Kim Doyoung - Tumblr Posts

comparison destroys personality

Sugar and Fluff (Volume 2)

Here’s a follow-up to the first installment of this mini series, which features Johnny and Essie struggling with their feelings for each other. 

There’s also the special participation of NCT 127′s resident bunny, Kim Doyoung! What is he up to there?

He ain’t dancing to Elevator (127F) with Johnny, that’s for sure! Read on, and let me know what you think! 

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

–––

POV: 3rd person since two of these are some of my recent writing during this quarantine period. The last one, however, was written last year.

Word count: 2,300 + words 

–––

I. Inspired by an Instagram post that speculated Doyoung is dating someone, and I'm sorry I couldn't remember the exact post

It didn’t take long for Essie to figure out that Doyoung was dating someone.

Not that she liked him to that extent, but she felt that he had a lighter aura around him. He was usually sulky with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at everything with disdain. Although once you get to know him, he is far from what he shows in public.

This time though, he smiled and laughed more. He wasn’t shy to show off his gummy smile, which was one of the things his fans love about him.

“Yeah, Essie. I am seeing someone,” he told her while they waited for Johnny to pick up their orders at Starbucks. It has become a ritual for the three friends to hang out at the famous coffee shop after their schedules. Essie feigned shock by mouthing an ‘O’ and placing a hand over the edge of her lips. “Really now,” she replied, her eyes scanning for their friend still waiting on the counter.  

“Yeah, believe it or not. I never thought I’d end up dating,” Doyoung chuckled, playing with the hem of his sleeves. He wore an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of slim-fitting jeans, looking like every girl’s boyfriend. “Congratulations, dude,” she shook his hand, which he took gratuitously. “Thank you, Ms. Park, I hope you do end up dating someone soon,” he replied, tightening his hold on her hand.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Kim Dongyoung?” She raised an eyebrow at him before retracting her hand from his grip.

It was good timing for Johnny to enter the scene with their drinks. “One hot green tea for you,” he handed Doyoung his beverage, “and a sickeningly sweet White Chocolate Mocha for this girl,” he rolled his eyes at Essie who stuck her tongue out in response before grabbing the drink from him. “Okay then, we’ve got all our drinks. How’s everyone doing?” The Korean-American glanced at them both before slurping on his iced Americano noisily.

“He told me he’s seeing someone,” the only girl in the table said, pointing her finger at Doyoung. “Oh, you only told her now, dude?” Johnny’s eyes widened at her statement. “Yeah, it’s not as if I’ve told everyone of this already,” the younger guy mumbled, blowing off the steam that came from his cup.

“Who else knows of this status change, Doyoung?” Essie asked, wrapping a tissue around her drink before sipping on it. “Well, all the band members and you.” He sighed in relief when there was no more steam coming from his drink.

“Okay then…but why do you think I should date someone soon?” She brought back the question that he hoped she would forget.

“You told her that?” Johnny acted as the audience to their conversation, his over-the-top reactions eliciting some looks from other tables.

“I mean, you’re a great girl, you get along well with guys, and I’m sure one of us probably has a crush on you,” Doyoung’s response caught the two off guard. Essie’s face flushed to the point that she had to sip on her drink to cool her down. Johnny, on the other hand, coughed into his drink and looked away from his tablemates.

“Dude, is that for real? One of you likes me that way?” The girl almost choked on her question after she recovered from her momentary shame.

“Yeah, that’s what I think. One of us likes you a lot. As in. I can feel it…” Doyoung glanced at his hyung carefully, who buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. “Oh, stop it Kim Dongyoung!” Johnny whined, making his friends laugh.

Of course, Doyoung knows that Johnny likes Essie. He was the first to know of his feelings toward the girl, and the more the three of them hung out, he noticed how sweeter and kinder he is to her (than to him).

That does not mean that he dated someone so he could get ahead of the two, who he thought were moments away from admitting to each other. Unfortunately, it took them weeks before they got together. He dated because he felt that this girl that he met was perfect for him, and the girl felt the same. He happened to be in a good place at a good time. He wished that his friends would get together soon because he might not take the tension they sometimes had.

Essie, during this time, was still unsure of her feelings for Johnny. They became close over a short period and sometimes, she feared that they could end their friendship in the same way. She didn’t want to ruin their dynamic since she thought that they were doing fine as it is. Although she felt tempted to touch or kiss him in return, she had to fight it because she didn’t want history to repeat itself. Some of the guys that she liked disappeared because she would reciprocate their sweet gestures, when in fact, they didn’t like it. That was a confusing period in her life, which she didn’t want to bring back.

Johnny is both similar and dissimilar to Essie. They are similar in the sense that they didn’t want to ruin their friendship. They are dissimilar because he is sure of his feelings for her while she is still contemplating on it. He wasn’t shy to show how affectionate he can be – he held her hand, wiped away excess food or smudged lipstick from her face, hugged her often, and even kissed her on the forehead or cheek. He wanted her to pick up on his actions, hoping that she would feel the same as him. There were instances that he saw (or felt) it, but most of the time he saw her struggling. He feared that struggle might lead to the termination of their friendship, which was one of the things he feared in life. He’s that whipped for her, man.

As the three regained their momentum and talked about their day, their eyes told of different stories. Doyoung was observant as always, still betting on the possibility they’ll confess to each other before the month ends (and hoping to win against Haechan and Taeil). Essie looked at each guy dreamily, wondering how the former was with his girlfriend and how Johnny will be with his future partner. Johnny’s honey eyes were focused on Essie, who he caught looking at him longingly. When he winked at her, she slapped his arm and flipped him the bird. Their tablemate laughed at their interaction, his mind thinking of ways on how he can get the two to admit their feelings sooner.

\\\

II. Inspired by Johnny's claim on NNN that he’s good at giving massages

“I’m so tired,” Essie grumbled one night after having dinner with Johnny. The two housemates hung out at the couch, still thinking on how to cap off the week. Tomorrow was a Saturday, which meant they could sleep in as long as they wanted. “Do you want to rest now?” Johnny asked, looking up briefly from his phone. The girl shook her head and buried herself deeper into the couch. “My back hurts since Wednesday. I have one of those things you sit on to help with your back, but I don’t think it’s helping at all,” she said, massaging the part of her back that she could reach with one hand.

“Oh, would you like a massage?” His eyes lightened up at his suggestion as he almost jumped on her part of the couch. “I’m great at giving massages,” he bragged, “and if you’re not convinced, you can ask Eomma about it.”

Essie raised an eyebrow at him. “You want me to text your mom about your massage skills? Hey, I trust you enough to give me a good one. So, get into it,” she grabbed his phone to place it on the coffee table and stuck her tongue at him.

“But I suggest you take a shower first, so after I give you a massage, you’ll have a good night’s sleep.” His advice was taken well by his subject, who now stood up to retrieve her towel from her bedroom. “And before I forget, do you have any essential oil you prefer?”

“Lavender, please. I want to sleep well after this hellish week. Thank you,” With that, Essie disappeared into the bathroom to wash away some of her stresses.

\\\

She returned to the sofa in her pajamas while Johnny changed into a muscle shirt and boxer shorts. “Ready for your massage, madame?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, John! Please don’t give me any ideas!” She retorted, her face flushing with the wink he just gave her. “But yes, I am ready for my massage, monsieur.” She positioned herself on the sofa with her back facing him.

“Do you mind if I…” His hands slid over the edge of her pajama top, and she gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay, baby, if that’s what you say,” he mumbled as he raised her shirt just below her bust line.

“Thank you for offering to do this, Johnny,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow beneath her.

“Anything for my cute but grumpy housemate,” he said cheerily before coating his hands with essential oil. “Get ready to experience my magic.”

\\\

After massaging her back for thirty minutes, Essie fell asleep. Johnny sensed it when he heard her softly snoring and caught her with her mouth a bit open. “A few minutes from now, she’s going to drool on that pillow,” he said softly before snickering.

“My princess, I’ll just be here on the other couch and watch over you,” he continued in the same tone before plopping carelessly on the seat across hers.

“Okay, thanks. Love you,” she mumbled, burying her face deeper into the pillow.

He tried his best to contain his laughter (and giddiness with what he heard) by biting his lip. “Love you too,” he replied loud enough for her to hear. When he didn’t hear anything else other than her soft snoring, he took out his phone and opened his Notes app to type out his thoughts.

I can’t help but fall in love with her more. I never know what to expect from her, and it makes life interesting. I hope she feels the same way, or else I don’t know what to do with myself.

\\\

III. Inspired by his stint in Lipstick Prince

“Can I do your makeup, Essie?” Johnny’s question startled the girl, who just finished putting on her primer.

The six-footer barged into her room as she was getting dressed. Good thing she wore a bathrobe – she was usually naked or in her underwear when she did her makeup.

“Come again?” She raised an unmade eyebrow at him, hoping she wasn’t hearing things. “I want to do your makeup!” His voice sounded girlish, and he also did a cute pose to convince her further.

“What for? Do you want to film a challenge with my face?” Essie sounded annoyed at the thought of being used for his videos.

“No, it’s not that! But maybe someday,” he coughed over that last part, “but now, I just want to. I feel like doing someone’s face.”

“Why not do it on your face then?” The girl was feeling snappy now as she searched for her brow pen in a pink cup.

“But I don’t have that much makeup, baby. Please, let me do your face!” He whined. She shot him a glare, which he replied by kneeling in front of her. “I am confident that you’ll like what I’ll do.”

“Is that so? Fine, let’s get it.” She twirled her chair in front of him and even spread her arms to show her compliance.

He rubbed his hands excitedly as he approached her. “But first, where are we going?”

“I’m going to have some tea time with my friends,” she deadpanned. “I’m wearing that dress,” she pointed at a forest green dress with a delicate flower print, “and those shoes.”

Johnny gasped when she pointed at the pair of black velvet ankle boots beside her hamper. “Very Stevie Nicks in the fall, baby. I love it!” He clapped his hands together in excitement and looked at the items on her dresser. “So, should I start now?”

“Yeah, you should. I only have,” Essie glanced at her watch, “45 minutes left before I need to get going. So please, do my face now.” She patted her cheeks for emphasis, and he gave her a salute before he got busy pulling out her drawers for makeup to use.

\\\

Essie was impressed with his work. Sure, he was no pro, and she helped him out a bit, but he did a great job with her eyeliner.

“You know I suck doing my eyes,” she said, admiring the thick cat eyeliner he created. “But you made me look like I’ve got my shit together. Merci beaucoup!”

He laughed at her comment as he observed his work again. They decided to do dramatic eyes with a minimal lip, as well as a dewy but flawless base.

“Thank you too that you trusted me to do your face today, baby,” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “I did 75% of the job anyway,” she muttered, making the guy huff in front of the mirror.

“But it’s the thought that counts! At least I can do makeup for you…”

“Or for any girl, really. I’m not the only one you can do this too, you know.”

“But I want it to be only you.”

The two stared at each other in the mirror, Johnny’s arms still wrapped around her.

“I’m not your doll, John. And don’t even say that I look like one.”

He sighed in defeat and let go of her. “Fine. But my sentiments remain the same.”

She was unsure of how to continue this conversation further, so she checked her phone on the table. “Okay, I have 10 minutes left to get dressed, so Johnny, please step out of the room now.” She shooed him with her hand, which he rolled his eyes at.

“How are you getting there?”

“I’m taking Uber or Lyft, whichever’s cheaper.”

“Let me drive you there. Please?” This time, he didn’t have to use a cutesy voice to persuade her.

“Okay, that’s one offer I won’t resist,” she smiled briefly before it was replaced with a scowl a second later. “Now, please let me get dressed.”

–––

FIN

Jeno takes care of the reader while she/he’s sick

Lyric prank with Winwin, Mark and Yuta

{nct!moodboard}  ❝  happy birthday bunny ❞

HEPL ME FIND A FIC!!!

hi guyss, i know people don't know me at all, i don't have any followers or what so ever as I'm always a reader here..

but please I'm BEGGING you guys to help me find a taeyong's fic. I read it around 2 years ago.. i think...? 🥴

the plot is, taeyong is in mafia or a gang and he's in a mission. then they got ambushed or something that the other members had to flee first. taeyong's got hurt while fleeing and ended up at y/n's house.

then she treated him ( if I'm not mistaken she's a nurse) and like he fall for her, she fall for him, and then there's smutty scene... 👀 then if one of the member (as far as i remember doyoung) called him and say the gang needs him and he left y/n for few days then he come back and reveal the truth to y/n..

then taeyong want to get married with her and give up his title as the leader of mafia/gang. and then i don't really remember what happened but at the end taeyong died because he drank poison that was meant for y/n.. 😢

pleasee help me find itt, i cried for DAYS after reading this.. I'm DESPERATE!!!

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff 

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + “you can rely on me, you know.” from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that’s what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of. 

Keep reading

F.U.C.K

pairing: enemies to lovers! doyoung x fem! reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 9.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, oral (female receiving), public sex, sex under the influence, praise kink, breathplay, groping, dirty talk, doyoung lifts the reader at some point

summary: “If there was one person you’d imagine taking as a plus one to your cousin’s wedding, it definitely wouldn’t be Doyoung - your definition of a sour know-it-all in flesh and bones. Blame it on your friends that are never there when you need them, or your annoying curiosity for his cold demeanor, but there he is, downing expensive champagne with you.

One glass and you can still stand him.

Two glasses and he’s not so bad after all.

Three glasses and he’s in your bed.

Does the boy drive you mad or are you mad about the boy?”

“This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had in the one year we’ve worked together. I don’t think you're smooth enough to convince me to sleep with you. Besides, didn’t you say you’d never sleep with me like, ten minutes ago?”

“That was different. Now I have something to prove.”

“Which is?”

“That you still find me attractive enough to sleep with me.”

“Please”, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself. In fact, I bet you can’t turn me on even if you tried.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup. You can try. Right now.”

Doyoung goes silent in thought for a couple of seconds, looking more determined than ever when he speaks again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes”, you answer immediately, gulping dryly at the thought of your coworker’s hands on you.

“Okay.”

a/n: This is my extremely late submission to @slightlymore 's Doyoung collab "mad about the boy" <33

general taglist: @naomis-sins , @jjaeyoonoh, @infnteen , @babyksworld, @kaja2016

“What do you mean you only have a room with a double bed?”

Your fingers threaten to rip your hair out with how tight your grip is on your locks, trying your hardest to explain to the young receptionist that you’ve explicitly requested a double room with separate beds. You must look so miserable, huffing and puffing in the lobby of this beautiful summer resort that your cousin booked for her wedding. Stoic and bored, your plus one waits for you to get your room card already, toying with a plastic spider plant next to your luggage in the meantime. As if the whole thing doesn’t bother him in the slightest. As if he doesn’t hate you just as much as you do.

You met Doyoung at the high school you work at. He’s a Physics professor while you teach Math, and for the rest of the teaching faculty this was enough of a reason to convince you to go on a date with each other. “It’s meant to be!”, they’d tell you during break time, urging you to go up to him and ask for his number. Your mouth would gape in shock as they’d recount stories of how fun he was at their birthday party, or how helpful he was in their time of need. A new student would come up to you every week, handing you a hand-written love letter with trembling hands, and ask you to pass it on to their favorite Physics teacher.

What was so great about the guy anyway?

He’s handsome, sure, long limbs and royal stature making him stand out in the crowd. His rich academic career and leading abilities demanded respect from his colleagues, while his youthful face made him approachable to the students. If you wanted something to be done and executed well, you’d leave it up to Mr. Kim. But why should all of this matter to you when the guy hates your guts from the moment he stepped foot in this goddamned school?

You can only conclude he does, with the way he avoids you like the plague. Parent-teacher meetings, field trips, school dance chaperone duties - he’d change and bend the schedule so that he ensures he’s in the same room as you for the least amount of time possible. Your wounded pride combined with his cold demeanor was enough for your silent hatred towards Doyoung to slowly boil in your heart.

Your third cousin’s wedding invitation got shipped to your house on a cold winter night. The ceremony would take place on an island three months from now, while the accommodation and plane tickets would be covered by the couple. She actually used to teach at the same school as you, something that brought the two of you closer, and while you love her to bits you also want to block her on Facebook so, so badly. You can only handle so many posts of her perfect dog and her perfect house and her rich husband that flies her out to Bali every summer before you lose your mind.

When you opened up the envelope, a black tear full of your mascara soiled the pretty handwriting. You were finishing up a bottle of wine, mourning the end of your latest relationship - a personal trainer who convinced you to sign up to his stupid gym and couldn’t make you orgasm even if he had a gun pointed to the back of his head. “Fuck you!”, you screamed at the lifeless piece of cardboard as you drunkenly circle that you will bring a plus one, and he will be much more fun and interesting and hot than the all-purpose flour of a man your cousin’s getting married to.

You only got reminded of your drunken mistake a week before the wedding, when your cousin called you to confirm you’d still make it to the venue with your company. Stressed and confused you said yes, as you’d rather die than admit that it was all due to an unwanted gym membership and a head full of alcohol. Plus, you really wanted to be there on her special day. It wasn’t like you couldn’t find one person to bring along, right?

Wrong. You were stuck on your phone for an entire day, your ear burning from the overuse and the heat of the consecutive rejections from your friends and family. A birthday party, a football game, a baby shower - they were all seemingly more important than a week’s notice destination wedding, each apology pushing you deeper and deeper in your quicksand of desperation.

You moaned about it to one of your teacher friends and fellow wedding invitee that Monday at the break room. You’d all met when your cousin still used to work at the school.

“I’m really sorry y/n. I’d come with you but I’m bringing my husband along”, she cooed apologetically, rubbing your loneliness even harder all over your face. “Why don’t you ask someone from here?”

“No one’s available this weekend”, you sighed out, pointing at the people in the room one by one. “She has a kid, he has vacation leave, her dog is sick, his wife would say no and -“

“I’m free.”

Your finger wavered awkwardly, pointing at the person whose name didn’t even have the chance to leave your lips. Doyoung didn’t move his head in your direction, even though he was addressing you, his hand still robotically grading a student’s test with a red ballpoint pen.

A sharp pain numbed your side as your friend nudged you excitedly, her face stretching out in a suggestive smile.

“See? Mr. Kim will take you! It’s about time you two get to know each other better”

“Oh no you don’t have to!”, you reassured him with a voice two octaves higher in pitch, “I’m sure I’ll find someone -“

“It’s fine”, he interrupted, removing his glasses and finally looking at you. This was one of the very few times his eyes fell on you, and you know this because the same chills run through your spine every time they do, “Think of it as returning the favor for that one week you substituted me when I was sick.”

Now that sounds more like him, calling it even. Not wanting to be indebted to someone he dislikes made sense to you, but spending an entire weekend with them to do so is still a bit much. You opened your mouth to argue back some more, when your friend managed to speak up before you did.

“Great, it’s decided then! As always, Mr. Kim is the man to step up when someone is in need”, she sang and Doyoung flashed his gummy smile at her, the sight so foreign to you that you had to blink twice to make sure you weren’t hallucinating from a caffeine overdose.

The bell rang and with it he got up on his feet, collecting the rest of the papers to be graded and making his way over to your desk. He looked like an Italian supermodel with his expensive slacks and poise in his walk, and when he gave you a small piece of paper with his number written in bright red ink on it, your friend almost passed out in sheer thrill.

“Text me the details, I’ll come to pick you up after work on Friday”

And that he did, carrying your overfilled suitcase with impressive ease all the way to the airport. The ride there was just as awkward as you imagined it to be, with the two of you switching the other’s desired radio station back and forth. It was insufferable just how stubborn he could be, and with every minute of silence you got from him the more it became clear to you that bringing him along was a terrible idea. The plane ride was just as boring. Even his socks annoyed you, grey and lifeless and something your grandpa would wear. Come to think of it, your grandpa would have made a more entertaining plus one than Mr. Downyoung.

Defeatedly, you take the room key from the receptionist and call for Doyoung to follow you to the fourth floor. He refuses to let you carry your luggage to the elevator, making the rest of the hotel staff coo at what they probably thought was a couple starting their summer vacation.

As soon as the mechanical door slides closed you sigh in frustration, rubbing your temples to alleviate some of the tension in your body. You wish you could just travel through time, fast forward the whole three painful days to come until you’re lying comfortably on your bed again.

“It’s impressive, really”, Doyoung deadpans just as you thought you might’ve actually forgotten what his voice sounds like, “You’re a math teacher and you can’t do the simple task of booking the right room.”

“I told you”, you groan, exasperated, “I asked them for twin beds.”

“Well did you call to check again yesterday?”

“No? Why would I bother the couple for something so trivial?”

“Trivial”, he repeats lowly as he stares at the floor buttons glow one by one, the elevator music taunting him. “I’ll sleep on the couch”, he states after a second of silence and follows you down the hallway.

The room was really nice, you admit, decorated modernly and with a beautiful sea view from the big balcony. But there was no couch. Only a luggage rack and an armchair, both too small and uncomfortable for either of you to sleep on. The bed on the other hand was long, perfect for Doyoung’s height but not particularly wide, forcing the accommodated couples to get closer for a couple of nights. You groan at the uncomfortable realization, and slowly start to unpack.

“The wedding rehearsal starts in half an hour”, you remind him as you unzip your suitcase, flipping it open, “we should start getting ready”. He lets out a hum of acknowledgment, and hangs a nicely tailored cobalt blue suit in the available closet space before he grabs another outfit and locks himself in the bathroom. You take this as a chance to quickly change in the bedroom, opting for a light dress that fits the hot climate of the island. You were freshening up your makeup when you hear the lock click open, and then your jaw drops.

You’ve never seen Doyoung look like this in your one year working with him. He’s wearing a patterned shirt, the coral reds of the flowers on it bringing out his porcelain skin beautifully. It is slightly unbuttoned at the top, letting sharp collarbones and a couple of stray hairs peek out, and your imagination takes liberty in heading even more south. You just can’t believe Mr. Kim hid such thighs in those grandpa slacks, a comfortable pair of shorts melting over them now instead.

“What is it?”

His voice jolts you out of your dream zone and your face burns from getting caught. His calculating eyes stare back at you, and your mini dress suddenly makes you feel naked.

“Nothing, you just look- different.”

“Bad different?”

“No no!”, you exclaim, pulling up some more fabric over your decolletage. “I’m just so used to seeing you in those boring black and grey sweaters”

“Ouch. You’re not runway ready either”

“Ugh- You look good!”, you blurt out frustratingly and then yelp, cringing at your slip up. “I just wanted to give you a compliment, damn. Can we go to the main hall now?”

Doyoung thanks you under his breath, muttering something about the color of your dress and reminding you to take the room card with you before you head out.

The wedding hall was absolutely beautiful. Tulle decorations welcomed the guests right off the gate, evening light shone beautifully through the windows. People were bundled together in small social circles, and the foreign faces made you stick even closer to Doyoung’s side. You notice that he’s wearing one of those sweet-smelling body sprays, and the scent is so surprising for him that it excites you.

A female shriek makes you fall with your ass back to reality, and you’re suddenly engulfed in a tight embrace. When you realize it’s your cousin, in a white simple dress that resembles a wedding gown, you relax into her arms, glad to have actually made it.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re here!”, she exclaims in genuine joy, and before you manage to take a breath she already moves onto her next victim.

Doyoung freezes in the hug, not used to your cousin’s affectionate nature and trying his hardest to at least pat her back in the confinement.

“And you brought your boyfriend with you! Oh, he’s so handsome! Are you guys thinking about taking the big step? Y/n, you better squeeze your way forward during the bouquet toss-“

“He’s my friend!”, you interrupt her, your heart pounding from the series of inappropriate questions. Doyoung snickers at the word ‘friend’ but you ignore him, focusing solely on your cousin once again. “He’s my coworker, actually. Doyoung’s a Physics teacher.”

“Ohh, I see. You say physics but I see a lot of chemistry between you two~”, she lilts suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows in the process. “Wait- is that Mr. Kim? The new, hot, young teacher that you told me all about?”

Fuck, you forgot about that. A couple of months after your cousin moved schools she’d suggested you go out for a drink or two to catch up. Things were still new with Doyoung and your first impressions were quite good, especially considering his looks. You may have gotten a little drunk that night and spilled way more than you should’ve.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“The Physics teacher, yes! My replacement! You said how he’s all serious and proper and probably nasty in be-“

“Y/n! Mr. Kim!”

The sound of your coworker’s voice sounds like honey to your ears as it interrupts the embarrassing conversation, and you use up the extra time it takes for her and her husband to greet the bride to cool yourself down. You still haven’t checked up on Doyoung, you don’t dare to look at him, and you can only hope he somehow didn’t finish the rest of that sentence in his head.

“I was just chatting up with my cousin’s plus one over here, so tell me- is it true that they came as friends? I don’t buy it.”

“If anything there’s always a lovers’ quarrel between the two.”

“I work better in more organized environments”, Doyoung butts in. You can’t keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

“And I work better with people who actually take the time to talk to me. You know, the bare minimum.”

“Oh come on y/n”, your coworker nags as she stands between the two of you, looping each hand through one of your elbows, “didn’t you say the other day that he was frustratingly fuckable?”

“You must’ve misheard me”, you murmur from her left side, “I probably said he is irresistibly punchable.”

“And you, Mr. Kim. Don’t pretend like you didn’t ask me if y/n was single on your first week at the school.”

Your head snaps at the speed of light, eyes studying the man who hardly wobbles on his two feet under the weight of the accusation. Why on earth would he ask if you were single? Why would someone who barely handles being in the same room as you even care about that? The signals were mixed, swirling with each other inside your head and you have to order your heart to stop beating so loudly before someone hears.

“Leave the kids alone”, the husband sighs, just a little more exhausted from the conversation than you, “don’t mingle in their personal business”

“We’re just happy they’re spending some quality time together”, your cousin says, and you wonder which part of the silent airplane trip or elevator argument would even qualify as that, “How about you all take your designated seats now?”

You shuffle with Doyoung through the row of wooden chairs, searching for your names in the printed papers that lay over each of them. You don’t comment on the previous conversation, at least not until you’re seated, not sure which one of you will be more flustered at the mention of what was said.

“So we’re friends, huh?”

“You’re the one who offered to come with me to this damn wedding. Don’t act as if I dragged you here.”

“I just saw someone needing my help and I-“

“I’m not your damsel in distress.”

Your icy tone makes him flinch and he loosens one more button of his shirt, in need of more air. The exposure of his skin makes the atmosphere feel stuffy, and it’s easier to blame it on the humid climate of the island than the indisputable sexual attraction you have towards him. Why did his thighs have to look so damn good in the middle of an argument?

He’s about to say something back when the bride-to-be slowly starts walking down the aisle. Everyone is in their casual clothing, someone’s unruly child cries in the background. The wedding planners are running around in pure anxiety to get everything right, yet the sight is still undeniably beautiful. You notice your aunt tearing up in the background, and you cannot blame her. Your cousin is absolutely glowing even in her simple slip dress, smile beaming as she locks eyes with her fiancé. There’s a clear moment of realization in their eyes, like the fact that they’re about to start a new chapter in their life finally kicked in.

You steal a quick glance at Doyoung, curious of his reaction. He’s probably thinking of how little they’ll last. How marriage is a stupid little social construct. How no woman could ever be a match for a great brain like-

“Doyoung, are you crying?”

Your date jumps at the sudden interrogating question, quickly rubbing the wet corners of his eyes with the thin fabric covering his shoulders.

“It’s a beautiful moment”, he sniffles, and clears his throat after his voice cracks a little. You still stare at him incredulously. “What? Are you that shocked that I have a heart?”

“Kinda.”

The morning light kisses your eyelashes through the window, forcing them to part. The first sound that your ears pick up is that of running water, nicely mixed with the birds’ song coming through the window. Checking your phone, you realize you overslept, with the wedding being only a couple of hours away. You’re lying right in the middle of the double bed, your roommate already awake and taking a morning shower, apparently.

Last night’s events flash before your eyes like a film strip. Remnants of embarrassment from having to ask for three extra pillows from the reception desk warm up your cheeks. Then the both of you, two fully grown adults, went up to your room to line them up in one straight pillowy border that separated the double bed evenly. Your blood boils at the memory of Doyoung telling you, a math teacher, that you weren’t dividing the mattress into two even halves. “I wish I could split you into two even halves”, was the last thing you remember murmuring before falling asleep. Curious, you look around for the missing pillows, noticing they’re scattered on the floor, and that is when the bathroom doorknob turns.

The first thing you notice is Doyoung’s naked torso, toned abs and tiny waist triggering your eyes to close. You feel him move towards the center of the room, and when he turns around to look for something in the closet you squint your right eye open to steal a peek. His hair is damp, waterdrops falling from the edge of his locks and dancing over his shoulder blades. You follow one as it travels down from his broad shoulders to the deep line of his spine, landing on the towel that hangs lowly from his hipbones. He bends over then, showing off a nice outline of his ass, and you are so invested in the view that you barely manage to go back to feigning to being asleep when he walks towards you.

You feel the bed dip next to you, and a little droplet of water falls on your cheek. His chuckle almost startles you as you fake deep, steady breaths.

“You know, I never pictured you to be a cuddler.”

Pretending not to hear him, you keep your eyes shut tight, yet you can’t stop the blood from accumulating on your face.

“As soon as you fell asleep you threw all the pillows to the floor and grabbed on my waist like a koala. It was cute.”

Cute.

The urge to scream and hide and ask about the details of your embarrassing actions was overwhelming. You can feel his hot breath as he examines your face closer, begging your racing heart to calm down when he chuckles again. A small yelp leaves your lips when you feel a towel thrown at your body, convinced that it is the same one you wished would magically slip off of Doyoung’s hips a minute ago. Opening your eyes, you see his lower body covered still, and yours veiled with a clean hotel robe.

“Stop playing dead, you’re a terrible actress. You should go get a shower now if you don’t want us to miss the wedding.”

You swirl the champagne around in your glass, staring at the bubbles that float to the top until they burst one by one.

The ceremony went as smoothly as the rehearsal, with the sky staying bright and the bride looking brighter. Nighttime came already, and everyone had now settled down for the reception, gathering around their designated tables. Your eyes wander away from your drink for a while, focusing on Doyoung’s lithe fingers instead. They toy with a small baby’s breath from the bundle of flowers you caught earlier during the bouquet toss: your cousin couldn’t have aimed at the top of your head better even if she was a javelin throw champion.

The mere sound of his breathing next to you annoys you at this point. By the end of the night, there wasn’t a single guest at this damn wedding that didn’t gush over your date. Why the hell did he act so completely different when he was around you? What kind of sick satisfaction did he get for being an ass?

“Are you ready to address your little problem?”

You feel the little hairs on the nape of your neck rise up as his low voice grazes your ears.

“What problem?”

“Your little staring problem. Staring at me to be exact.”

Instantaneously, you rip your gaze away from his hands, glaring at the glass in front of you instead as if it was the most interesting thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

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

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to catch me naked this morning.”

“Excuse me?”, you shriek before lowering your voice after collecting a few worried stares from the people at your table, “I didn’t ‘try to catch’ you. You got out of that bathroom barely naked on your own!”

“Oh?”, he feigns surprise, his lips forming into a smirk that you weren’t sure whether you wanted to kiss or punch off his face, “I thought you were asleep?”

“I was trying to save us both from the embarrassment”, you mutter under your breath, placing the back of your palms on your cheeks to force your face to cool down.

“In my defense, I didn’t know you’d wake up anytime soon. You were snoring really loudly.”

“So while I was sleeping I snored, threw the pillows off the bed, and cuddled you”, you groan, exasperated. A numb headache was moving slowly but steadily from the inside of your brain outwards, and you try to shut it out by pouring yourself another glass of champagne. “Great. Anything else?”

“Stop drinking so much”, Doyoung scolds you, grabbing the bottle out of your grasp just as you manage to fill your glass to the rim.

“Doyoung. I had at least ten people today ask me when I’m getting married when I don’t even have a boyfriend, and now I’m stuck in this lame wedding reception with a person who hates my guts. I am going to drink. Now if you pulled that stick out of your ass and had a glass yourself maybe we’d even manage to have some fun instead of subjecting me to that nonstop nagging of yours.”

“You tried to kiss me.”

“What?”

“Last night, in your sleep. You tried to kiss me.”

Frustrated with the situation you found yourself in and completely embarrassed, you have no other choice but to take a brave sip of the champagne you just served, emptying half a glass.

“Guess I’m doing charity while sleeping. If you’d experienced the loving touch of a woman maybe you wouldn’t be such a dick.”

“When your friend said that you were wild in bed I didn’t think that practically attacking me in my sleep was what she meant.”, he fired back, ignoring your insult.

“Did she tell you that before or after you asked her if I was single?”

“Like I would ever sleep with you. You’re insufferable.”

“Please. You’d probably cry after I was done.”

Doyoung scoffs and grabs the champagne bottle again, this time filling a glass for himself. He downs the drink in one go, and the burning in his throat fires a new passion inside him.

“Fine. You want us to have fun? Let’s play a game then.”

“A game?”

“Yes”, he replies, determined, and fills both of your glasses again. “We’ll ask each other questions. It can be anything, but we’ll answer genuinely. If you don’t want to answer, you drink. Got it?”

“Fine, but I’ll go first.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you offer to come with me to this wedding? And I want a real answer.”

“Do you really think I hate you so much?”

“You can’t answer my question with a question!”

“Technically, it’s a clarification. Doesn’t count.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying”, you groan, wondering if it’d be against the rules to drink even if you don’t lose a round, “You barely talk to me at the school, you avoid me and argue with me on practically anything. So I’d say yes: I do think you really hate me that much.”

He sighs and withers in his seat a little, looking regretful.

“I don’t hate you. I think you’re a good friend. And a brilliant teacher. And you can be fun when you want to be. That’s why I came with you to the wedding.”

“You still haven’t stopped arguing with me since we came here though.”

Doyoung shrugs.

“It’s hot when you talk back.”

He doesn’t look at you, his hands and eyes occupied on the baby’s breath from earlier to ease his nerves. Just as you open your mouth to say something, he asks you a question.

“Why didn’t you say anything after I came out of the bathroom this morning? You know, to let me know you were awake? I truly thought you’d be sleeping. I mean, you yell at me for way less.”

For a passing moment, you consider drinking and opting out from giving an answer. Your hand twitches and almost reaches out to the champagne in front of you, yet eventually, you decide against it. The questions will probably get gradually harder anyways.

“At first I saw all the pillows on the floor. I was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, the door opened and I panicked. And then…”

You hesitate to continue further.

“We said truthfully, remember?”

You exhale a deep breath out.

“Then I saw how you looked fresh out of the shower.”

“And?”

“And I wanted to look at you a little more.”

Doyoung hums, the corner of his lips tugging up subtly.

“If you don’t actually hate me, why do you avoid me at work? And don’t you dare deny it.”

The man next to you laughs, dropping his head back and letting his black locks hang freely. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol that’s heightened your senses, but you submerge yourself in the silvery sound of his laughter. You stare at the pretty blue veins on the side of his neck, watching his adam’s apple bob up and down. When he smiles like that he looks nice, you think. Mellow.

“I take my work very seriously. I want to do things well. And when you’re around, I can’t do that. You distract me, I guess.”

“I distract you? How?”

Doyoung’s eyes rake at your body twice, suddenly making you overconscious of every inch of skin that the mini dress you chose to wear tonight manages to cover up. Or rather, the parts of your body that it doesn’t.

He doesn’t answer further, drinking instead. You can see his eyes getting glossy from the alcohol, his pupils dilated. You’re certain you look like that as well.

“My turn. At the rehearsal, you were shocked that I teared up. Do you not believe in marriage?”

“I don’t know about marriage”, you admit after pondering for a bit, “But I do believe in lifelong partners. Do you?”

“I want one”, he confesses, “But I don’t know if I’m meant to have one.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know”, he sighs almost defeatedly, a bitter smile on his face, “I’m scared of that level of happiness, I think. I tend to avoid love.”

You both take a drink out of your glasses, feeling like it’s needed after a conversation like this. As you wait for Doyoung to come up with another question, you gaze at your cousin and her husband slow dancing in the distance. The sight triggers a stinging feeling of longing inside you, pulling on your heartstrings.

“Did you really say I was ‘irresistibly fuckable’?”

You blink three times at the unexpected question, cursing your friend under your breath and her big mouth. The kick that the champagne gave you allows you to answer way more bravely than you normally would.

“I think we’ve made it clear by now that we both found the other attractive when we first met.”

“When we first met? Not anymore?”

“This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had in the one year we’ve worked together. I don’t think you're smooth enough to convince me to sleep with you. Besides, didn’t you say you’d never sleep with me like, ten minutes ago?”

“That was different. Now I have something to prove.”

“Which is?”

“That you still find me attractive enough to sleep with me.”

“Please”, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself. In fact, I bet you can’t turn me on even if you tried.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup. You can try. Right now.”

Doyoung goes silent in thought for a couple of seconds, looking more determined than ever when he speaks again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes”, you answer immediately, gulping dryly at the thought of your coworker’s hands on you.

“Okay.”

The first thing he does is grab the apron of your chair, dragging you closer to him. Worried, you look around you for the reaction of the people also sitting at your table. No one seems to really pay attention to you; some of them had already withdrawn back to their rooms, the rest focusing on the people grooving on the dancefloor. The cool night breeze grazes your bare arms, making you shiver.

“Relax”, Doyoung tells you softly while taking off his jacket. You watch entranced at his shirt hugging his chest, the white fabric stretching over his biceps. His fingertips pet your nape then, sweeping your hair to the side before throwing his jacket over your shoulders. The heat emitted from his body warms up your side, making you melt in your seat.

And then he places his left hand on your knee under the table. Closing the small distance between you, he lets his lips touch lightly the shell of your ear.

“Tell me when to stop.”

He starts off relatively gently, drawing circles on your bare skin with his thumb. You look at how short the skirt of your dress is, regretting your decision to leave your thighs exposed like that. You’re making his job so much easier.

“You like that?”, he asks you then, the rasp of his voice sending another shiver down your spine.

“It’s indifferent to me”, you lie, making him laugh.

“God, why are you so tense? To quote you, if you pulled that stick out of your ass maybe we’d even manage to have some fun.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“You’re into anal baby?”

“I-”

Doyoung laughs again, his gummy smile contagious. His naughty kind of humor surprises you, and the nickname sends a wave of warmth to your face. A small moan leaves your lips as he drags his nails lightly against your skin.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

His fingers move up higher, to the fleshier part of your thighs. He keeps drawing the same design over your sensitive skin, and you soon realize that it’s actually his name.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“W-What?”

“I didn’t think anything could top that summer dress you put on yesterday. But then you wore this-”

He points vaguely at your black strapless dress, eyes dark as they take you in.

“You like it?”, you ask boldly, not easily intimidated.

“I’d rip it off of you in a heartbeat if you let me.”

You squirm in your seat at his words, feeling wetness pool between your thighs. Desperate, you cross your legs to discreetly rub your thighs together, hiding your arousal from the sharp observer next to you. Doyoung doesn’t let you off the hook, kissing his teeth disapprovingly at your movement.

“Did I give you permission to do that?”

“You’re not the boss of me, Kim Doyoung.”

You’re almost panting under the pressure of his stare, feline eyes commanding you to do as he says. His hands squeeze the meat of your thighs in a warning, making the rings he wears dig deeper into your skin.

“I won’t ask again. Spread those little thighs for me.”

Feeling small, you uncross your legs back to their previous position, parting them slightly.

“Good girl.”

All your thoughts evaporate in an instant when you hear him praise you. As his fingers move to the highest part of your inner thighs, just a few inches away from the place that aches to have him most, you can only hope he mercies you. You barely make the conscious effort of biting your tongue to not make a sound and attract unwanted attention. The tablecloth can only hide so much.

“So, are you ready to address your little problem?”

“My staring problem?”

“I was talking about the one between your legs this time. You’re soaking.”

A needy sound from the back of your throat reaches Doyoung’s ears, breathy and desperate - exactly like he wanted to have you.

“You sure moan a lot at my ‘indifferent’ touches.”

His fingers still pet your inner thighs, reaching the crease of your hips now. You can feel his digits spreading your wetness around, fully dipped under your dress.

“All this mess for me? How cute.”

You’re on the verge of losing your mind, right in front of all these people, especially when his index hovers right over your-

“Enough!”, you squeal before he gets the chance to gain full control of you, admitting defeat. Doyoung retracts his hand slowly, almost disappointedly, with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

When you see him lift his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, you can only finish your glass of champagne to cope.

You were two of the last people to leave that ceremony, your little game keeping you occupied. The small path to your hotel room was void of any people, with only the sound of your heels interrupting the lulling sounds of the night. You almost trip in your step and you blame it on the wet poolside tiles, yet you know that that’s not the reason. Doyoung’s suit jacket is still hanging comfortably from your shoulders, his scent coiling around your body and making your head buzz even harder.

In a moment of forgetfulness, you get an intrusive thought asking you where you’d kept your room key. Halting abruptly, you start looking through the contents of the tiny bag you dragged along in panic, Doyoung staring at you questioningly.

“I can’t find the room key.”

“You asked me to hold it, remember?”, he reminds you calmly, fishing the keycard from his slacks before putting it back in his pocket.

You sigh, exhausted. “You’re right, sorry”

“You seem distracted”, Doyoung observes, “Is it because you lost the bet?”

The clacking of your heels stops again.

“What? I didn’t lose!”

“You let me touch you, I did. You liked it and asked me to stop because you couldn’t handle it. I think this qualifies as a win.”

“I couldn’t handle what?”

“It felt too good'', he shrugs.

“Right”, you spit sarcastically, knowing damn well he’s right but still arguing with him like it’s a reflex. “I was worried I was gonna cum from you rubbing my knee so hard. Oh Doyoung, don’t tell me that’s where you think the clit is.”

The man addressed kisses his teeth, trying to ignore how good you look in his jacket and how the ripples of the pool water illuminate your face. You’re overwhelmed by the animalistic instinct to keep the argument going, wishing it turns into something else. The champagne made you both a little too bold.

“Like you could do any better.”

“I absolutely could.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d have you begging for it.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Before any logic manages to make its way to the decision-making part of your brain, you shove Doyoung to the nearest wall, pushing your body against his. He smells even nicer in this proximity, the scent of his aftershave added to the things that mess up your thinking, yet you don’t let that distract you from your goal. Taking his larger hands in yours, you guide them across your waist to your lower back, right over your ass.

“You talk a big talk for someone who admitted to wanting to rip my dress off of me tonight.”

The man swallows dryly, eyes staring down at your exposed chest. You see his eyes open wide for a second before diverting his attention to the pool in the back, anything to take his focus off of you. The hardness that is poking your thigh is telling enough. You grab his chin, making him look at you again.

“You’re making this very hard for yourself by pretending like you don’t want me, Kim.” Determined, you start a line of kisses across his jawline, sucking lightly on the skin below his earlobe. The moan he lets out makes your knees shake a little. “Say you want me, and I’m yours.”

Unable to contain himself, Doyoung lowers his hands enough to grab your ass. You mewl in his ear at his roughness, just to taunt him.

“Shit, y/n.”

“I’m not wearing any underwear, thought you’d like to know.”

You can’t look at his pretty face, yours still buried in his neck, but you can clearly sense the torment he feels.

Finally, he gives up.

“Fuck this”, he mutters, pulling you into a kiss.

Doyoung moves his lips against yours deeply, with need, like he knows he’s never gonna get enough. You kiss him back just as eagerly, letting your tongue slide against his. The kiss feels perfect, as if his lips were only meant to be pressed against yours. Your whole body buzzes in the desire to make up for lost time.

“I want to taste you again”, he whispers into the kiss. “We can go back to hating each other in the morning.”

Doyoung slips from your hold then, falling down onto his knees. His hands move upwards from your calves towards your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your mini dress until you’re exposed enough for him. He leaves a bite on the soft skin of your inner thighs, on the place that he pet so diligently under the table earlier tonight.

“You look good like this.”

Confused, he pinches the collar of his dress shirt, tugging it a little.

“In this shirt?”

“On your knees.”

He chuckles, putting his mouth on your pussy finally. His lips are plush and soft, his small exhales make you shiver. You look around for any unwanted viewers yet your mind goes blank once Doyoung starts to move his tongue. Every lick feels like heaven, circling around your opening and entering you with his tongue. Biting your lip to stay as quiet as you can, you lift your right knee and rest it on his shoulder, grinding against his face.

“That’s it, use me.”, he sighs against your sensitive skin, making you want to scream at the sensation. His hands find their way over your ass again, grabbing you gluttonously. The mess of slick and spit helps your movement, his nose bumping against your clit with every circle of your hips. You’re already on edge from his teasing earlier, and when he starts to suck at the sensitive nub, you just can’t take it anymore.

You come embarrassingly fast, whole body tingling as he continues to flick his tongue against your clit during your high.

“I…”, is all you manage to whimper, but Doyoung doesn’t need anything else from you. The sight of you falling apart against his face is more than enough, patiently waiting for your legs to stop shaking and cleaning up the mess between your thighs in the meantime.

With a satisfied grin and a half-soaked up face, he gets on his feet again, holding you by the waist so that you don’t collapse. You’re still drunk by the orgasm and a bit disoriented, yet you still manage to slip your hands between your bodies, finding the outline of his cock. You start to massage his member over his clothes and Doyoung hisses, buckling his hips against your palm. The fabric under your fingertips starts to get wetter by the minute.

“I want you in my mouth”, you confess, dragging the zipper of his pants down and freeing his dick. He feels hot and hard and so fucking big in your palm that your mouth waters, precum already dribbling from his tip.

He stops your lazy strokes with a hand on your wrist before he kisses you again, and you can clearly taste yourself on his swollen lips. Not one to easily give up, you guide the tip of his cock between your wet folds, languidly dragging it back and forth until he groans in your mouth.

“Not here. Let’s go to our room.”

You nod, almost too desperately, letting him lead you forwards as you separate your back with the wall. It could be the champagne’s fault for your disorientation but it feels like you’re moving the wrong way, yet you don’t want to part your lips from his so you trust him blindly. The last thing you remember was floating on air.

Before you feel your body submerging in the pool water, that is.

You spend a few moments in panic before you realize you’re underwater, Doyoung quickly pulling you to the surface. You’re both panting when you finally manage to breathe again, and you curse at him when he flicks his wet hair out of his forehead, the droplets blinding you.

Your small designer bag floats just a couple of meters away from you, everything inside it ruined but you’re too tipsy to care about it now. All it takes is a glance at Doyoung’s flushed face for a nervous laugh to bubble up from your stomach, contagious as it makes him laugh as well. This is the lightest you’ve felt in a long time.

He swims closer to you, and you instinctively wrap your hands around him, locking your legs around his waist. He looks so handsome in the fluorescent lighting of the pool, his wet skin reminding you how good he looked this morning when he came out of the shower. You appreciate the little droplets decorating his eyelashes, fluttering as he blinks, staring at you. He looks at you so deeply that you’re scared he’s gonna see right through you, past the layers of skin and bones, and discover something that you’re not ready to admit just yet.

“What is it?”

“Even now, you look beautiful.”

You’re taken aback by his compliment, your face getting hot. In the ambiance of the night, you fail to remember what it was about Doyoung that you disliked so much. He lifts his thumbs to your undereyes, gently rubbing the running mascara off your face. You lean closer, giving him a peck at first, your hands smoothing down on his chest before kissing him again. And again. And again.

Soon, your back hits the wall of the pool, your body trapped between the hard surface and Doyoungs warm body. He sweeps his tongue across your lower lips, asking to enter your mouth again and you gladly let him. You’re shamelessly making out again, in the water now, and you feel his right hand slide from your face to your neck, grabbing at your throat.

He breaks the kiss, taking the time to admire how good you look deprived of oxygen. Your eyes are unfocused, mouth gaping open and lipstick smudged, tongue hanging out slightly. You look fucked out and it turns him on, cock painfully hard under your bare pussy.

“But you look more beautiful with my hands around your throat.

A thumb rubs your cheek before moving down to press onto your lips, and you lick his finger tentatively before sucking it inside your mouth. Your wet tongue moves around the digit slowly, making sure you show him just how talented you are before you let him go with a loud ‘pop’. God, he regrets not taking up your offer earlier.

“I need you”, you mewl with the little air still in your lungs, and Doyoung lets you go to hear your voice more clearly. “I need you now.”

“Fuck, I can’t wait either”, he agrees, looking around to make sure no one’s around. He turns you around then, the front of his body pressing against your back, and you rest your elbows on the pool tiles in front of you. Doyoung hikes your dress even higher, over your hips, kissing the top of your shoulder sensually. “You’re gonna have to be quiet. Okay, doll?”

You blindly agree with his words, already grinding your ass against him. He growls at your impatience, stilling your hips, and blindly looks for your entrance. You both gasp when he bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck”, you mutter at the feeling of him filling you to your gut, the stretch starting a fire in your stomach. He reaches for your chest, letting your boobs spill out from the hem of your dress to play with. The sensation makes you shiver, whimpering when he starts to tug at your nipples. Doyoung’s fingers that you love so much intertwine with yours as he starts to push his hips forward faster.

The pace is barely manageable, and when you push against him he finds that spot that has you seeing stars. If you were bad at being quiet before you were terrible now, long moans covering the sound of the small ripples you’re both creating.

His palm startles you when it covers your mouth suddenly, your sounds successfully muffled by his chlorine-flavored fingers.

“What’s wrong, does it feel too good?”, he asks smugly, snapping his hips even faster.

Your pride crumbles as you nod, biting on his fingers as his own snake their way over your already sensitive clit. The circles he draws around it have your eyes roll to the back of your head, your body putty in his hold.

“You said you could take it, but here you are, moaning like you don’t care who finds you getting all fucked out in public.” You whimper in his hand, gasping for air when he lets you breathe again. “The only thing you’re allowed to say from now on is my name when you come. Got it?”

“Doyoung!”, you moan out when your second orgasm washes over you, hitting you so hard that you think you might pass out right then and there. Your walls clench around his length, triggering his own orgasm, and he quickly pulls out of you before cumming in the water. His arm is still protectively wrapped around you as he thrusts his cock over your ass, riding it out.

You swim in complete silence for a while, catching your breaths. Doyoung helps you pull down your dress, picking up the floating bag for you as well. His jacket had survived the fall, dropping from your shoulders right before you took your involuntary dive, and he gets out of the pool to retrieve it as well.

“Are you okay?”, he asks you softly, helping you get out as well.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

It only took a couple of steps for you to realize that soaked heels on a wet tile floor are probably a bad idea. You stepped carefully, trying your hardest to keep your balance but still looking like a deer learning how to walk for the first time.

You stare in confusion when Doyoung crouches in front of you with his back facing you.

“Hop on. It’s too dangerous for you to walk like this.”

“But I-”

“The reception is not that far. Come on.”

Reluctantly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, jumping a little for him to hold the back of your knees. The alcohol moves in your belly, making you dizzy, and you rest your forehead against the top of his head to ground yourself. You can smell the hotel’s shampoo he used this morning, and if you weren’t as embarrassed to have him carrying you you’re certain the scent alone could relax you enough to be put to sleep. You’re only hoping that he can’t feel your beating heart thumping against his back.

Doyoung doesn’t put you down even when you reach the elevator, the receptionists gossiping about you yet he doesn’t seem to care. You tap on his shoulder shyly, wanting to tell him you can handle it from here. Before you can even open your mouth, he repositions you higher on his back, his body language shushing you.

You wish you hadn’t caught your reflection on the elevator mirror. You’re both soaked to the bone, Doyoung’s clothes stuck on his body and his dying erection semi-visible on his thigh. His eyes are red from the alcohol and his lips pink from your lipgloss, but it’s not like you look any better. Your wet hair is messy, your makeup gone. You can’t wipe that stupid smile off your face.

He still carries you to the room, even opens the door for you.

“Here princess”, he mocks you, letting your feet touch the floor finally. You thank him quietly and move over to your suitcase, looking for your pijamas and some fresh underwear to put on. You’re not sure how to address the situation, it’s ridiculous how you can barely look at the man that just made you cum twice in the eyes. Not in a bad way, of course: he just didn’t feel like the same Doyoung that got in that flight with you yesterday, and you couldn’t stop the feeling of hope from growing enthusiastically in your stomach.

You grip the bathroom door nervously until your knuckles turn white, mustering the courage to spill out at least half of what you’re feeling. The sound of his name grabs his attention.

“What we did tonight-”

“...was a mistake.”

“Huh?”

You blink back at him twice, cursing at the tears that burn your eyes.

“It was a one time thing, right? Like I said, we’ll go back to hating each other in the morning.”

The room is dark, and you hope the dim lighting hides the obvious hurt that manifests itself on your face. You hate how a part of yourself still wants to grab him by the collar and take him in the shower with you. Beg him to love you again before that ‘morning’ comes. Kiss you so hard that he forgets whatever it is about you he despises so much that he can’t let it go. You can barely keep your voice from breaking.

“Right. I’ll take a shower and then I’ll pass out. Goodnight.”

“Good-”

You don’t let him finish, closing the door between you. He shouldn’t see you cry.

In the midst of all the laughter on such a beautiful morning like today, pressing on the power button of your phone while hoping it still works out of a miracle, you were the obvious stand out. You move your legs absentmindedly, only your feet dipped in the water, body slumped and looking miserable next to the children’s pool. You hoped that the sound of shrieking children might distract you from recalling the big rejection of last night, yet your growing headache makes you gradually regret yout decision more and more.

As you stare at a mother forcefully smear her child’s face with sunscreen, your phone still dead in your lap, your fingers toy with the buttons of your shirt. Doyoung’s shirt, actually. The same printed one he wore two days ago at the rehearsal. The need to have his smell on your body too intense for you to resist. God, you’re so pathetic.

“It looks better on you than me.”

His voice from behind you startles you, and before you can excuse yourself nicely he’s already taken a seat next to you. He looks rough, jaw stubbled from not shaving and with dark circles under his eyes. You wonder if he had a sleep as restless as yours.

“I know”, you reply and he chuckles. “I’m sorry for taking this without asking. I was planning on returning it before you woke up.”

“It’s okay”, he shrugs and you’re met with silence again, the atmosphere heavy with the memories of last night weighing you both down. You were ready to pretend taking a call from your useless phone when he speaks up again.

“Let’s play last night’s game again.”

“The question game?”

“Yeah.”

“Doyoung, I can’t handle any mimosas right now.”

“No alcohol, just questions. Just-”, he sighs, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Just talk to me.”

“Theres nothing to talk about. We did what we did, you regret it. It’s fine.”

“No it’s not fine-”

“It’s fine!”, you insist, lifting your shoulders and dropping them again disappointedly. “I can’t force you to like me back.” You can tell your words upset him, but he still decides to let you finish. “But I was kind of hoping you’d at least be my friend.”

You hear a muffled groan from your side, turning to see Doyoung rub his face with his hands.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Why?”

“Because I do like you back.”

“You- you do?”

“God, y/n, are you serious? I’ve liked you ever since I walked into the school and saw you on the teachers’ lounge for the first time. I like the stupid pins you wear in your hair. I like the little songs you make up on Monday mornings. I like your handwriting on the chalkboard. I like the way you say my name, I like how you feel around me. And now you’re sitting next to me looking all pretty in my shirt and all I can thing about is-”

You press his open mouth against your lips, muffling his words, kissing him fiercely. He’s surprised but only for a second before the heat of your body thaws his frozen state, digging his fingers in your hair as he kisses you back. His rough stubble scratches your chin but the dull pain only makes you kiss him harder, pulling your body against yours until your heart hammers loudly in your ears. Your lips part open and tongues meet, minty from the toothpaste you used that morning and you’re ready to fully succumb under his body weight, let him lay those broad shoulders on top of you fully.

“There’s children around!”, an angry father from afar yells so you push him away, embarrassed, rubbing your lips. The pure serotonin that you get when you see his gummy smile again is irreplaceable, and you both laugh in the ridiculousness of the situation. You wonder what your coworker would say if she saw the two of you like this, getting carried away by each other at such a place, and you giggle thinking of her reaction. Doyoung is the first to speak.

“In conclusion, yes, I will be your friend.”

“Is that what you do with your friends?”

“Sure”, he jokes, and you shove him a little with your elbow. “I’m always here for you if you need shoulders to cry on”

“Awww”

“...or to lay your legs on.”

“Doyoung!”, you squeal and kick some water his way, like a cat that needed to be reprimanded. He laughs heartily, lightly, patting his skin that got wet dry.

“All jokes aside”, he adds, intertwining your fingers and resting your connecting hands on his thigh, “when we get back, I want to take you out on a proper date.”

“Fine”, you agree, giving him another kiss and hoping it won’t get you kicked out, “As long as you promise that you won’t throw us fully clothed in a pool again.”

“Keep it up and I’ll throw you fully clothed in a pool right now.”

Hungry for You

summary: doyoung is your best friend’s older brother, and you hate each other until one evening you’re alone together and the tension finally breaks

length: 4,936 words

tags: enemies to lovers?, 69ing, riding, hate sex, facefucking, light dom/sub, doyoung likes calling reader a brat, she likes calling him oppa

When you first met your best friend’s older brother Doyoung, you thought he had a crush on you, but you quickly realized that it was just your foolishly optimistic (and desperately single) brain playing some cruel trick on you. He hated you. Your best friend assured you that he didn’t hate you, he just thought you were annoying.

“Thanks for the clarification, that makes me feel so much better,” you groan, throwing yourself on her bed.

“I just mean, he thinks me and all of my friends are annoying. Don’t take it personally,” she tells you.

But it’s hard to not take it personally because every time you see Doyoung, the two of you bicker and argue. The fighting never gets physical, but it just goes on and on until you decide that maybe you find him very annoying too.

Keep reading

Dive

PAIRING: doyoung x afab reader (ft djj)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k (got a bit carried away)

SUMMARY: your best friend drags you out to a club to be her wingwoman as she meets back up with a stunning stranger and you cross paths with the hottest man you've ever seen in an expensive suit and a cross around his neck

THANK YOU: @strwbrysunday you know how important you've been in getting this across the finish line and you're a literal angel. thank you so much <3 thank you to all my friends who watched me brainrot over this over the past week and inspiring me to keep working on it with your positive words.

WARNINGS: explicit smut, smoking, drinking, drug reference, profanity, heavy religious imagery in a sexual setting (and I mean HEAVY - so if this is going to bother you, this isn't the fic for you)

PLAYLIST: Dive by DoJaeJung, Angel by NCT 127

This was clearly inspired by the Doyoung D&G promo images with the rosary and the rest was history...

I can dive, I'm diving into you

Ouch. You pinch your eyelash with the curler as you lean in closer to the glassy mirror in your best friend’s bathroom. You knew you should be wearing your contacts but had forgotten them at home and you weren’t going to hear the end of it from her if that was the excuse you had for ditching her for the night.

It had been an exhausting week at work but somehow your adorable firecracker of a platonic soulmate since childhood had dragged you to her apartment as soon as the clock hit 5:00PM in the co-working space your small start-up you both worked for shared with some other local environmental companies.

She had shed off her casual work clothes hours before, now wearing a glittery black dress, hugging her hips tightly, strings ruched up the side revealing plenty of thigh, covered with nude fishnets. You envied her long and bouncy locks that flowed down her back, reaching up to touch your straight hair that never cooperated with the curling iron.

“What is it?” she asked from behind you, catching you staring. 

“Is there something on my dress?” she spun around, craning her head to look at her own ass in the mirror.

You started to speak before you realized she was showing off, dropping to the floor quickly before slowly standing again, shimmying her rear as she started to sway to the faint music coming from her living room.

You rolled your eyes with a huff, curling your other eye’s lashes and applying a few coats of mascara.

“Loosen up, angel,” she called back as she moved into her walk-in closet to select her shoes and handbag, using her pet name she had been calling you for years.

You finished up the rest of your makeup, cleaning up the little pile of products and packing them back neatly in their small pouch before examining yourself in the mirror. Your dark hair fell almost to your shoulders, eyes accentuated with smudged dark liner and cheekbones dusted with a bright coral blush that complimented the glossy color across your lips. You had let your best friend convince you to dress up more than you usually did, since she said the club you were going to tended to cater to a more affluent clientele. 

A skin tight white leather crop top pushed your breasts up nicely and you had even let your friend dust some shimmering glitter across them with a large puff earlier. You smoothed the matching devastatingly short skirt and adjusted the lace up black boots that travelled up your long legs and over your knee. You felt confident in the outfit and only slightly uneasy about the night ahead. Your friend had a tendency to scan for her prey of the night the minute you entered a venue and often spent the night locking lips with half the dance floor or as she did the weekend before, dancing on stage with the burlesque dancers at the late night speakeasy.

Standing next to her as you both did final checks in the mirror, you looked like the moonlight and sunlight, night and day, devil and angel. A dangerous pair for any person to come across in a crowded club with these outfits, to say the least. You giggled as your friend planted a glossy kiss to your ear before pushing your hair back into place, following her out of the spacious apartment.

“WOO!” shrieked your friend, waving long fingernails at a tall, slender man leaning against a private booth tucked near the DJ. A warm grin spread across his plush lips and you couldn’t help it when your heart jumped a little in your chest. How your friend always found the most attractive people to surround herself always surprised you (not like you were complaining).

She had met Jungwoo the weekend before at a rave and had gabbed your ear off about the attractive and rich heir to a fortune who lived downtown in the middle of all the weekend excitement and had fed her drinks all night long while clutching onto her hips as they danced. She hadn’t gone home with him but instead had gotten his number and promised to meet him out the next weekend. The next weekend was now and out the two of you were.

Jungwoo was absolutely stunning, bright white hair damp, long, and hanging around his cheeks and across his forehead. He wore a sheer blouse unbuttoned halfway, exposing much of his toned chest and loose grey slacks that didn’t leave much to the imagination when he moved.

Taking careful steps through the crowd, you followed your friend who now had her hand held close to the lips of another man, this one dressed in the remains of an expensive suit, tie loose and sloppy around his neck with several buttons of a crisp pale blue shirt undone. He had dark hair slicked back to reveal his stunning face and his eyes glittered when he pulled them to yours to greet you.

“This is Jaehyun, Jungwoo’s roommate!” she giggled, a glass of champagne somehow already in her hand as she grinned at Jaehyun’s tender kiss to the back of her hand.

“Lovely to meet you, girls,” Jaehyun spoke deep and smoothly, his voice like velvet.

You cleared your throat with a small smile and shifted your weight in the uncomfortable shoes, eyes darting past the two men in front of you to a third seated in the booth.

Goosebumps instantly dotted your bare arms as you raked your eyes over one of the most attractive men you had ever seen. Even seated, you could tell he was tall with a broad frame. His hand was stretched out across his knee, high end designer fabric covering every inch of his body.

As if in slow motion, he lifted his head from his phone, placing it next to him to take a long sip from the short glass of dark liquid on the table in front of him. He brought his dark eyes up to meet yours and as soon as you made contact you watched his adam’s apple move in his throat, gulping as he peeled his eyes down your body.

You moved a hand to grip your other forearm, suddenly self conscious but equally intrigued, cocking your head slightly to the side. Your vision blurred briefly and you cursed yourself for not remembering your contacts as your loss of focus refused to let you make out the expression on the mystery man’s face.

“Doie - don’t be rude, say hi!” Jungwoo slurred out, taking a strong hand to the small of your back to guide you into the booth and directly next to Doyoung.

“Hi,” he spoke, quiet and soft, pulling his hand off his knee to extend a handshake to you.

You chuckled lightly and let him shake your hand, taking a moment to inspect him further now that you could see him better.

The white collared shirt under his suit jacket was tight (almost too tight) with the top buttons straining against the fabric enclosure. He had a soft jaw and plump lips, dark hair styled in a way that was kept but still messy in a sexy way. When he smiled his eyes crinkled in the corners and his neutral facial expression was hard to read when he wasn’t speaking.

You let your eyes wander down to his tight pants before shaking your head, begging your dirty mind to control itself. It hadn’t been that long since you had hooked up with a stranger at a bar but long enough to let your mind wander within minutes of meeting this man.

Doyoung reached across the table to pour you a glass of champagne from the bottle in the ice bucket and as he did, you noticed a glimmering chain around his neck. As he leaned further, you saw the small black beads on the chain catching the light and much to your surprise, a cross slipped into view briefly.

You sucked in a deep inhale at the sight - this man was wearing a fucking rosary around his neck.

Flashes of hours kneeling for Easter vigil mass, heavy clouds of incense in your face as you held the thurible in a floor length white robe, dark smudges on your forehead, and getting tipsy off communion wine in the church basement with your cousins flew across your mind as you watched him laugh at something Jaehyun said.

Jungwoo swore loudly as he dripped tequila across the table, attempting to pour five shots evenly. You can’t pull your eyes away from Doyoung, watching as he bows his head lightly, wincing ever so slightly at the curse words.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Taking a long drink from your champagne glass and tossing back the shot that is handed to you, you reach into your bag and dig out a carton of cigarettes, pulling the ashtray at the center of the table closer to you.

Pulling a loose stick with your lips, you instinctively gesture towards Doyoung who moves a hand quickly to decline. You shrug and move a bit closer to Jungwoo who is taking a long drag from a neon green vape. He chuckles and tosses his hair from his eyes as he watches the interaction.

“You’re better off making moves on Jae,” he says to you on his exhale. He tosses an arm around your shoulder, nudging your bare shoulder lightly with his thumb, cocking his chin up to draw your attention to a smiley Jaehyun swaying to the music, slightly off beat, as your friend tries to get him to salsa dance with her.

“Doyoung is a little more on the conservative side. Doesn’t smoke, doesn’t like getting high, barely gets drunk, takes his grandma to church on Sundays, all that,” Jungwoo adds, giving you a softer smile as he pulls your eyes into contact with his.

You narrow your own eyes slightly, not sure if this is some twisted attempt at reverse psychology to push you even more into the arms of his friend. While he was wearing the rosary, that didn’t necessarily scream “priest”. He was in a high end club’s most desirable VIP booth, surrounded by drinks and other substances, with two party boys that looked like models.

“Well he’s taken every shot that’s been poured for him, so I don’t know about that ‘not getting drunk’ part,” you quip back, taking a long drag from your cigarette and blowing it behind you through tightly pursed lips, intentionally avoiding Doyoung’s direction.

“Yeah he and Jaehyun lost some big account today, I think he’s just blowing off some steam. Plus he owes me,” Jungwoo winks as punctuation, making it apparent that he wasn’t going to elaborate on the end of that statement.

Throughout the night you learn that Doyoung and Jaehyun work at a big investment bank, Jaehyun sharing a small apartment with Jungwoo in the middle of all the city nightlife, the three of them having known each other since they were kids. Doyoung seemed to have never moved on from their strong faith-based formative years, holding onto these ideals even years later and still an active member of his family’s church community. When he checks the time on his phone you see the smiling face of an older woman pushed up against his, assuming this to be the grandmother Jungwoo mentioned before.

He’s quiet as you chat with him, having to do most of the talking, but is kind and puts some of your nerves at ease even when your friend is off in the middle of the dance floor doing god knows what with god knows who.

Despite his reserved nature, you feel his eyes trained on your every move, following your lips and hands as you smoke another cigarette, the way you cross and uncross your legs with ease, despite the short skirt that has a tendency to ride up when you wiggle in your seat.

You watch him in the same way he watches you, the way his hair falls into his eyes every once and a while and instead of pushing it away with his hand, he shakes his head lightly, flicking his eyes up as if to chastise the loose strands. When he leans forward to take a sip of his drink or gesture to the waitress, his toned chest is exposed by the undone buttons on his shirt.

As much as you hate to admit it, his very presence is intoxicating and it’s affecting you more than you would like. Goosebumps crop up on your arms and you suddenly feel chilled in the warm room, sending a shiver down your spine.

A loud laugh draws your attention across the booth and you are met with the sight of your friend feverishly making out with Jaehyun, sandwiched between him and Jungwoo who has his hand up the hem of her dress, laughing into her neck.

You whip your head back towards Doyoung, giving an awkward smile to him before the chill sets over you again. You train your gaze downwards, examining the patterned carpet on the floor and the laces on your thigh high boots, picking at the edge of the string. You startle at the feeling of fabric being draped over your shoulders, looking up to see that Doyoung has placed his suit jacket around your shoulders.

He keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulder after placing the jacket and you suddenly feel an additional set of eyes on you as you lift up to meet Jaehyun’s gaze. He’s staring at your slightly spread legs, running a wicked tongue across his bottom lip as it quirks up into a wry smile.

You feel Doyoung’s grip around your shoulder tighten and turn to see his face close to yours, your heart jumping in your chest when you feel his breath across your cheek. You can’t bear to break eye contact with him, despite the fact that you desperately wish you could see Jaehyun’s reaction.

“You seemed cold,” he murmurs to you, lips almost brushing across your skin as he speaks close to your ear. He smells delicious, like soft musk but still clean and warm. You mentally take note to slyly ask Jungwoo what cologne his friend wears.

“Thank you,” is all you can muster and you resist the urge to drop your head to his shoulder, suddenly feeling lightheaded in the haze of alcohol, nicotine, and the blaring music of the club.

Doyoung reaches to the table for his glass, arm never leaving your shoulder, rolled shirt sleeve revealing a large and intricate cross tattoo on his forearm. At the sight of the ink you are jolted back to the reality that this man is not who you want him to be. You would normally have a hand palming his groin in the dim lights of the club, moaning into his mouth as he gripped the exposed skin on your back and whispered filthy strings of words into your ear.

But no, you had to bag the “Holier than Thou, Man of God.” Of course you did. This was not going to be good for your libido.

Your friend is suddenly dragging you by the hand to the bathroom, moving surprisingly fast in her towering heels.

“Sooooooooo, angel,” she whines from the single use stall she pulled you into after locking the door.

“What are you about to ask me to do?” you sigh, fixing your hair in the mirror as your friend hikes up her dress to pee.

“I’m going to take those two home with me,” she bluntly tells you, as you predicted.

“Yeah I think anyone in this club could have told me that,” you reply, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect. You didn’t really care what she did, only frustrated now that you had to make the hike home in an expensive taxi or wait for the unreliable train service.

“It’s fine, babe, I’ll get home okay,” you add, mustering the sweetest tone you can for your oldest friend. She deserved to blow off steam as much as next person, but you loved staying over at her luxury apartment on the weekends and the lazy mornings you spent sipping homemade cappuccinos and doing face masks.

“You’re the BESTTTT!” she nearly shouts, throwing her arms around you, damp hands fresh from washing them in the sink getting your skin wet. You laugh at her, congratulating her on getting her dick wet and ushering her out of the small room with a smack to her ass.

Back at the booth she wastes no time murmuring in the ears of the two eager men before they share a steamy three way kiss that results in Jungwoo tugging Jaehyun’s bottom lip with his teeth, looping an arm around his slim waist.

You are flicking through the various ride share apps on your phone to find the cheapest option, boots feeling uncomfortably tight on your feet after a long night. Last thing you want to do in this outfit is sit on an empty train and make the long walk uphill to your apartment complex once you arrive at your stop.

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asks, face suddenly close to yours again. There’s a level of concern in his eyes that you cannot read when he speaks to you.

“Calling for a car home, I don’t have the luxury of living right here downtown and had plans to crash at hers. I’m assuming my job doesn’t pay as well as yours and Jae’s,” you reply, only lifting your eyes up to meet his after you’ve spoken.

God his eyes are so pretty.

“Why don’t you stay at mine, I can sleep on the couch and my driver can take you home in the morning,” he offers, picking your phone out of your hand and locking the screen.

You open your mouth in protest before thinking more on the offer. His driver?! You would be crazy to turn him down and your friend is already halfway out the door headed towards what will undoubtedly be a night to remember.

You nod and quickly stand, holding a hand out for his, guiding him out the back door of the club. He’s making a call on his phone in a hushed tone while you slide your long coat over his blazer, still wrapped around your shoulders, Jungwoo giving you a  small smile and wiggle of his fingers as he slides into the back of a cab.

“I love you angellllll,” your friend slurs out dramatically, knowing she is far less drunk than she appears, playing up the antics for the men around her. Jaehyun has an arm tucked loosely around her waist, grinning ear to ear as the evening wind ruffles his dark hair.

You pull your friend in for a hug before she ducks into the car, latching her lips immediately onto Jungwoo’s exposed neck, drawing a chuckle from you on the street.

Jaehyun pauses before getting in the car, dipping down to whisper right along the shell of your ear.

“Angel is it? I don’t know about that,” he practically moans out, voice breathy and deep.

“Seemed like a devil in disguise in that tight little skirt, slutty legs spread in the club for our sweet and innocent Doie,” he laughs out, laying the degrading tone on thick. His finger is under your chin, tipping it up to force you to look at him. Your heart is pounding and flying around your chest and you can feel your cheeks burn.

Suddenly there’s a hand on your back and you don’t have to look to know that Doyoung has stepped up behind you.

Jaehyun gives you a wink, pushing past you to plant a lingering kiss on Doyoung’s cheek, before turning and disappearing into the car.

Before you can say anything to Doyoung, a black town car replaces the cab in its spot on the busy street, Doyoung moving quickly to open the door for you, helping you in with a strong hand. He closes the door softly before moving around to the street side to slide in next to you, greeting the driver in the front pleasantly.

Your head is spinning and you desperately hope there is time to have a cigarette before going upstairs to Doyoung’s apartment, feeling anxiety creeping up in your chest.

Despite the spacious backseat, Doyoung can’t help but be pressed up against you, twisting to look at you as you make small talk. You watch him when he answers questions you ask and listen to a small story about a frustrating email exchange at work, as if the two of you had known each other forever.

Distracted by the beaded chain around his neck again, you reach over, taking the cross gingerly in between your pointer and middle finger, inspecting it. The metal is cold in your hand and nostalgia rushes over you as you hold it in your hand.

“I dip it in holy water every morning to help keep me grounded and ask that God bless my daily travels,” he offers, smiling lightly at you as he explains in earnest. You know by now that he isn’t lying, that there would be no reason for him to.

“I kiss it as well, asking him to bless my words and calm my mind in a world filled with temptation,” he continues, unwilling to break the heavy eye contact.

He reaches out and draws your fingers to his lips, still holding the cross, and kisses the small metal piece, catching the tips of your fingers with soft lips. They are warm and plush, sending jolts of electricity through your hand and to your chest. You have to shift in your seat to calm the throbbing in your core. This gesture shouldn’t be turning you on this much and you know now that if there is a hell, you surely are destined to take residence there.

The tension in the car is thick as you shiver, hand moving before you have a chance to think, bringing his hand and yours to your own lips, copying his kiss. You watch him gulp and pull his bottom lip in between his teeth as his eyes darken at the sight of the cross pressed to your lips.

Oh you are so royally fucked.

You watch him as he absently brushes the back of his hand against your own in the elevator ride to the top floor of the sleek and modern building. He lets his fingers tangle with yours briefly before holding his hand out when the door starts to open, bringing the foyer of his apartment into view.

You let a gasp fall from your lips, taking in the beautiful space around you. Lights flick on as you reach down to release the knot holding the laces of your boots in place, stepping out of them carefully by steadying yourself on a small table adorned with realistic looking fake flowers. 

You try to keep your boots tidy under the coat rack, slipping off your coat and hanging it up and checking yourself in the small mirror above hooks of dangling keys. You notice one key with a Kuromi cover, smiling lightly and wondering if he had picked that out for himself. He will tell you one day that it is the key to his mailbox and one of the kids from his Sunday school class brought it in for him after they said Kuromi reminded them of Doyoung.

You follow him to the open living area which melts into the compact kitchen adorned with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. He’s opening the door to the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of water and pouring two glasses.

The apartment is warm but minimalistic in style, adorned with shades of cream, black and gray. You half expect to see a statue of Mary where the tv sits but there’s barely any religious imagery present. Maybe you had misjudged him after all.

As you close the space between you, you let his blazer slip from your shoulders, catching it and folding it gently in your hands, looking up towards him through your long lashes as you lean your hip against the cold edge of the counter, offering the blazer to him. Instead of taking the jacket from your hands, he leans forward, brushing a thumb across the high point of your cheek, examining your face.

“Let me know if there is anything I can get you to feel more at home, I want you to feel comfortable,” he murmurs, eyes flicking down briefly to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

You feel butterflies in your chest and despite how tired you know you should be, your heart is pounding and core tightening at how close he stands to you in his beautiful apartment, finally able to hear his voice clearly without the sounds of the club or busy streets of the city. It’s velvety smooth and even and his lips tip up at the edges when he finishes his kind statement. You want desperately to push up and capture them in yours but instead nod slowly, taking one of the glasses of water into your hand gulping down some of the cool liquid to try to quell the arousal building within you.

He brushes your skin with his thumb once more before taking the jacket from you, moving to his bedroom and returning moments later with a couple pillows and a large blanket, which he leaves on the plush couch.

“I don’t mind just sleeping out here,” you offer, scanning the comfortable looking room, knowing if you slept in the living room you might be able to more easily slip out unnoticed in the morning. You’ve never been one for tender mornings in bed with a one night stand and this situation shouldn’t be treated any different. You don’t believe he will actually make any move beyond what he has, despite the brief intimate moments you’ve shared since stepping out of the club.

“No no, I insist, take my bed. The bedding was just changed this morning,” he makes sure to note and you realize how rich this man truly must be if he avoided mentioning who exactly changed the sheets. Surely not Doyoung, with his thousands of dollars of clothing and jewelry on his body and on-call car service and penthouse suite.

He moves to open the door to the balcony, cool but comfortable night air flooding the living room as he hands you a vintage glass ashtray from the media cabinet.

“In case you need one before you go to sleep or in the night,” he offers, smiling lightly at the shocked look on your face.

“Jungwoo is always hanging around here when I’m working late and I’ve learned there is no way to stop people from doing something they want to do. I can’t change my friends and I wouldn’t want to. I have things in my life and things I have removed from my life but that is my own decision and shouldn’t affect my relationships with those I love,” he adds, fingers brushing over yours as they make contact to pass the item to you.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take a shower quickly and then let you have the bedroom and bathroom. If you need it, there’s a toilet near the elevator and some fresh fruit in the fridge,” he continues, resisting the urge to brush his lips over your bare shoulder.

You thank him and take your purse out to the balcony, closing the door lightly behind you but making sure it latches fully. Stepping forward towards the edge of the balcony, you quickly light a cigarette and feel calm wash over you as you watch the flickering lights of the city skyline. The cool air feels good against your cheeks and exposed abdomen, needing desperately to cool down. You try (and fail) to not let your mind wander to thoughts of Doyoung in a steamy rainfall shower, steam gathering on glossy mirrors and hot water racing down toned biceps and thighs.

You burn through it eagerly, extinguishing the cigarette in the ashtray and disposing of it in a small bin attached to the balcony’s railing before heading back inside. Doyoung is emerging from his bedroom in a tight white tank top and loose grey sweatpants, bare feet padding across the plush throw rug.

“I left you some clothes and towels on the bed but help yourself to my closet if you need something warmer,” he mutters awkwardly, the power balance shifting slightly as he stands in front of you in casual clothes, black rosary still visible proudly on his chest.

“I’ll wash up, if that’s okay? If you’re tired and want to sleep, don’t worry about waiting for me to finish. I usually stay up pretty late and I’m sure you have early mornings,” you ramble, scratching at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Take your time, I usually read for a while before bed,” he gestures to a small leather bound bible on the coffee table. Of course he does.

In the shower, you let the water rush over your body, using some of the small skincare bottles to wash your face and step out, massaging shower oil into your damp skin. You sigh into the warm white towel fresh off the warming rack and feel like you’re living in a dream. 

Can’t I just stay here forever?

You know your modest apartment waits for you a few miles away, with your own much smaller and dingier balcony where you like to sketch in your journal as you watch birds settle on the hanging flower baskets. You could never see yourself living full time in the cold of the city, barely any green space and garbage littering the streets.

Checking outside the bathroom door before emerging, the coast is clear as you step back into his spacious bedroom, lightly touching the clothing he had laid out for you. A large and faded t-shirt that appears to be from a church camp is folded neatly, logo barely still visible. 

A package of unopened cotton boxer briefs is next to the shirt, knowing he must have been panicking thinking of how he could offer you something to wear without it seeming creepy. But he seems to at least have experience taking care of stranded tipsy guests (even if they usually were just Jungwoo and someone he brought home from the bar). You pull the shirt over your head and it falls easily to your mid-thigh, skimming over your hardened nipples, painful as they make contact with the cool air from the vent.

Sliding on the boxers, you pull them up to your waist and the shirt covers them fully. You decide against the sweatpants next to the shirt, knowing they will be far too long for you and opt to instead roll on the pair of long socks before placing the pants back on the dresser. You listen at the door for any noise from the living room, hearing a light hum of music you can’t decipher. Pressing your ear closer you recognize Debussy floating through the air and let out a small smile.

You’re about to tuck yourself into the king sized bed before you realize you didn’t bring the water glass in with you. Scanning the room you don’t see one and silently curse yourself.

Sliding the door open quietly, you stick your head out tentatively, his head lifting to look at you. He looks absolutely adorable, bundled up in a fluffy blanket with his small bible in his lap and two scented candles lit on the table. The music did turn out to be Debussy, playing softly on a record player in the corner.

“Is the music too loud?” he asks, moving as if he is going to turn it off.

“No no, it’s beautiful,” you breathe out in reply, sliding out from the door and covering your chest with your arms, self conscious. This causes the hem of the shirt to hike up, exposing a sliver of the white briefs covering your lower half.

Doyoung’s eyes trail down your body, as if wanting to mentally capture this image of you dressed in his clothes, standing sheepishly in front of him. He pushes away thoughts of you on your knees in front of him, mouthing along his length through his sweatpants while he tugs on your silky and damp hair.

“I, um, just came out for some water,” you add, crossing to the counter to grab the glass before returning to stand awkwardly next to the couch.

“Why does she call you angel?” he asks suddenly, pulling an arm up on the back of the couch, unintentionally opening up a perfect sized space for you to sit next to him.

You smile lightly and cross to sit next to him, perching on the edge of the cushion so as to not crowd him.

“My middle name is Angelica,” you replied softly. “She just took a liking to the pet name many years ago.”

He smiles softly at this explanation, suddenly aware that his other hand has strayed to the hem of his shirt hanging loose on your torso.

“Angel…” he tries, feeling the way it sounds in his voice, feeling the way the words taste as they roll off his tongue. He smirks, pinching the fabric at the edge of the shirt in between his fingers and releasing it.

“Can I call you that?” he breathes out, suddenly closer to your face than you had realized.

“Only if you’re a good boy,” you manage to say in an even tone, hand finally reaching out to touch his chest, flattening against his toned pecs, metal beads digging into your palm.

His eyes flutter, brain clearly short circuiting at the mention of praise, fingers stilling but breathing becoming more labored.

“Can I please kiss you?” you ask, eyes and voice hopeful. You palm the cross on the rosary, holding it tightly in your hand as you pull gently, bringing yourself closer to Doyoung as your eyes slip shut, not waiting for a response.

His lips are on yours suddenly, pressing firmly as his hand flies to your lower back, pressing you flush against his chest, capturing your hand in between your bodies. You refuse to let go of the rosary, pulling tighter so he’s forced to deepen the kiss.

You feel his hand push up the back of the shirt and up your back, as if reaching for a bra to unhook and you can’t help but smile against his mouth, knowing he is far less innocent than he seems.

You rise up on your knees, moving your legs to straddle him on the couch, suddenly feeling something firm against your bare thigh. Your grin grows, nuzzling against his nose teasingly.

“Well, well, look who isn’t such a good boy after all,” you growl out, unable to control how horny you are for this man under you.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss, brows furrowed in confusion at your comment. Reaching between your bodies, he pulls out the leather bible and you flush deeply, unable to process that you thought it was his erection.

You avert your eyes from his and reach an arm up to touch the back of your neck nervously but his hand quickly grabs your wrist as he moves your hand to his lap, eyes darkening. When he pushes you down against his sweatpants you feel him harder than you thought he would be, not to mention way bigger than you thought he would be.

“Who said I was a good boy, angel?” he asked quietly, almost sounding annoyed with you. He grips your wrist tighter, pulling you closer to him before capturing your lips in his again.

It takes you a moment to respond, brain foggy at the name and sequence of events that had just unfolded. It doesn’t take you long to recover before slipping your tongue into his mouth hungrily, fingers lacing his hair to pull him desperately close.

You can’t help but move quickly with him, spreading your thighs to grind slow circles into his clothed crotch, biting back moans that bubble in your throat.

Hands are suddenly tugging at the hem of the shirt and you quickly oblige, peeling off the thin cotton and discarding it on the floor. Your chest is heaving as you sit on his lap in just the white boxer briefs, nipples erect and back arched to push your full chest towards him.

Doyoung hungrily licks his lips, eyes darting over your body as if there’s a time limit to the amount of time he has to look. You know you look good and he knew from the minute he saw you walk in the club that you would be on his lap, tits bouncing as he pressed up towards you with an experimental thrust. A small groan slides from his spit slicked lips as he slides one hand to your lower back and the other to cup your breast.

“Good God,” he lets out before lowering his mouth to your nipple, flicking eyes up to watch as you tumble contrasting curses from your plump lips.

He moves his mouth expertly, tongue laving over the sensitive skin, teeth dragging against your tight nipple. His hand on your lower back feels huge, fingers spread wide and gripping at your flesh as if you will disappear if he loosens his grip.

“Fuck me right here,” you can’t help but mutter into his open mouth after a particularly loud gasp flies from your mouth when you feel the tip of his dick collide with your clothed clit.

He pulls back, face seemingly questioning himself, eyes flicking over to the coffee table with the bible before turning upwards and fluttering shut.

You’re amazed at how this man can have his tit in your mouth one minute and then the next…

“Wait, are you praying?!” you ask in shock, stifling the laughter that builds in your throat.

He peeks at you with one eye open, smiling lightly before closing his eyes again and humming out an incoherent reply.

“Amen,” he says softly after a few more moments have passed.

You don’t have time to question him further when he quickly pulls his shirt over his head, revealing tight and toned abs and letting his broad chest crowd you in what could only be described as a bear hug. He pulls you close to his chest and you can feel his heartbeat reverberating through your own skin.

“The angel wants to get fucked, does she?” he growls as he digs his nails into your back.

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” he adds before flipping you over suddenly, standing above you as he slides the boxers down to your ankles, leaving your socks on.

He then moves his hands to his own waistband, removing the sweatpants and revealing his hard cock, already flushed and angry with arousal. As he bends down, the rosary dangles from his neck and you can’t help but stare.

You’re laid out, exposed in front of him as he drops to his knees, nudging your knees to widen in front of him. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, controlling and calculated. You have to ask yourself the same question you asked in the club, who the fuck was this guy?

“You asked if I was praying earlier,” he speaks quietly, long fingers dragging along your sensitive inner thigh, avoiding where you want him the most.

“I just like to thank God before I eat,” he adds, eyes glimmering with mischief as he pushes forward, tongue licking a long stripe along your dripping core, sending shockwaves throughout your body.

Your brain is swimming with pleasure at the filthy words he spoke and the way his mouth is warm against your burning core, tugging on his hair and slipping your hand down to his neck to stroke the shorter strands there to encourage him.

His muffled moans send vibrations along your folds and shivers up your spine as he laps at you like it’s the fucking last supper. You feel your release close, thighs pulling in to tighten around his face. He shoves them back open every time they threaten to suffocate him, giving him access to every inch of you. 

Your orgasm creeps up on you and you are suddenly screaming his name, head thrown back on the back of the couch, vision blinding white. Your eyes are clenched shut as you make every attempt to slow your heavy breathing.

You feel warm hands under your thighs and realize he's lifting you from the couch. You let your arms fall lazily around his shoulders and your head loll over as he carries you to the bedroom. Laying you gently on your back, he’s suddenly leaning over you, lips brushing against your jaw, peppering kisses up to your ear and leaving more along your hairline.

“That was heavenly,” you sigh out, feeling dizzy from the soft gestures.

He smiles and pushes your hair from your face, leaning down to kiss you. You can’t get enough of his lips, every time they press over yours you’re drawn in closer, wanting more and more.

“I know you said you wanted me to fuck you on the couch and as much as I would love to bend you over and slam into you, I want to see your face when I make you cream on my dick,” he says as if it’s the simplest and most normal sentence on the planet. He sits up, reaching a veiny hand over to the bedside table and into the shallow drawer there.

Your mouth hangs open for a moment until you feel his fingers on you again, rubbing slow circles on you, gathering your post orgasm arousal as he tears open a condom that is carefully dangling between his lips. He slicks up his rock hard erection with your wetness before sliding it on and running a hand through his now messy hair.

You adjust yourself on the bed, propping your knees up so he can crawl between them. He brings his face close to yours and drags his tongue lazily against your lower lip before pushing into you. 

Your eyes widen, feeling the stretch of his massive cock and the look on his face when he finally feels himself inside you. You swear he’s seen the second coming of Christ and you wish you could take a picture of the pure bliss.

It doesn’t take long for him to pick up a consistent pace of pumping in and out of you, grunts and moans falling from his lips and sounding almost like he’s singing. You almost come at the sight of the rosary dangling above you and moving with each thrust, knowing how fucking filthy this is but how it’s the most turned on you’ve been in ages.

He’s close and you don’t know how much longer you can last after him so you hook your legs around his back and push on him, silently begging to flip over. He obliges and lets you return to a similar position from the couch, him seated against the pillows and you rising up and down on his cock. This drives you insane, watching his face contort in pleasure as you ride him, letting his name fall over and over from your lips like your own prayer.

“Angel, I’m so close,” he moans, pulling you so tight against his chest that you feel yourself becoming one with him. You move together, moan together, and release in strangled cries together. 

You pull back, out of breath and struggling to compose yourself, glancing down at your chest to see an imprint of the cross in between swollen breasts. He has a hazy, happy grin across his face and you know you have to look the same in this moment.

He reaches out, brushing pads of his fingers across the imprint on your chest before dipping down to kiss at the cross mark.

You think your heart might explode in that very moment, suddenly visualizing the two of you holding hands in a church pew or leaning over candles, lighting them and bowing your heads in silence.

What the fuck has gotten into you?

–

Once he finishes tucking the plush duvet around your naked body, he lays flat on his back, exhaling in relaxation for what sounded like the first time that night, and humming out an almost angelic note.

“And on the seventh day, God looked at all he had made and rested from the work he had done,” Doyoung paraphrased, grinning at his joke, turning slightly to nuzzle his face into your bare shoulder.

Your cheeks warmed and eyes welled as you watched your dark haired lover drift off into sleep, arms laying beside him, not clinging to you as they had been all night, as if fully relaxed at how you seemingly fit so easily into his bed, into his life.

Checking the time, you unlock your phone, lower the brightness, and fire off a couple check-in texts to your friend and one to your mother asking if you completed your sacraments as a child and if she knows where your old prayer book is. You can’t believe this man is reigniting this in you and while you know no amount of good sex is going to fully pull you back into a toxic institution, you see the good in him and wonder if there is a world where the two of you can balance his faith and your more progressive views.

The next morning comes quicker than you had anticipated and light is streaming through the sheers covering the floor to ceiling windows. You glance over to see a still sleeping Doyoung, surprised once you check the time, knowing he probably starts his day at the office before you. You check your phone, frustrated at how quickly it will soon be the time when your boss is checking in to see if you are working from home or coming into the office. You send off a quick message to let them know you will have a late start to the day, working from your apartment.

They reply with a teasing tone, noting that you and your friend must have gotten into some fun the night prior since she had called off entirely. Oh boy, couldn’t wait to hear about that.

You roll over, seeing Doyoung’s eyes open in narrow slits, running a wet tongue over his dry lips.

“Morning star,” he smiles at you, placing that same strong hand on your lower back, pulling you gently closer to him.

“Hi,” you squeak out, giggling as his fingers brush lightly over your spine, tickling you.

“Can I make you coffee?” he asks, pressing lips softly to your temple, holding there and breathing in the scent of your hair, still faintly holding the floral notes from his shampoo.

“You don’t have morning prayers to get to?” you tease, pushing your lips towards his, silently asking for a kiss.

He pulls back, knitting his brows together and almost rolling his eyes.

“You really have me all wrong you know,” he starts, pushing strands of hair from your face before cupping your cheek gently, just as he had in the kitchen last night when you first got back.

“Yes, I have my beliefs and values that ground me. But that doesn’t mean I abstain from every activity marked as a sin in the bible,” he continued, his voice even and strong but not mean.

“I would have thought that would have been obvious by everything we did last night,” he added, pressing a little more firmly on your lower back, gliding his palm down to the slope of your ass to grasp at the skin there.

You gulp audibly, startled by his candid admission. Maybe you did have him all wrong. Maybe you judged this book by the cover too quickly, your opinion shadowed by everything you knew from the devout adults you had grown up around. You had always assumed it was black and white, no gray space between for any compromise.

All you could do in that moment, overcome with emotions you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge, was pull him close to you and connect your hips with his to slowly create friction between the two of you. You hungrily captured his lips in yours, sighing into him as his fingers gently tugged your hair and brought you to another two unholy orgasms.

–

You don’t bother showering again, opting to take Doyoung up on that ride home from his driver who arrives in less than fifteen minutes, despite the morning rush hour traffic. You’re soon stepping out onto the busy streets, feet back in those painful boots and coat wrapped tightly around you to cover your revealing outfit you still can’t believe you wore out all night (but probably have to thank for this entire encounter).

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t a lost little angel!” comes a familiar voice, catching you as you are approaching the black car, the driver standing with a neutral expression waiting to open the door for you.

“Jungwoo, hey,” you start, stepping towards the man who is placing his motorcycle helmet on the seat, arms crossed as he leans gently against the expensive bike. 

He’s wearing low rise leather pants with a matching belt adorned with a large silver buckle. His jacket is open and you can see a tight and cropped red shirt underneath, exposing much of his toned abs and navel. Nude color blocking rose up the sides of the shirt, covered in black crescent moons and he is wearing a stack of gold chains tight around his neck. A large green stone is dangling from his ear, moving as he speaks.

His hair is fluffy from the helmet, eyes smudged lightly with dark liner, most likely still from the night before. He looks absolutely unreal and your mind drifts to images of your friend pressed between him and the equally sexy Jaehyun in the crowded bar, stirring tension deep in your core.

“How was your night?” you add, stepping closer to him, curious about what your friend had gotten into.

“I’m sure just as sinful as yours by the look of this walk of shame,” he almost sneers back, tone unmatched to the large grin covering his face from his lips to his eyes. He grabs your phone from you and punches his number in, punctuating with a sultry wink. His eyes are flicking up and down your body dramatically, making overly exaggerated facial expressions at you.

You roll your eyes at him, turning to head to the car, wagging your fingers at him seductively and putting extra emphasis in your steps as you know he has his eyes glued to your ass as you slide into the car.

When Doyoung emerges from the shower with a towel tied low around his waist he finds Jungwoo lounging in his favorite chair in the living room, flipping through a magazine he had left here the week before. He looks up to make eye contact with Doyoung, smiling and letting a low whistle slide out his lips.

“Don’t start, Woo,” Doyoung warns curtly, pouring two cups of coffee and preparing them the way they both like.

“Look look, I have Father Lee on speed dial, he’s ready to do an emergency confession for you in the lobby of your office if you need it this morning,” he laughs back, closing the magazine and accepting the mug.

Doyoung rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to reach over and slap the back of Jungwoo’s head. He knows his friend is exaggerating but he had consequently already sent Mark a text that he would stop by the church later that day for a chat. Having one of your oldest friends be a priest that was known for being more on the liberal side had its perks.

“Just because I don’t flaunt my escapades all over town or upload racy videos into the shared DJJ iCloud album, doesn’t mean I’m not getting my dick wet,” he replies after a long sip of much needed coffee.

Jungwoo almost spits out his coffee at the vulgar comment, lips twisting up into a wicked smile as he watches his friend, relaxed and shirtless mid-morning on a work day.

“Something’s different about you, Kim Doyoung,” Jungwoo chuckles, tapping back into his conversation with Jaehyun from earlier, who had frantically texted him from the office that Doyoung hadn’t shown up for their morning meeting and wasn’t replying to any of his texts.

“I guess you could say I was touched by an angel,” Doyoung replies wickedly, winking at Jungwoo before standing and letting his towel fall from his hips, whipping it at leather clad knees before walking slowly back into the bedroom.

Jungwoo’s eyes widen and a smile spreads across his face, watching his friend’s toned ass move away from him and examining the red marks dotting his broad back.

“Oh Jaeeeeee, I have an idea for something that could be fun and oh so messy,” Jungwoo whispers into the phone as he steps out onto the balcony, lighting a blunt in the cool morning air, surrounded by the sounds of the bustling city below.

can you feel it inside your bones?

can you hear mine break through the phone?

you stroll the streets like a ghost, hiding in that overcoat

i should have never told you it's cold in new york

Johnny & Doyoung for Allure Korea #1

johnny & doyoung // allure magazine korea

𝕱𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖜

Sub!Doyoung (Treasure) x Dom! Male Word count: 1.5k Warnings: NSFW (minors dni), pwp, pet(puppy)- owner relationship, rough sex, crying, hair-pulling, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of anal penetration, fingering, bit of bondage, established relationship, idk if i forgot smth, ok bye. but did i forget something?

Ok so first submission for Kinktober! Gosh I'm so excited. This smut belongs to one of my unpublished book, edited to fit Doyoung. Can you tell I was listening to FREAKSHOW by PLVTINUM while writing this? 💀

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Kinktober 2024 - Week 1: Exhibitionism

“His face turned a deeper shade of red at the amount of people who had their hands in their crotch. They looked hypnotized, staring straight at him- at his body covered in sweat and cum, flushed red down until his chest, cock still hard and legs parted wide open, trembling.”

When his owner arrived in the room, he found Doyoung already sitting down on the bed at one side of the room, clad in his silk robe, the darkness of the velvet curtains covering the window. Doyoung fidgeted nervously, swinging his legs back and forth anxiously, staring at the floor until the sound of the door closing caught his attention.

“You don’t gotta worry too much about them, alright, pup?” His owner put on a smile for him and walked towards him before sitting right beside him.

Doyoung nodded in agreement before leaving a small peck on his lips in response. His owner’s smile grew wider, unable to ignore just how adorable he was. He stood up again and gently guided Doyoung to his feet, holding his hands. He unraveled the robe and took it off slowly, enjoying how the fabric slipped off his shoulders before dropping the cloth on the floor. He then tapped Doyoung’s arm. Doyoung raised his hands to his front, and his owner fastened the silk around his crossed wrists to securely tie it.

Without preamble, his owner pushed him roughly by his shoulders to his knees, earning a startled gasp from Doyoung, “You can ask me to stop anytime, pup,” His owner told him before he walked towards the window right in front of Doyoung.

“Wait!” Doyoung blurted out before his owner pulled the rope to open the curtains, and the older one whipped his head at him. Doyoung cleared his throat, his fear obvious, “Can you give me one more minute?”

His owner’s stare was blank, and he forced himself to nod and drop the rope to allow Doyoung to prepare a few more seconds. Doyoung shifted in his place, trying desperately to become comfortable in the little time he had. His hands were sweating, and his knees were pulsating at the pain he felt before when he was pushed down without further warning.

“Done?” His owner asked after a moment, and Doyoung hesitatingly nodded. He pulled the rope, and light engulfed Doyoung as soon as the curtains parted. He bowed his head once again when his eyes met with many more outside the glass, face burning and fear increasing even if the heat pooling in his stomach worsened.

“Isn’t so bad, right…?” His owner grinned before he walked back to him and began pacing around, “They can’t and won’t touch you, pup. Only I can,” He crouched beside him and combed his hair back with one hand. He found it funny how stiff Doyoung felt, barely moving and eyes closed. His owner looked outside the glass momentarily at the freaks lining to watch the performance, “But you can give them a show, right?”

Doyoung didn’t reply physically or verbally, only obeying when he felt one of his owner’s hands on one of his inner thighs to part his legs further than they naturally did when kneeling, “Raise your hands, they can’t see your pretty little cock like this,” His owner whispered closer to his ear before kissing right underneath. He felt Doyoung shiver at the touch and he raised his hands right after closer to his chest. His owner chuckled, enjoying how easily Doyoung reacted to even the most feather-like touch in this defenseless state.

Doyoung felt his owner pull away from him, the heat he initially felt when his body was close was now gone. He heard him rise to his feet and walk behind him, but still kept his eyes tightly closed. Then, his owner placed one of his boots on his back and pushed him forward violently, and Doyoung whimpered loudly and clumsily placing his tied hands right in front of him to avoid falling face-first.

“Crawl forward, pup,” his owner ordered now that Doyoung was on all fours, and Doyoung carefully did as told. His shivering was stronger now that he couldn’t anticipate what would happen next, and he stopped when the top of his head bumped into the glass. He still didn’t dare to open his eyes.

“That’s it…” Doyoung mumbled before crouching once again, this time behind him. He placed one hand on his lower back and leaned over him, pressing two fingers against his lips. Doyoung automatically took them into his mouth, instinct taking over shame while he licked them wet. The older one pulled them out of his mouth with a popping sound, and slowly pushed them past his rim. Doyoung gasped, neck arching and even though his eyes were closed, he knew there was now a better view of his face compared to a moment ago when his head was hanging.

“Look at that, they're completely enticed with you,” His owner smiled before beginning to move his fingers in and out, “Why don't you give them some more? Open your eyes, pup”

Doyoung wished to comply, but there was too much going on and he was far too embarrassed to even move. He limited himself to moan with each thrust of his owner’s fingers, enjoying how the long digits reached deep inside, and yet he was aware that noise was projected outside. He choked a moan when he felt his prostate being pressed, head dropping again to and fingers curling to grip on the rug underneath them.

“Thought I told you to give them a damn show,” he heard his owner say right before he gripped his hair strong and pulled his head up. Doyoung whined and gasped, tears threatening to spill when his owner pulled harder to make him raise his hands off the ground and press them against the glass in front of him.

He hadn't opened his eyes yet because he feared what he'd see, but that didn't stop him from moaning and gasping, hips rolling tightly on his owner's fingers to reach his release faster. His hands were sweaty, slipping slightly off the glass before he re-positioned himself.

His owner pushed a third finger in at the same time as he pushed Doyoung’s full body against the glass. Doyoung cried at the sudden intrusion and shivered due to the cold glass against his body.

And for the spectators, the view got ten times better. With Doyoung kneeling against the glass with legs wide open, it was easy to see how his owner's fingers disappeared into his hole and reappeared not even a second later at the speed he went. His cock twitched and rubbed against the window, and his perk nipples were squished against the pane. His whole body did small tremors that moved him against the glass to add to the pleasing torture, and his cheek was pressed as well while his eyes remained closed even though tears were already well past his waterline, staining the glass.

His owner let go of Doyoung’s hair to press him down by his hips against his fingers, earning staccato moans from Doyoung who desperately tried to trash his hips but couldn't due to the strength put on him to stay still. His owner increased the pace, rubbing on his sweet spot each time his fingers dipped inside.

Finally, Doyoung whimpered and whined, gasping for air once his release hit him, cum smearing against the glass and now that the grip on his hips softened, lower body thrusting lightly against the pane to induce more friction against his burning cock as well as his overstimulated prostate while riding his high. His owner barely moved his fingers for this, allowing the younger one to get off on his own terms, which made Doyoung whine louder as well.

“Open your eyes,” His owner spoke softer than before, fingers pulling out of his hole. He couldn't help but notice how the small hole gaped in need now that his fingers were gone.

Doyoung opened his eyes slowly, hiccuping. He was heavily panting, trying to catch his breath mixed with whines from the amount of pleasure he was enduring just a moment ago and the stimulation his cock still had against the cold window.

His face turned a deeper shade of red at the number of people who had their hands in their crotch, even some men with their cocks out. They looked hypnotized, staring straight at him- at his body. Covered in sweat and cum, flushed red down to his chest, cock still hard and legs parted wide open, trembling.

He didn't expect this to arouse him that much, and he swallowed thickly at the realization of this. He wasn't sure if he could go on.

“Good puppy…” His owner whispered behind him, and Doyoung felt him press his cock against his rim. He whimpered and pressed his forehead against the glass, staring at the ground.

“Nobody can touch you, pup. Only I can. They'll just get to imagine what they don't have while only I fuck you,” Doyoung closed his eyes again when he heard those words and arched his neck at the feeling of the older one's lips ghosting against the skin. His mind was now a haze. It must be some sort of trick his owner played with his mind because he didn't want to stop anymore. He wanted to show himself off, show off he was only meant for one man.

“You're mine, you belong to me”

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Main Masterlist

Kinktober Masterlist 2024

𝑵𝑪𝑻 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 👶🏻🖤

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i'll love you forever...

Treasure Reacting to Their S/O Speaking in Their Native Language

pairing: boyfriend!Treasure x reader

genre: mostly fluff, maybe a suggestion of angst

warnings: mention of slight fighting but like not really

word count: 346

summary: hanging out with bf!Treasure when you get a phone call from your parents and start arguing with them in your native language

requested! I hope you like it :) sorry it’s a bit short school has been crazy lately

part 2! maknae line! hyung line linked below

HYUNG LINE // MAKNAE LINE

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asahi

Realizes you’re speaking a different language and smiles to himself because he forgot you could do that and he thinks thats cool ( as someone who also speaks more than one )

When you’re done with the call you forget to switch back and start talking to him in your native language so he starts responding to you in Japanese until you both start laughing

Yedam

Gives you a thumbs up and big smile when you glance over at him during your call

Compliments how fast you were speaking

Asks if you can start teaching him your language because it sounded awesome and he wants to be able to use it with you (and other teume!)

Doyoung

When he hears your stressed/angry conversation he immediately comes over and just lays on top of you (like in my cuddling positions post lol) to make you laugh or try to calm you down

Takes him a second to notice the language he doesn’t understand

Just looking up at you the whole time in pleasant surprise 

“Can you yell at me like that when you’re mad at me? It sounds cooler”

Haruto

Tells you he thought you were a different person for a second

Offers to teach you Japanese if you teach him your language so you can talk in a mix of it and have your own secret language 

Wants to mix some cool words into his raps

Jeongwoo

would look at you with wide eyes until you ended the call and smiled at him meaning everything was okay

Would kinda laugh at you and be like what did you even just say

Made a list in his notes app of the things you said that he wanted translated and the way he tried to spell the words is so funny

Junghwan

Tells you he was scared of you while laughing but kinda means it

You buy him ice cream so he remembers you’re nice and that you like him

You start singing a song in your native language so he hears the not angry yelling aspect

nct 127 masterlist ₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ

lee taeyong 

nothing yet... check back later!!

johnny suh

nothing yet... check back later!!

nakamoto yuta

nothing yet... check back later!!

kim doyoung

nothing yet... check back later!!

jeong jaehyun

nothing yet... check back later!!

kim jungwoo

nothing yet... check back later!!

mark lee

nothing yet... check back later!!

lee haechan

nothing yet... check back later!!

— @bxckkdoor ᧔o᧓

Kim Doyoung from NCT | Icons Dark

an: was listening to ella mai's shot clock and here we are. part 2 probably when i remember to actually create rather than consume when i'm on here

you'd just about had it with johnny...

you'd had it with him thinking coming over to your place and occasionally having toe curling sex was a date, you'd had it with how he'd met all of your friends and you were yet to meet his, you'd had it with how loosely he threw around pet names like "mine and "my girl", whispering sweet nothings to you - completely oblivious to the effect things as simply complex as "only for me..." had on you - you'd had it with how he'd cockblock you and claim you as his every time other guys tried to hit on you at parties, how he'd make no efforts to tell people off when they made passes at him, but heaven forbid another man did so much as look at you and all hell would break loose.

the worst part of it wasn't that you'd had to turn down men that were just as hot as him. oh no, not at all. in-fact, you were quite pleased with yourself for having bagged the fine specimen. a devious smile that was a code you could never quite crack, you'd come to learn meant a multitude of things, his gaze was one that could do so much as to leave you a stuttering mess upon making eye contact, his height foreshadowed the sizeable member that lie beyond the material of his beloved pair of jeans.

there was more to him than the physical, he had manners, something of his you admired. how he respected both you and himself enough to freshen up before coming over, always waiting for you to give him the 'ok' to come in when you eagerly opened your apartment door to his smiley, clean and comfy looking self, nice enough to use a coaster when he poured himself something to drink - something he remembered you'd given him a stern talking to for not doing the first time he came over - using the ottoman rather than putting his legs up on the sofa or coffee table, offering to wash the dishes you were yet to muster up the energy to clean, how cocky and full of himself he was...how full of him you were, never missing the opportunity to call you his tiny baby, his size having you mutter incoherent babbles while his hips moved sporadically into you, having no qualms about wiping you down and opening a bath for you right after, how good he always smelt after coming out of the shower, the notable contrast compared to the room that both smelled and looked like a sex marathon had transpired.

But no, the worst part wasn't how perfect he was, the worst part was that he wasn't yours...

it sucked how much your heart melted when he'd do so little as to flash you a warm smile, it sucked how you loved how possessive he got of you, it sucked how he treated you like you were his special girl, it sucked how much you loved him...

it tore you apart knowing you had come this far with him and yet whenever you were asked on the status of your relationship, you'd be the only one that burned of embarrassment when you received looks of sympathy when you revealed he was merely your situationship. you knew you didn't have the heart to confront johnny about how he had practically dribbled and made a mockery out of your feelings. how each and every time you'd convinced yourself you were ready to cut him off, he'd snake his way up into the gap of your thighs, lapping away at the front of bravery you'd put up as if it were ice cream and all you could do was lay there to melt.

if you hadn't yet mentioned it in the last six months, what would trigger the sudden change?

maybe it was the fact that the soft patters of water had prematurely woken you up from sleep. reaching for his phone for the time, only for there to be a pang you felt in your heart as you read the crude notification from one of the girls you'd seen at a party you'd attended mere hours early, while your boy-...friend was in the shower. not surprised by what you had assumed were his antics, you weren't angry, or even hurt, just sheerly and utterly drained.

for the duration of the party and every party prior to that, you hadn't over-stepped and told anybody to back off from making any advances on him. it wasn't because you had faith in him, you couldn't stomach yet another look of sympathy, one of those looks that made it very evident that you weren't his, you were just his favourite.

................

an: man i'm so incredibly tired but i didn't want you guys to forget me lmao.... here's a little something of proof i'm not dead and whatnot...