung's shoulder before he left, bidding him a gentle 'good luck'.

"All the things you gave to stay with me."

Once he'd gotten there, he anxiously knocked on the door. He prayed you hadn't moved otherwise he'd look like an absolute idiot - not that he wouldn't already. His breath hitched as the door to the familiar apartment opened, words escaping him as he took in your look in front of him. You were in your pyjamas, your hair slightly messy with your natural beauty. "You look beautiful." he got out, hesitantly stepping forward, afraid of your reaction. Relief consumed him as he felt you step forward, resting your head on his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. He gently caressed the back of your head, the other resting on your back as he gripped you tightly, almost trying to assure himself he wasn't dreaming and he was actually here.

"I'm sorry. It doesn't feel right without you. I miss you. I miss the way you looked at me. I miss the way you called my name. I miss your smiles when we'd disagree, I-" he rambled, eyes widening as he felt you lean up, kissing him quickly yet lovingly. “Please, just stay a little longer.” you whispered a sad smile on your face. He cupped your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm not leaving this time."

#doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung x you #doyoung x y/n #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #doyoung fic #doyoung fanfic #doyoung fluff #kim doyoung #kim doyoung x reader #nct doyoung #nct #nct x reader #nct x you #nct x oc #nct x gender neutral reader #nct x y/n #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct angst #doyoung angst #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x y/n #nct 127 x male reader #nct 127 imagines

[luvyeni]

dojaejung smut ???

DREAM TEAM ; DOJAEJUNG

pairings. roommates!dojaejung x fem!reader

wc. 1.7k

warnings. oral (f and m. receiving) slapping , anal , unprotected sex , degradation , HEAVY dirty talk

i hope you enjoy it <3 !

after a drunken confession , you find yourself in a predicament with your roommates.

—

you weren't sure what had shifted with your bestfriends/roommates , but you could definitely sense something was different with them after the party you guys attended about a week ago. they'd watch you like a hawk, eyeing you up and down with this look in their eyes — a look you couldn't make up.

you tried to ignore it at first , pushing it to the back of your mind thinking maybe you were just overthinking things , but it was hard to when they were constantly burning holes into your skin with their eyes , like right now. you were trying to watch the movie , like you guys every week — but you kept getting distracted by the constant stares from your friends.

"what is it?" you spoke up , they all turned to you. "did i do something wrong , are you guys mad at me or something?" jungwoo who sat at the end of the couch spoke up first. "you didn't do anything bub , why do you ask." you looked down at your fingers. "all week you guys have been acting weird , every since the party."

"you don't remember the party do you?" jaehyun said. "on the way home." you sworn you could've seen him smirk. "i was pretty drunk , i don't really remember that night." you could never hold your alcohol , you began to think about everything you could remember. "i told you she didn't remember." doyoung said. "remember what?" had you offended them?

"princess , you confessed a few dirty sins of yours." jaehyun's words made your eyes widened. "li-like what?" something told you not to get drunk , you knew it never worked out well , and it alwayd came back to bite you in the ass. "oh , just that we're your dream foursome." you definitely saw his smirk now. "and that you touch yourself to the thought of us fucking you." jungwoo said , your face was red.

"i-i did?" you were so embarrassed , living with three insanely attractive guys , you were bound to have thoughts , especially when they often walked around without shirts on , and jaehyun insisted on wearing those god forsaken grey sweatpants — but you didn't want them to know that you had these thoughts about them.

"nothing we didn't already know though , these walls are very then , and you are very loud baby." the way doyoung spoke sent shivers down your spine. "and those shorts you're always wearing , it's so obvious you want to be fucked." you bit your lip, he's really airing out all your dirty laundry like that. "look at you thinking about it right now , i bet your pussy is drenched right , come sit." doyoung called you over, patting his lap.

you crawled into his lap , he grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs , locking them with his own. "be a good girl." he whispered in your ear , kissing your neck , leaving little marks. "d-doyoung." you squirmed in your seat , not noticing jaehyun had gotten up from his seat , and in between your legs , until you felt him tugging at your waistband. "let's get these off , so i can finally get a taste." you lifted your hips up , letting him pulled them down.

"fuck , she soaked through her panties." he groaned , you whimpered as he ran his finger down your slit. "jae-jaehyun." he left little kisses on your clit , patting your folds softly , before pulling your panties down your legs. "such a pretty pussy." he groaned , diving in like a man who hadn't eaten. "of fuck , jaehyun." you moaned as he licked your folded. "come on , let's get this off." jungwoo , lifted your shirt over your head , your tits dropping due to lack of a bra.

"been wanting to suck on these ever since you moved in." he brought his mouth to your nipple sucking on it. "that feels good princess?" doyoung toyed with your other nipple. "gonna be a good girl and let us all fuck you? hmm? " you nodded , throwing your head back against his shoulder , letting pleasure take over you. "m-more please , i need more." jaehyun detached his mouth from your pussy , stringing your clit. "really , you have three of us touching you , and you still need more , i told you our pretty little roommate was a just a little slut in disguise." you moaned , your hole clenching over nothing.

"you're our slut though , right baby?" jungwoo asked, you nodded mind cloudy , doyoung grabbed your chin. "use your words." his voice demanded. "y-yes , please do something." jaehyun pushed then tip of his finger in your hole. "good girl." he pushed his whole finger on. "fuck , she's so tight." he slowly pushed his finger in and out your hole. "i think she's gonna cum already."

you felt doyoung's cock against your ass , wishing he was inside you. "you feel it baby , feel my fat cock , gonna take it like a good girl?" you nodded. "fu-fuck yes , i need it." you felt your orgasm approaching. "jaehyun, i-im gonna cum!" you squealed as he sped up , his fingers roughly fucking you. "cum for me princess , cum all over my hand." your mouth dropped open as you came. "so fucking pretty." jungwoo finally letting your nipple go , your breast were so sore and sensitive now.

doyoung picked you up , holding you in his arms taking you to your room , the others following behind you , stripping themselves of their clothes. "good fuck you real good baby." he threw you on the bed. "treat you like the slut you want to be treated like." they all climbed on the bed. "gonna let us ruin you for other men , make so you only want to fuck us." jungwoo manhandled you into position , your ass up in the air. "answer him princess." jaehyun slapped your face. "y-yes please fuck me." you moaned.

"i want her pussy , been waiting too long." doyoung laid down , letting you climb on top of him. "i really want that pretty mouth on me baby , gonna let me fuck your throat?" jaehyun stroked his cock , slapping it against both your cheeks , your mouth water at the sight of his cock. "so cock drunk already princess , go a head , put it in your mouth." he pressed his tip on your lips , you parted them , taking him into your wet cavern. "oh fuck." he groaned.

doyoung lifted your hips , his tip pressing at your hole. "your pussy is already sucking my cock in." he slowly inched you down on his cock , letting himself drag along your throbbing walls. "your pussy feels like heaven." he moaned , lifting your hips up , slamming you down on his cock making you squeal around jaehyun , allowing him to force his cock even more down your throat , you gagged and gurgled around his cock. "damn princess , you're making such a mess , drooling on my cock like a whore."

you felt jungwoo's finger pressing against your other hole. "you ever had someone here bubs?" he pushed his finger tip inside your puckering hole. "can i?" you hummed around jaehyun's cock. "good girl." he spat on your hole, lubing your hole , before slding his cock in between your ass. "gonna fuck this pretty ass." he slowly pushed his tip in , your eyes widened at the stretch. "so tight." he slowly fucked himself into your ass. "fucking squeezing me."

you were completely full and pliant , letting them use your holes anyway they wanted. "such a fucking whore , letting us -fuck- use you like this." doyoung fucked up into you. "we could always hear you fucking yourself , the way you'd moan our names , thinking we were sleep , coming out the next morning acting all innocent." you could barely moan , jaehyun cock fucking your throat. "gonna let us use you whenever we want for now on , be our own personal cocksleeve?"

your eyes rolled to the back of your head. "or pretty brainless slut , filled up all her holes now she can't think." jaehyun chuckled , he was basically holding you up by your head , fucking your face. "her ass is fucking choking my , cock -shit- gonna fill it with my cum." jungwoo groaned , him and doyoung used your holes , both of them roughly fucking them , your body was so spent , your orgasm slowly creeping up to you.

"gonna cum for us slut , make a fucking mess." jaehyun slapped your tear stained face , your eyes fluttering. "fuck she looks like she's gonna pass out." he pushed your head all the way down , you gagged letting his cum fill your throat , pushing your head off , jerking his cock , the rest of his cum landing on your face. "that's a good cumslut." he slapped your face once more.

"oh fuck , im cumming!" jungwoo panted , chasing his orgasm. "shit!" he groaned , his cum filling up your asshole , he pulled out , his cum dripping out of you , he pushed it back in , slapping your ass. "keep it inside while you cum." doyoung was the last one , wanting to be the one who finished you off. "come on baby , cum for me , so i can fill this pretty pussy with my cum." he growled into your ear.

you were so desperate to cum , you could barely keep your eyes open. "that's it , i feel you about to cum." he rubbed your clit , sending you over the edge. "fuck im cumming , im fucking cumming!" you scream , feeling your orgasm hit you like a bus "shit!" you whole body convulsed. "fuck she squirted." jungwoo groaned , doyoung thrusted up into you , before he came deep into your womb. "take my cum , fuck!" your body fell slack against his chest , you felt his cock softening inside you before he pulled out of you.

"good girl , you took all of us so well." he moved your hair out of your face. "gonna get you cleaned up princess , let us do all the work , just lay there and look pretty." they all go clothed again , letting you rest , jaehyun helping you bathe , while jungwoo changed the sheets , and doyoung made you guys some dinner.

"drink some water." jaehyun held the bottle , letting you drink from it. "th-thank you." your voice was sore. "good girl." after giving you your food , staying with you while you eat , they let you lay down down , your body finally relaxing against the sheets , letting you get some rest , doyoung turned the light off , and you drifted off to sleep.

they all slowly slipped into their own rooms , they forsure were never gonna forget this day.

©️LUVYENI

#nct scenarios #nct fic #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct smut #nct 127 hard hours #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 hard thoughts #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fic #kim doyoung hard hours #kim doyoung smut #kim doyoung x reader #doyoung smut #doyoung hard hours #jungwoo hard hours #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo smut #jungwoo imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun hard thoughts #jaehyun hard hours #jaehyun smut

[ronjunnie]

DOYOUNG FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

SERIES

ONESHOTS

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TIMESTAMPS

7:41 am

9:05 am

#nct 127 #nct #nct 127 doyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung x y/n #kim doyoung x reader #kim dongyoung x reader #kim dongyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung #doyoung x you #nct doyoung x reader #dongyoung #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #doyoung timestamps #nct 127 imagines #kim doyoung imagines #kim doyoung scenarios #kim doyoung timestamps #doyoung fluff #doyoung smut #doyoung angst #kim doyoung fluff #kim doyoung angst #kim doyoung smut #nct imagines #nct timestamps #nct 127 scenarios

[hrts4doie]

SUB!DOYOUNG X F!READER HEADCANONS

warnings: unprotected sex, bondage, sex toys, pegging…..

18+ only, minors do not interact!

—————————————————————————

sub!doyoung who loves sucking on your tits, especially when he’s feeling extra needy. he loves having them in his mouth, kissing and sucking on them with a blissful look on his face. sometimes he’ll come home and climb into your bed, hovering above you with a pleading look in his eyes. you know all too well what your bunny needs, cooing as you card your fingers through his hair, “go ahead, baby.”

sub!doyoung who gets so whiny when you ride him, breathless moans leaving his mouth. “a-ah! please, y/n—fuck!” he’ll whine, tears forming in his eyes from the pleasure. when it gets to be too much, he’ll sob, begging for permission to cum. “please y/n, w-wanna cum,” doyoung will babble, head dizzy and overwhelmed from being inside you.

sub!doyoung who will shyly come up to you when he wants to get fucked, face flushed red. he’ll stall, playing with his fingers or the hem of his shirt before you finally force him to speak. “i want.. ah.. you know..” he’ll mumble, trailing off and avoiding eye contact. he loves when you fuck him with your strap, always so pliant and fucked out afterwards.

sub!doyoung who always wants to touch you, no matter where you are. whether it be the kitchen, living room, or bedroom, he always wants to have his hands on you. his favorite is when he gets to touch your pussy, fingering you and sucking on your clit until you cum.

sub!doyoung who is sometimes a little bratty, purposely riling you up to get a reaction. when this happens, he usually ends up tied up to the bed with tears in his eyes as you rub a vibrator up and down his cock, begging for forgiveness. “m’sorry—ah—i’m sorry, y/n! fuck, m’sorry please,” he’ll beg, squirming around.

sub!doyoung who loves to be marked up, wanting the whole world to know he belongs to you. he loves when you mark his neck specifically, even if it means he’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next week. he’ll ask to mark you in return while he fucks you, releasing inside your cunt with a whine as he sucks on your neck.

—————

2nd post and i had to make it about sub!doyoung again LOL can u tell he drives me crazy

lmk if you have any requests! i love writing about any dynamic and can do all nct units (excluding wish)!! :D

like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!! tysm <3

#sub!doyoung #nct 127 x y/n #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #doyoung x y/n #sub doyoung #doyoung x reader #kim doyoung x reader #kim doyoung x y/n #nct 127 #smut #headcanon #smut headcanons #kim doyoung #nct dojaejung #nct x reader #nct smut #x reader #x y/n #x reader smut

[zh-lele]

Oasis (Preview)

In a hostile environment or in a sequence of unpleasant situations, an oasis provides pleasure.

■Pairing: vampire!Doyoung x club dancer!fem reader x vampire!Johnny

■Genres: supernatural, horror, smut, romance if you want to call it like that (it's not).

■Warnings: mature themes; explicit sexual content, drugs and alcohol involved, guns, violence, death scenes and mentions of it, and some gore scenes. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!

■Preview wordcount: ~2.5k words.

■Estimated wordcount for the full fic: idk I have like 19k words written so far so this gonna be a long one.

Author's note: hey every1 :) I've been working on this fic for sooo long and it's sooo long don't know when I'll finish it it's all planned out I really just gotta finish the last scenes. But I figured that if you all like this preview a bit I could post it in two parts or something like that. I know this preview won't show much, but I don't wanna spoil !!!!! cuz there will be a lot going on and I rlly like this story, and doyoung to me is like the supreme vampire so finally having him to be one in one of my stories--I'm excited. I hope I can do it justice. Anyway, you all know how it goes: if you like this, comment, ask me more about it, ask to be in a taglist, reblog, etc., etc.. I appreciate you, tysm for the love on my other fics !!!

.scene 01: words that will satisfy me

Lightning split the sky as the rain lashed the roof of the old bus, the drops seeping through the leaks, wetting the worn leather of its seats and spreading on the floor. You were lucky that public transportation was running that night and under those conditions, even more so considering that you had to be on time for your show at the casino—you couldn't afford to lose another night of work to torrential rains, even if it meant walking for forty minutes under the water from your house to the luxurious building.

The dirty streets of Seoul were already empty by the time you got off the bus, except for the old man you couldn't escape from even a single night arriving at the casino. While he wasn't inside, spending what was probably his last life savings on alcohol, drugs, and women (like most of the men you saw every night), he was living on the outskirts; under the big billboard of neon lights and on the fine and cold marble of the entrance serving as his refuge, along with a bed made of cardboard and an old, dirty mattress. Yuta kicked him out every night, especially the moment you arrived and he remembered the old man's presence due to the nasty comments he would give you, as you started up the stairs and toward the big golden doors.

Tonight was no different. Yuta left his position at the entrance as fast as he saw you coming and felt the old man open his mouth—although he didn't have a chance to say anything. As if Yuta could guess his intentions, he was in charge of throwing him in the hands of two high-security guards to the street and under that torrential rain; the homeless man's few belongings getting completely drenched, and causing the man to wail as he wandered off in search of a different place to spend the night. Only a series of what you assumed were complaints and curses came out of Yuta's mouth, in his native tongue.

Yuta lit a cigarette and didn't bother to return to his position. A quick wave of his hands was enough to have another man replace him, while he smoked under the cover of the water, resting momentarily from another night enriching his pockets in the largest casino in the city.

He opened his mouth to speak. A cold ran through your whole body at the same time that lightning struck right on the building across the street, highlighting the silhouette of the Japanese above the violent discharge. He squeezed then opened his eyes, already too irritated by all the interruption, to continue:

"Go upstairs. Dry yourself up and put on some other clothes. Doyoung wants to see you."

"But my show starts at two o'clock."

"Just do as I say."

You hurried to walk on the red carpet, passing between round tables and banquettes padded with burgundy velvet. The smell of alcohol mingled with that of fine perfumes and that of the money, scattered on each table among glasses, cards, and chips, and also kept in the pockets and wallets of the rich.

The back pocket of your black imitation of leather pants buzzed, so you reached for an old phone, its broken screen showing a message from Soyeon where she attached a picture of a ladder; the red neon lights of a "V.I.P." sign shone above it. You wondered why she was at the entrance to the third floor—an exclusive place that humans like you and Soyeon rarely frequented. So you quickly typed a message questioning what that photo meant before going downstairs.

The club was located below the casino and just above the parking lot. The stairs were marked with neon green arrows indicating floor -1 if you went down—your designated place of work. It was a very different world from the casino. While above the gold metal-edged bars gleamed in the warm light of huge chandeliers, below the place could barely be defined; cigarette smoke obscured what little vision the red lights dangling from the ceiling provided, and the confines of the club were lost in darkness, making it easy to get lost in that dive for hours.

The floor was slippery from the amount of alcohol that had already been spilled throughout the night, and you had to be careful not to trip or injure yourself on a dropped glass bottle. It was hard to move through the bodies that wouldn't stop dancing and pushing and gasping for breath as the club got more and more crowded. But still, you made it backstage and to the dressing rooms where you and the dancers were getting ready for the shows every night.

"Girl, you need me to do something for you?"

"Please," you begged while looking at the guy who shared the stage with you through the mirror. "Can you get my dress and my boots?"

Without wasting a second, you started working on your makeup. Red and black eyeshadow that accentuated your gaze, and a lipstick that was about to run out after so many nights of shared use—bloody red is what said on the side of its cover.

The boy returned shortly after with your clothes in one hand and a glass of liquor in the other. He lit a cigarette inside the small space while you changed, his eyes following your every move. Only the music coming from the club filled your ears until you opened the door ready to go out and he questioned you.

"Where are you going in such a hurry? There's still five until the show starts."

"Yeah, I know but…" you hesitated on telling him. It wasn't a secret amongst the human workers that you and Doyoung kind of had a thing—they knew you fucked from time to time, but you had no clue why he wanted to see you at that moment.

Doyoung managed everything and everyone at the club and knew your schedule like the palm of his hand. Work had always been his top priority as well, so you knew for sure he wasn't going to make you show up late on stage. Still, you didn't want to raise suspicions about anything, didn't want people to talk too much.

The boy—that was named Ten and was the second nicest person you knew as soon as you started working at the club—raised his brows at you, growing impatient, making gestures with both his hands for you to keep talking.

"Doyoung wants to see me," you finally concluded. "I don't know what he wants, but it'll be quick."

Ten only hummed and reached inside of his platforms, taking out a small blade and putting it in front of your face. His breath, which smelled like mint and whiskey, brushed your face while he talked. "Be careful." And he hid the blade inside one of your boots.

You gave him a nod along with a sympathetic smile and closed the door behind you on your way to Doyoung's office.

A long corridor connected the backstage dressing room to a mezzanine at the other end of the club. Suspended in the air from one side to the other, its tinted glass walls stretched to the roof of the club. Doyoung kept his office lit to a minimum, and the red lights outside it blocked all vision through the glass and into his office. This allowed him to have absolute control of everything that happened in his club, and to give orders without even having to get up from his chair.

You knocked on his door and looked above, at the corner of the corridor, letting the camera focus on your face. The door buzzed, indicating you were good to come inside.

Doyoung was sitting in his green velvet upholstered chair, facing the glass walls. A suit almost as pale as his skin accentuated his defined figure, even in that position. He turned to you, a welcoming smile adorning his face, and extended his left hand, the one not occupied with a glass feeding his tendencies, inviting you to get closer.

He called your name before holding your hand and bringing it to his lips. A soft kiss on your knuckles, which left them stained with a slightly thick red liquid. "I'll be brief since I don't want to delay us in our tasks, but I had to tell you this in person."

He set his glass down on his desk and moved you even closer, positioning yourself between his legs. He looked over your body with his gaze and dared to open the fine, shiny cloth robe that covered it. He caressed the curves of your hip and passed the palms of his hands over the micro tulle that covered your abdomen until he stopped below your breasts.

"You will dance on the third-floor stage tonight, along with Soyeon," he finally said, his clear eyes piercing your dark gaze. "Whatever happens there, you must tell me. Don't forget who you work for."

You swallowed dry. So Soyeon was at the entrance to the third floor because the two of you would be working there that night. Dancing for the vampires. Anxiety quickly took over your body, and you felt your hands and feet start to sweat. You were lucky Doyoung couldn't notice that temperature change, or he would have given you away.

"Won't you be there with the rest of them?"

This was not going according to your plan.

He denied it with his head. His hands began to move again, caressing your back and reaching the edge of your see-through dress. He lifted it, you felt the cold on your skin, and he squeezed both buttcheeks, awakening the lust within you.

He took a breath of air that inflated his chest, causing the emeralds that hung rimmed in gold around his neck to rise and fall. He moved you at his will until you were sitting on top of him, your sex barely covered by a thong that resembled black leather in contact with his bulge, and you had to make an enormous effort not to forget the plan and take him right then and there. Getting rid of Doyoung would be much more difficult than you had imagined.

"Don't forget who you must be loyal to."

.scene 02: this is not a threat

It is important to create eye contact with the audience when you are performing. That was never a problem at the club, with its stage right in front of Doyoung's office. And while you couldn't see him from your place, you knew that he was always watching you from above, so your gaze was directed most of the time towards his tinted windows. He helped your concentration and allowed you to focus on the dance. On the third floor stage, however, you felt quite lost; too many things happened there.

In the club, just a large group of mortals huddled under the smoke and red lights, paying little attention to what was happening onstage. In the vampires' cave, distractions were everywhere. The white lights that illuminated the stage blinded you from time to time but still allowed you to make out the scenes. Vampires sipping drinks at the bars, smoking around a game of poker, passing through heavy velvet curtains, going in and out of small cabins with humans who had a job other than yours. Some came staggering out of there, like drunk on something and wiping their lips, while others just came out arranging their clothes to resume their activities around a table or on the small dance floor.

But despite everything that was distracting, you were forced to make eye contact. You felt a presence, someone's gaze heavy on your figure, hidden in a dark corner of that exclusive area. The lights spun illuminating him for a split second, but it was long enough for his amber eyes to finally find yours. From that moment on, you felt attracted to the man as if you were magnets. You went down the stairs of the stage and walked between the chairs and tables, making some of the vampires who hadn't paid attention to you yet turn to look at you. Not for a second could you lower your gaze from his or focus on anything other than dancing for that man.

He was sitting in the middle of the round table smoking a cigarette, looking a little too relaxed for your liking. His white shirt was slightly ripped, revealing a barbed wire tattoo that stretched from clavicle to clavicle on his chest; below, on his right pectoral, a spider tattoo. Resting the weight of his body on a semi-extended arm holding a cane, looking too vampire-like under your eyes. His tattoos seemed to end on his both hands: a floral engraving on the back that contrasted with the phrase on his fingers: be afraid.

You got on that rounded table on your hands and knees, not caring about whatever game was going on between the rest of the men and the women who sat with him. You wanted to seduce him, that you knew. And he didn't seem to mind, because when a tall, blonde guy got up to protest, this man silenced him with a simple gesture of his hand. You thought it had to be a common thing amongst these vampires—they held so much power they didn't even need to use many words. So you danced the rest of your choreography for him, felt and touched your body as if your hands were his until the music ended and the lights turned on again.

Reality came down to you as if you were descending from the sky at miles per hour, and you landed on the ground in your black platforms after getting off the table. You felt incredibly out of place, yet an incessant throbbing between your legs and this man's gaze on you was sending your mind into a spiral. You had no idea what just had happened.

His deep voice cut through the air in that cave—like lightning from the storm outside the casino. A chill ran down your back for the second time that night when you heard his voice.

"No one tells Doyoung about this."

But he didn't mean it for the rest of the people seated with him—he knew they would remain silent.

He meant it for you.

The question is: who are you going to listen to?

#kim doyoung x reader #johnny suh x reader #nct 127 smut #doyoung smut #johnny smut #nct 127 fanfic #nct fanfic #doyoung x reader #johnny x reader #zh-lele

[starsstuddedsky]

Doyoung as your brother's best friend...

(wc: 1.7k, non idol au, mentions of food, alcohol, reader has a mother/family, i really dont know what this is)

who you were always fond of because he was way nicer to you than your brother ever was growing up (a pretty low bar, but a win is a win)

he graduates before you and you see him only a couple times a year when your brother would hang out with him, which fizzles out and suddenly you realize you haven’t seen him in five years 

you finish college and get a great job offer except it’s a city five hundred miles away from home and you don’t know anyone, until your mother mentions Doyoung moved there a year or so ago and says something like you should reach out

to which you think no thank you but you politely say you’ll see what he’s up to 

and you don’t give it a second thought, you meet a few friendly people at work and try to call your old friends as much as you can but loneliness has a way of seeping into the empty corners of your room and the quietness of 9:56pm on a Tuesday 

so you figure a hinge date or two isn’t the worst idea

hey, guess what’s the worst idea? 

the first man you decide to go on a date with spends the first hour bragging about his job and how he’ll be able to retire by the time he’s 35 and simply does not stop talking about himself

you’re sure you’ve given help me eyes to every person that’s walked past but no one takes pity on you, until you’re looking into a familiar pair of eyes 

Doyoung doesn’t hesitate to stride up to you, saying “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, why haven’t you been looking at your phone?” and “The doctor’s say he won’t make it much longer!” 

it isn’t difficult to follow him out of the café and listen to him throw out fake medical terms until you’re around the corner 

he slows after that and you realize he’s gotten even taller and let his hair grow out a little

before you can tease him about the hair, he asks if you’re busy and when you say no, he drags you to the coin laundry to watch his clothes spin around 

sitting on the plastic chairs and sipping paper cups from the water dispenser, you trade stories, amazed at the Doyoung from your memory and the Doyoung that sits in front of you

he’s changed so much (he spends his free time painting and going to art museums) and not at all (still ducks his head when he’s feeling shy and smiles with his eyes just as much as his lips) 

you try to pretend like you aren’t stealing looks at him. he isn’t nearly as successful.

you walk to his apartment, only a couple blocks away and it’s gotten so late that he insists you spend the night, saying that your mom would kill him if he let you walk alone this late and to just take the couch 

to which you protest, because, honestly, what would his mother say not offering the bed? and he just rolls his eyes and gives you his best pillow 

except he must have really never slept on the couch because it’s actually so uncomfortable that you can’t sleep. when Doyoung gets up for a middle-of-the-night bathroom break, he finds you watching a crime show

despite making fun of you for it, he sits beside you and it’s actually way more comfortable when you’re using his shoulder as a pillow and then it’s suddenly morning and you wake up fully in his arms, meeting his smug smile

he does not waste time making fun of you, saying “what was that about the couch being uncomfortable?” and “are you sure you didn’t just want to sleep with me?” and pretending he wasn’t just as flustered

even though it’s daylight, he still walks you home and you find you don’t mind it at all. in front of your door, neither of you can figure out how to say you want to keep seeing each other, especially since you aren’t sure if it’s in a flirty context or not and what any of that would entail

finally you tell him your apartment has laundry, if he doesn’t want to pay for it and he says somehow he thinks you’re going to cost way more than a laundromat but he’s smiling 

Doyoung slowly becomes a fixture in your life and even when you truly befriend your coworkers and become particularly close with one of the baristas in the coffee shop next to your apartment, he’s always the first person you think of–when you get a commendation at work, when you have another fight with That One Coworker, when you stub your toe. and he tells you about his constant fight with the owner of a dog on his floor that thinks it’s okay to let their dog pee on Doyoung’s doormat, and you hear all about his friends before you finally meet them 

there are countless “almost” moments–telling him about this guy at work who flirts with you more blatantly than Doyoung himself and when you pause after saying you told him you have someone, he doesn’t say anything so you just say it was a lie to get the guy off your back; holding your hand on your birthday (after cooking a five course meal for you) but letting go before you even reach your apartment; staying over at his apartment again and refusing to sleep on the bed but he builds a wall of pillows between you “so you don’t feel uncomfortable”; waiting for the bus after drinking with his friends under a flickering streetlight where you think for sure he’s going to kiss you but he ducks away before you can let the fantasy dip into reality 

you know you have to talk to him about it directly (especially since all of your friends say that he’s as in love with you as you are with him) but every time you try to do it you freeze up and you can’t get the words out 

but when the holidays come around, you go to visit family with him and realize Just How Much you’ve changed around him

you’ve completely forgotten how to be normal around him, how to look at him without hearts in your eyes, but you’ll die if your family asks you what’s going on and you don’t have an answer, so you steel yourself up for a Doyoung-less Christmas 

it goes really well until Day 2 when your mother announces Doyoung and his family will be coming over for dinner. to make matters worse, your brother finally shows up and it becomes very clear 1) he and Doyoung still talk all the time and 2) Doyoung has not mentioned how close he’s become with you 

you try your very best to pull stories out of everyone else, since you can’t seem to mention anything about your life that doesn't include Doyoung, which apparently is true for him, you discover as he tries his best to tell the story about the time he wound up halfway across the city with a dead phone and no way to get back without telling them you were right there with him (ultimately failing since you were the one who ran into a friend who let you into their apartment to charge your phones) 

after dinner your brother and Doyoung disappear and maybe you’re being paranoid but you swear everyone is looking at you

so you go ahead and vanish into your childhood room, thinking about anything except your brother’s best friend who’s become your… (damn you really thought you’d have a word for him that time) 

an hour or so later, your brother knocks at the door and asks to come in (already scary since he’s always just busts in and purposefully leaves the door wide open). he sits down and says he doesn’t care what happens between you and Doyoung but not to hide anything on his account and you’re like okay well there’s nothing to hide and he’s like if my dumbass can pick up on the vibes, there’s something to hide so go figure it out and you’re like wait what did Doyoung say and he rolls his eyes and mutters something like “I am not doing this” and tells you Doyoung is waiting for you outside 

you did not sprint down the steps, no matter what anyone says. it was a controlled pace, one foot per step, hand gripping the railing to keep you upright 

Doyoung waits for you like your brother said, sitting on the porch swing wearing his winter jacket with his hands stuffed into the pockets, and he perks up when you come out the door 

you sit beside him, trying not to lean into him and letting the cold air warm from the tension between you. there’s a couple heartbeats of silence, your breath hanging in the air in front of you before you manage to get the words out. 

“i like you” 

silly words, immature words, not the right words for how you feel, but you can’t quite figure out what those might be. 

“it’s like mixing paint,” he says and you think maybe there really aren’t any right words, but he keeps going. “at first you think ‘wow i used way too much blue and this will never look right’ but you keep mixing it together and even though it isn’t the color you wanted it to be, you’ve found a whole new color and it changes the painting completely but it makes it so much better.” he pauses before admitting, “maybe it isn’t the perfect analogy. my point is, i wasn’t expecting you at all, but you make my life so much better.” and another couple seconds for him to remember he’s got something else to say. “oh, and i like you, too. if it wasn’t obvious."

it’s stupidly like a movie when the snow starts to fall, but you’ve been waiting far too long to kiss him, so you won’t let the feeling that this is a bad hallmark movie stop you

what does stop you is hearing half your family cheering through the window when you scoot closer to him 

(your first kiss happens a couple days later on a secluded hike in the woods) 

(a few years later at the wedding, one of your cousins pulls up footage that can only be described as stalker-like) 

and you never sleep on his crappy couch again (though you do stay over, even when it isn’t late), and he keeps doing laundry in your apartment until his lease is finally up and he moves into a bigger apartment that just so happens to have enough space for you

(oh, and it has in-unit laundry too) 

a/n: i swear i have been writing i just haven't been finishing but i got 2/3 of sending this to bestie before i realized this is a writing format so yeah. idk this is very much my delusional stream of consciousness but tell me im wrong. go ahead. tell me.

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct 127 #nct #nct u #nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fanfic #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #doyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung x reader #kim doyoung x reader #doyoung fluff

[hannie-dul-set]

fuck you, aphrodite! [3].

SYNOPSIS. ready, set— let the love games begin! the cupid industry is a competitive business. donghyuck, jeno, and johnny know that very well. right on the cusp of their sweet, sweet promotion (and finally graduating from petty match-making and making sure their assignments finally fucking hook up), the three find themselves in a three-way battle because for their last assignment, the love lottery just had to give them the same person to manipulate into falling in love with their respective assignments— you.

PAIRINGS. kim doyoung, na jaemin, jung jaehyun x fem! reader.TAGS. socmed! au, cupid! au, college! au, org! au, another reverse harem of weird/asshole/loser men! the hannie-dul-set holy trinity of leading men! rom-com, explicit language and jokes, mentions of violence and hazing.

NOTE. there's supposed to be a written bit at the end but i decided to throw it into the next part becaise i was alr abt to hit to photo limit HAHAHAHHA i got too carried away with the jaemin moments 💔💔💔

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

TAGLIST. @grassbutneo @anothershorthuman @n0tprettybutt1red @totatite @ebebesstuff

fuck you, aphrodite! © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#nct x reader #kim doyoung x reader #na jaemin x reader #jung jaehyun x reader #doyoung x reader #jaemin x reader #jaehyun x reader #nct imagines #nct social media au #nct socmed au #nct texts #doyoung texts #jaemin texts #jaehyun texts

[channoticedmeuwu]

HE TOOK AND TOOK AND TOOK AND ONLY GAVE

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°. OCCASIONALLY

◠ ☆ 🐇🐇🐇・⁠・⁠・

〰 彡 ☆ loving him is painful

BUT YOU NEVER MINDED CAUSE HE

NEEDS WHAT HE TOOK FROM YOU

based on LOVEFOOL by @kdyism

#moodboard #doyoung #nct doyoung x reader #nct doyoung #doyoung moodboard #doyoung messy layouts #doyoung messy moodboard #doyoung messy icons #nct messy icons #nct moodboard #nct 127 messy moodboard #nct 127 messy icons #nct 127 moodboard #nct 127 #nct #nct 127 doyoung #nct donghyuck #kim doyoung x reader #doyoung x reader #doyoung x you