haiii!!! welcome back <3 looking forward to your writing, I hope you've been okay despite being so busy omg.. hopefully taste can bring some comfort please share your fav song(s) 🎤
hehe thank you!! i've been okay, writing has just been super low on my priority list :(
taste has been a rollercoaster of emotion for me but i don't think i would have it any other way. i'm still waiting for all my albums, pobs and lds to arrive and can't wait ^-^
as for my favourite songs...
on first listen, it was camera lights by like a landslide. i fell in love with it when i heard it during the highlight melody, and only fell more when hearing fully. however!! love beyond might be my favourite now. there's just something about it that tickles my brain in the right way. rounding out the top three would probably be should be!
sorry for the drought of content 😭😭 i’ve been super busy and just haven’t really felt like writing. i’m planning on uploading a text scenario post tomorrow, it’ll be something to do with taste 👀
i’m then planning on FINALLY doing the dreamies!sub post. after that i’ll probably just be clearing out my requests. in between i may post some other stuff, particularly that gamer!hyuck fic and maybe a gamer!jisung fic. so yeah!
hope you’ve all been doing well and hello to all my new followers ☺️
an: donor haechan is here! this one is soooo fucking filthy guys i don’t know what else to say. also boyfriend is felix from skz, my little sunshine <3, who fr deserves the best boyfriend award after this (or maybe the worst? you tell me). enjoy the last of the orgasm donor mini-series. have fun reading! - with love, c.
it started with your boyfriend staring at the ceiling, one arm tucked under his head, freckles faint in the low light.
“we should try something different,” felix said suddenly, voice raspy but steady.
you blinked, propped up on one elbow beside him, "different, like what?”
his eyes shifted to yours, a little uneasy, “i don’t know. toys? a sex workshop? or…maybe you could…” he hesitated, running hand over his hair, “maybe you could book a donor.”
you sat up straighter, “a donor? you mean like….at the neo orgasm clinic?”
you’ve been hearing about this clinic for days now. it was everywhere – tiktok, instagram reels, even on facebook.
like temptation dressed up as self-care, like sin daring you to cheat on your boyfriend. the kind of thing you scrolled past too quickly before the thought could burrow too deep…so now, hearing the words from his mouth, left you shocked and confused.
the air between you went thick. you love felix, you really, really do.
but for the past year, you’d been pretending the candlelit nights and whispered questions were enough. pretending his careful touches didn’t leave you restless, frustrated and unfulfilled.
he was sweet, thoughtful, his voice alone can get you wet in seconds…but none of it was ever enough to make you feel alive under his hands.
felix laughed softly, cheeks pink even in the dim light.
“yeah. one of the guys told me he and his girlfriend tried it. he said it helped her figure out what she really liked. and…i just…want that for you too.”
“love, you’re really serious with this?” you asked, searching his face, heart squeezing at the honesty in his tone, at the gentleness in his eyes.
“dead serious,” he said. his smile was sad, but earnest.
he reached for your hand immediately, threading his fingers through yours.
“i love you, but i know i’m not giving what you need. i know i’m too afraid to push too far,” his thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, “you deserve to…explore, to feel everything, to know what it’s like to be wanted in that way.”
your chest tightened. this was the problem. he was always too sweet. too nice. too sensitive.
“and…you’ll still want me to be your girlfriend?”
“of course,” he said softly, without hesitation.
“one session. a hall pass. no guilt, no rules. i’ll be here after, the same as always. i just want you to be happy, you know?”
you squeezed his hand, your chest warm and aching all at once, “you really are the sweetest.”
“not sweet enough to make you moan the way you should,” he joked lightly, kissing the back of your hand. “
“so… let someone who can do it show you how.”
you laughed softly, lying back down beside him. but long after felix fell asleep, his words kept replaying in your head, circling through your thoughts until the idea burned like a brand.
✚ BOOK NOW ✚
it sounded outrageous when felix said it, but now, in the quiet, it felt less like a wild idea and more like an open door you couldn’t stop peeking through.
careful not to wake him, you slipped your phone from the nightstand and pulled the blanket tighter around yourself. with your heart already pounding, you opened a browser and searched for the neo orgasm clinic’s website.
the site loaded in clean white with soft blue lettering, promising safe, healthy, satisfying orgasms for women.
you chewed your lip as you scrolled, each click pulling you deeper. what had once just been a rumor floating across your social media feed now unfolding in front of you like something tangible, real, available.
page after page detailed how the clinic worked —rigorous screenings, medical clearances, licensed donors, customizable boundaries. it was clinical enough to seem safe, yet daring enough to feel dangerous.
by the time you reached the sign up form, you were convinced.
step 1: medical verification. a form requesting a recent full panel of STI test within the last month.
you nodded to yourself. easy enough. you’ve only ever had sex with felix and you both knew you were clean.
step 2: sexual preferences and boundaries. the screen lit up with a list and instructions
check all acts you’re open to exploring with your donor. this does not guarantee they will occur. your donor will review and operate within your boundaries.
your pulse skipped. besides felix’s careful touches and a couple of unsatisfying encounters from the past, you’d never let anyone really do these things to you. really treat you like you were something unbreakable. but wasn’t that the point? to finally see what it was supposed to feel like?
you hesitated, only briefly, before clicking through, your finger steady as the list filled with checks:
☑️ anal play
☑️ bondage
☑️ choking
☑️ clitoral simulation
☑️ degradation
☑️ dirty talk
☑️ discipline
☑️ domination
☑️ edging
☑️ fingering
☑️ hair-pulling
☑️ kissing
☑️ nipple play
☑️ objectification
☑️ oral
☑️ orgasm control
☑️ praise
☑️ rough sex
☑️ slapping
☑️ spanking
☑️ vaginal penetration
you hovered over more darker options like knife play, pet play, whipping – but you scrolled past them. those options felt a bit too much for someone who’s only used to soft kisses and vanilla sex.
for now, you wanted to taste what it meant to be touched without hesitation. to feel the difference between “gentle” and “rough,” between “careful” and “hungry.” you wanted to be handled, pushed, maybe even broken down but in ways your body could understand. so you left the darkest boxes empty. not now. maybe not ever. and you hit next.
step 3: why are you booking this appointment?
you typed quickly, the words’s spilling out raw before you could second-guess:
my boyfriend is too careful. too soft. i want someone who isn’t afraid to break me. someone who can test my limits. someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. i don’t want sweet this time. i want rough. i want to be manhandled so bad i have to beg to stop.
step 4: choose your donor
the profiles loaded. each headshot paired with glowing blurbs. the men all looked impressive, polished, safe. but then a name kept appearing – lee haechan.
you clicked on him. his profile photo stared back at you — sharp jaw, mischievous eyes, a smirk that made your stomach flip. and beneath it is a badge with the words: #1 Most Mentioned in Reviews.
the testimonials weren’t neat paragraphs like the others. they were chaotic, breathless, typed like confessions:
“i came so many times i lost count. he bullied me into orgasms i didn’t even know my body could have.”
“started off playful, made me laugh, then had me crying into the sheets ten minutes later. he’s a menace.”
“he choked me out, spanked me raw and still somehow made me feel safe enough to fall asleep on his chest after. unreal.”
and the most captivating one of all:
“haechan will literally ruin your life in the best way possible. don’t book him unless you’re ready to walk funny for two days.”
you swallowed hard, your fingers trembling as you scrolled. these didn’t sound like warnings. they sounded like invitations. like exactly what you wanted.
your thumb hovered over the glowing blue button at the boom of the screen. you looked once more at felix’s sleeping figure before inhaling sharply and clicking — BOOK NOW.
Neo Orgasm Clinic Consultation: CONFIRMED
Donor: Haechan Lee
Date of Consultation: August 24, 2025
you set your phone down slowly, pulse still racing. the room was quiet. felix’s breathing even beside you. but you knew nothing about tonight was quiet anymore. the decision was made. the door was open. and once you stepped through it, there was no going back.
✚ THE CONSULTATION ✚
the clinic lobby was quieter than you expected. soft instrumental music floated through the speakers, the faint scent of lavender and eucalyptus carried in the air. everything about the place whispered safe, professional, even though your stomach was doing flips.
felix was waiting in the car, parked in the parking lot, giving your hand one last squeeze before letting go. he didn’t come in with you, said he wanted you to have the space to do this your way.
“i’ll be here when you’re done,” he’d murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. the memory was still warm against your skin as you stepped toward the front desk.
the receptionist, taeyong, looked up the moment you approached the front desk. his calm smile didn’t falter.
“welcome to neo orgasm clinic,” he greeted, his voice warm but efficient as he asked you for your full name. you gave it softly, almost like whispering it might steady your nerves.
“ahh,” taeyong nodded, typing something into his screen, “consultation with donor haechan?”
you swallowed and nodded, clutching your bag a little together, “yes.”
“great,” he reached over the counter, placing a table in front of you, “before we proceed, kindly review your form one last time. you can add or remove any preferences now. remember, consent is required for everything.”
your throat felt dry as you picked up the tablet. the screen glowing back at you with your selections — seeing it all lined up again made your skin feel hot, your fingers tightening against the edges of the tablet. it was one thing to click boxes in your bedroom at midnight, it was another to see them listed here in the clinic, knowing someone else would be reading them.
for a moment, you almost backed out — you could hand the tablet back, tell taeyong you’d changed your mind, walk right out the door and have felix drive you home. but then you thought about felix’s gentle smile, the way his hand lingered on yours when he told you he wanted this for you and you forced yourself to breathe, scrolled all the way to the bottom, and tapped confirm.
the tablet pinged softly, the screen thanked you and welcomed you officially to the program.
taeyong took the tablet back, his expression calm as ever, “perfect. haechan will be out in a moment to bring you in for consultation. please, have a seat.”
you nodded and sat down on one of the low chairs near the lobby wall, smoothing your palms against your knees. the room was warm, the music soft, but every nerve in your body felt on high alert.
five minutes later, the door at the far end of the hall clicked open.
“ms. y/n?”
you looked up.
lee haechan strode into the lobby with easy confidence, his voice carrying just enough to cut through the quiet. he didn’t walk so much as he owned the space. like every eye should naturally follow him. dressed casually — black trousers, a cream sweater, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing lean, toned forearms. he looked nothing like the clinical profiles on the website. he looked real. intimidatingly real.
his dark eyes flicked to yours, sharp and knowing, before a slow grin curved across his lips. the kind of grin that said he’d already read every word of your form and was dying to use it against you.
“hi,” he said, his voice warm but threaded with mischief as he walked straight toward you, closing the space between you without hesitation. he extended a hand, palm steady, fingers long.
“i’m haechan. ready for your consultation?”
you blinked up at him, nerves tangling in your chest. you slipped your hand into his, the contact sending a little spark up your arm. “y-yes,” you managed, your voice softer than you intended.
his grin widened, thumb brushing deliberately against your knuckles before he let go, “cute,” he said under his breath, like it was just for you, before gesturing toward the consultation rooms.
“follow me.”
as you rose to your feet, you swore your legs felt a little less steady. he didn’t rush, walking at a pace that made it impossible not to notice the confidence in his stride — the kind that promised trouble. the kind you’d signed up for.
the consultation room wasn’t clinical the way you half-expected. it was warm, softly lit, with a low couch and a single chair across from it. a table between them held water bottles, tissues, and another tablet. the space felt intimate, not intimidating, though the pounding of your pulse didn’t ease one bit.
“sit,” haechan said lightly, gesturing toward the couch. he dropped into the chair opposite, lounging back in a way that made it look like he’d been born comfortable there.
you perched on the edge of the couch, clutching your hands together in your lap.
he reached for the tablet, swiping it open, his eyes scanning the screen. his grin was instant.
“well, well,” he drawled, glancing up at you, “you didn’t hold back.”
your stomach flipped, “i…i just checked what i thought i wanted.”
“good,” he tapped the screen, still smirking, “because honesty makes this whole thing easier. and a hell of a lot more fun.”
your face warmed at the casual way he said it, like wrecking you was as simple as marking his calendar.
he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, eyes glinting as he read, “bondage, choking, degradation, spanking, rough sex…” his grin sharpened, “you sure you’ve never done any of these before?”
you shook your head quickly, heat rushing to your cheeks, “no. my boyfriend… he’s not… like that.”
“mmm,” haechan tilted his head, studying you for a long beat, like he was already peeling away your nerves piece by piece, “and does your boyfriend know you’re here today?”
your throat bobbed, “y-yes. it was his idea.”
that made his brow quirk higher, amused, “bold move,” he set the tablet down on the table with a little click and leaned back in his chair, arms folding loosely over his chest. his eyes never left yours.
“but the real question is… do you want this?”
suddenly, the air felt heavier, his words landing harder than you expected. your lips parted, but no sound came out right away. you were aware of your heartbeat thundering in your ears, of the way his gaze didn’t waver.
“i…” you swallowed. it was hard to admit that your boyfriend’s touches weren’t enough so you mustered all your courage and forced the words out.
“yes. i do.”
he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees, “here’s how this works,” he said, voice steady, serious even beneath the teasing curl of his lips.
“you set the boundaries. i play inside them. you feel unsafe, we stop. you don’t even have to explain yourself. the safe word is red. got it?”
you nodded quickly, “got it.”
“say it for me.”
“…red.”
“good girl.”
the praise slipped off his tongue so naturally it made your chest flutter. he leaned back again, crossing one ankle over his knee.
“now, about your list. you want rough, you’re gonna get rough. but…” his grin turned wicked, “i’ll decide just how much you can actually take. you might think you’re ready for everything you checked but it’s my job to find out where your limit really is.”
the room felt hotter, your pulse hammering as his words sank in.
“and don’t worry,” he added, voice dropping lower, darker, “i’m very, very good at finding limits.”
you exhaled shakily, pressing your thighs together.
haechan’s smirk softened then, a flicker of playfulness breaking through the edge in his tone.
“so, ms. y/n,” he said, drawing your name out just enough to make it sound like a tease, “are you ready to book your appointment?”
you nodded quickly, your voice a little breathless, “yes.”
“august 27,” he confirmed smoothly, tapping it into the system without looking away from you, “that okay with you?”
“yes,” you said again, firmer this time.
his grin widened, wolfish, as he set the tablet aside.
“then i’ll see you on the 27th.”
he stood, offering you his hand to shake like it was the neat wrap-up of a business deal, except the glint in his eyes made it clear it was anything but.
Neo Orgasm Clinic Session: CONFIRMED
Client: Y/N L/N
Donor: Haechan Lee
Date of Session: August 27, 2025
✚ THE APPOINTMENT ✚
felix’s car rolled to a stop in front of the clinic, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence between you. you sat with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, staring at the clinic like it might swallow you whole.
“you okay?” your boyfriend’s voice was deep but quiet, careful.
you turned to look at him. his freckles were faint in the dark, his smile a little too soft to match the chaos inside your chest.
“i’m nervous,” you admitted, your voice small, “and i feel like i’m cheating on you.”
he offers you a small smile, “you’re not.”
he reached over, threading his fingers through yours, giving your hands the same steady squeeze he had the first time, “we both want this. just…text me when you’re done, okay?”
you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, “okay.”
he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple, familiar, grounding, achingly sweet, “go,” he whispered.
you slipped out of the car before you could think twice, clutching your bag tight to your side. the doors slide open, welcoming you into the same softly lit lobby.
taeyong looked up the second you stepped inside, “just in time,” he said warmly.
“suite 6, he’s waiting for you.”
your pulse jumped as you entered the private suites room. each step toward suite 6 felt heavier then the last, your heartbeat loud in your ears. and then you were there — standing outside the door, staring at the number plate.
you drew in a shaky breath and heard the soft click as the door unlocked. the handle turned easily in your hand. you pushed the door open slowly, your breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat.
suite 6 was nothing like a hotel room and nothing like a sterile clinic either. the lighting was low and golden, spiling from shaded lamps instead of harsh overhead bulbs. a wide bed sat at the center, dressed in dark, soft-looking sheets. there was a full-length mirror angled against one wall. the air carried a faint trace of sandal wood, warm and grounding but your nerves spiked the same.
and then you saw him — haechan was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, dressed in black slacks and a black polo that clung just enough to his frame, the arms rolled at the sides, showing off his veins, and a black belt with a silver buckle wrapped tightly around his hips.
the same cocky smirk you remembered from the consultation was already tugging at his lips, his eyes locking on you the second the door clicked shut behind you.
“took you long enough,” he teased, voice warm but edged with mischief, “i was starting to think you’d changed your mind.”
you swallowed, clutching your bag tighter, “i…almost did.”
“almost.” he pushed off the wall with lazy confidence, closing a little distance between you, “but you didn’t.” his gaze flicked down your body, slow and deliberate, before meeting your eyes again.
“good girl.” the praise landed hot in your stomach, just like it had in the consultation room.
he nodded toward the small chair by the corner, “put your bag there, you won’t need it.”
your feet moved before your brain could catch up, setting your bag down carefully where he’d pointed. almost like your body was ready to follow every single one of his commands without question.
when you turned back, he was closer now, close enough that you could smell the faint mix of clean soap and sandalwood clinging to his skin.
“first appointments are always a little nerve-wracking,” he said casually, as if reading the tension in your shoulders, as if he knew you would come back for another, “but you already know the rules. you already know the safe word. so all you have to do…” his smirk curved wider, taking another step towards you, “is follow my lead.”
he was so close now. your pulse hammered, your throat dry. you managed a small nod.
then, without warning, his hand lifted — long fingers grazing the bare skin of your forearm. they crawled upward, mapping the line of your arm until they reached your shoulder. the light brush of his touch left goosebumps in its wake.
“you asked for rough,” he said softly, but there was nothing gentle about the way his tone darkened, edged with promise.
his fingers slid higher, up the curve of your neck, threading into your hair at the base of your skull. he tugged — not harshly, not yet. but firm enough to tilt your chin up and force your eyes on his. and in him you saw the kind of hunger and spark felix never gave you.
“i’ll give you rough,” he continued, his voice a low rumble that sank straight in your chest.
“but the fun part…” his grin turned wicked, his grip in your hair tightening just enough to make your scalp prickle, “…is figuring out just how much you can take, babygirl.”
the name landed hot and heavy in your stomach, your breath catching in your throat.
you swallowed hard, your voice barely steady, “and…if i can’t?”
his smirked sharpened, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“then you say the safe word. and i stop.”
his head tilted slightly, eyes never leaving yours, “and i’m gonna make sure—” his grip tugged your head just a fraction closer, his breath brushing over your lips, “—you’re going to be so fucked out you’ll scream red.”
you gulped. your thighs pressed together instinctively, the knot of anticipation in your belly tightening.
“now,” he said, releasing your hair only to drag his fingers back down your arm before dropping away completely, already making you miss the heat.
“let’s get started.”
you expected him to touch you again. to grab your wrist. to pull you. to close the gap between you in a feverish kiss. but he didn’t.
instead, he just looked at you.
his dark eyes locked on yours, steady, unblinking, glinting with the kind of confidence that pinned you in place without a single hand on you. the air felt charged, every second stretched thin with tension.
“back up,” he murmured.
your breath caught. he didn’t move, didn’t do so much as lift a finger but his gaze commanded. and before you realized it, your feet shifted. one step back. then another. the space between you stretched, yet somehow you felt closer, like he was pulling you along invisible strings.
“that’s it,” he said low, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk, “already so obedient for me.”
heat flooded your chest at the words, your pulse drumming loud in your ears. step by step, he walked you backward with nothing but his eyes and the weight of his voice. your calves brushed the edge of the bed before you even realized how far you’d gone.
haechan tilted his head, grin spreading wider, dangerous, “see? you’ll do exactly what i want without me even touching you.”
your throat felt dry, “i—”
“shhh.” his tongue clicked softly against his teeth as he stepped forward, finally closing the space. he placed one hand on the mattress beside your hip, leaning in just enough that his scent wrapped around you.
his other hand came up to brush your jaw, thumb sliding along your lower lip. his eyes burned into yours. his smirk curling like a secret only he knew.
“lie down.”
you sank onto the bed, the sheets cool under your palms. your pulse thundered as haechan leaned over you and before you could second guess this whole thing — his lips crashed onto yours.
and in this moment, you understood. this was nothing like your boyfriend. felix kissed you like you were porcelain, something to cradle. haechan kissed you like he wanted to devour you.
his mouth was hot, insistent, his tongue pushing into yours without hesitation, claiming, demanding. teeth grazed your lower lip before he bit down just enough to sting, sucking it into his mouth until a small sound tore out of your throat.
“fuck—” you gasped against him, but he swallowed it, deepening the kiss further.
every brush of his tongue was a battle you couldn’t win — he pushed you, you followed, he pulled back, you chased him without thinking. the urgency left your lungs burning, your body arching up to keep contact when he nipped at your mouth and dragged his lips down your jaw, sucking hard at the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
“already squirming,” he muttered against your skin, teeth scraping along your throat before sinking into a bruise.
“let’s make sure your boyfriend knows you like being kissed like this…don’t you?”
you moaned. so into the kiss that the mention of your boyfriend couldn’t even faze you, your fingers clutching at his shirt
“y-yes—”
his chuckle vibrated against your neck, low and rough, clearly finding your reaction amusing.
then his hands were on you — big, warm palms sliding down your sides before yanking at your waistband.
he didn’t waste time. he didn’t ask.
he tugged everything down in one smooth motion, leaving you bare and breathless beneath him.
haechan’s fingers teased at your thighs, spreading them easily. his eyes flicked down, dark and hungry, before meeting yours again.
“ready to have fun, baby?,” he asked, yet wasted no time in hearing your answer.
his fingers slid over your slick folds, circling your clit, just once, hard, before plunging two digits deep inside your pussy with absolutely no warning. the stretch had your mouth falling open instantly.
“oh my god—”
“yeah?” his smirk widened, curling as his thumb pressed down on your clit while his fingers drove into you, curling, searching.
“that feel good, babygirl?”
“yes—ahhh—”
he worked you mercilessly, pumping faster, dragging your wetness out until the sound filled the room.
before you could even adjust, he added another finger, stretching your pussy wider, the burn sharp, almost unbearable.
“oh—fuck!” you cried out, your hands flying up to grab his arm.
the fullness had you gasping for air, as he worked you wider, spreading his three digits until you were whimpering out with every thrust.
“god, you’re taking it so well,” he groaned, your walls fluttering in protest and need all at once.
he laughed low, a dark sound, “maybe i should just fist you,” he said suddenly, his tone almost playful — except his eyes were deadly serious, “bet this cunt would swallow me whole if i let it.”
your breath hitched, your head falling back against the sheets as another cry tore out of you. the stretch was dizzying, humiliating, addicting.
and then his smirk turned sharper, meaner, “i know your sweet little boyfriend would love to see this,” he taunted, his voice cutting through the air.
“you, spread out, crying, stuffed full of my fingers. think he’d still be smiling after watching me turn his needy little girlfriend into a mess?”
your cheeks burned hot, shame and arousal tangling painfully tight in your chest. you whimpered, “haechan—oh god—”
he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his fingers drove in deep again, stretching you even further.
“yeah, babygirl. you love the thought of it. him watching you get split open, stretched until you can’t breathe. you love knowing i’m giving you what he never could.”
your body betrayed you. your back arched off the bed, your fists gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles burned.
“haechan—please—ahhh—”
“please what?” he demanded, his other hand, comping up to your clit, rubbing in tight, merciless circles, that made you scream.
“please stop? or please don’t stop?”
“don’t—don’t stop, oh my god—“
his smirk twisted darker, crueler, “that’s my girl.”
and then he drove in even harder, fingers curling just right, pressing against every tender spot inside you while his thumb continued tormenting your clit. the pleasure crashed over you sharp and brutal, tearing a raw scream from your throat as your first orgasm hit with no warning.
your body convulsed, shaking violently as wave after wave rolled through you. your cunt spasming around his fingers, squeezing so tight he groaned at the pressure.
“fuck, yes,” he hissed watching you unravel, “come on my hand, baby. make a mess for me.”
and still he didn’t stop.
instead, the hand at your clit wandered lower.
you jolted when his other finger pressed against your other hole, eyes snapping wide open, breaking the trance of your first orgasm as he teased lightly at the tight ring of muscle no one had ever touched before.
“wait—haechan—”
“relax,” he murmured, kissing you hard again as the pressure built, “hold.”
he guided your legs up in the air, making you hold them, opening you wide for him.
“now breathe, baby. we’re just getting started. you can take it.”
and then, slowly, deliberately, he pressed his finger past the tight resistance — the shock of it ripped a cry from your throat, your walls fluttering desperately around both sets of his fingers. you gasped, eyes rolling back, your grip on your own ankles tightening, the sensation overwhelming. too much. too new. too intense.
“fuck, that’s it,” haechan groaned, sinking a finger deep inside your anus, “stretched so tight for me. never been touched here, huh?”
“n-no—never—oh god—,” you stuttered, barely able to make out your words.
“mine, then.”
he said roughly, driving into both of your holes at once, feeling his fingers grind against your walls, filling you in ways you hadn’t thought possible.
“every sound you’re making — mine.”
your head fell back against the pillows as he pushed you closer to the edge again with every pump of his fingers. the burn, the stretch, the fullness in both places had you gasping for air, your chest heaving as the orgasm built sharp and fast.
“haechan—i—ahhh—i can’t—”
“yes you can,” he growled, biting your shoulder hard enough to make you cry out.
“take it. come on my fingers like a good little slut.”
before you know it, your body shattered, back arching, mouth open in a scream as you came hard, clenching around his digits, shaking, unable to breath through the force of your second orgasm, somehow hitting you harder than the last.
and still, his fingers continued to work, pumping into both holes at once, the squelch of your slick filling the room as your body tried to writhe away, legs wanting to shut close — but his weight, his hands, kept you spread open and helpless beneath him.
“don’t tell me you’re gonna say it already,” he taunts, tone sharp and teasing as his lips brushed hot against your ear, “not when the fun has only begun.”
you gasped, your voice breaking, “haechan—please—slow down—”
“i’m not your boyfriend, sweetheart,” he cut in, dark eyes glinting as he glanced down at the mess between your thighs.
“i’m here to give you what your body needs. and look at you. so fucking wet you’re dripping all over my hand — begging for me to slow but your body’s still clenching, still pulling me deeper.”
you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but fall apart beneath him. stars burst behind your eyelids, your thighs clamped uselessly around his arm, your voice breaking into high-pitched whimpers, chest rising and falling in frantic little gasps as your third orgasm took over so quickly you felt like you got whiplash.
haechan didn’t stop. not fully. his fingers stayed buried deep in your pussy, lazily curling as if to remind you he was still there, still in control.
and then his smirked darkened and before you could ask what was happening, he gripped your hip and flipped you over, guiding you easily until you were on your stomach, then tugged your ass up, leaving you bare and vulnerable before him.
you shivered at the shift, your face pressed into the sheets.
“you’ve never really been touched here, have you?” he said low, almost to himself, as his slick fingers spread your cheeks apart, exposing both of your holes to the cool air before he spat slowly, letting his saliva fall onto your hole.
“n-no…,” the word came out weak, your voice breaking.
you gasped when the wet press of his finger slid against your anus, already glistening from the mix of slick and your cum.
“h-haechan–”
“i said, relax, babygirl,” he murmured, his tone coaxing but still edged with command.
the pressure built slowly as he eased his finger in again, stretching you open inch by inch. you thought it would be easier this time around but the burn still made your eyes squeeze shut, your breath hitching hard against the sheets.
he groaned, watching the way your ass clenched around him, “tightest little hole i’ve ever felt. you’re gripping me like a vice.”
your hands fisted the bedding, your body caught between the sharp ache and the dizzying wave of heat, “oh my god—ahh—”
“you feel everything back here, don’t you?” his voice was low as he began to work the finger in and out, shallow at first, then deeper, twisting slightly to force you wider.
“every little movement, every stretch — your boyfriend never even thought to touch you here, huh?”
you moaned helplessly, your hips rocking back like you were possessed.
“fuck yes,” he growled, adding a second finger. the stretch doubled instantly, ripping another cry from your throat.
“open up for me, baby. let me ruin you everywhere.”
the rhythm he built was merciless – two fingers thrusting deep into your ass while his other hand slid back between your legs, shoving two more inside your dripping pussy. both holes stretched, filled, worked at until you were crying out with every push, your body arching off the bed.
“fuck, you’re so hot,” he rasped, his pace unrelenting, “stuffed full, clenching around me like you’re starving. bet you never thought your ass would feel this fucking good.”
you sobbed out a broken moan, your body spasming, pleasure blinding as another orgasm surged up out of nowhere, ripping through you sharp and brutal.
haechan groaned, his fingers driving harder, spreading you wider.
“come for me like this. cream all over my hand while i stretch both your holes wide open. fuck, you’re perfect.”
your scream tore out of you, muffled against the sheets as you convulsed, every muscle in your body seizing with the force of your climax. the dual stimulation, the unbearable stretch, had you shattering into pieces, gasping for air as your fourth orgasm slammed through you.
you collapsed forward, arms shaking, your cheek pressed into the sheets as you struggled to catch your breath when his hand slid firmly over your hip, tugging you until you rolled back onto your back. you blinked up at him, dazed, your skin hot and damp, your chest heaving.
haechan stood over you, that smirk still carved into his lips, his dark eyes glinting with mischief and something sharper.
“you’re ready for me, babygirl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as if he owned even your mouth.
then he straightened, taking a slow step back.
you watched, wide-eyed, as his hands went to the first button of his shirt. he undid it leisurely, then the next, then the next, his gaze never leaving yours. every button popped with a free soft click, his smirk deepening when he saw the way your eyes followed his movements, your lips parted in anticipation.
“like what you see?” he teased, pulling the shirt open to reveal golden skin, lean lines and muscles that flexed under the warm glow of the lamp. he shrugged if off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floors.
then his fingers moved to the buckle of his belt, the metallic clink echoed in the room as he pulled it free with a tug. for a moment, he dangled it loosely in his hand and you thought he was about to toss it aside.
but then – he climbed back onto the bed, straddling your thighs and seized your wrists, “hold still,” he ordered, his tone smooth but unyielding. you barely had time to gasp before he looped the belt around your wrists, buckling it snug, pinning your hand together.
the leather was cool and firm against your skin, the restraint making your stomach flip with equal parts nerves and arousal.
“perfect,” he murmured, tugging the belt once to test it before letting your bound wrists drop against the pillows above your head.
your breath hitched as he leaned back on his knees, fingers moving to the button of his slacks. he popped it open, dragged the zipper down, then shoved the fabric off his hips in one smooth motion.
and that’s when you saw him.
his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, flushed dark with arousal. big. bigger than you expected. bigger than you’d ever seen in real life. the sight alone had your thighs clenching, your body aching with fresh need.
haechan’s smirk sharpened when he caught your reaction, “yeah,” he drawled, wrapped a hand around the base casually, giving it one slow pump, “bigger than your boyfriend, huh?”
you couldn’t speak – your throat dry, your pulse hammering.
haechan reached over to the nightstand without breaking eye contact, tearing open a foil packet with his teeth. he rolled the condom down with practiced ease, stroking himself once more before leaning back over you.
“legs up,” he ordered.
you obeyed instantly but he wasn’t satisfied with just your knees bent – he grabbed the back of your thighs, folding you in half until your knees pressed nearly to your chest. the position left you completely open, bound wrists pinned above your head, body trembling under his control.
“look at you,” he groaned, lining himself up at your entrance, “tied up, spread out, waiting for me to ruin you. you look like a perfect little toy.”
the blunt head of his cock pushed at your pussy, stretching you wide inch by inch. the pressure made your jaw slack open, your breath catching on a sharp moan.
“oh my god–”
“that’s it,” haechan gritted, sinking deeper with a slow, deliberate thrust. the stretch burned, overwhelming compared to felix’s size and careful touches. this was new. different. too much and just enough all at once.
your walls clamped tight around him, your body fighting and welcoming him all at once.
“shit,” he hissed, his head falling forward, teeth gritted as he bottomed out, “you’re still so fucking tight. you’ve only ever taken him before, haven’t you?”
you whimpered, eyes squeezing shut, “y-yes–”
“pathetic,” he spat, grinding his hips deeper until you cried out, “all that time with him and you’re still this fucking starved. he’s been keeping you hungry for me.”
you moaned at the words, your bound hands curling against the belt, your thighs shaking with the effort of being held open.
“say it,” haechan demanded, pulling back only to thrust in again, hard and slow, hitting you perfectly with every stroke, “say he never gave you this.”
“he–he never—” your voice broke into a moan as another deep thrust stole your air, “he never gave me this!”
“good girl,” haechan growled, his pace steady but brutal, each slow grind making you yelp and moan in equal measure.
“he kissed you like you’d break, touched you like you were fragile but you don’t want that, do you?” he punctuated the word with a sharp snap of his hips, making you cry out.
“you want to be fucked like you were made for it, don’t you?” he asked, his wicked grin cemented on his lips.
when you didn’t answer, he slapped you right across the cheek, not enough to hurt but enough to send pleasure down your spine, enough to make you tighten around his cock.
“i asked you a question.” he growled, tugging at your jaw and forcing you to look at him.
“answer me.”
“ahh–fuck–yes–” you screamed, the degradation dragging the words right out of you.
“that’s it, use your voice,” he taunted, pulling your thighs even tighter against your chest, “let me hear how good this feels. let me hear how much better i fuck you than him.”
“you’re fuck—you’re better—oh my god–”
he laughed darkly, sweat dripping from his temple as he drove into you again and again, faster now, the wet slap of his cock filling the room.
your scream tore through the air as his cock slammed perfectly against that spot inside you, your body arching violently under him. every thrust knocked the air out of you, your wrists straining against the belt above your head, your moans spilling louder and rougher with each snap of his hips.
“making a mess all over me,” he muttered darkly, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, dragging a scream from your throat.
“greedy little slut can’t get enough.”
you barely noticed his hand leaving your thigh until you heard the slick click of a cap. your dazed gaze followed as he reached to the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of lube. and through it all, he never stopped thrusting. his cock still driving deep, relentless, keeping you stretched and gasping.
“what are you–” you tried, your voice breaking into a whimper when he poured the cool liquid over your pussy, letting it drop down to your ass.
the sudden chill made you jolt but his thrusts kept you pinned. the squelch of lube mixing with your wetness. he smirked, spreading it deliberately with his cock as he pumped into you, coating himself, coating you.
then he pulled out, dragging his cock lower.
your eyes widened, a sharp cry tearing out when the blunt head pressed against your other entrance, slick now but still achingly tight.
“holy fuck!—haechan—ahhh—”
“shhh,” he cooed mockingly, pushing just enough to breach you before sliding back into your pussy again, hard and deep.
“you’re stretched already. you can take it.”
the mix of burn and fullness made your body convulse, the pain spiking with each shift – but beneath it, the pleasure throbbed, heavy and undeniable.
“oh my god—fuck—” you moan, jaw slacking.
“you asked for this,” he groaned, switching holes again, his cock sinking into your ass slow and deliberate this time. your scream caught in your throat as your walls clamped down, body fluttering around him.
he pulled out, wet and glistening, only to slam back into your pussy in the next thrust. your voice cracked, moans spilling faster, louder every switch between holes leaving you trembling harder.
“too much?” he taunted, his grin feral as he set a rhythm – one thrust into your pussy, the next into you ass, back and forth, keeping both holes dripping, stretched, filled.
you shook your head desperately even as tears started spilling hot at the corners of your eyes, “n-no–hurts–ahh–so good–”
he groaned, head tipping back as he held your thighs high, forcing you to stay curled and open for him.
“listen to you,” he rasped, each word punched out with another brutal thrust, “crying and begging, taking it everywhere like a perfect little slut. bet your boyfriend never even dreamed of this.”
he thrust once, deep, making you gasp. then again, harder, the bed jolting under the force. but every time you clenched, every time you got close, he pulled out, switched holes, or stilled completely — dragging you right back from the edge.
“haechan—ahhh—fuck—please—”
he chuckled low in his chest, his hips never faltering, “please what, babygirl?”
“please—please let me come—”
“hmm.” his grin was sharp, wicked, as he pulled back to the tip before driving deep into your pussy again. the sound of it was obscene, slick, wet, your body sucking him in no matter where he went.
“greedy little slut. i already gave you four, and now you’re crying for another one?”
your thighs trembled, your voice breaking into whimpers, “y-yes—i can’t—i need it—”
“your boyfriend left you so deprived you’d do anything just to come on my cock,” he rasped, his thrusts deliberately slowing to deep, drawn-out pushes that made you feel every inch.
tears pricked your eyes, spilling down your temples as you arched under him, desperate.
“please—please, haechan—”
he shifted back into your ass, stretching you open again, and the burn had you sobbing, your body clamping down hard. he groaned, his head falling back.
“fuck, the way you grip me back here… so fucking tight. you were made for this.”
your voice broke on a high whimper, “i’m—ahhh—i’m gonna—”
“no. you’re not.”
he pulled out instantly, sliding wet and slick, back into your pussy instead, grinding deep but holding perfectly still inside you — the denial ripped a cry from your throat, frustration mixing with unbearable need.
“haechan! please, i can’t take it—”
“yes. you can.” his hand closed around your jaw, forcing you to look up at him even as tears streaked your cheeks. his smirk was cruel, his eyes dark.
“you’ll take it until i decide you’re allowed to come. not a second before.”
your voice had gone ragged, your body trembling, sweat beading along your skin. you were past begging now, reduced to sobbing pleas, your words broken.
“please—please, haechan—i can’t—need to come—please let me—”
he leaned over you, his cock buried in your ass, the stretch relentless. his lips brushed your ear, his breath hot and steady even as yours came in frantic gasps.
and all he was doing was laughing, mockingly, almost evil.
he pulled back, just enough to slam forward again, making you scream.
“you’ll remember this every time he touches you. how it felt to want something so bad you have to beg.”
“please, haechan—please, please, please”
he groaned low, the sound feral, his cock buried to the hilt in your pussy now, grinding deep enough to make you cry out again, your pussy gripping so tightly around him he could barely move. his eyes locked on yours, sharp and merciless, sweat dripping from his temple as his smirk curved into something darker.
“fuck… you really can’t take it anymore, can you?” he rasped, his pace quickening, his thrusts harder, more punishing now.
the bed rocked with each snap of his hips, “crying, trembling, begging like a desperate little whore.”
your head shook frantically, tears spilling hot, his hand shot down, fingers pressing cruelly against your clit, rubbing hard, relentless circles. the shock of it made your entire body jolt, your scream ripping from your chest.
“you want it that bad?” he snarled, pounding into you, his cock hitting that same devastating spot again and again until your vision blurred white.
“fine.” he growled. “fucking come for me.”
the command slammed into you like a match dropped on gasoline.
your fifth orgasm tore through you viciously, your back arching off the bed, your wrists pulling so tight against the belt you thought it might snap. a scream ripped from your throat, raw and broken, your body convulsing violently around his cock as he drove through every pulse.
“yeah, that’s it,” haechan growled, watching you unravel.
“scream for me. let him hear what he could never do for you. god, you’re clenching around me so fucking hard—fuck, that’s perfect.”
the waves crashed over you again and again, your body trembling so hard it bordered on pain, your thighs shaking uncontrollably. you were incoherent, moaning his name, babbling broken pleas as if your voice could hold onto him through the storm.
haechan held you there, never relenting, fucking you through it until you collapsed beneath him, trembling, your chest heaving as aftershocks tore through you.
your body was still shaking, chest heaving, when haechan pulled out without warning. you barely had time to whimper before he flipped you over again, hands firm and unyielding as he shoved you onto your knees.
“up,” he ordered, yanking you upright until you were on all fours, ass in the air. you wobbled, weak from your climax, but his palm cracked against your hip, steadying you.
“stay,” he snapped, and then he was behind you, cock already slick and hard, lining himself up again.
the first thrust slammed into you so hard you pitched forward, catching yourself on shaky arms.
“ahhh—h-haechan—!”
he didn’t care. he set a brutal rhythm instantly, hips snapping fast, rough, each thrust hitting so deep you cried out with every stroke. the sound of skin against skin was loud, filthy, echoing through the suite.
your tears spilled hot, your voice breaking into raw, helpless sounds with every brutal thrust.
“please—oh god—i can’t—”
“stop saying you can’t.”
his grip tightened in your hair, yanking your head back until your scalp screamed. your reflection suddenly came into view in the long mirror angled by the bed — your red, tear-streaked face, mouth slack, tits bouncing with every thrust.
“look at you,” he snarled, forcing your chin up with his fist tangled in your hair. “look in the mirror. that’s you — begging, crying, taking cock like a good little hole.”
you gasped, your eyes locking on your reflection. the sight was obscene — your body trembling, slick dripping down your thighs, his hips hammering against your ass with every brutal snap.
“you wanted to test your limits—” his hips slammed into you, driving you forward with the force, “—so be a good girl and take notes.”
your moans broke into sobs, your whole body trembling as he fucked you mercilessly. each snap of his hips dragged another loud, desperate sound from your throat, your face wet with tears, your bound wrists still straining against the belt.
“that’s it,” he rasped, leaning down until his lips brushed your ear, his voice sharp and filthy.
“cry for me. moan for me. tell me how much better this is than anything he’s ever given you.”
and when you didn’t answer, he landed a slap on your ass, hot and loud, making your body jolt forward, “i said tell me,” he grunted.
your voice cracked, high and hoarse, “so much better—fuck—ahhh—”
“good fucking girl,” he groaned, his pace punishing now, the bed frame creaking under his force. he spanked you again, harder this time, your ass burning as the sting lingered.
“my little fucktoy. just a hole to use until you forget every soft, pathetic touch he ever gave you.”
the room shook with every brutal thrust, the sound of his hips slamming into your ass loud and filthy. your voice spilled out in broken sobs, each cry higher than the last, every nerve in your body strung tight as he drove you toward another edge you weren’t ready for.
“h-haechan—i—ahhh—”
“shut up,” he growled, yanking your hair back until your throat arched, his cock hammering into you with merciless force. your tears streaked down your cheeks, your mouth slack open as the overstimulation clawed at your insides.
your reflection blurred through your tears, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. the degradation, the spanking, his voice — it all fused together into unbearable heat, your body tightening, fluttering, ready to break.
“listen to yourself,” he spat, yanking your hair tighter as he fucked you senseless, “screaming like a desperate whore who’s been waiting her whole life for someone to fuck her right.”
the words shot straight through you, filthy and brutal, but instead of breaking you, they made your body clench tighter, wetter, needier.
“ahhh—oh my god—i can’t—”
“i said stop,” he rasped, his hips snapping faster, his cock hitting that devastating spot over and over until your vision blurred.
“you’ll take it. you’ll fucking thank me for it.”
your walls fluttered violently, your sobs growing louder, rawer, until you were choking on them.
you sobbed, the words punching through you like lightning. your pussy clenched violently, dripping down his thighs, “i—i’m gonna—ahhh—”
“do it,” he hissed in your ear, pulling your hair so tight you thought your scalp would tear. his thrusts grew rougher, faster, unrelenting, “come on my cock like the little whore you are.”
that was it — the push that broke you for the sixth time. your orgasm ripped through you hard and brutal, your scream tearing raw from your throat as your body convulsed violently around him. your pussy clenched so tight it almost forced him out, slick gushing down your thighs, your whole frame shaking uncontrollably.
“fuuuck, yes,” haechan groaned, slamming into you harder, riding out your orgasm as if your spasms were his to control.
“that’s it, babygirl. that’s the slut you are.”
you were already slumped into the sheets, trembling, sobbing, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rolling through your body when haechan’s grip in your hair tightened again. he didn’t slow, not for a second — his cock still pistoning into you, hard and deep, every thrust hitting so sharp your knees gave out beneath you.
“don’t you dare drop,” he growled, hauling you back upright by your hair, his chest pressed to your spine as his hips crashed into your ass.
“you’re not done until i’m done.”
your voice cracked into a scream.
“too much?” he snarled, breath hot and ragged against your ear. his free hand snaked between your thighs, finding your swollen clit. he rubbed it mercilessly, fast circles that made your entire body jolt forward.
“you’ll take too much. you’ll take everything i give you.”
the humiliation, the force, the way his cock hit deep while his fingers punished your clit — it shoved you past sanity.
your seventh orgasm tore through you before you could even comprehend it, harder than everything that came before, your scream muffled into the sheets as your entire body convulsed around him.
“yes—fuck—yes,” haechan growled, his hips slamming harder, chasing his own release now as your pussy milked him in violent spasms.
“come for me. that’s it. milk my cock. god, you’re perfect.”
his rhythm faltered, his groans breaking raw, desperate, as his cock throbbed inside you.
“fuck—fuck—i’m coming—”
he slammed in deep, grinding hard against you as he came. his voice dropping into a low, wrecked growl against your shoulder. even through the condom, you felt the twitch, the pulse, the overwhelming force of it — his whole body shuddering with the release.
but he never stopped touching you. his fingers rubbed your clit through your aftershocks, dragging every pulse, every shiver, until you were sobbing his name, shaking uncontrollably, your legs giving out completely beneath you.
finally, finally, he eased you down, letting you collapse into the sheets, sweat-slick and ruined, your chest heaving.
“good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough from his own orgasm but steady, dripping with satisfaction. his hips finally stilled, his chest heaving against your back as he leaned down, lips brushing your damp temple.
“seven orgasms…” his smirk curved against your skin, dangerous and smug, “…and you haven’t even used the safe word.”
the words landed heavy, sinking into the haze clouding your brain. you were trembling, ruined, your body still pulsing around him, but the truth of it made something deep in your chest twist with pride.
you hadn’t said red. not once.
haechan eased out of you slowly, making you whimper at the drag, and collapsed beside you on the sheets.
for a moment, he just let you breathe — the air thick with sweat, sex, and the faint sting of leather still biting into your wrists. his hand smoothed gently down your thigh, his touch softer now, grounding, the opposite of everything he’d just put you through.
“hey,” his voice dropped, warm and steady. his fingers brushed damp strands of hair from your cheek, tilting your chin until you met his eyes. they were still dark, still sharp, but softer now around the edges.
“talk to me, babygirl. what do you say… is that your limit?”
you swallowed hard, your lungs struggling to catch up, every nerve buzzing, overstimulated and sore. his thumb rubbed slow circles at your jaw, coaxing, patient.
“or…” his grin edged back in, playful but glinting with that dangerous promise as he brushed away your tears, “…do you think you can handle more?”
the room went still, the question hanging heavy between you.
your chest rose and fell in ragged waves, your throat dry, your body trembling. he was still watching you, waiting, thumb grazing lazily at your jaw as if he had all the time in the world.
and then you whispered, shaky but certain–
“i… i can handle more.”
haechan’s grin widened instantly, dangerous and satisfied.
“that’s a good girl,” he purred, brushing his lips across your cheek in something almost tender before pulling back.
his fingers slipped down to the belt binding your wrists, unbuckling it with a sharp click. your arms fell free, aching and stiff, and you flexed your wrists, breathing relief into your sore joints. for a fleeting moment, you thought maybe he’d ease up now, maybe he’d soften.
but then—
he held the belt up between his hands, leather glinting under the warm light, and his smirk curved wickedly.
“open that pretty mouth.”
your breath caught. “wait, you—”
“open,” he cut you off, voice commanding, leaving no room for argument.
heat flushed through your body as your lips parted. he slid the leather between them, tugging it snug, wrapping it behind your head and tying it off. the taste of leather filled your mouth, the restraint pressing at your jaw. your muffled sound of protest only made his grin deepen.
“perfect,” he murmured, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb stroking the corner of your cheek where the gag bit into you.
“such a greedy little slut—so eager for more you’ll let me shut you up myself.”
your thighs pressed together instinctively, arousal sparking fresh despite the soreness in every muscle.
he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, his tone dropping to a low growl, “now, you can’t whine. you can’t beg. you can only take what i give you. think you’re ready for that?”
you nodded frantically, gag muffling the sound of your desperate hum.
“good.”
his smirk sharpened, his hand sliding down your stomach to grip your hip firmly.
“because i’m not done wrecking you.”
without warning, he shoved you flat against the mattress, your back hitting the cool sheets in one swift motion. his hands grabbed your thighs, spreading you wide and curling you open again, and then—he slammed into you in one brutal thrust.
your muffled scream ripped against the gag, your wrists clawing at the sheets as his cock curved perfectly inside you, hitting that devastating spot like he’d built his body to ruin yours.
“fuck,” haechan groaned, hips snapping fast, rough, each thrust punching into you with merciless force.
“still this tight? after i’ve fucked you open all night? god, your pussy doesn’t know when to quit.”
your moans broke into sobs, muffled and desperate, your body writhing under him as he set a brutal pace.
then his hand shot up, seizing your breast in his palm, fingers digging into the soft flesh. he pinched your nipple hard, twisting it until your scream came out garbled through the gag, your back arching off the sheets.
“that’s it,” he snarled, eyes dark and hungry, “cry for me even if no one can understand you.”
his other hand came down hard, smack against your tits, the sting biting through the haze, making your whole body jolt. he spanked them again and again, alternating between sharp smacks and cruel pinches, your breasts flushed and swollen under his rough touch.
“look at these pretty tits,” he taunted, leaning down just enough to bite one nipple between his teeth before slapping it again, “made for me to play with while i fuck you senseless.”
your muffled cries grew louder, wetter, your body convulsing beneath him. each thrust carved deeper, his cock curving just right, dragging against your walls so perfectly it bordered on unbearable.
tears streaked down your temples again, your muffled sobs mixing with the obscene sound of skin meeting skin. you could barely breathe, barely think — just moan into the gag as he fucked you rough, filthy, relentless, his hands and mouth tormenting your breasts with each stroke. your body jerking against the sheets, but his smirk only sharpened.
“crying into my belt like the greedy little whore you are. can’t even use words anymore — just noises.”
you moaned, gagged, high and broken, your eyes rolling back as his pace picked up.
“yeah,” he gritted, his thrusts pounding harder, faster, each one slamming you into the mattress.
“this is what i wanted. to fuck you so hard you forget how to speak.”
his free hand slid back down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing viciously, matching the rhythm of his hips. you wailed against the gag, the overwhelming rush of stimulation too much, too sharp, your body already twitching with the warning of release.
“hmm, i feel it,” he groaned, his grin feral.
“you’re gonna come again, aren’t you? you’re gonna soak me while i’m slapping these tits red.”
another hard smack landed across your chest, and the sound of it — paired with the brutal grind of his cock and his fingers punishing your clit — tore you apart.
your eight orgasm slammed into you violently, your muffled scream shredding against the gag as your body convulsed, pussy clenching so hard around him.
haechan pressed his forehead to yours, his thrusts still deep, punishing, his voice dropping low and dark–
“you’re mine now. say it. even if it’s just a moan — say it with your body. show me this pussy only belongs to me.”
your body was gone — trembling, convulsing, slick gushing down your thighs, soaking the sheets beneath you.
the orgasm wouldn’t stop rolling through you in relentless waves as haechan’s cock drove deeper, sharper, his hand still slapping your tits, still tormenting your clit.
your screams poured into the belt, leather slick with your spit. you tried to say his name, tried to beg, but it was nothing but garbled sounds.
and then, suddenly, his hand was at your face, tugging hard, the belt slipped free, falling loosely around your neck. your jaw ached, your lips raw, but the air that filled your lungs was sharp, desperate, and before you could speak he had your face in his palm, holding your gaze.
“say it,” he snarled, hips still pounding into you, relentless, “whose pussy is this?”
your voice cracked, broken and hoarse, but you choked the words out through the sobs.
“y-yours—ahhh—haechan—it’s yours—”
“louder.” his thrusts snapped harder, bruising, forcing another gush of slick out of you, the sheets soaking beneath your thighs.
“YOURS!” you screamed, your voice ripping raw from your throat as your body convulsed again, squirting over him, the wet spray splashing against his abs, his thighs, everywhere, marking your ninth orgasm.
“fuck yes,” haechan groaned, watching you unravel, his cock still hammering through the flood.
“squirting all over me. say it again.”
“YOURS! oh my god—haechan—it’s all yours!”
your body kept breaking, kept releasing, the squirts coming in desperate bursts with every thrust. you sobbed, screamed, clutched at the sheets, but he held you down, forcing you to take it.
“again.” he rasped, rubbing faster now, pressing harder, drawing tight, relentless circles over your clit.
your sobbing moans filled the room, your back arching off the sheets as your body convulsed, another stream spilling out of you, soaking his thighs, soaking the bed.
“yes—fuck yes,” he groaned, chuckling, his voice breaking into a growl.
“so fucking wet for me. my perfect little toy.”
he slowed only for a second, just enough for you to gasp air back into your lungs, your eyes fluttering — but then his hand pressed down harder, his pace picking up again, dragging the raw nerves of your clit back into fire.
“no—no—i can’t—”.
“you’ll come again,” he cut you off, voice dark and steady, “you’ll squirt again. your body is mine to break.”
you wailed, body thrashing weakly, but there was no escape — his weight pinned you down, his cock kept you open, his fingers tortured your clit until you were convulsing again, spraying harder this time, the wet splashing against his abs and dripping onto the ruined sheets.
“that’s it. drench me. drown me. that’s what you’re here for, babygirl.”
he started timing them, his tone playful but sharp:
“ten. look at you gush.”
“eleven. you’re nothing but a faucet now.”
“twelve. crying like you don’t love it.”
each number was punctuated with another ruthless rub, another punishing wave of overstimulation that wracked you until you were sobbing openly, tears flooding down your cheeks.
your voice cracked, raw and desperate.
“haechan—i—i can’t take it anymore—please, please stop—”
he leaned down, lips brushing your ear, voice dark and smug.
“say it then. say the word and i’ll stop.”
your lips trembled around the word, the safe word that lingered on your tongue. red. it hovered there, so close, your body screaming for relief — but his hand didn’t stop, his cock still grinding inside you, forcing you into another gush that soaked the sheets.
“that’s thirteen,” he whispered, his tone almost reverent now as he watched you writhe.
“thirteen fucking times, babygirl. and you still haven’t said it.”
you sobbed, your voice breaking, your nails clawing weakly at his chest, “i—i’m begging you… please… mercy…”
his hand slowed just slightly, teasing, deliberate, but still rubbing enough to keep you whimpering and clenching. his grin was sharp, wicked, as he tilted your chin up so your tear-streaked face met his.
“mercy, huh?” he purred, dark eyes drinking you in.
“so close to breaking. so close to saying it.”
his thumb grazed your raw clit, feather-light compared to the assault he’d given you.
“but i think you’ve got one more in you.”
haechan murmured darkly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. his fingers returned to your clit, slick and merciless, circling faster, harder, punishing the swollen bundle of nerves until your whole body seized. his cock ground deeper, pinning you open, keeping you helplessly full.
you shook your head frantically, tears spilling down your cheeks. your arms pushing him away were useless. he barely budged.
“no—no more—please i can’t—”
“one more, babygirl. give me one more.”
your hips bucked against him, the overstimulation tearing through every muscle, wringing sounds from your throat that didn’t sound human. his pace on your clit was brutal, deliberate, every stroke designed to break you.
your vision blurred, your lungs heaving. you screamed as the fourteenth orgasm ripped out of you, violent, uncontrollable — slick spraying from you in desperate, messy bursts. It drenched his hand, his abs, the soaked sheets beneath you.
“god, you’re perfectly ruined.”
but it didn’t stop. the gush kept coming, your body convulsing violently, your sobs turning hoarse, broken. the pleasure had crossed into pain, into something unbearable, your whole body twitching under his grip.
“please—please—i can’t—i—RED!”
the word tore out of you in a ragged scream, raw and desperate, louder than anything you’d said all night as the tears took over.
instantly, everything stopped.
haechan moved immediately. his hands, which had been cruel and unrelenting minutes before, were suddenly careful, gentle.
he slipped out of you slowly, murmuring, “shhh, it’s okay,” when you whimpered at the empty stretch.
“good girl,” haechan murmured softly now, brushing damp hair from your face. his voice had shifted completely — dark edge gone, steady and grounding.
the belt that was loosely around your neck came off, tossed aside.
“you did so fucking well,” he whispered, lips brushing over your skin with every word.
he kissed your temple, lingering, his hand rubbing slow circles into your hip to anchor you back into yourself as he let you lay down on the sheets to finally rest.
a warm towel appeared, you weren’t sure from where, and he cleaned you up with slow, methodical care, wiping your thighs, your stomach, between your legs. every touch was tender, patient, his focus entirely on you. between each swipe, he pressed soft kisses to your skin — your hipbone, your ribs, the inside of your wrist, your damp temple.
“look at you,” he murmured, his smirk returning but softer, his voice threaded with warmth, “lasted through fourteen orgasms before you tapped out. that’s impressive, sweetheart. most clients are crying red way before that.”
you let out a shaky laugh through the tears still drying on your cheeks, “you nearly killed me…”
“nearly,” he teased, kissing your shoulder, his hand smoothing over your stomach, “but you said it. you knew when enough was enough. that’s exactly how this is supposed to work.”
he leaned down, lips pressing a trail of lazy kisses across your collarbone, then lower, over your breasts, nipping lightly at one nipple before soothing it with his tongue.
“your boyfriend’s gonna be proud, you know.”
your chest hitched. “what?”
“hmm.” his grin curved against your skin, his voice dripping with smug amusement.
“your boyfriend. sweet boy, isn’t he? he sent you here to figure yourself out. he’s probably gonna be thrilled when i tell him you lasted longer than half the women who walk through that door.”
you groaned weakly, swatting at his shoulder.
“don’t you dare—”
he laughed, the sound rich, low, warm.
“relax, i’m not really gonna tell him.” his lips brushed your jaw, lingering there, voice dropping softer. “confidentiality and all…but if he could see you right now — ruined, spent, glowing? yeah. he’d be proud.”
you swallowed hard, throat tight. his arms pulled you into his chest, his scent warm and steady around you. for the first time all night, you let your body melt against him fully, your breath evening out, the trembling fading into calm.
when your breath finally steadied and the trembling faded to small aftershocks, haechan shifted carefully, pressing one last kiss to your temple before reaching over the side of the bed.
“alright, sweetheart,” he said softly, tone steady but still carrying that teasing curl, “time to get you dressed before your boyfriend thinks i kidnapped you.”
he handed you your clothes one by one — your underwear, your shirt, your jeans, your bag — like a gentleman, though the smirk never left his lips.
“you know,” he murmured as you tugged your shirt back over your head, “watching you cry and beg is the highlight of my week.”
you rolled your eyes, cheeks heating as you muttered, “you’re evil.”
“hmm, maybe,” he replied easily, leaning against the bedframe as he buttoned his black polo back on, the picture of casual confidence again, “but you like it.”
when you were fully dressed, he stepped close, slipping your bag gently over your shoulder before guiding you toward the door.
the walk to the suite door was quiet, your body still heavy, your chest still humming with everything you’d just been through. at the door, he paused, turning you to face him.
“you did good tonight. you got what you came here for,” he said, voice softer now, almost sincere, “you should be proud of yourself.”
your throat tightened at the unexpected warmth in his words. “...thank you.”
his grin returned, sharp and playful, undoing the softness just enough, “don’t thank me yet. you’re gonna have to explain to your boyfriend why you’ll be walking funny for days.”
you groaned, covering your face, which only made him laugh — low, rich, satisfied.
then, just like that, the line shifted. he extended his hand, professional, polished.
“it was a pleasure to be your donor, ms. y/n.”
you stared for a beat before shaking it, lips twitching. “...likewise.”
he dipped his head closer, his eyes gleaming, his smirk dangerous.
“and…if things ever get boring with your boyfriend again—” his gaze dragged deliberately over your face, down your body, before flicking back up, “—you know where to find me.”
then he winked, sharp and playful, stepping back as he pulled the door open for you.
the hall lighting spilled in, sterile and bright compared to the wrecked intimacy of the suite. you stepped past him, your heart still hammering in your chest, his smirk burning into your back.
✚ END OF SESSION ✚
taeyong looked up instantly, his calm smile never faltering.
“all set, ms. y/n?”
you nodded, your voice came out hoarse but steady, “y-yeah.”
“perfect.” he ducked behind the counter and pulled out a small gift bag with the neo orgasm clinic logo printed cleanly across the front.
he slid it toward you smoothly, “a little thank you for trusting us.”
“thanks,” you murmured, taking the bag gently.
he gave you that same warm, professional smile, “would you like to wait here for your ride?”
“yes, please.”
you found one of the lobby chairs, sinking down as you dug your phone out of your bag. with trembling fingers, you typed out a quick message to felix:
y/n: i’m done. ready to be picked up now
felix 🐥☀️: omw <3
the relief of knowing he was still there, like he said was, made your chest ache with something softer, grounding you.
while you waited, your curiosity tugged at the bag. you peeked inside — and immediately snorted. along with the chilled bottle of iced choco, folded neatly at the bottom was a white hoodie with bold lettering across the front
ORGASM DONOR
a surprised giggle escaped before you could swallow it back, the sound echoing in the quiet lobby.
taeyong’s head lifted from his monitor, eyebrows quirking, “you like it?”
you clutched the hoodie against your lap, grinning despite yourself, “it’s… definitely funny.”
he chuckled softly, leaning his elbows on the counter.
“took us a while to come up with that merch. we wanted something cheeky enough to make people laugh but not so over-the-top they’d never wear it out.”
you tilted your head, curiosity sparking, “how did this place even start, anyway?”
at that, his grin widened, boyish and knowing, “well, my friends and i…” he paused, like the memory itself amused him, “we realized we all had one thing in common — we genuinely love giving women orgasms. not just sex. not just the act. the aftershocks, the trembling, the tears, the laughter after. the whole thing.”
you blinked, taken aback. “…you’re serious?”
“as serious as we were that night,” he replied with a laugh, “johnny, jaehyun, ten, doyoung — all of us were talking over drinks, and what started as a joke turned into… well, this.” he gestured around the pristine lobby with a sweep of his hand.
you shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips.
“so the neo orgasm clinic was born out of a bunch of drunk men bragging about making women come?”
“not bragging,” taeyong corrected lightly, eyes glinting with quiet pride, “passion. and now…” he gestured toward the bag in your hands, “…here we are. merch included.”
your giggle bubbled up again, softer this time, and you tucked the hoodie back into the bag just as your phone buzzed:
felix 🐥☀️: i’m parked in front
you stood, smoothing your shirt, and gave taeyong a polite bow of thanks, “see you around, taeyong.”
his smile warmed, “take care, ms. y/n. and don’t be a stranger.”
with that, you pushed through the glass doors, the evening air cooling your flushed cheeks as you spotted felix’s car waiting at the curb.
the car door clicked open just as you reached the curb. he leaned across the seat, freckles catching the glow of the dashboard lights as he gave you a soft smile.
“hey, love. you okay?”
your chest tightened at the gentleness in his voice. you nodded quickly, sliding into the passenger seat, clutching the gift bag like a lifeline, “i’m okay.”
he searched your face, reading you the way only he could, “better than okay?”
heat crept up your neck. “...yeah,” you admitted, voice small but honest.
his hand found yours instantly, fingers weaving together as he squeezed. “good.” the relief in his tone was palpable, almost boyish. “i was hoping you’d say that.”
while he started the engine, you dug your phone out of your bag and opened the neo orgasm clinic’s portal. the review form blinked up at you, your heart still hammered, but the words spilled easily:
haechan showed me i could take more than i ever imagined. he pushed me, wrecked me, made me squirt until i reached my limit, and somehow still kept me safe. he’s ruthless, filthy, and relentless… but so much fun! if you want to be destroyed in the best way possible — book haechan.
you hit submit before you could second-guess, the confirmation screen glowing back at you.
felix glanced over at you as you set your phone down, curiosity soft in his eyes.
“so… how was it? really?”
your cheeks flamed instantly. you looked at him, torn between embarrassment, shame, and the desperate need to gush, before the words tumbled out anyway.
“felix… it was insane. he—he made me squirt. like… a lot. i didn’t even know my body could do that. and the way he—” you cut yourself off, burying your face in your hands with a groan. “god, i can’t believe im telling you this, is this not ridiculous?”
but felix only grinned, wide and proud, his thumb stroking over your knuckles where your hands still covered your face, “no. you sound happy. that’s all i wanted.”
you peeked at him, hesitant, “you’re… really okay with this?”
he laughed softly, “love, it told you. i wanted you to feel everything. and hearing you this excited? that’s better than anything.”
he drove in easy silence for a few minutes, the city lights passing in a blur outside the windows. his hand never left yours, thumb brushing slow, grounding strokes over your skin. the whole night still buzzing in your chest.
you turned to him, biting your lip, hesitant before you finally whispered, “maybe… we could try it together.”
his eyes flicked to you, soft but curious, “try what?”
your cheeks burned. “all of it. or… at least some of it. now that i know how much i can take, you won’t have to worry about hurting me.”
for a moment, he just looked at you, the corners of his lips twitching like he was trying to hold something back.
and then he smiled — wide, warm, freckled face glowing under the passing streetlights — and nodded.
“yeah,” he murmured, squeezing your hand, his voice full of quiet certainty. “yeah, i’d really like that.”
the warmth of his smile lingered as the two of you drove off into the night, the weight of what you’d just experienced no longer heavy but hopeful.
✚ APPOINTMENT STATUS: COMPLETE ✚
—
18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content
BONUS: #1. #2. #3. #4. #5. #6.
—
an: i’m a little late, i know! but it’s april 27 somewhere and i did add the mirror scene and the taeyong lore last minute so spare me! i tried my best to edit this but i was lowkey battling with time (and lost) so if there are typos here and there pretend you don’t see it. anyways, i hope you enjoyed the last of the orgasm donor series…for now…who knows when we’ll see them again. as always, this whole entire concept is supposed to be silly! please don't take it too seriously :)
🩺 likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated
pairing: donor! na jaemin x client! reader | genre: smut | words: 9k+
warnings: STRICTLY 18+
an: donor jaemin is here! would like to apologize for pushing this back and not posting on the original date. it was a busy birthday week for mark, jaemin and i lol but he’s here now! and he WILL talk you through it. almost forgot to say, i know he has platinum hair in his picture but i did imagine him with dark hair. feel free to choose which one you want. hope you like it. have fun reading! - with love, c.
you’d been told losing your virginity would just happen someday. but now here you are, in your twenty-somethings and still hadn’t experienced what it’s like to be fucked. the years rolled on, situationships came and went, and somehow, you were still waiting for that mythical right time.
it wasn’t about romance, though that would have been nice, it was about trust. about knowing whoever you chose wouldn’t fumble through it, or worse, treat it like it was nothing. and none of the guys you’ve been with ever gave you that reassurance. none of them ever gave you a good enough reason to want to lose it.
now here you were, on your own personal choice, holding on to your virginity for so long, that there’s absolutely no way you were going to accept anything less than good. but lately the waiting started to feel less like choice and more like…inertia.
so when you stumbled upon a tiktok video, posted by a random account rambling on and on about how she had her first ever orgasm at the neo orgasm clinic, curiosity sparked. you went on to watch more, everyone pointing out that this clinic has licensed professionals in achieving the perfect orgasm.
but it wasn’t orgasms you had a problem with. you’ve had plenty of those — with your hand, your vibrator, your dildo’s, you knew exactly what your body needed to get there. you just never trusted anyone else enough to get you there.
just then — a review talking about how every donor works around their client to ensure trust and safety throughout the process, was your final answer.
this sounded insane. this sounded tempting. this sounded like a sign from the fucking universe.
✚ BOOK NOW ✚
the more you researched about the clinic, the more your curiosity morphed into determination. you opened the neo orgasm clinic’s online website and scrolled through its crisp white interface, soft blue lettering promising safe, healthy, satisfying orgasms for women.
the sign up form was simple but thorough.
step 1: medical verification. a form requesting a recent full panel of STI test within the last month.
step 2: sexual preferences and boundaries. the screen lit up with a list and instructions
check all acts you’re open to exploring with your donor. this does not guarantee they will occur. your donor will review and operate within your boundaries.
you hesitated, getting nervous with every checkbox. besides kissing and an unsatisfying fingering from some guy in your past, you’ve never had another human being do these things to you. you’re not even sure what you like. or if you’ll like it. you checked the ones that seemed simple enough:
☑️ clitoral simulation
☑️ dirty talk
☑️ dry humping
☑️ domination
☑️ fingering
☑️ kissing
☑️ nipple play
☑️ oral
☑️ orgasm control
☑️ overstimulation
☑️ praise
☑️ vaginal penetration
you hovered over more intense options like choking, slapping, degradation, but you don’t think you’re ready for that. one step at a time. right now, all you wanted was to finally lose your virginity and have a good time while doing so.
step 3: why are you booking this appointment?
you typed:
i’ve been holding on to my virginity because i didn’t want to waste it on someone careless. i want my frist time to feel good, not awkward. i want to feel safe and still be completely wrecked. i want to know what it’s like when someone actually knows what they’re doing and isn’t trying to guess where the clit is.
step 4: choose your donor
the profiles were all impressive but one person pulled you in immediately — na jaemin. donor of the month. his reviews weren’t just good. they were glowing.
“made me feel like the only girl in the world. came three times before he even got his pants off.”
“he’s so sweet and gentle but knows exactly when to take over and ruin you in the best way.”
“he talked me through my nerves like it was nothing. best decision i’ve ever made. will definitely come back for a second session.”
and the most common one of all:
“i’ve never felt more safe with a donor. jaemin gives you the space to explore what you want and he has such a way with words i wasn’t sure if i wanted to cry or have him fuck me into the next life.”
you didn’t even finish reading the rest of his reviews. you clicked BOOK NOW
Neo Orgasm Clinic Consultation: CONFIRMED
Donor: Jaemin Na
Date of Consultation: August 13, 2025
your heart was pounding so fast. this is it. it’s finally happening. this was the starts of your journey to finally losing your so called purity.
✚ THE CONSULTATION ✚
after booking your appointment, you did more research and to say you were excited was an understatement. every review you’ve read about jaemin was spectacular. everyone was gushing about their experience with him. you’ve never felt more ready to lose your virginity than in this moment.
but as soon as you walked into the clinic, your nerves took over. the reality of walking into a clinic where someone was going to professionally take away your “innocence” felt…surreal.
the neo orgasm clinic didn’t help with its perfection — warm, cream walls, soft golden lighting, faint notes of lavender and eucalyptus in the air. everything was designed to be calm, relaxing, inviting. still, your pulse was in your throat.
the receptionist, taeyong, with his sharp suit, glossy hair and a jaw sharp enough to cut glass, smiled when you approached.
“good morning, welcome to the neo orgasm clinic, is this your first consultation?” he asked from behind his computer, a warm smile on his lips.
”yeah,” you admitted, voice soft.
he asked for your full name then pulled up your file with a knowing glance, “ahh, you’re jaemin’s first client for today.
taeyong slid a sleek tablet across the desk, “please take a seat and kindly review your file, click agree if no changes need to be made. consent is required for everything. jaemin should be out any minute now.”
you nodded, grabbing the tablet from him and taking a seat, looking at your file one last time before clicking agree. the screen thanked you and welcomed you officially to the program just in time — the doors to the consultation rooms opened and then he walked in.
na jaemin. he wasn’t what you expected. where you thought you’d see someone intimidating, maybe a little smug, you saw…warmth. black slacks, a soft blue sweater, dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. he had the kind of smile that felt like sunlight — not just charming, but genuinely happy to see you.
“ms. y/n?” his voice was smooth, deep, but not heavy. you nodded as he extended his hand. his grip was firm but easy, like he wanted you to know you could pull away if you wanted.
“i’m jaemin, it’s nice to meet you. come follow me…don’t worry, no one’s taking their clothes off today,” he teased lightly, eyes glinting.
the consultation room looked more like a cozy lounge than anything clinical — plush sofa, plants, soft light. jaemin motioned for you to sit, placing a cup of fresh water on the table in front of you before settling across from you with a tablet in his lap.
“alright ms. y/n,” he started, voice kind but purposeful, “this is your time, so i want to hear from you…why are you here, what you want out of this and what would make you feel safe the entire time.”
you hesitated, staring into your glass, “...i’ve never…had sex before.”
he nodded slowly, like you’d told him the most normal thing in the world, “thank you for telling me. that’s not something you have to be embarrassed about.”
“im…not embarrassed,” you lied, cheeks turning pink. you exhaled, “i just…i don’t want my first time to be bad. i want to actually…enjoy it. and i want someone who’ll know when to slow down and when to…,” your words faltered, embarrassment taking over.
“take over?” he finished gently.
your cheeks warmed under his gaze, you were sure you looked like a tomato “...yeah.”
jaemin’s gaze softened, “i can do that,” he said simply.
“since this is your first time, may i ask if this will also be your first orgasm?” he asks softly but professionally.
you nod your head no, refusing to meet his gaze. he analyzes your body language, sensing your nerves.
“you don’t have to be embarrassed. not with me,” he reassures sweetly, “this is a judgment free zone. the more you open up to me, the more positive your results will be,” he finishes with a soft smile.
you let out an awkward cough, nodding your head slowly, mustering up the courage to admit, “i…i’ve used toys before. i’m not completely clueless,” you admitted, cheeks heating, “dildos, vibrators…i’ve even tried a few combinations. but it’s different when it’s you doing it yourself, you know? i can make myself feel good, sure, but i’ve never trusted anyone else enough to do it for me.”
his expression didn’t change, but his voice dropped into something warmer, “that’s not unusual. it’s harder to give other people control.”
you gave a small laugh, looking down at your hands, “yeah….so basically i’ve got plenty of hardware experience but zero field training.”
that earned you one of his quick, sudden smiles, the kind that made you feel like you were just friends having a casual conversation, “then we’ll make sure your first field exercise is a success.”
you shook your head at the phrasing but couldn’t help to smile back, “you sound so confident about that.”
“because i am,” he set the tablet down, leaning forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees, “you’ve already done the hard part. you know your body enough to know what feels good. my job is to connect that to that way someone else touches you. that’s it.”
your chest tightened from the way he said it. like it was simple. like there wasn’t a risk of awkward fumbling or disappointment.
“and,” he added, his gaze locking onto yours, “if you let me, i’ll make sure your first time isn’t just good – it’s the standard you measure everything else against."
your pulse skipped, “that’s a dangerous promise.”
he grinned slow and lazy, “that’s not a promise. that’s a guarantee.”
you rolled your eyes, but heat pooled loe in your belly, “what if i get nervous and freeze?”
“then you’ll hear me,” his tone softened, but the undercurrent of authority was still there, “here’s how it works — you set the pace. you can stop me anytime. i’ll talk you through it. keep you in it. if you want to take control, i’ll follow your lead. if you want me to take over, i’ll know.”
you let out a small laugh, “you sound very sure about all of that.”
“oh, i’m sure,” he said with a quiet laugh, leaning back on his chair, “so what do you say ms. y/n, are you free on the sixteenth?”
a small smile crept up on your face, nodding your head once, “i’ll see you on the sixteenth.”
his smile turned just a little sharper, “you will.”
Neo Orgasm Clinic Session: CONFIRMED
Client: Y/N L/N
Donor: Jaemin Na
Date of Session: August 16, 2025
✚ THE APPOINTMENT ✚
you were five minutes late. not because you’d actually arrived late — no. you’d been parked outside for fifteen minutes, hands clenched on the steering wheel, trying to calm your nerves down.
this was the day.
was this pathetic? maybe. maybe you should’ve just gone the cliché route and picked some loser at the bar who could give you the worst five minutes of your life, like a normal person. but that thought immediately made your skin crawl so with all your courage, you finally stepped out of the car and walked into the clinic.
this was it. there’s no backing out now.
the familiar lighting of the clinic wrapped around you like blanket but it didn’t stop your legs from feeling weak. taeyong gave you that same knowing smile, this time gesturing towards the other door, labeled private suites.
“suite 13 – jaemin’s ready for you.”
the words sent a hot twist through your stomach. you walked through the private suites hallway, eyes scanning each polished gold number until you found 13. your palms were damp when you pushed open the door. and then…you finally released the breath you’d been holding.
the room wasn’t clinical. it wasn’t sleek like a hotel either. it looked like a bedroom you might actually live in — warm, golden light spilling from a low lamp on the nightstand, soft throw blankets draped across a neatly made bed, a small bookshelf tucked in the corner stacked with paperbacks. a woven rug softened the floor and a faint scent of vanilla drifted through the air.
it felt safe. it felt like home.
and in the middle of it all was jaemin, wearing a pair of grey sweats and a plain black t-shirt like this was just a normal netflix and chill and not a session booked between a donor and his client.
his head popped up at the sound of the door and his smile was instant, “there you are,” he said softly, “i thought for a minute there, you wouldn’t show up.”
you laughed nervously, “i…got a little nervous.”
jaemin’s smile softened into something warmer, sweeter. he crossed the room with unhurried steps, stopping just close enough that you could smell his faint, clean scent under the vanilla in in the air.
“that’s okay,” he murmured, “you’re here now.”
he kept his tone light but steady as he held your gaze, “before we start, i just want to remind you that you’re in control. everything we do is with your consent. you can change your mind at any time, about anything. no questions asked.”
you nodded, your shoulders easing just slightly, “okay.”
“and for tonight,” he went on, “i’m going to let you take the lead. we’ll move at your pace until you’re comfortable and when you’re ready, you don’t have to worry about anything else, i got you,” his mouth tipped into the faintest smirk, not cocky, just enough to hint that he knew exactly when that moment would be.
your lips quirked into a small smile despite yourself, “alright.”
he stepped back, giving you space, “then, why don’t you come here and show me what you want?”
the nervous flutter in your stomach didn’t go away but it shifted into something warmer, something that made you step forward, closing the distance between you. you took a breath before your fingers brushed the hem of his shirt, slowly sliding up over the soft fabric, testing the feel of him under your hands.
jaemin’s eyes didn’t leave yours, his smile faint but encouraging, “you want me, baby?”
the nickname caught you off guard but you nod anyway, eyes wide, almost like you were caught ins one type of trance. maybe this is what the walls here do to you.
“you have me, sweet girl,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing.
he took your hand and led you toward the bed. the mattress dipped as he sat down at the edge of it. then he gave your hips a gentle tug, guiding you to step between his knees. the invitation was wordless but clear and when you swung a leg over to straddle him, his hands instinctively found your waist.
“that’s it,” he praised, the corner of his mouth lifting, “take what you want, pretty.”
your nerves still hummed under your skin but they were already being replaced by something hotter, heavier. before you could second guess yourself, you leaned in — your lips brushing his in a testing kiss.
jaemin met it instantly. not taking over but matching your pace, letting you set the rhythm. his mouth was warm and soft at first, coaxing you in with light, teasing pressure before parting slightly to deepen it. you tilted your head and that’s when his tongue slid against yours. slow at first then more deliberate, stroking and retreating, inviting you to follow.
“mmm,” he hummed into your mouth. a way to show you how much he was enjoying this. a way to give you a confidence boost. one of his hands slid up to rest between your shoulder blades, pulling you closer.
the kiss grew messier, wetter, your lips moving against his with a need that hadn’t been there minutes ago. his tongue teased along the roof of your mouth before curling under yours, drawing a soft, surprised sound from your throat.
he chuckled against your lips, “already making those pretty noises for me.”
you whined as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him even closer, personal space nonexistent. he met your energy, tongue sliding deep into your mouth, tangling with yours in a way that made your thighs tighten around his hips.
jaemin’s hands roamed more now. one tracing the curve of your waist, the other splaying against the small of your back, pulling you until you were flushed against him. the heat radiating between you was dizzying.
“fuck…you taste so sweet,” he breathed when you broke for air.
and with every stroke of his tongue and each low murmur of praise, the nerves that had felt so suffocating in the car melted away completely. all that was left was the delicious weight of his body under yours and the slow, intoxicating way he let you explore him like you had all the time in the world.
your lips crashed back onto his, the kiss full of heat. jaemin matched you instantly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a slow, confident drag before retreating, letting you chase him.
the hand on your back slid upward, his long fingers splaying between your shoulder blades before curling around the back of your neck, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss further.
god, his hands were big.
the one at your waist tightened, pulling you down so your hips pressed flush to his. even through the fabric, you could feel the hard line of him — thick, hot, and unyielding — and the faint groan he let out at the contact made your pulse kick.
“that’s it,” he murmured against your lips, the warmth in his voice edged with something darker.
“grind on me, baby… take what’s yours.”
your hips obeyed before your brain caught up, rocking slowly at first, just enough for the drag of his cock under you to send sparks racing through your body. the frictions was maddening — denim against cotton, the heat of his body bleeding through both.
jaemin’s tongue tangled with yours again, hungrier now, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before sucking it lightly into his mouth. you gasped, hips pressing down harder, chasing the delicious friction.
he answered with a low groan, his hands anchoring you to him. one slid down over the curve of your ass, cupping it firmly, guiding your movements so you rocked over him just right — you swore your panties were stained with heat. the other traced up your side, skimming over the swell of your breast through your top. his thumb brushed deliberately over your nipple, the light friction making your breath hitch.
“fuck—” the sound slipped out before you could stop it.
he smiled against your mouth, his voice warm and teasing, “you like that, huh?”
you kissed him harder in answer, your hips grinding down with more intent. each roll sent a jolt of pleasure low in your belly and you flet his cock twitch under you through the layers of fabric.
“yeah…that’s it,” he murmured, his tone dropping lower, more deliberate, “god, you feel so good like this.”
your fingers gripped his shoulders like you needed to anchor yourself. he groaned into your mouth, the sound low and rough, and the vibration of it went straight through you.
jaemin’s large hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, palm warm against your bare skin. he traced the line of your spine slowly, deliberately, making you shiver before sliding back down to squeeze your hip and urging you forward again.
your breathing tuned ragged. every movement was measured — he was letting you lead but the subtle pulls of his hands made each shift hotter, more purposeful, coaxing you toward that inevitable peak. the air between you felt thick, each breath mingling as the kiss grew messier, wetter, your tongues tangling with no hesitation now.
when his hand smoothed back up your stomach to cup your breast fully, his thumb circling over your nipple in slow, deliberate strokes, your hips stuttered against him, the rhythm breaking under the surge of sensation.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and warm, “you feel amazing… can i make you feel even better?”
“please,” you whispered against his lips, the word barely there, earning a soft knowing smile from him.
jaemin didn’t rush. he slid his hands down to the backs of your thighs, giving you a gentle squeeze before guiding you off his lap and onto the bed. the mattress dipped under your weight, soft blankets cushioning you as he followed, bracing himself above you.
his mouth found yours again, deeper this time, almost greedy. his big hands roamed deliberately over you, sliding under your shirt to stroke the warm skin of your stomach.
“let’s get this off,” he murmured, tugging lightly at the hem. you lifted your arms without thinking and he peeled your shirt away, tossing it aside before leaning back to take you in. his gaze lingered, slow and deliberate, before he bent to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.
“you’re gorgeous,” he breathed between kisses, his voice low and certain, like it wasn’t up for debate. his hands slid to you back, easily undoing your bra clasp. the straps slipped down your arms and then he was cupping your bare breasts in those large, warm hands, his thumbs bruising over your hard nipples in slow circles that made tiny moans slip from your lips.
every action he takes making you learn more about yourself.
your fingers gripped his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he kept the pace maddeningly steady, “mmm, not yet,” he murmured against your skin, “i want you worked up for me.”
one hand trailed down your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your bottoms. his eyes flicked up to meet yours, “can i take these off, pretty girl?”
you nodded and he slid them down, along with your panties, in one smooth motion, leaving you bare under his gaze. the heat in his eyes deepened, but his touch stayed gentle as he settled between your legs.
“you’re already soaked” he murmured, brushing the pads of his fingers over your folds in a slow stroke. his mouth curved into a faint smirk, “god, i love how virgins get wet so easily. your body knows exactly what it wants, sweet girl.”
a shiver ran through you at his words, your breath hitching as his finger slipped inside easily, the stretch making you gasp softly.
“oh my —” the sound broke into a moan when he curled it slightly, brushing over something that made your toes curl. he kissed you again, swallowing the sound as his other hand gripped your hip.
“relax for me,” he whispered, curling his finger inside you, “that’s it,” he praised, leaning down to kiss your jaw, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke, “take me in, baby, you feel so fucking good around just one finger.”
when he added the second, the stretch was fuller, warmer, pulling another moan from you, your hips bucking to his touch.
“ohhh jaemin—”
“feels good, baby?”
you nodded, breathless, “so good—”
“good,” he soothed, his voice honey-sweet but still dripping heat, “let’s make sure you’re ready for me.”
your hips started to move with him, chasing the friction. he let you, his pace steady, curling his fingers just right with every stroke. his thumb found your clit then, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your hips twitch and your toes curl. the pressure built fast, your thighs tensing around his hand. you bite your lip, trying to control your moans.
“don’t hold back,” he urged, his voice dropping lower, “let me hear you’re pretty sounds.”
you moaned again, this one louder, your head tipping back against the pillows.
“oh, fuck that feels—”
“yeah, i can feel it,” he murmured, curling his fingers in perfect rhythm with his thumb’s pressure, “this pretty pussy’s gripping me so tight.”
your thighs started to tremble as the pleasure coiled tighter in your belly. his fingers thrusted perfectly, hitting your sweet spot every time, thumb rubbing in perfect circles that had you breaking so much faster than you could ever make yourself break.
“i–i’m close—”
“then come for me,” he coaxed, his tone a perfect mix of command and comfort, “come all over my finger, baby. show me how sweet you are when you let go.”
the combination of his words and the relentless, precise pressure was too much – your first orgasm hit fast, your moan breaking into a cry as you clenched around him, back arching to his touch.
“good girl,” he groaned softly, working you through it, “fuck you’re perfect. squeezing me so tight.”
you gasped his name again, hips jerking as he kept moving just long enough to draw every last ripple from you before slowing.
when he finally pulled his fingers free, he licked his fingers slowly, making sure you were watching. the sight of it enough to keep the heat ignited in between your legs, “mmm, you taste even better,” he praised before pressing a slow kiss against your lips, letting you taste yourself on him.
you felt dizzy. jaemin let you catch your breath, brushing his thumb over your hip in slow circles before breaking the quiet.
“how do you usually fuck yourself?” he asked casually, like he was asking your favorite coffee order, except his voice was rougher now, threaded with heat and his eyes were a shade darker.
you hesitated, snapping back into reality, cheeks warming, voice soft, mind still stuck between a dream and reality, “i…i usually put the dildo behind me and…sit on it.”
his mouth curved, the kind of smile that felt dangerous in the best way, “you want to do it that way now?”
you nodded, pulse quickening, the heat in your stomach untamed, he was trying to make this feel the most comfortable for you and you appreciate it a lot.
“yes.” you reply with no doubt in your mind.
jaemin leaned back, reaching for the condom on the nightstand. he tore it open with practiced ease, rolling it down over himself while keeping his eyes locked on you, “then get into position, sweet girl.”
you moved to your hands and knees, heart pounding, and he shifted behind you on the bed, one big hand steady on your hip.
“come here,” he murmured, guiding you back toward him until you could feel the hot, thick press of him nudging between your folds. he ran himself along your slit slowly, coating himself in your slick before pausing at your entrance.
his voice dropped to a low growl —
“c’mon, baby… fuck yourself on my cock. take your virginity.”
the words sent a shiver through you. this was it. you are finally going to lose your virginity. and all you could think about was how much you wanted it. how much you craved it.
you took a breath then pushed back, feeling the thick head stretch you open. the sensation was sharper, fuller than anything your toys had ever given you, your breath catching in your throat.
“go ahead, you’re in control, this is all you, baby” jaemin praised instantly, his grip tightening just enough to keep you steady, “that’s it… take me slow. you’re doing so fucking well.”
you sank down further, inch by inch, the stretch making you gasp, “oh— god, jaemin—”
“i know,” he murmured, his own breath hitching, “so tight… fuck, you feel incredible.”
when you finally seated yourself fully on him, you froze, overwhelmed by the deep, full ache.
“you okay?” he asked softly, rubbing your hip with his thumb, giving you all the time you need to adjust to him.
you nodded, voice shaky, “it feels… so full. so good.”
“move whenever you’re ready,” he said, letting you keep control, placing a soft open mouthed kiss on your shoulder blade.
you started slowly, lifting yourself up and sinking back down in shallow strokes, adjusting to the stretch. the friction built with each movement, pulling soft moans from your lips.
“yeah, baby, that’s perfect,” he praised, “riding me so well. look at you… making yourself feel good on my cock.”
his praises made you bolder, your pace picking up, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.
“oh, fuck—” you gasped, pushing back harder, chasing the heat coiling low in your belly, your jaw slacking open, eyes already rolling back at the feel of him inside you.
“that’s it,” jaemin groaned, his voice raw now, “god, i could watch you take me like this all night. the perfect little virgin…not so innocent now, huh?”
you whimpered at the mix of praise and filth, your thighs starting to burn from the effort.
he noticed instantly, “you’re getting tired, aren’t you?”
“a little—” you admitted between breaths.
your pace was steady but slowing, your thighs starting to ache from the effort of bouncing on him. jaemin’s hands stayed firm on your hips, guiding your movements without stealing control — yet.
then, his grip tightened just slightly, and his voice dropped, darker now.
“you wanna know what the difference is between your dildo and me?”
the change in tone made your pulse spike. You glanced back over your shoulder at him, his eyes already locked on you — darker, hungrier, his jaw tight.
“what?” you gulped, your voice softer, almost cautious.
he leaned in just enough for his breath to fan over your ear, his words low and deliberate.
“i can fuck you until you can’t speak.”
a shiver shot through you, your breath catching.
“tell me sweet girl, do you want that?”
“yes–yes–please–jaem—”
you couldn’t even finish begging. his hands clamped firmly around your hips, and in the next breath, he was driving up into you with deep, unrelenting thrusts. the sound of skin meeting skin was loud, filthy, filling the cozy room.
you gasped sharply, your arms bracing against his thighs, each stroke hit deeper, harder, dragging sweet, desperate moans from your throat.
“jaemin—ohhh—fuck!”
“yeah, baby,” he groaned, his voice rough now, each word punctuated by the snap of his hips, “feel that? that’s what your toy could never give you. real heat, real weight—fucking you open for me.”
your fingers clenched, nails digging on his thighs, earning a hiss from him, the force of his thrusts pushing you forward slightly each time, “feels so— god—so good—i—”
he chuckled darkly, his grip tightening, “can’t even finish your sentences now, huh? losing your words for me.”
every stroke had you gasping louder, your words turning into incoherent moans, you’re pretty sure you unlocked a new language. your body arched on instinct as the fullness and friction became almost overwhelming.
“you’re taking me so well,” he praised through a groan, sweat starting to bead at his temples, “already hugging my cock like you were made for it.”
his deep, relentless rhythm, his voice in your ear, and the burn of finally being taken like this had your orgasm building fast.
“jaemin— i-i’m gonna—”
“come, baby,” he growled, his hips moving even faster, his voice toeing the line between command and praise, “come on the cock that just ruined you for anyone else.”
your climax hit hard as your second orgasm took over, your jaw slacking open in a silent scream, eyes rolling so far back you saw white, your body clenched violently around him, the only thing keeping you up is his strong hand around your waist.
jaemin groaned at the tight squeeze, fucking you through every pulse until finally letting you collapse forward, trembling, your face hitting the sheets.
only then did he slow, his hands smoothing over your sides, grounding you as your breath tried to steady. your body melted into the sheets, eyes completely shut in pure bliss, still catching your breath, the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing through you.
jeamin eased out of you slowly, his palm warm on your hip. you lay there for a moment, breathing hard, the deep ache between your thighs already settling in.
then he chuckled low, leaning over you, a hand massaging one of your ass cheeks.
“congratulations, baby. you’re officially not a virgin anymore.”
you laughed breathlessly, “god, i don’t know why i was so scared, i should’ve done this sooner.”
he grinned, settling by your side, brushing your hair back from your face, “so, i would say this was a success?”
your laughter softened into something warmer, finally turning your body around to lay down and face him, “it was…better than i could ever imagine. so much better.”
he shot you a soft smile before his eyes darkened just slightly.
“think you can take a little more?”
you didn’t even have to think, your body already ached for him again.
“yeah,” you murmured, already reaching for him and pulling him down toward you. this time, he settled between your legs, his knees pushing your thighs apart. your head almost at the foot of the bed.
he slid his hands up your calves, over your knees, until he was bracing himself above you, arm muscles flexing under the warm glow of the lamp, “i’m gonna make you feel it everywhere,” he said softly, his tone promising, “gonna make sure you don’t take any less than this from any other man.”
the head of his cock nudged at your entrance again and you moan at the feeling. he didn’t push in yet, instead, he leaned down to kiss you, slow at first, but quickly deepening. his tongue swept into your mouth, coaxing, until you were clutching at his shoulders just to keep up.
when he finally slid into you, it was in one slow, deliberate push, stretching you all over again with absolutely no warning. your gasp was swallowed by his mouth, his hips settling flush to yours.
“still so tight,” he groaned, his forehead pressing to yours, “god, you’re addicting.”
your hands slid down his back, nails grazing lightly over the muscle there, “fuck…you feel even bigger.”
he chuckled, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze hot and intent, “tell me how you want it this time, baby.”
“just…fuck me…please,” you breathed and that was all he needed.
his hips began to move — slow at first, deep, deliberate thrusts that had you gasping with each one. the stretch was sharper this way, every inch of him dragging against you. then he picked up the pace, his thrusts sharper, harder, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the cozy, lamplit room.
“jaemin–” you moaned, your mind only had room for his name, your back arching off the bed, hips meeting every one of his thrusts like your body had a mind of its own.
“that’s it,” he growled, his voice rougher now, “take me deep, nobody else will ever get to fuck you for the first time like this.”
the possessive edge made your stomach flip, your nails digging into his shoulder, “jaemin–”
he kissed you again, messy and heated, while his hips kept driving into you, the friction building fast.
“you’re already clenching around me,” he groaned, his voice breaking, “you’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you?”
“yes—fuck—yes—”
“do it,” he commanded, his thrusts growing rougher, “let me feel you lose it on me again.”
it didn’t take long — his deep, relentless rhythm and that filthy praise had you spiraling fast. you were starting to learn that besides loving nipple-play, you definitely had a praise kink.
your third orgasm hit with a choked cry, body locking around him, squeezing so tight he groaned against your mouth. he kept moving, milking every pulse until you were trembling beneath him, your hands clutching at him like you didn’t want to let go.
jaemin stayed pressed deep inside you, his hips flush against yours, letting you feel the pulses of your pussy clenching and unclenching around him. his gaze stayed locked on your face watching every little reaction.
then one of his hands slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your swollen clit like he’d been planning it all along.
“holy fuck—” you gasped instantly, eyes snapping open, your cunt clenching even tighter around him.
he groaned at the instant way your body reacts to him, his voice low and steady, “you’re already so sensitive aren’t you? let’s see how much you can really take.”
he started slow, rubbing lazy circles over your sensitive bud, his cock just sitting perfectly inside you, sitting against your walls, unmoving.
your breath caught on every measured circle of his fingered, the pressure on your clit already making your stomach clench, “oh my god—”
“look at you,” he murmured, watching your face like it was his favorite thing in the world, “falling apart for me already.”
you whimpered, your hands gripping his biceps, “its—it’s too much—”
“too much?” his smirk darkened and instead of easing up, he pressed a little harder, circling faster.
“i’m not even moving my cock baby, this is just my fingers,” he whispered, brushing his lips along your jaw as his fingers continued to play your clit with ruthless precision.
your hips bucked up, voice breaking into breathless moans, “jaemin—i—i can’t—”
“yes you can.” he says sweetly, playfully, teasingly, but his own breathing is rough now due to how hard you were clenching around him and the amount of self control he was holding on to to not fuck you senseless.
“you’re gonna come so hard on my cock…just like this.”
before you know it, the pressure inside you coiled tighter, your thighs trembled around him. every roll of his fingers pushed you closer until it was all too much to contain. your fourth orgasm tore through you, just like that. just like he said you would — your back arching violently off the bed, a silent cry ripping from your throat.
the rush was blinding, every nerve in your body lighting up as your walls clenched around him in relentless waves.
“fuck—” jaemin groaned by your ear, keeping his fingers moving to draw every last spasm from you.
you were shaking by the time it passed, your chest heaving, your nails dragging down his back in aftershock. you’d never felt anything like it — it was raw, all-consuming, dizzying in the best way possible.
he brushed his fingers over your clit one last time, making you twitch hard, before finally pulling out, making you whine — already missing the stretch he provided. he chuckled softly, kissing the corner of your mouth.
it was only when your head cleared enough that you realized jaemin was still hard inside the condom — his breathing rough but nowhere near the edge you’d just fallen over.
you turned your head to look at him, “you didn’t…?”
he smiled faintly, brushing damp hair from your cheek, “tonight’s about you, baby.”
you bit your lip, “can i…?” you hesitated for only a second before adding, “can i give you a blowjob?”
his brows lifted, something dark sparking in his eyes, “you want to?”
you nodded, your voice low but certain, “yeah. i’ve never given one… but i want to.”
that was all it took for him to roll onto his back, one arm folded under his head, the other reaching to pull you closer, “then come here, sweet girl. let me teach you.”
you crawled down between his legs, ignoring the soreness between your thighs, and the way your legs were trembling with every move. your eyes flick to where the condom still hugged him, his cock flushed and thick.
“first,” he said, voice dipping low, “take that off for me.”
you wrapped your fingers around the base, giving it a cautious squeeze before rolling the condom up and off. his hiss was instant, his head tipping back slightly.
“fuck—your hands are warm…”
you couldn’t help but glance up at his face, the way his jaw flexed as you stroked him lightly just to feel the weight of him in your palm.
“now,” he murmured, his eyes finding yours again, “start with just the tip. lick it, get used to the taste. don’t rush.”
you nod, leaning in, your tongue flicking over the sensitive head. he groaned — deep, low, his hips twitching just slightly.
“yeah, just like that. god, your mouth is warm.”
encouraged, you wrapped your lips around the tip and sucked lightly, your hand stroking the rest of him in time. his groan was louder this time, his eyes fluttering shut.
“mmm—fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he praised, his voice turning breathier, “such a pretty little mouth… made for this.”
you found yourself wanting to hear more of those sounds, more of that voice. you pushed down further, taking more of him in, your tongue pressing along the underside.
his reaction was instant — a sharp breath, his hand fisting lightly in the sheets, “oh— fuck, that’s it, sweet girl. just like that.”
the more you moved, the more you realized how much you liked the act itself — the fullness in your mouth, the weight of him on your tongue, the way he groaned whenever you hollowed your cheeks.
“god, you’re doing so well,” he panted, “you’re already better than you think you are.”
that praise made something in you click, and you started bobbing your head with a steadier rhythm, your hand twisting lightly at the base as you sucked. his hips shifted, just enough to meet your movements.
“fuck, yes—” he groaned, his voice cracking slightly, “you’re gonna ruin me if you keep that up.”
you hummed around him in response, and the vibration made him curse, his hand reaching down to cup the back of your head, fingers bunching your hair up, not forcing — just guiding.
“take a little more,” he urged, his voice dropping into that darker register again, “i know you can.”
you relaxed your throat, sinking down further until he hit the back of it, your eyes watering slightly. he groaned loud at the feeling, his other hand gripping the sheet tight.
“oh my god, baby— fuck—”
you pulled back slowly, saliva trailing from your lips to the tip, and he hissed at the sight, “shit— you’re gonna make me come—”
instead of slowing, you leaned back in, mouth sealing around him again, sucking harder now. his groans turned almost desperate, a mix of pleasure and that edge of overstimulation.
“baby—ah— fuck, you’re… fuck, it’s too good—”
you liked hearing him like that, liked the way his voice broke. you kept going, your tongue swirling around the head each time you pulled up, your hand stroking him in perfect sync.
he was almost panting now, his thighs tensing under your hands, “you’re… oh, fuck— you’re not stopping, are you?”
you shook your head just enough for him to feel it, your mouth still working him relentlessly.
“god, you’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, his voice frayed, “pretty little mouth— i swear, i’ll never forget this.”
he really did have a way with words. a way that made you feel special. like you weren’t just one of the many clients he pleases everyday.
his breathing was ragged now, his abs tightening under your hands as you kept working him — the slick sounds of your mouth and his soft, desperate groans filling the warm, quiet room.
“baby—” he gasped, his voice breaking on the word, “i’m close— fuck, i’m so close.”
you didn’t slow down. if anything, you got hungrier for it, twisting your hand in a tighter rhythm at the base while your mouth sank down on him again, your tongue pressing hard along the underside.
jaemin swore, his hand cupping the back of your head like he needed the anchor, “shit— don’t stop— you feel so good, baby, just like that—”
his thighs flexed, hips jerking up as his breath caught, “fuck— i’m gonna—”
and then he broke, his groan low and guttural as his release hit. the heat spilled into your mouth in hot, pulsing bursts, his body shuddering under your touch.
“ah— fuck, baby—” his voice was wrecked now, his hips still twitching as you kept your mouth on him, swallowing what you could, your lips milking him through every last wave.
it was only when his hand gave a gentle squeeze to the back of your head that you finally eased off, pulling back slowly with a soft, wet pop. his cock twitched against your hand, still sensitive, his breath coming in heavy pulls.
“you…” he out a breathless laugh, his head falling back against the pillows, “you just tried to suck my soul out, didn’t you?”
you grinned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, ignoring the taste, “maybe a little.”
he shook his head, still smiling between pants, “you’re dangerous.”
he tugged you up the bed until you were sitting between his legs, his careful hands smoothing over your arms and sides like he was checking you for damage. he was gentle now. like someone flipped the switch on him.
“are you okay?” he asked softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek.
you nodded, still flushed and a little dazed, “yeah… more than okay.”
he smiled — that warm, sweet curve that felt like it was just for you — before leaning in to kiss your temple.
“good girl. you were so perfect for me tonight.”
your heart fluttered at the praise, but then his hands slid lower, over your hips, and back between your thighs. you were still wet — slick from your orgasm earlier and all the noises he made. your body still humming.
you bit your lip, “i… i’m still—”
“wet?” his smile turned into something a little smug, “yeah, i can feel it,” he pressed his palm lightly against your heat, making you gasp.
you frowned, half embarrassed, half curious, “is that normal?”
his laugh was warm but teasing, “baby, you just lost your virginity. you unlocked something. you might be wet for days.”
you snorted despite yourself, “shit. i’m in trouble.”
he winked, flipping you over so that you were laying down again and lowering himself down the bed, “not if you just book me for the rest of the week.”
before you could answer, he was sliding down your body, kissing his way past your stomach, pausing to mouth at the curve of your hip before settling between your thighs. he gently coaxed your legs open, looking up at you with that sweet, boyish smile that somehow made everything feel safe — even when your pulse was already racing.
“one more. let me make you come one last time…my way.”
“jaemin—” you started, but the rest of your thought vanished when his tongue slid over you in one slow, deliberate stroke.
“just relax,” he said softly, “enjoy it.”
you gasped, your hips twitching as the wet heat of his mouth closed over your clit, sucking gently. the sensation shot straight through you, the afterglow haze giving way to a sharp, building pleasure. your back arched instantly, a soft moan escaping before you could stop it.
“mmm, i could eat you out for days,” he murmured against you before diving back in. he started with light, teasing flicks of his tongue before sealing his lips around your clit, sucking just hard enough to make your toes curl. the steady, precise rhythm had you gasping in seconds.
“jaemin—” you reached down, your fingers tangling in his hair, “oh my god—”
he glanced up at you briefly, his eyes dark and warm, before focusing right back on you. one hand slipped up to press flat against your lower stomach, holding you steady as he worked you over with unrelenting precision.
then his hands cupped your breasts, kneading gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers.
“oh my god!—” you gasped, the dual sensation making your back arch instantly.
he sucked your clit into his mouth while his fingers tugged and pinched at your nipples in perfect rhythm, each pull sending sharp little shocks of pleasure straight to your core.
“don’t stop—please—don’t stop–”
his groan vibrated against you, his fingers curling into your breasts like he wanted to keep you pinned in place while he worked you over. he alternated between swirling his tongue over your clit and flicking it, all while massaging and tugging at your nipples in a way that made your thighs tremble.
“jaemin— i’m— oh, fuck—”
“come on, baby,” he coaxed, his voice warm and commanding all at once, “let me have you one more time. be my sweet girl.”
the pressure between your legs and on your nipples pushed you over the edge fast, your fifth orgasm tearing through you with only sighs of his name, hips lifting off the bed.
still, he didn’t stop. licking you through every pulse while giving your nipples one last slow roll, making your entire body shudder.
“good job, baby” he encouraged, slipping two fingers inside you without breaking rhythm, not giving you enough room to breathe.
“give me one last one. let me end the night right.”
his mouth and fingers worked together perfectly — his tongue focused on your clit while his fingers curled inside you, finding that spot instantly.
your breath came fast, you can’t even speak anymore, there was nothing on your brain but this feeling, your thighs trembling as the pleasure built hard and fast. and before you could warn him. you broke with a sharp cry, your sixth orgasm crashing over you so quickly, almost violently.
only when you finally collapsed back into the pillows, shaking and panting, eyes shut, did he give one last slow lick before kissing the inside of your thigh and sitting up.
“there we go,” he said, his tone shifting back to sweet, letting you finally catch your breath, your eyes still sealed, breathing slowly slowing down, mind still reeling with no care in the world but the high you’re feeling now.
he let you feel it all, not breaking the spell as he quietly moved around the room, grabbing the towel he had prepared. he wiped you down with gentle care, murmuring soft praise as he worked, making you finally open your eyes.
“you feeling okay?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips.
you nod, “yeah, that—that was amazing.”
jaemin helped you sit up slowly, his hand steady at your back like he was making sure your legs wouldn’t give out. you slipped off the bed, still feeling pleasantly dazed, and he crouched briefly to grab your clothes from the floor
once you were dressed again, jaemin helped smooth the hem of your top into place before stepping back, “perfect,” he muttered, then guided you toward the door. his palm resting at the small of your back, the heat of his touch still grounding you after everything that had just happened.
“you did amazing tonight,” he said warmly, his voice slipping back toward the gentle professionalism you remembered from the consultation, “hope i didn’t set your standards too high,” he teased playfully.
you glanced over your shoulder at him, smirking, “oh, you did. ruined me for anyone else.”
that earned you one of his bright, sweet-boy smiles — the kind that felt almost disarming after the filth that had fallen from his lips earlier, “guess i’ll be seeing you around here a lot then.”
you laughed, shaking your head, “we’ll see.”
he guided you a few more steps down the softly lit hallway, his arm brushing yours now and then, until you reached the door that led to the reception area. he stopped there, leaning a shoulder casually against the wall.
“this is where i leave you,” he said lightly, “once you go through, you’re back in taeyong’s capable hands.”
“guess this is goodbye, then,” you said, the corners of your mouth twitching.
“for now.” his tone stayed light, playful.
he held out his hand, palm open between you — a polite, professional handshake to close the session. you slipped your hand into his, the shake firm but warm, his thumb brushing over your knuckles just once before letting go.
“take care, ms. y/n, it was a pleasure to be your first,” he said, that gentle professionalism back in place.
“god,” you giggled, placing your hand in his, “the pleasure was all mine…literally.”
you share one last laugh before finally pushing open the door and stepping into the glow of reception.
✚ END OF SESSION ✚
the quiet behind you shifted to the low hum of taeyong’s voice as he looked up from his desk, already wearing that knowing smile.
“all set?” he asked.
you nodded, still feeling a little warm under the collar, “yeah.”
“perfect. that would be charged to the card on the file,” he said, clicking a few things on his computer before standing and reaching for a black gift bag from under the counter.
he handed it to you with both hands, “this is for you…a little something from our donors…complimentary with your first session.”
you glanced inside just enough to catch a glimpse of a folded hoodie and what looked like a chilled bottled drink and the words
thank you for trusting neo orgasm clinic with your satisfaction
you let out a soft, “thank you.”
“we hope to see you again,” taeyong replied smoothly, “have a good night,” he added with a polite bow of his head.
you smiled at him before giving a little wave and turning towards the exit.
as the glass door closed behind you, you caught your reflection in it — hair slightly mussed, cheeks still flushed, lips curved in the kind of smile you didn’t even have to think about.
the clinic’s soft lighting followed you out into the parking lot, and you realized you were walking slower than usual — partly because of the soreness, but also because you didn’t want the bubble of warmth and calm to break.
for years, losing your virginity had been this looming, nerve-wracking thing, and now… it was done. not with fumbling hands and awkward silence, but with someone who’d made you laugh, made you feel safe, and made you come harder than you thought possible. and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.
when you slid into the driver’s seat, you clicked on the overhead light, casting a warm glow over the black bag sitting in your lap. curiosity got the better of you before you even started the engine. you peeled back the tissue paper and peeked inside.
first thing you pulled out was a folded hoodie — soft, heavy cotton in crisp white, the bold black lettering across the chest making you choke on a laugh.
ORGASM DONOR
you shook your head, still grinning as you dug further. your fingers closed around a bottle, and when you lifted it into the light, condensation beaded down the side. it was a sleek glass bottle of iced coffee — the good kind, cold and clearly just pulled from a fridge.
a laugh slipped out before you could stop it, “they really know their branding.”
you set the hoodie aside, popped the lid off the coffee, and took a long sip — the sweet, chilled bitterness grounding you enough to remember the last thing you wanted to do before heading home.
grabbing your phone, you tapped open the orgasm donor portal. jaemin’s profile popped up immediately, the “donor of the month” badge gleaming next to his name, that same easy smile in his photo that had greeted you at the start.
your chest gave a small, warm squeeze. you’d gone into tonight scared you’d regret this, but instead you were sitting here feeling… lucky. like you’d been given the perfect start.
you hit the five-star rating without hesitation and began typing in the comment box:
lost my virginity to jaemin tonight and it was the best experience ever. everyone’s right, he’s sweet and gentle, but knows exactly when to take control. made me feel safe, made me laugh, made me learn more things about myself AND gave me more orgasms than i thought were possible all in one night. 13/10 would book again.
you hit submit, watching the little confirmation banner flash at the top of the screen.
setting your phone down, you glanced toward the softly lit clinic doors in your rearview mirror. the hoodie sat beside you, the coffee still cool in your hand, and for the first time in years, the thought of your virginity — of sex — didn’t feel heavy or complicated. it just felt… good.
and somewhere behind those pristine white doors, donor jaemin was already reviewing his next file. another client. another list of goals. another carefully measured beginning.
✚ APPOINTMENT STATUS: COMPLETE ✚
—
18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content
BONUS: #1. #2. #3. #4. #5.
—
an: round of applause for our second donor, jaemin, please! again, sorry this is so late :( it’s been a busy first week of august. i haven’t gotten a chance to read this whole thing in one sitting so i’m sorry if there are errors and typos here and there. and a little reminder — this whole entire concept is supposed to be silly! i hope you had fun reading it! please don’t take it too seriously.
🩺 likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated
⚗️ If you’re enjoying this mini series and would like to show extra appreciation, you may send your tips in my ko-fi.
“how can you look at me and pretend, i’m someone you’ve never met?”
📀now playing: back to friends by sombr
❯ summary: Renjun didn’t really do friends. He never needed to—he already had one, and that was more than enough. But then his boss went and hired a pretty summer temp. A girl who's all sunshine grins and jokes. His complete opposite. And suddenly Renjun thinks maybe he could do friends. Hopefully even more.
❯ pairings: virgin!renjun x fem!reader
❯ genre: grumpy x sunshine, college!au, workplace!au, smut, slowBURN
❯ words: 31.4k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, angst, fluff, loss of virginity, hand job, breast worship, fingering, porn with plot, banter with a slice of world building, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), slight hurt, inexperienced renjun, mentions of therapy, protectiveness, swearing, mentions of food, difficult family dynamics, mentions of anxiety, literally just a slowburn angsty fic that’s also fluffy idk
(AN: i had to split this into two post because of blocking issues, and i didn’t want to format it any differently since the way i write—especially dialogue—is important.) PART 1
Renjun’s car isn’t quite what you imagined. Sleek. Black. (Okay, that part’s totally predictable) But then there’s the undeniable part: it’s definitely, unquestionably expensive. Almost like he can sense your hesitation hanging just outside the passenger door, he opens it for you, gestures you in, and says,
“My first big purchase from this job.”
You gape, your eyebrows slowly climbing. Before you can press him for more, he shuts your door with a gentle-but-firm click—like a full stop to the conversation. Which, of course, is a mistake.
Because you may be slightly upset. You may be discombobulated and, yes, may be having an emotional clusterfuck in your mind. But you’re still you. You’re still nosy.
“How long did it take you to save? Yuta pays in buttons.”
That earns you a warm laugh. “I thought you got special treatment. You know, being a nepo baby and all that.”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?”
Another laugh, softer this time, before: “Seat belt.”
You click it into place.
“Seriously,” you persist. “How long did this take you?”
He checks his mirrors, glances over his shoulder, flicks on his blinker. “You’ll have to direct me. I don’t like sat nav—”
“Renjun! How long did this take you to afford? Or are you secretly rich?” You gasp then. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hiding the fact that you’re also secretly a nepo baby?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head with the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. “I just… I’ve worked at the theatre a long time. Six years, maybe.”
“No shit,” you say, genuinely impressed. “You’ve managed to stay loyal to the same high school job well into your college years?”
“I don’t like change,” he says simply.
“Clearly.” Your eyes sweep over the spotless interior—black leather, not a single crumb in sight. “I guess that’s a good thing, though. For a second there, I thought you’d been letting me sit in the nepotism guilt alone, and that would’ve made me very upset with you.”
“Phew,” he says, mock-relieved. “Because now that I know what you look like upset, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with your wrath.”
You sink deeper into the passenger seat, the leather molding around you. The laugh you’d just shared evaporates, replaced by the hollow weight that’s been trailing you all day.
Renjun catches it. Your change in mood. You don’t have to look at him to know—he’s gone quieter, his fingers flexing once against the steering wheel like he’s checking himself. For a second, you swear you can hear his internal monologue debating whether or not he’s just put his foot in it again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“Want is the wrong word.” You rub at your temple. “Need? Probably. Take a left here.”
Renjun knows he should leave it alone. He knows exactly what it’s like to not want to talk about something. To need space. He’s built his entire adult coping mechanism around giving people the distance he craves for himself. But with you? He doesn’t want to.
He wants to know why his sunshine girl isn’t smiling, why you’re sinking into his expensive seats on the verge of tears, why the first time you’re in his car is out of necessity—because of some asshole ex—and not because you wanted to hang out with him.
Woah.
He wants you to want him.
Shit.
“I don’t want to go home,” you say quietly.
His eyes flick over to you, confusion tugging at his features—but also relief, because you just derailed the spiral he was about to launch himself into. “Okay…?”
“That’s where all my problems are. They’re never here. With you.”
Okay. Abort mission. That was not you giving him a pass to shelve the whole why do I want her to want me revelation. That was you flipping on a neon sign in his chest that reads ‘EXAMINE FEELINGS NOW’.
And he is not ready for that.
At some point—he’s not sure when—you’ve managed to fold yourself into the passenger seat, legs pulled to your chest.
[Feet on the seat, may he add. Something he yells at Hyuck for. But, because you look sad, he drops it. Only because of that.]
“Where do you want me to take you…?” He coughs then, jerks his gaze back to the road like you might catch him staring.
“Nooo…” you groan, letting your head drop against the window. “You pick. I always pick.”
“Y/N—I don’t like—”
“Anything? I know.” Your voice softens, but there’s a tiny smile in it. “You pretend not to be interesting, but you’re a liar. You’re so loyal—to Hyuck, to me, to Yuta, to your job. You like cars. Nobody who doesn’t care spends years of saved paychecks on something this expensive. You like to draw—I see you doodling when I’m studying. And you hum. A lot.”
“I do not hum.”
You roll your eyes.
“And despite being the most defensive person alive, you’re also the most thoughtful. You told me the bus wasn’t safe and made me get a ride. You put yourself between me and a guy double your size—twice. You bring me Skittles to work even though I know it personally offends you that I eat them…” You keep going, almost like you can’t help yourself.
“Your thing, Renjun, is caring. You notice. You’re thoughtful. It makes you happy—I know it does. So please…” Your voice dips quieter, something almost shy. “You pick. For me.”
Renjun feels like a goldfish—open-mouthed, slow-blinking—because you’ve just cracked him. Cracked the code Joy’s been working at since he was fourteen, in less than two months. Read him front to back despite the fact that the cover has been deliberately, stubbornly uninviting.
It shouldn’t matter. It really, really shouldn’t. But it does.
He keeps his eyes on the road—convinced that if he looks at you, you’ll see every emotion flickering through him clear as day. Not just the inferred parts.
His fingers tighten on the steering wheel. He swallows. He knows exactly where to take you.
The first thing you notice when Renjun pulls into a random parking lot is the painted pawprint on the sign—bright blue, with a slightly chipped edge. The second thing you notice is the sound: a muffled, overlapping chorus of barks and soft, impatient scratches from somewhere beyond the walls.
An animal shelter.
You turn to him slowly, your smile instant. “See? I told you. You’re such a thoughtful person. You knew I liked animals.”
Renjun doesn’t smile back—no, he does something worse: he nods, slides out of the car, rounds to your side, and opens the door. Then he helps you out.
(And he has the nerve to say he’s not thoughtful. You think otherwise.)
The bell above the shelter door chimes softly as you step inside. The air smells faintly antiseptic but still can’t mask the warm musk of fur.
“Hey, Junnie!”
A voice floats over from the front desk—a girl, maybe your age, maybe younger, ponytail bobbing.
Your skin prickles at the nickname. Junnie. The one he claims to hate. The one he swats away every time you try it on him. Your brain decides to spiral and ask the worst possible question: Did he just pretend to hate it? Or—worse—did he just not want you saying it?
You glance sideways at him, your pulse flickering.
“I see Hyuck’s been talking to you,” Renjun says dryly to the girl. “Told you all about my nickname, huh?”
“Seems only fair I get to know there’s a cringey nickname for you, dear cousin,” she fires back. “Considering you sent your sex-pest best friend into my shelter—my place of work—with, yes, the cutest stray kitty ever, but still.”
Cousin.
The prickling on your skin deflates like a popped balloon, replaced by something heavier and way more embarrassing to admit. Because it’s not like you have any claim on him. It’s not like you should care that a pretty girl uses the same nickname you use for him. You didn’t even invent it. You need to—seriously—get a grip.
“Hyuck has a crush on you,” Renjun states to the girl.
“Hyuck has a crush on everyone,” she says. “That doesn’t mean you send him into my happy place with a cute cat so he can try and—I don’t know—finesse me!”
You watch the girl ramble and flail helplessly, and suddenly you see the resemblance to Renjun. Same mannerisms. Same distant coldness. Same anxious state.
“No.” He continues, “Hyuck likes to mess around. He really likes you.”
“And I should be flattered?”
“I would say no,” Renjun replies, “but only because the idea of my cousin dating my best friend makes me want to bleach my brain. Hyuck is way too TMI—”
“What are you doing in my animal shelter so late?” she cuts in, eyes narrowing at him before darting to you.
Renjun turns toward you too.
“Oh…” she says, dragging it out.
Your brows knit. “What is ‘oh’?”
Her mouth curves into a mischievous smile. “Oh, nothing. Just that my dear cousin here had his friend Hyuck drop a cat off here a couple weeks ago. Hyuck mentioned that I had to take it because Renjun is absolutely besotted—”
She rolls her eyes but lets it go, turning that smile on you instead. “I’m guessing he brought you here to see that cat?” She shoots Renjun a look for confirmation.
“Do you still have her?” he asks.
Her grin widens, and she leads you both down the hallway, taking a right into a quieter section. She stops in front of a crate, where a familiar ginger tabby sits like she owns the place.
The minute she sees you, she lets out a yowl. Your heart actually stumbles in your chest as you crouch down. “Oh my god!”
The cat doesn’t hesitate—presses herself into you, rubbing her cheek along your arm with the kind of possessive affection usually reserved for people who bring snacks. You stroke down her spine, fingers sinking into the plush warmth of her fur, and she purrs so hard you can feel it in your ribs.
From the doorway, Renjun’s cousin clears her throat. “So this is Kitty Girl.”
“I think I heard the bell on the door chime,” Renjun says through clenched teeth, glaring at her.
She sighs, unbothered. “You didn’t. But since I’m an excellent cousin, I’ll stop cockblocking you and pretend there’s a customer out front at almost nine p.m at night.”
“You’re not cockblock—”
She’s already gone, her footsteps fading down the hall.
Renjun turns back to you, looking down at where you’re crouched on the floor with the cat curled against your thigh. There’s the faintest smile tugging at his mouth—weak, almost reluctant, like he’s not sure he should be wearing it.
“Cousin, huh?” you ask.
“Did you think she was my sister? Most people do. They say we act the same, but I don’t see it.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “No, actually. I thought she was…”
The words choke off before they can betray you. Because what right do you have to sound even a fraction jealous? Zero. Less than zero, actually. But Renjun—observant to the point of irritation—waits.
“…Your girlfriend,” you finish.
“First of all, gross,” his face twists into a grimace. “Second of all, why would I bring you to meet my girlfriend when you asked me to pick a place for you?”
He’s got a point. Which is annoying.
“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug, feigning nonchalance you absolutely do not feel. “Why wouldn’t you? We’re friends. It’s important I meet the people who matter to you. You just met Jeno.”
His brows draw together. “Jeno the ex… is still important to you?”
Shit.
Fuck.
No.
This is exactly the conversational landmine you’ve been tiptoeing around all day, and now you’ve stepped right on it, stomped down with both feet, and waved a little flag to announce your location.
“No—that’s not—” You gently place the cat back in her crate and push to your full height, suddenly needing the armour of vertical distance. “Jeno’s like family… because of my brother”
Renjun’s jaw works once, twice, before he says, “Right.”
You can feel it. The mood has changed, and you’re pretty sure it’s your fault. You want to say something—anything—to pull it back, but your thoughts are tangled. Because the reason everything feels sour is because of the one thing you refuse to examine too closely.
[The way your ribcage felt like it was cracking open when you walked into the animal shelter and thought he had a girlfriend. The idea of him having someone smiling at him from across a coffee shop table. Someone else hearing that soft, reluctant laugh he hides from everyone but gives you.]
It’s absurd. You’re absurd. He’s your friend. He’s just your friend. And then, because apparently your self-control has been left at the movie theare, your mouth opens.
“I mean…I’m just being silly about all of it, really. It’s not like any of that really matters anyway.”
His brows pinch again. “What doesn’t matter?”
You wave a hand. “Oh, you know—like, girlfriends, boyfriends, important people in our circles… all that. Because we’re friends. Just work friends.”
The words come out fast, rushed, like ripping off a bandage. Except instead of relief, you get… a weird hollowness in your chest. He watches you, unreadable, which is somehow worse than if he’d laughed or argued or rolled his eyes.
“Okay,” he says finally. The same flat tone as before, but there’s something under it now. “Well then, I’m going to go help out front. Let you two reconnect.”
“Renjun—”
But he’s already turning toward the door, leaving you there with the ginger tabby and your swirling thoughts. The cat yowls, batting at something metal that clanks against the side of her crate. You glance down and see it: a small silver plaque.
Bonnie.
You press your fingers against it, guilt pooling in your stomach.
Renjun is suspiciously quiet when you get back to his car.
The rain has picked up again, smearing across the windshield. And because he’s too fucking nice for his own good, he slips the strap of his backpack off his shoulder and presses it into your hands, holding it over your head while you cross the short stretch of pavement. He still opens your door. Still waits until you’re tucked in, safe and mostly dry, before shutting it and making his way around to the driver’s side.
You don’t speak as he starts the engine. The rain thrums on the roof instead.
“Did… that make you feel better?” he asks at last.
And of course he asks. Because he still cares—is still thoughtful—even though you’re almost certain you’ve just made it awkward between you. Pretty sure you’ve hurt him. But equally, he doesn’t fucking communicate. He doesn’t tell you where he stands, doesn’t give you a single foothold in the terrain of his feelings.
Maybe if he did, you wouldn’t be sitting here—jealous, possessive, unraveling—over a man you have no official claim to. Over a work friend, for god’s sake.
Ugh!
You huff out a breath. “No. It didn’t.”
His frown is immediate, brows pulling together. “Is it because you can’t adopt Bonnie yet? Because I can call and reser—”
“No, Renjun, it’s not that!”
You don’t even understand why you’re snapping at him—why you’re snapping at all. If anything, seeing a sweet, soft ball of ginger fur should have been the perfect remedy after the day you’ve had. After the ambush of your brother and your ex (an ambush you’re almost certain your father orchestrated, because in your family nothing is ever accidental) you should feel lighter. Happier.
But you’re not.
You’re confused. And conflicted. And frustrated. And, you’re certain that none of it is really about the cat.
“Then… what is it?”
“It’s—!” The word is jagged, harsh. “I don’t know! Avoiding my problems doesn’t mean they go away. I know you think that. I know you’ve mastered that craft. But for me? Putting a plaster over a bullet wound doesn’t mean I’m not going to bleed out.”
“I don’t think that.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you—”
He sucks in a slow breath, loud enough to cut you off. “I know it looks that way. I know I definitely avoid my problems. But that doesn’t mean I think they go away,” he says. “The opposite, in fact. They… they exist in my head permanently.”
“They don’t have to, though,” you reply. “You have people who’ll listen. Me, Hyuck… you have friends.”
“I know.” His throat moves as he swallows. “I’m well aware of that now.”
Maybe it’s the way his voice dips on the last word, or the way his hands tighten on the steering wheel. But you hear it: the punch.
It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t sting. But it does—because it’s one thing to be put in the friends category by anyone else. With him, it feels… wrong. Is this how he felt when you—
You swallow the thought before it can fester into something messier. Instead, you hear yourself blurt, “Take me to the beach.”
He cuts his gaze to you.“It’s raining, Y/N.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to get a cold.”
“I’m not. It’s August.”
“It doesn’t work like—” He breaks off with a sharp exhale. “It’s late. Dark,” he tries instead.
“I know,” you say again, tilting your head toward him. “You’ll be there with me.”
His groan vibrates low in his chest. “I hate the beach.”
“Then don’t come.”
He scoffs, glancing at you like you’ve just suggested the stupidest thing. “Y/N, I’m not leaving you at the beach on your own. In the dark. In the rain.”
“I know.” You let the smallest curve of a smile slip onto your lips, because, well, you’ve clearly won. “So take me there.”
And he does.
Straight down narrow lanes until he pulls into a gravel lot, and the ocean comes into view. The tires crunch to a stop, and before the engine even winds down, you’re unbuckling your seatbelt and shoving the door open. Rain greets you instantly—cool, wet, soaking into your hair until it clings in damp strands against your bare neck.
You don’t think. You just run. The wet sand shifts beneath your feet as you cross it, your fingers tugging at the buttons of your polo until it’s loose enough to take off. Your shorts follow too, dropped in a pile without care.
“Y/N!” Renjun’s voice cuts through the rain all sharp and worried. “What the hell are you doing?”
You keep walking, toes sinking deeper into the packed sand until the foamy tide kisses your ankles, then your calves, then climbs to your thighs. Your bra strap slips against your damp shoulder as you ease in. When the water reaches your ribs, you dive forward, letting the ocean swallow you.
You turn in the water, hair plastered to your cheeks, grinning at him. “Come in! What’s the worst that can happen? You’ll get wet?”
He shakes his head, a disbelieving huff escaping him. But you see it—you see the way his jaw works, the restless shift in his weight. Then his teeth catch on his lower lip, like he’s physically holding back, before he rips his own rain-soaked employee polo over his head.
The rain slides over the bare planes of his shoulders. The sight is enough to make your breath stutter—enough to make you nearly forget you’re supposed to be treading water.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, flinging the shirt onto the sand. His pants follow in a similar motion, and you look away.
[You curse yourself for looking away!]
And then he’s in, moving through the water toward you. For half a second, you debate whether or not to goad him some more. Try swimming farther out, just to watch him lose his mind. Give him a heartattack, maybe. But you don’t get the chance. Because suddenly his arms are around you, hauling you into his bare chest.
Your brain flatlines.
It’s all too much, too fast. You two haven’t touched—not really. Maybe a brush of knuckles when you pass him a popcorn bucket, a graze of fingers when you exchange candy. But hugs? Full-body contact? Basically naked? Absolutely not.
“That wasn’t fucking funny!”
The shout snaps you back into your body, into the fact that he’s holding you like he might actually never let go.
“Do you have any idea how choppy the water gets when it rains—” He’s still talking, voice edged with panic, and your chest tightens. Because what was fun for you, a reckless little thrill, has clearly rattled him to the core.
He’s looking over your body now, and unlike you (who’d been very much appreciating his toned, unfairly pretty physique) he’s scanning for injuries. Checking that you’re breathing, steady, not bruised.
“I’m sorry,” you manage. “I didn’t think—”
“You never do!”
You haven’t seen this Renjun in a long time—the serious one, the methodical one, the stoic, unflinching one. You press your palms to his chest—not to push him away, but to get him to loosen up.
“Hey,” you say, softer now, “relax, okay? This was just… my way of showing you my band-aid on a bullet wound technique.”
“Endangering yourself!?”
“No,” You suck in a breath, shaking your head. “Impulse.”
That makes him pause. You can see the gears turning in his head. And then there’s this twinge of recognition, the quiet oh. Because he knows. He’s seen it before: you stepping in front of moving traffic to scoop up a stray cat; charging headfirst into arguments you should probably walk away from; refusing to back down against his coldness when most people would fold.
It’s then, for the first time everything registers for him—that he’s holding you, skin to skin. His cough is abrupt, like he’s choking on the realisation. A blush spills over his cheekbones as he clears his throat and looks sharply away. His hands fall from you, because they technically don’t belong there.
“You’re… um… fine. Sorry—” His voice stumbles, breaks a little. “I just—yeah.”
He starts edging back, putting water and air between you both, and you watch him do it—like he’s physically removing himself from the epicenter of… whatever this is. Then you splash him.
“Hey! What’re you—”
“I want to talk about it,” you say, letting the droplets fall off your fingertips “I’ve had a really shitty day.”
“Right now?” In the middle of the sea?”
“Yes, now. I told you—my problems don’t just go away. I believe if you never bleed, you never grow.”
“So… a band-aid is pointless then? Regardless of whether it’s going over a bullet wound or not?” he asks, a half-smile twitching at his mouth.
“Shut up,” you say, splashing him again.
He laughs. It’s short, almost a reluctant burst of air before he then relents, giving you the kind of space he’s infuriatingly good at giving.
You take a breath and start. “This is such a first-world problem, but… my dad’s forcing me to be tutored by Jeno or he’ll cut me off. And I don’t want to because—you know—he’s my ex. We ended fine, but that doesn’t mean I want the guy I thought I was going to marry one day in my space, you know?”
[Renjun does not know. He does not know what it feels like to have someone he thinks he might marry on this earth at all, actually. Well—not until—]
“You thought you were going to marry him?”
“It’s complicated,” you say quickly. “I told you my family has indirectly planned out everything for me—job, husband, probably my future kids’ names, so something ugly.” You snort. “But Jeno and I… we never clicked like that. I love him—like a brother, more than anything. But even then, I think it’s because he’s always been around. I hardly know life without him. Plus my family like him. He obviously likes them.”
“Makes sense.”
“I just feel…” you swallow hard. “Like when I’m with my family, I’m outside of my body. Like I’m watching this version of me—this good daughter they’ve designed—and I constantly have to try, try, try to be her. And I’m not. Naturally, I’m just… not. But I’ve let it spiral so far out of control that now they control everything now.”
You don’t even realise you’re crying until the salt on your lips tastes more like you than the sea. Or maybe it’s just the rain—either way, he notices. Renjun hesitates, like his mind is having a quiet fistfight with itself, before his hand lifts. And then—so gently, he wipes your cheek with his thumb.
You give him the smallest smile.
“You know…” you clear your throat, cough around the lump. “When they said they’d cut me off, I didn’t even flinch. I laughed. I had this job. I liked it. But then they reminded me—they control that too.”
“Hey—if Yuta tried to get rid of you, I’d vouch for you. Unfair dismissal.”
“It would only be you,” you laugh, soft. “Yushi still hates me for the Icee machine thing. Honestly, I should’ve been fired then. But I was happy to reap the benefits of nepotism then.”
“It was your first day—”
“You don’t have to defend me.” You smile again, this time no teeth. “I remember how pissed you were. Same day as the cat in Yuta’s office.”
There’s a pause, long enough that you almost expect him to stay in his lane, because he’s the listener. But then, almost like he’s testing the weight of the words before handing them to you, he says—
“I know what it feels like. To be outside of your body.”
You blink at him, but he’s looking past you.
“With my family,” he adds. “It’s like… they never tried to understand me. Not really. They just—” His mouth tightens. “Shoved me into therapy because my emotions were too much. Until I learned to do the thing. The good thing. Ignore it. Play the part.”
It’s strange, hearing him say it out loud. Not because you didn’t suspect, but because you’ve never heard him speak about himself this way—plainly, without the sarcasm. Like he’s finally bleeding to grow.
And suddenly he’s not just Renjun, your friend. He’s the one person who doesn’t make you feel like you’re watching yourself from third person. He’s here. With you. Looking past you, but seeing you.
You can hear your own breathing. It sounds foreign. You tell yourself not to do it. You do it anyway.
Your hand moves first. Slow and testing. Fingers brushing over his jaw—so warm, startlingly warm against the cool rain still clinging to your skin. He flinches just barely, eyes snapping to yours like you’ve just crossed a line. And maybe you have.
It would be so easy to move back. Not change this. But you don’t.
You stay there, inches from him. Watching the way his wet lashes lower. Watching the way his mouth parts. Your thumb grazes the defined edge of his cheekbone, that flush you’ve been thinking about for weeks finally beneath your fingertips.
Then you’re leaning in, until your mouth is on his. You wait for him to stop you, but he doesn’t. Instead, the kiss is hesitant at first—an almost-kiss, until it’s not. His breath hitches against your mouth, the faintest tremor in it, like he’s learning you in real time and scared to get it wrong. Like he’s letting you lead.
It’s messy, too close—rain in your hair, the sound of your heartbeat louder than the cars on the street. And when you pull back, you’re still close enough to feel the way he exhales, like he’d been holding it the whole time.
“You’re shivering,” you say when his eyes finally flicker open.
“Y-yeah. Cold.”
You laugh, and it pulls his eyes down to your mouth, again. He lingers there for a second too long before dragging his eyes back up, like he’s making sure you’re still here. Still real.
“You, uh…” He swallows, voice catching. “You taste like—”
“Don’t say rain,” you warn, the corner of your mouth tugging up.
He exhales something close to a laugh, quiet enough you feel it more than hear it. “Fine. Not rain. Skittles.”
You roll your eyes. “Romantic.”
“I’m not—” He stops himself, shakes his head once. “I’m not good at this.”
“I know.” It comes out softer than you intended, and you watch as his ears turn a warm, shade of pink.
You’re about to say something else when voices split through the quiet. Loud and slurred. A group of college guys stumble past on the opposite sidewalk, their laughter booming.
“Oi! Get a room!” one of them yells, followed by a chorus of cruder suggestions that knot your stomach.
The moment is gone.
It only dawns on you that night—sometime between brushing your teeth and wondering where you put your favourite pyjama bottoms—that despite spending every single working hour together over the summer (four, ten, twelve-hour shifts), you and Renjun have never exchanged numbers.
Not when he shielded your body from the street while you tugged your uniform back on on the beach. Not when he drove you home with one hand on the wheel and the other warm and heavy on your thigh. Not when he pressed the quickest, softest peck to your lips before watching you climb your porch steps.
You hate it. You wanted to talk to him that night. Debated it. Finally caved and looked him up on Instagram. Unsurprisingly—because he’s committed to living like a senior citizen—he isn’t on it.
So when your shift starts the next morning, 9 a.m. for you, you’re devastated to see his doesn’t start until 1 p.m. It feels like the universe is actively punishing you, depriving you of this boy who makes you feel like you can actually breathe. The boy whose presence got you through a lecture at the breakfast table from your parents, and a “talk” from your brother in the car on the way to work.
The theatre door creaks open, and your head snaps up.
Finally.
You don’t even check before you extend the packet of Skittles you’ve been methodically sorting for the past fifteen minutes. Only the yellow and green remain. Which—yes—you’ve been saving for last, because you are a generous, self-sacrificing human being and Renjun always eats them without complaint.
Except.
The hand that dips into the bag is not Renjun’s. It’s attached to an entirely different boy. One with teddy bear hair: Hyuck.
He tosses an unholy amount into his mouth in one go, crunching obnoxiously before grimacing like he’s been personally wronged. “Yuck! Offering Skittles when there’s only yellow left? You’re an evil woman, Y/N.”
“They weren’t for you.” You yank the packet back, clutching it to your chest. “I thought you were Renjun.”
Hyuck’s brows shoot up. “Oh? So you save the sour flavours for Renjun? Do you hate him? Did he hurt you?”
“No,” you laugh. “What are you even talking about? Renjun told me he likes the yellow ones.”
“Well, no,” Hyuck says, shrugging like you’re the one not making sense. “Honestly…I’m more flabbergasted that you got him regularly eating Skittles at all. He only lets me have them once a month during our movie nights—since we share—and when we do, he always eats the red first. Man fucks up anything strawberry flavoured.”
“But he said…for weeks he’s been—”
You blink, but your heart decides to do this dumb, stuttering skip like it just tripped over its own feet. Because you vididly remeber Renjun saying he does not like strawberries that much…and then it clicks.
Hyuck’s expression shifts into pure, unholy glee. “That little shit has been letting you eat the red first, hasn’t he?” He leans back, shaking his head. “And here I was thinking he had no game.”
Just then, Yuta storms out of his office. His eyes lock immediately on Hyuck—who’s got one hand elbow-deep in your Skittles despite having a visceral reaction to the flavours left—the other giving a cheerful, mocking wave.
Yuta rolls his eyes so hard you’re honestly worried they’ll never come back down. Then—oh God—his gaze snaps to you.
“Y/N, I need you to start clearing up the kids’ party that just took place in Screen Seven.”
You groan, deeply. “Can’t I just wait for Renjun to help me? His shift’s about to start any minute.”
“No,” Yuta says, with the exact amount of scorn that makes you want to hurl a popcorn bucket at his head. “Because the idiot said he’s cashing in on a favour. He’ll be a few minutes late. Something with this ‘Joy’ person he knows running over.”
He waves a hand like he couldn’t care less about this ‘Joy’ person. You wish you could say the same.
“I don’t know what you college kids do anymore,” he finishes.
College kids? As in… Renjun and Joy? Two college kids?
Joy, which sounds like a very female name. Your mind immediately starts running every possible, awful scenario: Renjun and some effortlessly gorgeous girl named Joy, who probably doesn’t stress him out or leave him with the yellow candies, who doesn’t annoy him or dump her life story on him.
You feel so stupid. Like, how did you let him kiss you? Is she his girlfriend? If so, what does that make you? An accomplice in whatever last night was? Oh God, no.
Almost like he can sense the million questions swirling in your head, Hyuck reaches across the box office counter and grabs your arm. “Y/N, hey—”
You shake him off.
This is Renjun’s best friend. He knows him better than anyone. He has to know if Renjun has a girlfriend. He’d cover for him. Right? God, Hyuck definitely has Renjun’s number. Renjun’s probably told him about the kiss already. And now Hyuck’s probably convinced you’re some filthy little homewrecker.
You press both hands to your lips, trying to steady yourself. “Tell Renjun to meet me in Screen Seven when he gets in. If you’re still here.”
“Y/N—” Hyuck insists, but you’re already pushing past him into the screening area, somewhere he has no right following unless he buys a ticket.
You lock Screen Seven behind you just in case.
You’re twenty minutes into cleaning the theatre room, filled with stray popcorn, empty candy wrappers, and what you’re pretty sure might be actual snot. (Seriously, Yuta needs to stop booking kids’ parties.) When the lock on Screen Seven jiggles, and he walks in.
At least, you assume it’s him—because you can’t imagine Yushi, the only other person on shift, abandoning the front desk to help you clean when he could be people-watching and eating popcorn instead. And Yuta? Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t help.
You keep your focus on the last stubborn popcorn kernels stuck in the carpet.
“I’m almost finished,” you say through tight teeth. “Basically did everything myself. You might as well go out front and help Yushi or something.”
Still not turning around, you bend down, crouching low to scrape. But then you hear footsteps coming up the stairs anyway.
“I don’t want to help Yushi.”
Now you have confirmation it’s him. That voice. Indisputable.
“Well,” you say, straightening up, trash bag in hand, peeling off your rubber gloves and blowing a quick breath upward to cool a trickle of sweat on your forehead, “unfortunately, this is a workplace, and you don’t get to slack off—”
“I know you know about Joy.”
Oh. So he’s just…ripping the bandage off? Typical Renjun. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s being direct. He never offers you anything different, really. Though, in the beginning, he used to be shy about it.
“The real question is, does she know about me?” You ask.
Renjun swallows. “She does. And I know I probably should’ve spoken to you about everything first—”
“You think?”
“I know.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration catching at his jaw. “She said I should work this out with you, not her—”
You scoff. “I don’t know about that. She clearly is a priority, since—you know—she’s your girlfriend!”
That actually startles him—like, physically jolts him back a fraction. Brows pulling in before they lift again, his mouth twitching in a way that makes you instantly want to kill him, because…is he going to smile, right now?
“Y/N, you think…You think Joy is my…girlfriend?”
You cross your arms, feeling protective and defensive of yourself all at once. It feels like your body might fold in around the tiny embarrassment blooming in your chest any second.
“I don’t know. Is she?”
“No,” he deadpans.
“Well, she’s clearly important to you if you’re skipping work to hang out with her.”
“We had a lot to talk about,” he shoves his hands into his pockets. “A lot happened yesterday.”
Okay, now he’s being an asshole. A weird, smug fuckboy asshole. You clomp down the steps toward him, setting the trash bag aside just so you can poke at his chest.
“You’re. A. Dick.”
His hands stay in his pockets as you land each hit, his body shifting back with the force but never resisting.
[It’s hot. You hate that.]
You go to storm past him on the stairs, aiming for the aisle, but his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you just enough to turn back around. And now you’re regretting walking yourself down this way because now he has the higher ground. Now he’s looking down at you from above, under those lashes you remember being wet, framing pupils so dark they’d swallow the brown whenever they’d look at your mouth, your body—
“Joy’s my therapist,” he says.
You flounder, like a fish. “You’re what?”
“My therapist,” he says, voice soft. “I told you yesterday—my parents have had me in therapy forever because I feel too much. And with you... I guess I feel a lot.”
“Ren—”
“That was my first kiss,” he blurts out, like you’ve swapped brains. Him, suddenly vulnerable. You, quiet, listening. “Well, not first first. I mean, I’ve had pecks and stuff. But not like that. You know, with tongue and teeth and like…”
It hits you then. This is him bleeding—wanting to grow, to let you in.
“It was nice. I liked it. I didn’t know if you did, and I couldn’t ask. Didn’t know if it was appropriate, honestly. And then, because we were, you know... half-naked, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Because I liked it. A lot.”
“Me too,” You whisper, and you swear you see your favourite colour bloom all over him—right down to his fingertips.
“Well, that’s what I was asking Joy about,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, heat rising in his cheeks. “She said the only person who could give me answers was you. But I had to, like, psych myself up in her office because I’ve never done this before, and I think I’m rambling—”
Without thinking, you rush up the steps and press your lips to his. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling him close, letting you feel that flush of heat on his skin against yours—that burn.
Renjun freezes for a second, hesitating, like he’s trying to figure out if this is real or just something his brain is making up. Then, slow and careful and with a little prompt from you, his hands slide around your waist. It’s light, almost afraid, like he’s scared of grabbing too much, too little, too hard.
It makes you smile against his mouth.
The kiss isn’t smooth, not even close. It’s chaotic—teeth bumping, breaths stuttering, lips finding and losing each other before finding each other again. You taste the nerves on him, feel the subtle tremor in his fingers where they rest on your sides.
There’s a tight, raw ache in your chest. You want this. You want him. And when you pull back, you see it in his eyes too—the same wild softness, the same wanting, but wrapped in hesitation he’s not ready to voice.
You’ve never taken the lead before. But you’ve also never been so sure about anything in your life. Not like you are right now. Here. In this exact movie theatre—the one you swear sounds dramatic but has, somehow, changed your life.
He has changed your life.
You undo the buttons on your polo shirt, the same way you’ve done a thousand times before in front of him—carelessley, now you think about it. But his reaction? That deep, rattling swallow, that has his Adam’s apple bobbing just right against his skin? It’s been the same. Every. Damn. Time.
It’s like you’re moving in slow motion just to torture him, he thinks. He nods eagerly, keeping his eyes locked on you, silently begging for more. For faster. The last button slips free beneath your fingers then, and you peel the polo off your shoulders. Heat licks across your skin under his stare in just your bra.
He doesn’t pounce or rush to devour. He just looks. Because he never got to last night. Not with the water and the dark and the boundaries he was so scared to cross. But now, his gaze traces the elegant dip of your collarbone, lingers on the soft swell of your breasts beneath the fabric. Now, his gaze is greedy.
Eventually, his hands finally find you, they start at your waist, before sliding higher. Higher. Higher. Until palms spread warm against your back, fingertips drawing lazy, invisible circles. Then he moves to the front, cupping you, kneading you through the thin barrier of lace.
Your whimper cracks the stillness. His head dips needily, lips brushing your shoulder. He murmurs something low and unintelligible into your skin, causing a vibration that shivers down your spine. A sound of his own catches in his throat, a broken little whimper that melts against the slope of your very bare neck.
His hands keep kneading your tits as his mouth trails up, licking, and sucking, and teasing the column of your throat. You tip your head back, offering him everything, letting your eyes fall shut.
You want to let go—of thought, of control—and sink into the weight of his hands, his mouth, this intoxicating, fragile kind of tenderness.
But then you feel it. The subtle shifting of his hips, the slow, restrained rut against you. You notice the way his breath keeps stuttering, catching every time his body brushes yours. Lust floods low in your belly, but it’s chased by a different thought—you’re not ready for anything to be over.
[Not when he’s still fully dressed. Not when you haven’t had the chance to feel his naked skin under your palms.]
Your fingers slip to the hem of his shirt, curling in the fabric. You push it up enough to brush your fingertips against the ridges of his stomach, the twitch of muscle under your touch. His breath hitches again, this time sharper, like he’s holding back a groan.
“Off,” you whisper.
He moves instantly, pulling back to strip the shirt over his head. You’re already reaching behind you yourself, unclasping your bra. The straps fall down your arms, and that’s it—his eyes go dark, pupils swallowing the colour.
It’s like something takes over him, something primal and single-minded. One moment he’s staring, the next his mouth is on you—hot, desperate—sucking your nipple into his mouth like he’s been starving for it. His groan vibrates against you, low and guttural. And—
“Fuck!”
You fist your hands in his hair, holding him there, arching into the pull of his mouth. His tongue swirls, teeth scraping. His other hand cups your other breast, kneading with a roughness that makes you want, thumb brushing over your peaked nipple until your knees go weak.
When he finally pulls back, there’s a wet sheen on your nipple and a dazed look in his eyes.
“For someone so shy, you’re very eager,” you tease, breathlessly.
He swallows, still holding you, thumb brushing over the spot his mouth just left. “You have no idea.”
Your lips curl in a slow smile—until you feel it. The subtle press of his hips again moving forward, the insistent hard length of him straining against his jeans. The nervous way he immediately tries to pull back, like he’s worried about overstepping. Or moving too fast.
“Renjun,” you murmur, sliding your hand down, cupping his bulge through the denim. He gasps, eyes going wide.
“I don’t know if I made it clear but—I’ve… I’ve never…” His voice trails off, and you feel the tremor in his thighs.
You lean in, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I know. Let me take care of you.”
The button on his jeans pops open beneath your fingers, the zipper dragging down in a metallic hum. His flush deepens, colouring the delicate skin along his cheekbones, but he doesn’t stop you. When you slip your hand inside, over his boxers, the strangled sound he makes nearly undoes you.
“God, you’re so—” you start, but his mouth crashes into yours, cutting off the words as you free him. He’s hot and hard in your palm, and the way his breath hitches with every stroke is so fucking sexy.
Every so often, you feel him twitch—sharp little spasms that make him instinctively pull back. You hate that distance, but you recognise it for what it is: his overthinking, his mental brakes, his worry for cumming too quick.
That suspicion is confirmed when his hands shift to your shorts, fumbling for the buttons, clearly eager to please you too. Renjun’s hands are clumsy at first when he slides between your thighs, fingertips skimming over the thin cotton of your panties before pushing them aside. His touch is cautious until you guide him, curling his fingers inside you.
The groan that rips out of him when he feels how wet you are is almost pathetic.
“Is that—good for you?” he asks.
“Better than good,” you breathe, rocking into his touch.
The hesitancy bleeds out of him with every soft sound you make, every needy roll of your hips. Soon his fingers are moving to work, fast, unforgiving circles into your clit, giving way to a steady rhythm that has your body coiling tight.
You match his pace, stroking him faster, feeling him twitch in your grip. His forehead presses to yours like he’s holding on for dear life. “If you keep—God, I’m gonna—fuck!”
“Not yet,” you whisper, pulling your hand away.
The whine he lets out is immediate, raw. “Please?”
You shake your head, still close enough to press against his and whisper against his lips. “I want you inside me when you cum.”
His eyes go impossibly wide. “You—? But… I don’t have—”
“Don’t care. I’m clean. On birth control,” You cup his jaw, steadying him. “I want you. Just you.”
His hand curls tighter around yours, and before you can say anything else, you’re moving—half-stumbling, half-dragging him toward the closest empty row of seats. You push him into the far corner, the fabric creaking under his weight.
“Sit,” you order softly.
He obeys instantly, still wide-eyed as you climb into his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. His hands hover, trembling, until you take them and press them to your waist.
“Here,” you murmur, guiding him. “Hold me.”
The armrest bites into your thigh, the seat too narrow, but it doesn’t matter. You lean in, kiss him deep—slow and hungry—until his whole body loosens beneath you. Your hips rock, dragging over him where he’s already painfully hard.
“God…” His voice is almost nothing.
You shove your shorts down just far enough, then tug his jeans and boxers low in one clumsy motion. The dim light hits his face. He’s flushed, stunned, wanting you so badly he can barely look at you, but also can’t look away.
“You sure?” you ask, hovering over him, giving him the last chance to pull away.
He nods too quickly, almost frantically, you nearly laugh until—you sink down onto him. The laughter you feel is gone in an instant, replaced by the sharp, perfect stretch of him filling you. His head tips back hard against the seat, fingers digging into your hips like they’re the only thing keeping him tethered.
[They are.]
“Oh my—” His inhale cuts him off, shuddering and sharp.
You still, stroking your thumbs along his cheekbones as he adjust to the feel of your pussy, wet and warm, wrapped around him. “Breathe, Renjun.”
“I’m—” His voice is rough, wrecked, almost breaking. “I’m trying.”
You shift against him, rolling your hips again, and that’s all it takes to encourage—he starts moving. Short, shallow thrusts at first, like he’s afraid of hurting you. Each one makes his breath hitch, the sound shaky and almost boyish.
“That’s it,” you murmur, brushing your nose against his. “You can go deeper.”
His eyes flick up to yours—and he tries. The next thrust is clumsy, off rhythm. You let out a whimper.
“You like that?” he asks.
You smile, stroking the back of his neck. “I like you.”
Something in him melts at that. His hands slide up your back, holding you closer as if that will make him better at this. He wants to be better for you. He tries again—finding a slightly better angle, though he still stutters when your thighs tighten around his hips.
“You feel so… tight,” he says, brows knitting
“Focus, Renjun,” you tease, kissing the corner of his mouth.
“I am focusing!” It comes out as a breathless laugh, and you can feel him trembling beneath you.
You guide him with more small movements of your own, rolling your hips back and forth, coaxing him into something that almost feels like a pattern. But it never lasts—every time you clench around him, he falters, groaning low into your neck before having to start again.
“Gonna… I can’t—” His voice cracks, raw.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, threading your fingers into his hair. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”
He buries his face deeper into the curve of your neck, hips pushing up hard one last time before he cums—hot and deep inside you—with a soft, helpless sound that’s almost a whimper. His arms wrap tight around your body like he’s afraid to let go, even after his body stills.
You stay like that, bodies still joined, breaths uneven. Your fingertips draw slow, aimless shapes over his back, feeling the tremor in his muscles slowly fade. When he finally lifts his head, his hair is messy, his lips pink, and there’s a small, sheepish smile tugging at them.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “That was… not very good.”
You cradle his face in your hands, brushing your thumb along the flush in his cheek. “That was perfect. You were perfect.”
His eyes soften and you kiss him until you’re both breathless. Then you stay, tucked against him, your ear over his heart, neither of you moving. You don’t know how long you sit there, both too afraid to break the moment, too careful not to disrupt the tenderness.
But what you do know is this: when you finally get dressed this time, you ask for his number before you part ways.
Renjun doesn’t think he’s ever had a summer this good.
Hyuck says that’s just what having regular good sex does to a person. Renjun rolls his eyes because it’s more than that. Yes, the girl and the sex are a fantastic new discovery this year, but it’s not just flushed cheeks and sneaky kisses on his lunch break that’s good. It’s the fact that he’s tanned—actually tanned—at the beach, gone camping, and finally said yes to Hyuck’s family’s annual lake trip instead of coming up with excuses.
He’s making memories.
[Joy thinks you’ve brought him out of his shell. He’d agree.]
But as the Sunday of the lake trip begins to fade into evening, there’s a faint sourness in the air that Renjun can’t name. He wants to call it a gut feeling. His therapist would probably call it his persistent hypervigilance creeping back that has him ready for something to go wrong. Still, he’s trying to be optimistic. That’s all anyone’s ever asked of him—right?
It’s only when Hyuck (Hyuck, who practically bleeds look on the bright side propaganda and “positive mental attitude), pulls him aside in the kitchen of the lakehouse that Renjun realises maybe he’s done too much healing and has been too optimistic.
“Don’t you think it’s weird she hasn’t called?”
“No…” he replies slowly, finishing the plate he’s drying. “We text every day.”
“I know that, buddy, it’s just—” Hyuck tosses a dish towel over his shoulder then. “You went from calling every night, sending pictures, making everyone nauseous with your lovesick crap… and now? Since the start of this trip? All you’re getting is one-word answers.”
Renjun feels the familiar twitch in his chest—the one that used to send him spiralling, but he’s better now. It’s probably nothing. People get busy, conversations slow down. It’s not a red flag; it’s a scheduling conflict. And just because Hyuck’s noticed, it doesn’t mean it’s time for him to panic.
“Maybe she’s just busy,” Renjun says, because that’s easier than thinking too hard. “College starts back next week, and you know she’s on that event planning committee. She’s probably swamped with welcoming freshmen.”
Hyuck just… looks at him until eventually, he exhales and turns back to the sink. He finishes drying one of his parent’s favourite mugs and sets it carefully on the counter. Then, without warning, his palm lands warm between Renjun’s shoulder blades.
“Yeah, you’re probably right, buddy,” Hyuck says, the corner of his mouth tugging up but not quite making it to a smile. “I just—worry about you.”
“I know,” Renjun says, meaning it. “But you don’t have to.”
“I know.” Hyuck tosses the dish towel onto the counter and heads for the doorway. “I’m gonna head to bed.”
Renjun wishes it was only that time at the lake he had to defend you to his best friend. Back then, he thought you were just busy. But when one-word texts turn into full-on ghosting three weeks into classes, he starts to notice the correlation between your withdrawal and the start of his senior year.
[Joy’s voice in his head then—optimism, be brave, be bold, don’t fear rejection.]
So he starts showing up in places he never had much reason to before. Sitting on the low brick wall in the campus quad at lunch, pretending to read while his eyes flick automatically to every passing figure. Lingering in the gym building, always—coincidentally—when volleyball practice is on. (Okay, that one was maybe a little weird. But he was desperate.)
It’s like you’ve disappeared off the face of the earth.
And he hates it—hates how much he hates it—which is so fucking ridiculous, because a couple of months ago he barely knew you. He knew of you. Could’ve picked you out of a line-up, sure.
But now he knows your favourite candy. And the order you eat it in. Your favourite colour. Your disdain for biology. The exact argument you make when someone tries to claim pink doesn’t belong in the rainbow. He knows your dream job. Your stupidest fear. The sport you love but swear you’re awful at. What you smell like. What you taste like. He knows you feel trapped, and lost, and like your family has a remote control with your name on it.
You’ve basically set up camp in his subconscious, rent-free, somewhere between the back of his mind and the pit of his stomach.
Which is maybe why—after three weeks of nothing from you, three weeks of surviving on scraps (memories of tangled limbs, stupid breathy jokes, and a bag of Skittles he still can’t bring himself to finish)—he ends up at the animal shelter.
[And no, he is not talking to Joy about this. Because Joy would point out the obvious: lines have been blurred, sex is involved, and that’s why he’s acting like a lovesick puppy. Which is wrong. Because Renjun is not clingy. He swears.]
He tells himself (lies to himself, really) that he’s only here to see Bonnie—the cat. Only because he’s worried about all sheltered animals, and he likes cats. Not because Bonnie feels like the only tangible proof that this summer actually happened. That you happened.
[That he heard from his cousin that you started volunteering there last week.]
The bell above the shelter door rattles faintly when he reaches for it. He’s already picturing Bonnie’s lopsided ears, the way she noses into his hands—when the door jerks open from the inside.
You come spilling out. Laughing. You’ve got a girl tucked under your arm in a close and familiar way that can only suggest friendship. Miyeon—he recognises her from the volleyball team.
Your laughter dies the second your eyes land on him. Like someone pressed pause. Or threw water over you. The curve of your smile flattens. Your arm doesn’t move from Miyeon’s shoulders, but Renjun sees the way it goes rigid.
Miyeon looks between you two. “Uh…?” she says lightly, almost a question, but neither of you answer.
Renjun feels stupidly aware of himself in this moment. He suddenly remembers he has hands and absolutely no idea what to do with them. His ears are hot. And all he can think about is the time you traced your fingertips along every flushed inch of his body.
God, he’s not good at this. He’s not good at girls. And he’s especially not good at girls who’ve made him cum, shared their secrets with him, made him feel like he might actually be fun to be around—and then vanished.
Still, it’s him who breaks the silence. Because someone has to. Because the alternative is drowning in it.
“Hi.”
Your mouth opens like you might say something, but no sound comes out. Miyeon’s eyes bounces between you two like she’s watching a very slow, very awkward tennis match. The air is thick. Heavy. Full. And all those things you told him this summer—about feeling trapped, about feeling controlled—they’re here, too.
Only now, they’re aimed straight at him.
“Hi,” you finally say back, but it’s short, clipped, already swallowed by the cold September chill. You fold your arms across your chest like you’re trying to keep him out.
Miyeon swoops in before he can respond. “Hi, I’m Miyeon. You are…?”
Renjun feels it—a tiny, precise sting right in the chest. You haven’t told your friends about him. Not only did he tell you about Hyuck, you also know about the whole Haechan thing. He clears his throat. Hands disappear into his pockets like maybe they can take the embarrassment with them.
“I’m Renjun.”
“Ohh, so this is theare guy?”
Miyeon’s eyes cut to you as she says it. Big, round, a little too knowing. And Renjun—suddenly very aware of how he’s standing, breathing, existing—feels an uncomfortable itch of self-consciousness. Because…theatre guy?
“All good things, I hope. Haha.”
He tries a joke. You like jokes. Your friends probably do too. He’s never chased likability a day in his life, but right now he wants it like oxygen.
Miyeon tips her chin, mouth pulling into a not-quite-smile. “Mhm. Right.”
Well… that response definitely doesn’t feel good. No, it feels like a slow-blooming bruise he already knows will ache later, when he’s lying in bed staring at the ceiling and poking at it just to see if it still hurts. (It will.)
You’re not looking at him. You’re not even looking near him. Somehow that’s worse than if you’d just be flat out cruel to him. Because this—this polite, indifferent cold—is so much worse.
He hates that his mind immediately drags him back to summer. To you in his car, knees pulled to your chest, hair damp from the the sea, telling him you felt like you were living in someone else’s life. That no one ever really listened. That you didn’t feel seen.
And god, he’d wanted to be the exception. He’d thought maybe he was.
Because you were his.
You turn to Miyeon. “Can you wait in the car? I’ll be done in a minute.”
She hesitates, glances between the two of you like she’s considering whether to refuse. Then she nods, tosses him one more unreadable look, and walks toward the car in the parking lot.
And then it’s just you. And him.
Except this version of just you and him feels… wrong. Different.
You’re not loose-limbed and bright-eyed like you used to be. You’re still folded in on yourself—arms crossed, chin tipped down, body angled as though his very proximity is violating your personal space.
He tells himself not to read into it.
[Which is hilarious, because that’s literally all he’s been doing for months.]
“You changed your hair,” he says finally, motioning to it.
“Yeah. It’s a new term.” Your voice is flat, almost bored.
He tries again—leans into what he thinks is your thing with him. “New haircut for a new term. Not a late-night existential crisis with scissors?”
You don’t laugh. You don’t even look at him. You just say: “No, Renjun.”
The way you say his name—measured, distant, blunt—makes him want to shake you until you remember the stupid, ridiculous Junnie nickname Hyuck told you about.
He swallows. And because apparently he enjoys punishment, he tries again.
“Okay, but you have to admit my suspicions were valid. New haircut, total radio silence—classic crisis stuff.”
Nothing. Not even the twitch of your mouth.
And it’s… baffling. Because the you he knew this summer would’ve played along, rolled your eyes and smiled, shoved his shoulder, told him to shut up. Now you’re looking at him like maybe you wish you’d never told him anything.
He can feel it—this yawning gap between the person he thought you were and the one standing in front of him. He keeps trying to throw a rope across it, and you keep letting it fall.
Jokes clearly aren’t working. He shifts tactics.
“How’ve you been?”
“Busy.” A shrug.
“I saw Yuta took you off the schedule…you didn’t want to stay on?”
“It was always going to be a summer temp job.”
He knows that. Knew it the moment you started. But some selfish, stupid part of him thought maybe you’d want to stay anyway. That you liked the job. That you liked… him.
“Right.” His shoe scuffs at the pavement. “So… busy?”
“Jeno started tutoring me.”
The name hits him square in the sternum like a brick. “…Your ex, Jeno?”
You shift then, eyes dropping to the floor, lips pressing into something that’s almost a pout. For a second—just a second—Renjun thinks you might step forward, might bridge the distance with a half-hearted apology for the cold shoulder, for disappearing.
But then you swallow.
“I’m trying not to fail my classes this year.”
“I get it,” he says, though he doesn’t, not really. “I just thought you were going to talk to your parents about… you know. The major thing.”
The last conversation plays in his head, happy and giddy in a way this one isn’t. You were leaning forward, voice quick with excitement telling him all about you wanting to switch to journalism. How your hands wouldn’t stay still when you told him your plan to finally tell your parents about it.
Something flickers in your eyes—longing, maybe—and then you cough, blink it out, shake your hair out of your face.
“I was, but… the more I thought about it, I figured I’ve already spent three years in my current major. A whirlwind summer and a dream isn’t enough to make me change my whole life plan.”
“Your whole life plan?”
You swat the air, dismissive. “You know what I mean.”
[He doesn’t. Last time you spoke, you were ready to take a match to any life plan involving biology and watch it burn.]
“Okay then…” He presses anyway. “What happened to not wanting to be in close proximity to an ex?”
“He’s not an ex.”
Renjun’s entire body feels like he’s on fire. The words land like a blow. It feels like you’ve slapped him. Like you’ve poured acid straight into his veins. Like you’ve driven a blade between his ribs and twisted—not for the kill, but to see what happens when he bleeds.
And maybe you can see it, the hurt on his face. Because your eyes lift—just barely—like you’re tempted to take it back.
“Well, he’s not—” you rush, tripping over the words. “We’re—It’s complicated.”
“Then uncomplicate it for me,” he says.
You stop dead. Like he just asked you to speak a language you don’t even know. Your gaze darts. Quick. Frantic. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Between him and the life you still have to answer to.
You breathe out, and a small cloud of white drifts from your lips, dissolves into nothing.
“He was just—” You stall. “You know he’s close to my family.”
Renjun doesn’t blink. “So what? That gives him permanent immunity to flit in and out of your life?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You didn’t have to.” His voice is quiet, almost calm, and somehow that’s worse. “Because what I’m hearing is: he’s in the inner circle, and I’m… what? Disposable?”
You shake your head. “No, that’s not—”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s just—it’s easier—”
His eyebrows lift. “Easier than me?”
“This isn’t a competition.”
“It feels like one.”
“This has nothing to do with you, Renjun.”
“Really?” He laughs, dry as dirt. “You going back to your ex after we’ve been fucking all summer has nothing to do with me?”
The words slice. You pretend they don’t. He stares at you, hard, like he’s trying to peel back your skin and see what’s underneath.
“That’s not fair,” you say.
“What’s not fair? The fact that you’re pretending I was just a way to kill time?”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. You’re acting like this, us, was nothing.”
“I’m not acting. I’m telling you it wasn’t—” You break off, jaw tight. “We weren’t… whatever this is, it wasn’t serious.”
Ouch.
Renjun feels like you just reached in and gutted him. Ripped him open from sternum to navel and left his insides on display. Because nothing about you and him was ever casual. People who aren’t serious don’t talk about the things you talked about. They don’t tell each other the ugly stuff. They don’t hold you in the middle of the fucking sea, in the rain whilst you slur and sob.
So for you to stand there and say it wasn’t serious—it feels like you’re spitting on him.
He swallows it, though. The pain. Pretends it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. Pretends he isn’t thinking about every time you smiled or laughed or offered him candy
“Sorry,” he croaks, tasting the word, letting it burn his tongue.“I must have gotten confused because it sounded pretty serious when you gave me the cold shoulder because you thought I was dating my therapist.”
“Renjun—” You stop, your throat working.
“Do you remember the last conversation we had?”
Your face changes instantly when he asks. He sees it—the way the memory plays behind your eyes like a film reel. For a second, he swears your pupils blow wide, but that anxiety monster he’s been keeping on a leash lately yanks hard on the chain.
[Her pupils are not dilating because she’s thinking about you, idiot. Pupils don’t dilate over people who aren’t serious.]
When you nod, Renjun continues.
“You wanted to be a news reporter. You were so sure of it. We talked about it for hours. You were lit up about the whole thing—like nothing could touch you. Not your dad. Or your brothers. Or Yuta.”
Your throat works once before you answer. “Things change.”
He shakes his head. “Not that quickly.”
“You did!” You shoot back. “You went from this grumpy and shy guy to funny and playful and… nice. All in, what, two months?”
“I know,” he agrees without hesitation. “Because someone reminded me—a really pretty girl—that I’ve always been that way. I just didn’t let anyone see.”
“She sounds smart,” you say, small. It’s an attempt at a joke, but your voice barely lifts.
“She has her moments.” He smiles. “Mostly when she’s not letting her family dictate her career… her relationships—”
“Don’t.” You cut him off, voice sharp but trembling. Your eyes are glassy now. “Please don’t.”
“You don’t, Y/N. Don’t do this. We were close. We were friends””
“Were we?”
“What?” He blinks, caught off guard.
You swallow, eyes darting somewhere past him—like the chipped wall behind him is easier to look at than his face. “I think we were both just…lost? Craving connection?”
He stares. “Craving connection?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No,” he says, lower now, more dangerous. “I don’t think I do. Because as far as I remember, you were the one who wanted to be my friend. You were the one who pushed. You were the one who put a name on it. And now—” His voice falters, but only for a second. “Now you want to lie about how you feel, just because it’s… convenient?”
“It’s not just that—” you say quickly, then softer, almost to yourself, “You know it’s not.”
He almost laughs, pure bitter. “Do I?”
“Yes. My family—” You stop, breath catching. “They wouldn’t want… this. Us. They’ve already—” You bite your lip hard enough he thinks you might draw blood. “I can’t ignore them, Renjun.”
“Yes, you can.”
You shake your head. “You don’t get it. It’s not that simple. Everything I have—everything I am—it’s tied to them. My career. My… safety.”
“So you’re just going to let them choose for you?”
“I’m choosing to make it easy.”
“For them.”
“For me,” you insist.
He takes a step closer, and the air between you sharpens. “You can’t just erase what happened between us. You can’t convince me none of this was real.”
“I’m not trying to convince you.” Your hands curl into fists at your sides. “I’m telling you.”
Renjun’s jaw works like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring. And it feels like there’s this raw, invisible thread between you both—thin enough that if either one breathed too hard, it would snap.
The silence swells. Your throat burns. Like somehow the words you just threw at him have ricocheted and came back to hit you harder than they ever could’ve hit him.
You can’t stand it, so you move. Stepping around him, shoulder brushing his, and it’s the smallest thing—an accident—but it feels catastrophic. Because you used to lean into that touch. Seek it out without thinking. And now you can’t.
Because you made your decision.
And it wasn’t him.
And now you have to figure out how to navigate the rest of your college life pretending you don’t know what it’s like—what he’s like. To be held by this boy. To be seen by this boy. To laugh with this boy. To be loved… by this boy.
Instead, you’ll look at him like he’s nothing. Like he’s a stranger.
cw; porn with plot, stepcest, slight infantilisation, nicknames (slut, bitch, baby + more), degrading, pussy eating, blowjob, loss of virginity, jaemin lowkey being a bully, dirty talk
wc; 4,646
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡
it was hot.
so unbelievably and unbearably hot. you’d woken up in your bed, the sheets slightly damp from your own sweat and cringed. after staring at the ceiling for a few minutes having been too tired and lazy to move, you let out an annoyed groan before forcing yourself up and out of bed.
it was mid morning already, so you decided to get ready. you’d stripped out of your pyjamas and temporarily put on underwear - a matching black set with some lace, nothing major - to sift through the racks of clothing in your closet which only frustrated you further, the heat already having made you moody.
acknowledging your awful attitude, you decided it would be best to have a drink and cool down so you left your room and headed downstairs into the kitchen.
once you entered the kitchen you headed straight to the cabinet and reached for a glass, you placed it on the marble counter and bent over to open the freezer as you wanted some ice.
unbeknownst to you, your step-brother jaemin was watching you from the stairs. he’d just woken up, his black hair tousled from sleep, poking up in all different directions, he ran his long fingers through it to try and smooth it over, all while he kept his eyes on the curve of your back down to your ass in your flimsy panties.
your parents has divorced at a young age, and instead of causing you pain it relieved you. you’d watched them bicker throughout your childhood and you knew they were bound to split, so when it finally happened you’d already mentally prepared. your father gave up his custody and left you in the care of your mother as he moved abroad to focus on his career.
after that your mother stayed single for years to come, too cautious to love and trust again … until she met jaemins father. they fell in love and after a year and a half of dating they got married, this led to you and your mother moving into your step-dads house. suddenly your life had been turned upside down, you didn’t even have a chance to protest, but you sucked it up, as long as your mother was happy so were you.
since you moved in at the awkward age of fifteen you’d never really seen jaemin as your brother as you hadn’t grown up with him like a real sibling - even while he was as irritating as one. you’d only call him ‘big brother’ when your mom and stepdad were around to please them since they were heavy on playing a perfect family. it was exhausting at times.
even now, three years later, jaemin had continued to play the role of an irritating older brother perfectly in front of your parents. he’d tease you relentlessly and have moments of protectiveness like a real brother. he’d steal your food, enter your room just to flex his biceps in the mirror and lecture you on topics he perceived himself to be more knowledgeable on… despite the fact he was only a year and a few months older than you, meaning he was in college while you were still in your last year of high school.
he was more of an asshole and an inconvenience in your eyes as whenever an important football game was on, he’d invite his sleazy buddies over to the house and make you his errand girl, forcing you to fetch cold beers from the fridge for him and his friends while they snacked and watched the game, talking and laughing obnoxiously loud. you hated the way his friends eyed you up and you were more than pissed when you heard how they’d talk about women. you’d complained to your parents about it but they’d just brushed it off, excusing it as him trying to include you in his activities and being a typical guy.
and while you liked to stay adamant on the fact you’d only ever seen jaemin as an annoying roommate living in the same house, there were moments where you struggled to believe that internally. times where he’d come home after a gym session, his white tank top sticking to his defined abs, his muscular biceps, the droplets of sweat that travelled from his hairline and slid down his adam’s apple, the loose grey sweats that hung off his hips revealing a glimpse of his v-line and a subtle outline of his package… you told yourself it was only natural to find it attractive, after all you (sadly) did like men.
jaemin moved closer to the kitchen, where you were sipping on your water, keeping his eyes locked onto your almost naked body, he entered the room and let out a loud grunt to get your attention. reasonably, you were alarmed and snapped up to see where the sound came from, when you saw jaemin in his pyjama shorts and a loose old t-shirt, you realised your attire was inappropriate “oh shit— you scared me jaemin…” you held your hand to your heart “um, sorry, i didn’t think anyone was home, i thought you were at work today” you murmured an apology about your state of undress.
it was true, you’d assumed you’d be alone majority of this weekend since your mom and stepdad had booked a night at a hotel in the town over so that they could spend some time together as a couple. jaemin had a part time job at a gas station nearby where he usually worked on the weekend or after his college classes, so you’d assumed he’d be out as well. you didn’t mind, you were actually looking forward to some freedom and alone time, but of course, you’d never get that.
“well i’m not” he yawned, snatching the glass you’d filled with ice and water, taking a large swig for himself, wiping his glistening forehead “parents forced me to take time off work this weekend to babysit you” he snickered, his eyes roving over your skin now that he was closer and had a better view “you really should be more careful walking around like that though, what if someone broke in, huh?”
you rolled your eyes, of course they forced him to stay back and ‘babysit’ you, since you were the youngest in the house you were babied a lot, which seriously drove you up the wall. you were eighteen now, not a kid and you certainly didn’t need to be looked after, jaemin knew that too but he found the way your mom and his dad would fuss over you hilarious.
“you can go to work, you know i’m more than capable of surviving a weekend home alone—“ you scoffed “and what are the chances of that ever happening? be so fucking serious jaemin.”
“i’ve already taken the time off, dumbass, i can’t just waltz into work now” he took another gulp of your water “chances are low but never zero…” he shrugged, he knew it’d never happen but he just wanted to get under your skin “and how can i trust that you’re capable of being left alone when you walk around like this?”
you could feel your eye twitch in annoyance “stop drinking from my glass, i already used it and that’s gross” you grabbed the glass and poured it out into the sink because if you couldn’t have, it neither could he - you were petty like that “and like this? i already told you, i thought i was alone, i was planning on putting a t-shirt on as soon as you scared me” you turned on your heel to retreat back to your room.
however he grabbed your wrist with his huge calloused hand “i never said i minded” he smirked at you “it’s just… super slutty isn’t it? you sure you weren’t gonna invite a guy around - or maybe you wanted me to see?”
you ripped your wrist away from him, your jaw slacking slightly at his bold comment, yes, he’s been rude to you… but he’s never been this rude “what the fuck jaemin? no, its not, it’s really hot and all women’s underwear is like this, if you’ve got a problem go complain to whoever designs it— and i already said like three times, i thought i was home alone”
he laughed finding your reaction amusing “chillax… i was just messing with you, i know all your underwear looks like that”
you paused “hold on… what?”
“oh come on, don’t tell me you’re that naive…” he grinned at your clueless expression, your doe eyes staring into his, waiting for him to explain himself “you don’t think i’ve ever been in your room when you’re not home?”
in that moment, you wanted to slap him “why would you go into my room when i’m not home? that’s a total violation of privacy!” you snapped at him.
“it’s really not that deep” he looked down at you and grabbed your chin, forcing you to continue looking up at him “i know you’ve snooped through my room before— when i’m out… or in the shower”
you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, you had no idea that he was aware you’d gone into his room before. you’d only done it a handful of times… when you’d lost an item of clothing and wanted to check it hadn’t got mixed up with his laundry… or that one time where you were horny and something possessed you to take one of his shirts, you were about to argue when he continued “you thought i didn’t know about that, huh?”
“it was like, one time!” you protested, knowing you were wrong for doing it and couldn’t argue so you deflected “plus you’re the one going through your little sisters bras and panties! i didn’t go through your underwear, that’s weird—”
he cut you off and you swore you could’ve seen a flash of anger his eyes, it caught you off guard, you’d never actually seen him get mad before“you’re not my little sister, you know that!”
“fine, stepsister, it’s still wrong!”
“how is it wrong? we aren’t even blood-related, don’t kid yourself, i know you’ve never seen me as a brother” he said through gritted teeth “you only ever call me that when our parents are around, hell, this whole time you’ve only ever called me jaemin!”
you pushed him away after his grip on your chin started to become painful and started slowly backing up “wha… what’s wrong with you?” you muttered, baffled by the whole situation, you knew this was deeper than he was making it out to be.
“nothing!” he yelled, stalking over to you “maybe i’m just tired of holding back! maybe i can’t, not after seeing you strut around the kitchen in such little lacey pieces, i’m still a guy!” he ranted, inhaling and exhaling heavily… it seemed this had been weighing on him for some time, you’d bumped into the sink and he cornered you in, both hands on the counter each side of you so you couldn’t escape.
it was silent besides the sound of breathing, you were surprised, you had no idea what to say, what could you? things were tense as he basically just admitted he had some sort of attraction to you… “jaemin i…” you began, but you stopped when you felt something poking you “wait— are… are you hard right now?”
he looked away before you could see the subtle blush dusting his cheeks “of course i am, how could i not be when you look like that…”
you laughed at him, you’d never seen him look so embarrassed “that’s pathetic, oh my—“
he let out a low growl and harshly pressed his boner against your lower back “it’s your fucking fault, parading around like a whore— the only thing that’s pathetic is you touching yourself while wearing one of my unwashed t-shirts, bet the smell turned you on, right? yeah, nasty bitch, i saw that—“
he’s never spoken to you like this before, it was degrading and what was worse was that you actually liked it… you let out a whine, feeling a little wet and ashamed at the heated memory and him pressing his clothed dick against you “why were you even watching—?
he let out mocking huff and gripped your hips tightly “how could i not when your door was opened a crack and you were moaning and whimpering like a dog?”
“well look who’s pushing up on my like a dog in heat now?” you mumbled, glaring up at him.
jaemin swiftly turned you around so you were arching over the sink, he gave your ass a curt slap, snickering at the cute yelp you let out, he then moved his hand to the band of your panties, his fingers lightly brushing against your abdomen and slivering into your underwear, he swiped his middle finger through your slit making you shiver. he then retracted his hand, looking at your arousal glistening on his finger “you’re wet like one, so i suggest you shut up” he then sucked the liquid off his finger, stunning you.
“jaemin—! why would you do that?”
“it’s hot as balls, i’m thirsty, and somebody poured my drink down the sink” he said suggestively.
“firstly it was my drink—“ you began, but he interrupted you.
“look, i want this, you obviously want this… as much as you try to hide it— just let it happen” he looked at you, waiting for you response, he wanted to make sure you were okay with this before he started.
you wont lie, the taboo aspect scratched and itch for you, as guilty as it made you feel. but you were undeniably attracted to jaemin and he was undeniably attracted to you… what was the real harm?
“ugh… fine, let’s do it… i want this too…” you reluctantly admitted, refusing to make eye contact with him.
“cute…” he murmured while petting your head, hoisting you up into his arms, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms over his neck “alright, my room?” he asked while carrying you up the stairs like you weighed nothing.
you thought about it for a few seconds “your room, i don’t want my bed to get messy” you explained honestly, making him laugh softly.
“you’re such a princess… well good, i didn’t wanna have to move all your stupid plushies off your bed, i’m too impatient for that right now” he replied, kicking his bedroom door open and dropping you down onto the his bed. his sheets smelled like him, it was strangely hot.
“they aren’t stupid, you are, idiot” you mumbled to yourself, propping your body up with your elbows as you watched him pull his shirt up and over his head, giving you a divine view of his abs that were carved by his dedication to the gym “wow…” was all you could muster in reaction to his figure.
he rolled his eyes “and you say you’re grown and capable, yet you still have stuffed animals on your be—“ you tossed one of his pillows at him before he could finish his sentence.
“quit being a dick and bring yours here…” you scoffed.
“damn, such a desperate little slut aren’t you?” he teased, stepping out of his boxers, now fully naked. you knew he was a decent size, but you had no idea he was packing this much, he was long, thick, veiny and his tip was a pretty shade of pink “here it is, you ready for me?”
“there’s no way that’s fitting—“ you blurted out, thighs automatically shutting and rubbing together, he snickered at your reaction and moved over to the bed.
“it’ll fit baby, we’ll make it fit perfectly into that sweet cunt of yours, now, let me see it. strip” he ordered as he pat your thigh.
biting your lip, you shimmied out your panties and undid your bra, tossing both garments onto his bedroom floor “fuck, so perfect” his words slipped out as his placed his hands on you, groping your soft skin, he settled on your breasts, fixated on how supple and smooth they were. he started to play with your nipples, gently at first, rolling them in his fingers before becoming harsher, tugging and biting on them as your face twisted in pleasure, your lewd moans only egging him on.
“jaem…” the nickname rolling off your tongue in that adorable tone “i want it… want it right now”
“what is it that you want lil sis?” he asked, the nickname made your hole clench around nothing, it felt so wrong but so right which was torturing you, he knew what you wanted, it was just the sadistic part in him needing to hear you beg before he could give you what you wanted “tell your big stepbro what you want…” he coaxed.
“want you… want your” you let out a whimper as he abruptly began flicking your tiny clit.
“want my what? c’mon, be a good girl, i cant help you unless you tell me” he rubbed your inner thigh with his free hand, the other still busy bullying your clit, making you squirm in pleasure.
“i want your dick, give me it now—“ you squealed, feeling his tongue lick a stripe from the bottom of your pussy to the hood of your clit, you added on a meek and shaky “please?” in hopes of encouraging him to grant your wish.
“i’m getting to it baby, just gotta loosen up this virgin hole, alright?” his words muffled as his tongue delved into your slit, licking and sucking you up, your thighs clamped around his head, and if it wasn’t for his strong arms keeping them in place, his head would’ve been crushed.
“how… how did you know i was a virgin—?” you asked, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to talk, the sensation of his mouth against your core taking over.
he laughed, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin, making you let out a whine “you’ve never brought any boys over… and the way you react to my touch, it all screams virgin— silly girl…” he said affectionately, making you feel warm and fuzzy “i’m gonna slip a finger in, that okay?” he asked, stroking your hair to soothe you.
at this point, you were desperate to have anything stuffed inside your pussy to relieve the ache, the want and the need you were feeling “yes, mhm, just— please, hurry” you pleaded and he delivered, his middle finger circled your desperate, twitching hole before sliding in snugly without much effort thanks to the fact you were drenched.
soon a second finger entered and after seeing the sexy, fucked out expression on your face, he decided to move his fingers, first in and out to try and loosen up how tight you were “hng— ohmygod, ‘s so good jaem, so good…”
once he saw you had adjusted to two fingers he stretched you to fit a third one in preparation to take his cock, now roughly being pushed in and out of you, he even started to curl them inside you to hit your g-spot “yeah? it’s good, baby?”
he said smugly, feeling you clench down on his fingers in a way that made even more blood rush down to his dick “you gonna cum baby sis? cum on your big brothers fingers, c’mon, i know you can…”
his dirty talk only helped speed up your journey to orgasm and you could feel something coming over you, coiling up and then it snapped, you messily came all over his fingers, he pulled them out and shoved them in your mouth to muffle your loud moans as he watched your hole flutter around nothing, he’d never wanted to fill something so badly.
you stopped sucking his fingers and sat up, watching your legs shake subtly “that… that felt so good— i’ve never cummed like that before” you looked at him in awe, you couldn’t believe he’d made you finish that quickly, his fingers felt way better than your own.
he licked his lips at the sight of you, reaching out to ruffle your hair with his large palm “you’re so pretty like this— all sexed up… wet my tip for me baby” he instructed (only saying the tip because he knew you’d never be able to take more than half of his massive cock) he moved to lay down on the bed and
you moved in between his legs.
for a few long seconds you were faced with his dick, staring at it with innocent curiousity - you’d seen them before in porn but seeing it in real life was so different, it had a smell and a unique texture “just start with the tip, open wide and try not to touch it with teeth, it’s okay” he reassured you.
you nodded and pushed your hair behind your ear, he got the hint and held your hair up for you, you then licked the tip and continued to give it little kitten licks before you gathered some saliva in your mouth and let it drip down onto his hard on, you loosely wrapped your soft small palm around his cock and jerked him off as you sunk your mouth around his tip, hollowing out your cheeks as you bobbed your head up and down.
you started to wonder if you were doing it right when he let out a low grunt “oh fuck, just like that, doing so well for me” he grabbed your head and started to push you down his length, chasing his own pleasure as you struggled to take him.
when you gagged on him, he let you come back up for air “you sure you a virgin? the way you give head is not beginner level…” he pulled on your cheek teasingly.
“i haven’t had sex before or given oral or what not…” you murmured, a little flustered as you went back to giving him top, your hand more firm on the length you could reach with your mouth, you felt the tip reach the back of your throat and you choked slightly but continued to suck him off, his hand guided you to squeeze his dick harder.
he started letting out low, sexy moans and curses before he pulled your head away from his throbbing cock, he was on the verge of filling your mouth , you gave him a perplexed look “what was that for? was it not good anymore…?”
he quickly shook his head “nah, just didn’t wanna cum in your mouth, i wanna fuck that pussy now” he admitted, switching the positions and pushing you down onto the bed harshly, he moved in between your legs “lift your hips for me” you obviously did as he said and he propped you up but putting some pillows down “that good? you all comfy?”
“yeah, i’m fine, just give me it now, i’ve waited too long…” the innocent pout as you said those words drove him crazy, he’d never been so horny in his life.
“right, you asked for this…” he aligned his rock hard cock with your slippery folds, teasingly running his tip along them before he eased himself into you, the way your fingers gripped the sheets and you bit down onto your lip to stifle your moans, your eyes all cute and glossy.
“go… go all the way in stepbro—“ you whined, your sense all clouded by your lust.
jaemin on the other hand could’ve cum at the nickname, you referring to him as
stepbro while it was just the two of you alone for the first time and in this situation… it was something out of his own pervy fantasies. he shamed you earlier for masturbating while wearing on of his shirts knowing that he had masturbated with your lacey pink panties that he’d swiped straight from your drawer wrapped around his girth, his hand jerking less and less consistently as he reached his peak, cumming and soiling your previous pristine underwear, he hid them under his bed.
he harshly thrust into your cunt, making you take his entire length in one push, thr moan that ripped out of your throat was pornographic and the prettiest thing he’d ever heard “fuck, fuck— stay still” you gripped his shoulders as you adjusted to the foreign object buried in your warm hole, which was throbbing and clenching at the new feeling.
“shit, i lost control, i’m sorry” he cursed, staying completely still as he looked down at you, your eyes squeezed shut, it was such a wet dream come true for him, he still couldn’t believe his baby stepsister was below him, stuffed with his cock.
“it’s alright, i was the one asking for it… you, you can move now” you said softly after a few seconds of becoming used to the sensation, he toyed with your clit as he slowly moved in and out of you, he could feel your walls gripping him, sucking him in and pushing him out… it felt better than he could’ve ever imagined.
“such a beautiful little cum dump aren’t you?” he said slapping your cheek lightly, you stared at him with such big trusting eyes it aroused him, which reflected in the way his dick twitched inside you. he continued his movements which further pushed you to orgasm.
“big bro— i’m.. gonna cum—“ you whimpered, pawing at his chest like a puppy, you could be so needy, he’d tease you about this later.
“i got you, you can cum baby, i’m close too” he sped up, utilising his stamina to give you faster and harder strokes, his hand attacking your poor clit, you let out a scream as you convulsed around his length, your whole body shaking and twitching as the pleasure rushed over you.
feeling your walls squeeze his cock tipped him over the edge too “fuck, i’m cumming baby, cumming—“ he warned you, his white hot ropes painting your insides making you feel oddly fully, after a few seconds of riding out his high he pulled out, swiping some cum that was leaking from your cunt and letting you taste it, he laughed when you recoiled at the taste but swallowed anyway “it’s not gonna take like frosting, dumbass… stay here, i’ll go get a towel to wipe you down”
being to tired to talk you just gave a thumbs up, laying lazily on his bed, all spread out, staring at the ceiling as the realisation hit you, you’d just fucked your step brother.
jaemin came back with a towel and wiped down your puffy folds, purposely brushing over your swollen clit just to hear you whine again “mhm, watch it…” you complained.
after recovering you both got dressed, you put on your underwear you’d tossed onto the floor earlier and he let you wear the t-shirt he had on earlier while he threw on his boxers and some basketball shorts, not bothering to put on a t-shirt “i’ll give it back to you after i wash it” you said referring to the t-shirt he was letting you borrow.
“don’t both, keep it” he hummed which made you whip your head over to him, confused on why he was so chill “you’ll want it later when you touch yourself to the memory of what we just did, right?” he snickered, watching you grow flushed.
“oh shut up—! if i’m horny i’ll just come here again, i wont need to used my own fingers or wear a stupid t-shirt…” you blurted out.
“mhm, that’s right, you get horny again, you can just come to your big stepbro, i’ll take care of your needs… little sis” he smirked smugly, already imagining your second time together, he kissed the crown of your head.
you felt hot again.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡
note; lol, my first time writing on tumblr and smut in general… pls be nice i have no idea how this works. pls let me know if this was good and sorry for any spelling mistakes i may have missed. thx 4 reading <3
hi i’ve never read your stuff before but your dreamies send a saucy text to the gc post came across my timeline and “why would i send a pussy pic to the gc?” “feminism” made me HOWL like i actually burst out laughing!!! it was all so well written so consider me a fan now!!!
omg a fan!! 🤩🤩🤩
in all serious though, thank you!! hearing that i actually managed to make someone laugh truly means a lot to me 💚💚
bf!dreamies reacting to the '$10 million vs $100' trend
pairing | idol!dreamies x fem!reader
content | fluff, VERY slightly suggestive (renjun & haechan)
notes | I'M ALIVE!! sorry for the lack of content, i had some severe writer's block. but, i think i'm through with it so expect some more content from me :)
pairing: donor! mark lee x client! reader | genre: smut | words: 9k+
warnings: STRICTLY 18+
an: just 9k of pure, filthy smut…i’m never making it to the gates of heaven. this idea came to me in a dream (a horny, wet dream) all because i fell asleep to a tiktok of jaemin spinning around in his little orgasm donor hoodie. insane what the mind can do. everyone give it up for the first donor! the birthday boy! my number one boy! mark lee! and my last gift to all of you. have fun reading! — with love, c.
you never thought it would get to this point. not because you were ashamed. but there was something about your twenty something’s, this far into adulthood, and still never having an orgasm that made you feel like your body was broken in a way you couldn’t explain.
you’d done everything — read every self help blog, followed the advice on reddit threads, bought a vibrator, a dildo, the rose toy that everyone said was guaranteed to give you a mind bending orgasm, you’d whispered your needs to your previous partners, even screamed at one or two, but no one ever got it right. no one ever got you there. not even yourself.
it started to feel like a cruel joke. something other people could have, just not you. until your best friend leaned in over lunch one lazy sunday, sipping her coffee and said, “have you ever heard of the neo orgasm clinic?”
“oh god,” you laughed, “like a place that teaches you how to come?”
she grinned, “not teaches. they do it for you. and it’s guaranteed.”
you blinked, “what? so i pay for someone to have sex with me?”
“you pay someone to make you orgasm,” she shrugged like it was no big deal, “wouldn’t be the craziest thing in the world,” she says, sipping her coffee with a sly smirk.
and just like that, a seed of curiosity, or maybe desperation, rooted itself in your chest.
✚ BOOK NOW ✚
signing up was easier than expected. discreet, elegant, clinical but not cold. you filled up the introductory form — name, age, contact information, payment details, then moved onto the deeper intake.
step 1: medical verification. a form requesting a recent full panel STI test within the last month.
step 2: sexual preferences & boundaries. the screen lit up with a list and instructions
check all acts you’re open to exploring with your donor. this does not guarantee they will occur. your donor will review and operate within your boundaries at all times.
you skimmed the list, heart racing just a little and checked the following:
☑️ bondage
☑️ choking
☑️ clitoral stimulation
☑️ domination
☑️ dirty talk
☑️ edging
☑️ fingering
☑️ kissing
☑️ impact play
☑️ nipple play
☑️ oral
☑️ orgasm control
☑️ praise
☑️ rough sex
☑️ spanking
☑️ spitting
☑️ vaginal penetration
you hovered over a few others. degradation? group sex? objectification? you skipped them. not this time. you weren’t here to be humiliated — you were here to figure out why the hell your body kept locking up the second anyone touched you like they meant it.
step 3: why are you booking this appointment?
you had to type. no multiple choice. just a blank box waiting to be filled. your fingers hesitate above the keyboard. then you answered:
i’ve never had an orgasm. not from another person. not from myself. i don’t know what’s wrong with me but i’m tired of pretending. i’m tired of faking it. i want to know what it actually feels like. i want to stop being in my head. just for once. i want to let go.
you hit submit before you could overthink it.
step 4: choose your donor.
you clicked through the digital profile list, fingers hovering each name. each donor were vetted, trained, screened and certified in pleasure — not jut sex. these weren’t porn stars. these were licensed professionals. this was science, chemistry and understanding the human body and psyche. or whatever the website said to make you feel better about booking an appointment.
you hovered each name. a few looked promising. one had nice eyes. one had “mean” listed as a keyword. another had glowing reviews for how “slow and gentle” he was.
but then you saw him — mark lee. top donor. most requested. five-star average across every review. the testimonials read like something between a religious experience and the aftermath of a natural disaster.
“didn’t even know my body could do all of that, my god.”
“sweet, respectful, and somehow still completely ruined me.”
“made me orgasm like i’ve never orgasmed before”
and the most repeated one of all:
“i always book mark when he’s available, he knows exactly what to do. a guaranteed orgasm. every time.”
you didn’t even hesitate. you clicked BOOK NOW.
Neo Orgasm Clinic Consultation: CONFIRMED
Donor: Mark Lee
Date of Consultation: July 29, 2025
you stared at your bedroom ceiling in the dark, heart pounding a little too fast. you didn’t know what to expect. you didn’t know what you’d feel. but for the first time in years, you felt hope. and maybe, if the reviews weren’t exaggerating, you were finally about to find out what it meant to feel like your body belonged to you.
✚ THE CONSULTATION ✚
you almost canceled. twice. was this morally questionable? maybe. was it completely insane? absolutely.
but you still showed up. your nerves were coiled so tight they felt like they’d snap with one wrong move. you’d picked out a simple outfit, nothing too suggestive, nothing too uptight. but still, as you sat in the pristine waiting lounge of the neo orgasm clinic, ankles crossed and fingers clenched around your bag strap, you felt entirely exposed.
everything about the clinic was calm, curated. the lighting was soft and golden, the walls a warm cream, subtle scent of lavender and eucalyptus filled the space. the kind of place that looked more like a boutique spa than a place where orgasms were clinically achieved.
even the receptionist was beautiful. sharp suit, glossy hair, delicate bone structure. his name tag read taeyong. he smiled when you walked in like he already knew everything about you. probably because he did.
“first consultation?,” he asked, tilting his head with a practiced sort of empathy.
you nodded, “is it that obvious?”
he chuckled, “only a little,” he teased, “but don’t worry, everyone’s nervous at first.”
taeyong pulled up your file on his screen, “you’ll be with mark today. he’s just finishing up. shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”
your heart stuttered at the sound of his name. somehow, it felt heavier now. every second you spend in this clinic feeling more real than ever. this wasn’t a fantasy. this wasn’t a dream bordering into a nightmare. this was real. you were going to meet him…anytime now.
taeyong slid a sleek tablet across the desk, “while you wait, kindly review your file, click agree if no changes need to be made. consent is required for everything.”
you nodded, accepting the tablet and settling back in your seat. you skimmed your file one last time then submitted the form. the screen thanked you and welcomed you officially to the program.
exactly five minutes later, the door on the left of the receptionist table, labeled private suites opened with a soft click. and there he was. the man in the website. the top donor. real human being — mark lee.
you blinked. it was like seeing someone you’d only ever imagined walk into reality — all soft black hair, warm eyes, and a smile that was…surprisingly shy for someone with reviews like his. he was dressed in a simple black slacks and a fitted charcoal blazer, sleeves pushed up to reveal veined forearms and a silver watch. professional, polished, but somehow still boyish. he was speaking with someone. a girl that looked around your age. who’d look like she had just had the best time of her life. then she headed to taeyong and mark turned his focus towards you.
“hey,” he said, walking towards you and offering his hand, “you must be, ms. y/n.” you nod, placing your hand in his. his grip was firm, professional, “i’m mark. come follow me,” he said, guiding you toward the doors on the other side of the receptionist table labeled, consultation rooms, “no pressure,” he adds, shooting you a smile, “just talking today.”
the room felt like a cozy therapist’s office. a plush sofa, a low coffee table, a few plants. no examination table. no cold metal instruments. just comfort. mark sat across from you, legs crossed casually, an open tablet in his lap. he offered you water, asked if you were comfortable, then smiled before getting started.
“alright, let’s talk about you,” he said, voice low and calm, “why you’re here. what you’re hoping to get out of this experience.”
you hesitated. you’re sure he already knows. already looked at your file. but still, saying it out loud felt impossible. the words were caught somewhere between your throat and your pride.
“you can open up to me,” he urges softly, patiently, calmly, “we’re both here for you.”
you nodded, finally finding your voice, “ive…never had an orgasm.” you exhaled, eyes lowering, “i’ve tried…a lot…it just….doesn’t happen.”
mark didn’t blink. didn’t smirk. didn’t do anything to make you feel small. instead, he nodded slowly, like he’d heard this before. like it was okay. like you weren’t a complete helpless case. like you weren’t broken.
“thank you for telling me that,” he said softly, “i know it’s not easy to admit out loud but i want you know something — there’s nothing wrong with you.”
you looked up at him, sighing, “feels like there is.”
“i know,” he nodded, “but trust me, there are a million reasons why achieving an orgasm can be difficult — physical, mental, emotional, trauma-related, hormonal, sometimes just bad luck with partners. but it’s not permanent. and it’s not your fault.”
that made you smile, barely, but it was there. he smiled back, warm and nonchalant, “so, you’re not broken. you’re just…unsolved. that’s where i come in.” you swallowed hard. the warmth behind this words caught you off guard.
he tapped a few notes on his tablet before setting it aside, “here’s how this works,” he said, “you set the pace. we take our time. always. you can stop me and say no anytime. nothing happens without your permission. and we don’t even have to do the session unless you’re completely ready.”
you nodded slowly, processing his words, “okay.”
mark studied you for a beat, “do you want to tell me anything else you might have forgotten on your file?”
you hesitated, thinking, “i think i just…want to stop thinking so much. i get in my head. i start worrying about how i look, how i sound, if i’m being too much or not enough. it’s hard to stay in the moment.”
he leaned back, thoughtful, “so your mind is the roadblock.” he smiled a little, “that’s more common than you think.”
“do you really have a 100% success rate?” you asked quietly.
that made him laugh – not loud, not cocky, just amused in a warm way.
“our stats don’t lie,” he smiles, “but it’s because i take my time, i listen, i pay attention,” his voice dipped, “pleasure isn’t a race to the finish line. it’s a process. one i’d be honored to help you through.”
you felt your cheeks flush. he noticed and softened his voice even more, “you don’t have to decide today but if you’re comfortable, i’d be happy to schedule your first session.”
your pulse quickened, “...yes,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, "i want to.”
his smile returned, warm and sincere, “good,” he said, tapping his screen, “i’ll have taeyong reach out to confirm your appointment date.” he stood up, offering his hand again, “thank you for choosing me.”
you took it and this time your grip was steady, “see you soon, mark.”
Neo Orgasm Clinic Appointment: CONFIRMED
Client: Y/N L/N
Donor: Mark Lee
Date of Session: August 2, 2025
✚ THE APPOINTMENT ✚
you were early. too early. you sat in the same softly lit waiting room, knees bouncing, pulse in your throat. taeyong gave you a knowing smile as he gestured you towards the private suites door and the down the hallway.
“suite 8, he’s ready for you.”
the words made something twist low in your stomach as you walked towards the room. you entered slowly — suite 8 was nothing like you imagined. it wasn't clinical or sterile. it felt more like a luxury hotel room, quiet and warm, wrapped in soft ambient lighting. a large couch sat near the window. there was a bed. there were blankets, clean white sheets and a speaker humming low instrumental music. every detail was designed to ease tension, to invite softness.
you notice him adjusting something on the bedside table, a glass of water, a box of tissues, a towel. and then — mark turned.
“hey,” he said softly, “i’ve been waiting for you.”
he was dressed in black slacks, a black tie and black long sleeve button up, with the sleeves folded up his arms. hot but casual. the entire room, his casual demeanor, made it feel like you’re not at a clinic and just booked a dick appointment like it was a bumble date.
your lips curved, nerves still tangled in your chest, “i-i’m here.”
mark chuckled, not mockingly, but with that same warm, honeyed tone you remember, “you’re cute,” he said simply, “i like that you’re not pretending to be cool.”
you exhaled slowly, “i don’t think i could even if i tried.”
he stepped closer, slow and measured, giving you space with every move, “do you remember what i said during our last meet up?” he asked.
you note how he doesn’t use the word consultation, how he’s trying to make this all seem like it’s a normal hook-up and not a service.
“y-yeah. i’m in control. i can stop you. ask questions. say no.”
“good.” he murmured, his gaze searching yours for a moment longer, “but i’m going to be honest with you.”
his hand lifted, brushing his fingers down your jaw, slow and warm, “tonight, i am going to take control. you came here because your body hasn’t been shown how it deserves to be touched. and i don’t do halfway, sweetheart.”
you swallowed hard.
“so tell me,” he said, tipping your chin up with two fingers, gaze locked on yours, “can i touch you?”
you barely breathed, “yes.”
one of his hands travelled down your arm to your lower back, leaving behind trails of goosebumps in his wake.
“can i kiss you?” he said, eyes locked on yours. your breath caught. you nod.
he didn’t hesitate. mark grabbed your jaw and kissed you — hot, full, unrelenting. he kissed like he owned your mouth. his lips slanted over yours, opening you up, coaxing you open, tongue swept in with purpose — wet, confident, greedy.
you moaned into him, the sound swallowed as his tongue tangled with yours in filthy, practiced patterns. he tilted his head, deepened the angle, sucked softly at your bottom lip only to follow it up with another tongue-heavy kiss that made your spine arch. your hands clutched at his shirt on instinct, dizzy from the pace, the heat, the want.
you feel him smirk through the kiss as he kept going. his hands began to roam, starting at your waist, dragging up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your shirt, just enough to make you gasp, then down again, gliding over your hips before settling on cupping your ass. his hands gripping tight and hot.
you squirmed, trying to shift closer but he held you steady. dominant. measured. not rushing but not enough to give you relief either. he guided you towards the couch, lips never leaving yours.
“sit.” he ordered, voice like velvet wrapped around steel. you obeyed without thinking. he kneeled between your legs, grabbing your thighs to pull you to the edge. the kiss resumed, but filthier this time, more desperate. he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, like he wanted to fuck your mouth with his tongue until you forgot what you’re here for.
“you taste so fucking sweet,” he growled, pausing to bite your bottom lip. slowly. sensually. “bet i’ll find out you taste even sweeter somewhere else.” you gasped, trembling. his fingers were already under your shirt, dragging it up inch by inch, “arms up, baby.”
you lifted your arms, dazed, his use of pet names making it feel way more romantic than it should. he carefully peeled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, hands immediately finding your bare skin, palms dragging up your ribs, thumbs brushing the peaks of your breasts through your bra. you leaned toward him instinctively and he chuckled.
“sensitive,” he muttered, “good. i want every part of you begging.” he kissed you again, harder this time, wet and open, lips slick with spit, you could hardly keep up. every kiss felt like it left you raw. ruined. but craving more.
his fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra, then popped it open easily. he dragged the straps down your arms, slow and teasing, “you’ve been neglected long enough, haven’t you, pretty girl?” he said against your lips.
he trailed his mouth down your neck, sucking at the pulse point until you whined, then he licked lower, over your collarbones, between your breasts, circling your nipples with maddening slowness. his hands stayed firm on your thighs, squeezing, keeping you spread and trembling.
“i want you to stop waiting for an orgasm,” he murmured as he kissed lower, lips just above your waistband, “feel everything. the pressure. the tease. the ache.”
your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding his face on your nipple, “please—mark, i need—”
“i know what you need.” his voice was low, but firm. his mouth still latched one of your nipples, sucking harshly.
“you think you’re the first person to sit here and say they don’t know how to come?,” he laughed softly, switching to the other peak.
“you’re not broken, baby. you’re untouched. and i’m about to change that.”
he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear at once, and then he stopped, eyes locked on yours.
“you trust me to take care of you?”
“yes,” you whispered, breath hitching.
“say it louder.”
“yes—yes, i trust you.”
“good girl.”
he smirked, dragging everything down in one slow, smooth pull, baring you to the cool air. to his heated stare. his eyes darkened as he took you in, and he let out a soft groan, hand gripping your knees to push them open wider.
mark leaned back just though to take in the sight of you — completely undressed, legs parted, breath shaky, lips kiss-swollen, flushed and desperate, beneath the soft golden lighting of suite 8, vulnerable and exposed.
“fuck,” he breathed out, jaw tense, “you’re so pretty like this. spread out for me. waiting.”
you whimpered as his hands slid up your inner thighs, thumbs brushing too close to where you ached, then retreating again. and again. and again. his touch was everywhere except where you needed him most. the ache between your legs pulsed — soaked and neglected, your body betraying how ready it was.
but still, your mind wouldn’t shut up. wouldn’t let you stay there in it. what if i can’t? what if i freeze up? what if he thinks there’s something wrong with me?
and mark knew. he could see. hear it in your gasps, feel it in your tension. that’s why he smirked like that, cruel and knowing. like he was enjoying watching you unravel in slow motion, one nerve at a time.
“tell me how this feels,” he murmured, leaning forward to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbone again.
“let me hear you.”
“i—” you gasped, jerking as his teeth grazed a nipple, then soothed it with a slick, wet lick, “it’s—it’s not enough—mark, please—” he hummed against your skin, lips warm as he kissed back up to your throat.
“good. that’s exactly where i want you. i don’t want you comfortable yet. i want you needy. desperate. begging me to touch this pretty pussy.”
and you were starting to be. you could feel the slickness between your thighs, a heartbeat thrumming at your core. still, mark didn’t touch you there. his hands continued their teasing path, caressing your hips, your stomach, your thighs. never slipping between.
his tongue pushed into your mouth again, curling with yours, fucking it slow. one hand tangled in your hair to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss. his other hand slid down—finally, finally—settling just above your mound. the heel of his palm pressed just enough to tease the ache, and you whimpered, hips jerking upward like your body was pleading.
“already soaking, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, “and i haven’t even touched you properly.”
“please, please, i need—”
“no.” he cut in, voice sharp, dangerous. “i decide when you get that. you gave me your trust, baby. so let me show you what your body’s capable of when it’s not trying to hurry up and finish just to feel something.”
you whimpered quietly, looking at him with pleading eyes and only then did he let his fingers finally slip lower, gliding through the slick pooling between your legs. you gasped at the contact, but he didn’t go inside. just circled, rubbed, spread. over and over. maddening and slow.
“you’ve been chasing orgasms,” he muttered, placing a hot, wet kiss below your ear, “without knowing where they live.”
you moaned when he dragged his thumb over your clit, gentle at first, then firmer, enough to make you buck your hips. his mouth found yours again, kissing you harder now, every wet slide of his tongue mirrored the rhythm of his hand, slow, controlled, rubbing soft circles around your clit.
and you tried to stay in it, you really did. but before you could focus on the pleasure, your mind tensed again. breath caught. brain whirring. what if it’s not enough? what if i sound weird? what if i can’t let go?
your thighs started to close.
“no.” mark growled, his voice darker now. he shoved your legs apart again, pinning them open, “don’t hide. let me give you what you’ve never had.”
“i’m trying,” you choked, voice high and splintered, “but i-i dont know if i—what if i can’t–”
“it’s building up,” he grunted against your lips, “but you’re in your head. i can feel it”
and then, with no warning, he pushed one finger inside you. your back arched as your walls clamped around him, a quiet sigh slipping from your lips.
“fuck—so tight,” he hissed, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he pushed deeper, curling slightly.
“you’ve been keeping this all to yourself, huh?” he pumped slow, shallow, his finger curling just enough to make your toes curl with it. then he added another. watching your face like a predator.
the moment your moan cracked through the air, high and broken, your eyes shot wide open, your hand clamping your own mouth, instinctive, terrified of the sound you made.
mark’s entire body tensed. he grabbed your wrist and yanked it down.
“don’t fucking do that.” his voice was rough. eyes wild. not with lust but with something more dangerous. hungry.
“up.” he ordered lowly, voice already thick with arousal. “on the couch. lay back.”
you blinked, dazed, “what—”
“now.”
the command in his tone made your stomach clench. you moved instinctively, letting him guide you, your bare back sticking slightly to the leather as you laid down. he helped spread your thighs wide over the edge. you were open now, fully exposed to him. he hovered above you.
then — he pulled his tie off in one swift motion. yanked it free from around his neck with a harsh flick. and before you could ask what he was doing he pinned your arms behind you and wrapped it tightly around your wrists, the silk biting softly into your skin.
he leaned over you, hot breath against your ear, “do you know what i do when pretty girls like you can’t let go?”
you shook your head, lips parted, eyes blown wide with lust.
“i don’t slow down,” he whispered, “i break them.”
then he looked down at you like a man starving. like a man about to feast.
“look at this,” he muttered, dragging two fingers through your folds again, lightly slapping your pussy, as he positioned himself between your cunt.
“so wet and ready,” he grunted against your aching core.
the first stroke of his tongue was slow. deliberate. — a warm, wet slide right up the length of your slit, ending with a soft suck to your clit that made your hips jump. you gasped, back arching.
mark groaned against you, “god, you taste unreal,” he growled, “i could stay here all night.”
and he meant it. he licked again, then again, tongue flattening against your core, teasing, tasting. his mouth was hot, his tongue devastating, alternating between slow strokes and precise flicks, sucking at your clit just enough to make your thighs tremble. his hands gripped your hips tight, holding you open as he buried his face deeper.
he was good. too good.
but still, that coil of pressure in your belly wasn’t catching. your breath hitched with every swirl of his tongue, but it didn’t crest. it didn’t tip. you kept chasing the edge but never quite reaching it. you couldn’t stop your mind from spiraling. what if this is it and i still don’t come? what if i’m the one person he gives up on? what if i disappoint him?
mark noticed it all. and he was tired of watching you get in your own way.
“i said i’d take my time with you.” he muttered, voice rough as knelt between your legs, towering over your exposed body, chest heaving slightly.
“but don’t mistake that for mercy.”
the kindness in his voice had cooled into something sharper, darker. still controlled. still careful. but this wasn’t the same soft-spoken man who asked if he could touch you. could kiss you. this was the version of him who knew exactly what you needed before you did. the one who didn’t need your trust. the one who commanded it.
you blinked up at him, dazed, lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath. mark was already working on his shirt, buttons flicked open with practiced, irritated speed. like you being like this —trembling and touched and still not broken open, had finally pushed him past whatever professional restraint he’d been clinging to.
“you want to feel something real?” he asked, low and dark as he tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside. his torso was lean, toned, strong, defined muscle under fair skin. veins prominent in his forearms, a shadow of control beneath the surface. you couldn’t stop staring, but he didn’t give you long.
“eyes on me.” he snapped. you flinched and obeyed instantly.
“good girl.” he muttered, already undoing his belt.
“you’re done overthinking tonight. you’re not here to analyze. you’re here to surrender.” he kicked his slacks off in one motion, dark briefs still clinging to his hips, already showing the outline of his cock pressing tight against the fabric. he moved between your legs again, now completely shirtless, he let you feel him. skin on skin. then, his hand came up to grip your jaw, not hard, just firm enough to make you feel it. to keep you grounded in his hold.
“i’m going to rewire that pretty little brain of yours,” he grunted, tone like velvet stretched over steel.
“because clearly, your body’s ready but your head hasn’t shut the fuck up once since you got here.”
you whimpered, nodding under his grip.
“and when you come, it’s going to be because i made it happen.” he continued, dragging the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, “you’re not going to perform. you’re not going to fake. you’re going to fucking lose it. because i’m going to take it from you.”
then he was sinking to his knees again, this time bringing your legs up to your chest, holding you open like a meal he was ready to devour. the position was cruel. your hands tied behind your back was starting to hurt. but he didn’t care.
“no more playing nice.” he muttered. “you’ve had enough of that.”
and then—he ate.
there was nothing soft about it this time. his mouth latched onto your pussy like it was the only thing that could save him. tongue flat and wide, licking deep and messy, then curling to flick at your clit with precision that made your hips jerk off the couch. you cried out but he only held you down harder.
“stay still.” he growled into your cunt, tongue never pausing, “i didn’t say you could run.”
you couldn’t push him away, the tie tight around your wrist. his grip on your thighs tightened. every stroke of his tongue was filthy, practiced, deliberate. he sucked your clit, then dragged his tongue lower, licking you open, tasting you with obscene, wet sounds that only made the pressure worse. hotter. deeper.
and still — you couldn’t let go. still, that voice in your head whispered too much. what if he’s doing all of this and i don’t come? i bet i look really weird right now. what if i’m really broken?
mark slammed his hand flat over your lower stomach, fingers splayed wide, his mouth unrelenting. and then he pulled back, just for a breath. just long enough to growl, “get out of your fucking head, baby. right now.”
his voice dropped.
“focus on what i’m doing to you.”
then he spit directly on your clit, letting it fall slowly, hot, messy, then immediately sucked you into his mouth like a punishment. it was so hot. a high pitched moan escaped your lips before you could even think about it. he hummed low like he knew it’d short-circuit your brain, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. his fingers slid back inside, fucking you now. harder, faster, rougher, thrusting with a rhythm of your unraveling.
“i don’t care how long it takes.” he snarled, breath hot against you.
“i’ll break you open and fuck the hesitation out of you.”
it was working. the fear was melting into heat. shame into friction. every thought replaced by the overwhelming sensation. you were teetering on the edge of something unfamiliar and terrifying. the pressure was unbearable, intense and unrelenting, like your body was being dragged past the edge whether it was ready or not.
mark didn’t stop. he pulled your clit between his lips again and again, flicking his tongue until you were gasping. curling his fingers over and over again.
“say it.” mark growled. “say you want to come.”
“i—fuck—i want to—mark—”
“louder.”
“i want to come! please—don’t stop—please—”
“come.” his voice demanded, vibrating against your skin. “let. me. have it.”
and then—you broke.
“oh my god—” the words tore out of you, breathless and wrecked, “f-fuck, don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—”
and he didn’t. your hips bucked against his mouth. the rest of the words dissolved into a sob from your throat so raw, so guttural, you hardly recognized the sound as your own. your back arched clean off the leather couch, hands gripping so tight hoping you could tether yourself to the moment as your body seized with sensation.
your orgasm didn’t rise like a tide — it detonated. it wrecked you open. no warning. just impact. a white-hot snap that split through you like a faultline finally giving way under years of pressure. it was too much. too big. too real. like something that had been lodged deep inside your chest your whole life had just ripped free — wild and screaming and glorious. years of silence and shame, of second-guessing and not-quite-getting-there, all flooding out at once.
your thighs clamped around his head, but mark didn’t flinch. he held you there, mouth relentless, fingers tight on your hip to anchor you through every tremor, every aftershock, as you writhed and whimpered and let the orgasm tear through your body. his tongue is merciless, unrelenting. mouth locked on you like he was dragging every last drop of that orgasm out of you until there was nothing left. until you were finally begging him to stop.
when he pulled back, his lips were slick. his face wrecked. his eyes triumphant.
mark licked his lips, “that,” he panted, “was one.”
you blinked at him, tears shining in your lashes, “i didn’t think i could…”
“you can,” he said firmly, brushing your hair back. “you did.”
then he untied your wrists slowly, carefully. but his voice stayed rough, “get on the bed.” he ordered.
“we’re not done.”
he gripped your thighs lifting you easily like you weighed nothing at all, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. a silent yelp slipped from your lips as he tossed you onto the bed with a bounce that knocked the breath from your lungs. the sheets were cool against your overheated skin, your body slack and spread open, chest rising and falling like you’d just survived something. or maybe like you were bracing for what was next.
mark’s lips found yours again, hot and claiming. his kiss wasn’t soft anymore — it was deep and consuming, all tongue and teeth and groaned hunger. he tasted like you. he traced a hand up your side, slow and steady, fingertips brushing every rib, every tremble. he was watching you like he didn’t want to miss a single twitch.
“you still with me?” he asked, voice rough around the edges now. lower. thicker. like he was barely holding himself back.
you nodded, dazed. “yeah. just…. holy shit.”
he smirked, “good holy shit or bad holy shit?”
you huffed a breathy laugh. “like… i didn’t even know i could come like that.”
mark’s thumb brushed the corner of your lips, dragging gently across your cheek. his eyes softened, but only for a second.
“that was just the beginning.”
then his expression darkened — not cruel, but hungry. that same deep hunger you’d caught glimpses of earlier, now unleashed. like something inside him had snapped loose the second you shattered and now he was free to do what he really wanted.
he sat back, eyes locked to yours and reached over to the nightstand. you watched as he tore open a foil packet with his teeth. condom. protection. professional. safe. but the way he rolled it on, slow, deliberate, cocky — made your mouth go dry.
your eyes dropped. you finally saw him. all of him. he was long. thick. the flushed tip already glistening with precum. your breath hitched.
“you’re still so wet,” he murmured, dragging his fingers between your folds again, making you jump, “you want more?”
your answer was instant, “yes. please.”
“you want to be fucked until you forget your own name?”
“yes, please—mark,” your hips bucked into his touch, already craving the stretch.
mark leaned down, mouth brushing your ear, his breath was hot.
“i’m going to fuck you now.”
the words made you clench. one hand guiding his cock to your entrance, the other gripped your hip with enough force to bruise.
“breathe,” he reminded, voice steady.
“and keep your legs open for me.”
you obeyed, trembling, aroused, needy. and then — he pushed in. just the tip at first. then inch by inch, he filled you. stretching you open, dragging slowly through your soaked heat, the pressure exquisite and unbearable. your eyes rolled back. your nails clawed into the sheets. when he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours, you couldn’t breathe.
“fuck,” you gasped, “oh my god—mark—” your hands came up to grip his hair.
you were so full. it felt like too much. he stilled there, letting you feel it, the stretch, the weight, the sheer intimacy of being filled by him.
“fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched.
“you’re gonna hold on, baby? think you’re strong enough to fight me off again?”
and then he pulled out just enough to slam back in, you cried out. back arched. stars bursting behind your eyes.
he started thrusting — deep, sharp, claiming. again. again. setting a brutal rhythm, relentless and unforgiving, pounding into you with full, punishing strokes that rocked the entire bed. his grips on your hips was bruising. his pace was perfect, desperate, controlled, yielding. your moans were raw, punched out of you with every thrust. loud. real. unrestrained.
mark never looked away. watching every twitch of your body, every tremble, every cry of his name that tore from your lips like a prayer.
“you feel that?” he rasped. “your body is already giving in.”
you could barely speak. your second orgasm was building fast, sharp and electric, clawing up your spine as he adjusted his angle just enough to hit that spot, again and again, until you were falling apart beneath him.
“mark—fuck—i’m gonna—”
“come again.” he ordered, voice dark and breathless.
“come on my cock this time. prove to me you can do it.”
your mind shut off completely. no thoughts. no fear. just him. just the way his cock dragged inside you, hitting just right. his hand moved up your body, rough and reverent until his fingers brushed over your chest, teasing. and then his thumb rolled over your nipple. palm cupping your breast, kneading.
his other hand slipped under your back, lifting and forcing you to arch into him. he sucked one nipple into his mouth with a low groan that made your walls clamp around him hard.
you screamed. it was too good. his cock, his mouth, his hands — everywhere. his tongue bit your nipple and you sobbed, overwhelmed, drenched, utterly destroyed.
“you’re doing so good, you don’t have to think. i’ll do it for you.”
he dragged his teeth across your nipple again as his hips continued slamming into you, cock swelling inside you. then he brought his thumb in between your bodies, toying with your clit, rubbing harsh circles until your body couldn’t take it.
your second orgasm ripped through you. just eruption. you clutched his shoulders, mouth open, body convulsing against him as the climax burst out of you with a scream.
“good fucking girl,” he growled, hips not slowing.
“just like that. let it all go for me.”
you did. you had to. your thighs were trembling violently. your pussy clenched so tight around him you heard a curse tear from his throat. he didn’t stop. he rode it. let you sob and shake around him, fucking you through it.
his cock was pulsing and relentless, dragging wet and hot inside you as your cunt fluttered around him, overstimulated and soaked. you were beyond thought. your mind—completely gone. your body—his to command. he held your wrists down. you were a mess of tears and cries and raw nerve endings, and you loved it. you were addicted to the high. wanting every second to last longer.
“mark—please—don’t stop—”
“i’m not” he growled. “’i’m not stopping till your body forgets how to do anything but come.”
he pulled out for a quick second. hands gripping your waist hard before he suddenly flipped you onto your stomach. before you could even blink, he was dragging you up onto your knees, forcing your ass in the air, cheek pressed to the mattress.
“face down.” he growled, voice low, breathless, “ass up.”
you obeyed instantly, mind fogged and floating, body pliant and aching. you didn’t care anymore. you weren’t you anymore. you were his. bent to his will. so cock-drunk. your mind a blank page. he was rewriting your system with every thrust, every word, every sound he dragged out of you.
he shoved your knees apart with his thighs, rough hands spreading your cheeks, and then spat down, watching it drip between your folds. his cock nudged your entrance again, already slick from how soaked you were. you whimpered when he teased the head along your slit, grinding it against your oversensitive clit just to watch you shudder.
he leaned in close, voice a hot whisper against your ear, “gonna make up for all those years no one ever made you come,” he rasped, “every single time they fumbled and failed. this pussy’s never gonna remember that.”
and then—he slammed back into you. you screamed into the sheets. the new angle had him deeper, thicker somehow, hitting that spot so brutally your entire body jolted forward.
“mark—fuck—fuck—fuck!,” you moaned, biting down on the sheets, practically drooling.
he didn’t slow. didn’t pause. just gripped your hips and fucked you, hard and fast, his pelvis slapping against your ass with every thrust. the sound of skin on skin filled the room, wet, filthy, relentless.
“listen to that,” he rasped, voice wild now. “listen to what this pussy does for me.”
you couldn’t respond. couldn’t think. could only feel. the stretch felt sharper like this, more urgent. every stroke had you gasping, choking, keening into the mattress. and then—
slap!
you cried out when his palm landed hard on your ass. not cruel, just enough to make you jolt, to send that spike of heat ricocheting up your spine and straight down again, pulsing into your core.
“yeah,” mark breathed, voice cracked open with need, “you like that?”
you nodded, incoherent words slipping from your lips.
another slap! a little harder.
you sobbed, hips bucking back against him, desperate to meet every thrust.
“that’s it,” he growled, pounding into you harder now, the bed frame rocking under the force, “take it. take everything.”
and then his hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat, his hands wrapped around it. not tight enough to scare you. just tight enough to own you. your choked out moans filling the air. toes curling so hard you swore you’re about to get a cramp.
your third orgasm slammed into you out of nowhere. your body locked up and shattered around him, your cunt clenching so hard you saw white. he let you go as you screamed into the mattress, every nerve on fire, legs shaking violently as pleasure tore through you, raw and final and unrelenting.
— and still, he didn’t stop. mark held you steady as your body writhed, collapsing from the sheer force of your release, but he was relentless, “you don’t stop until i say you do.”
you whimpered something, his name, maybe, or just a breathless plea, but it didn’t matter. he fucked through your orgasm like a man possessed, chasing the aftershocks, turning them into something new. something sharper. overwhelming. your body trembled beneath him, hips twitching, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the sheets. your pussy clenched around him again and again, involuntary, helpless. every drag of his cock sent sparks skittering across your skin.
“you’re shaking.” he groaned, chest pressed to your back now, sweat-slick skin sticking to yours, “gonna make you fucking squirt, baby. i can feel it. you’re right there.”
“no—mark—too much, i can’t do that—,” you try to push him off. try to crawl away. but he was stronger. and he kept his cock pounding inside you.
“yes. you can.” his hand slid down, fingers seeking your clit, rubbing fast and brutal circles that had your legs kicking out, your voice catching in a strangled sob.
“i said face down. ass up.” he reminded you, voice dark and firm as he shoved your head back into the mattress, palm flat between your shoulder blades, keeping you there.
“be good. take it. this is what you came here for.”
the pressure was unbearable, his cock punishing inside you, fingers never letting up on your swollen clit. your mind blanked, eyes rolling back for the umpteenth time and then you reached a high you didn’t even think was humanly possible. something you only saw happen in porn.
a ragged, high-pitched cry tore out of you as your body convulsed, back arching violently before you collapsed into your fourth orgasm. the gush came, hot, wet, explosive. your cunt fluttered and sprayed around him, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as you squirted all over his cock, the sheets, the floor. you could barely process it. your brain had gone static. a glitching signal of pleasure.
“fucking amazing,” mark snarled, hips stuttering.
“that’s it. let it all go.” he pulled out just enough to watch you gush again before slamming back in. your whole body jerked like a live wire. you were sobbing now, overstimulated, wrecked, your hands had give up on clawing at the sheets for something to hold onto. there was nothing. nothing but him.
mark cursed, nearly losing his rhythm, “fucking hell—”
he didn’t stop. he kept pounding into your overstimulated cunt, watching your body convulse under him.
“gonna—fuck—i’m gonna come—” his pace stuttering for the first time, hips faltering mid-thrust. you could hear the unraveling in his breath, raw and uneven. his thrusts turned sloppy, deeper, harder. and then, with a strangled moan, he came. his hips slammed into you one last time, cock buried deep as he spilled into the condom with a guttural groan, body jerking with each pulse. he stayed there, breathing ragged, pressed tight against your back, his body shaking with the force of it.
for a long moment, the only sound in the room was the thunder of both your heartbeats. you were barely on your knees, cheek pressed to the sheets, body twitching faintly from aftershocks, cunt still fluttering around the softening length inside you.
mark let out a long breath, low, shaky. he leaned forward, his chest slick with sweat and your juices, smearing against the curve of your spine as he slowly eased down.
“you okay?” he murmured finally, voice hoarse, frayed around the edges.
you nodded, too blissed-out to form real words, “yeah. just… holy shit again.”
he chuckled weakly, wrapping his arms around your middle and gently easing you down onto the bed. his cock slipped out slowly, and you whimpered at the loss, already missing the fullness. a laugh slipped from your lips anyway, a disbelieving, breathy sound.
you couldn’t move. not in a bad way. more like your body had melted into the mattress, boneless and warm, every muscle humming with aftershocks. your mind was soft, quiet, the storm of thoughts you usually lived in was gone. for the first time in your life, there was peace, full-bodied, deep, radiating out from the very core of you. like something inside had finally clicked into place.
you’d come. you’d actually come. not faked it. not chased it just to please someone else. not brushed against it only to have it slip away. this time, it hit you full force. not once but four times.
the kind of orgasms that emptied you, pulled sobs from your throat and tears from your eyes and for once you hadn’t cared. you hadn’t flinched. you hadn’t shut down or shrunk into yourself, hadn’t tried to perform or hid or apologize. you’d felt it all.
and somewhere in the middle of all that, you’d actually squirted. your thighs had trembled, you’d felt yourself gush around him, soaking the sheets, your mind and body surrendering with no shame. no fear. no filter. you hadn’t know it could feel like that. like being cracked open and remade. like something holy. your cunt still fluttered with phantom pulses, like your body couldn’t quite believe it either. like it wasn’t ready to let go.
mark lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, his other hand already reaching for the warm towel he’d placed nearby. he flipped you over gently, his touch deliberate and slow. like he wasn’t in a rush to be anywhere but right here. he cleaned you up in silence. careful. focused. he dabbed between your legs with gentle, precise strokes, flinching every time you flinched. “sorry,” he muttered each time, almost apologetic.
“you sure you’re okay?” he asked softly.
you nodded, a small smile on your lips, “better than okay…i feel like i just got reborn.”
that earned a real laugh from him this time, “that’s a new one,” he said with a shake of his head.
you stretched, wincing slightly, sore in all the right ways. everything throbbed but in a way that made you feel alive. present. you turned your head to look at him.
“that was… insane,” you murmured, “i mean, you literally had to destroy me to get me out of my own head.”
mark smiled, brushing hair from your damp forehead, “it wasn’t destruction. it was release. you just needed to shut this little guy off ,” he says, lightly tapping your temple, “and stop being scared to let your body feel.”
your throat tightened, not from embarrassment, but from the truth of it. because that’s exactly what it was. you’d let go. fully. completely.
mark grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand, twisted the cap and held it to your lips like it was instinct. “drink. you lost a lot of liquids back there.”
you giggled, then took a few sips, letting him wipe the corners of your mouth with his thumb afterward. it should’ve been awkward. but it wasn’t. it was safe.
eventually, mark rose from the bed and helped you sit up slowly, handing you your clothes one piece at a time. you slowly got dressed. you were glowing, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes bright. alive. awake. soft.
once you were both dressed, mark walked you back to the lounge of the clinic. the lighting had brightened slightly step by step—intentional, maybe, to ease clients back into the world gently.
“thanks,” you said as you walked side by side, your voice a little hoarse, but steady, “for the... comprehensive service.”
his mouth twitched, almost a smile, “neo orgasm clinic prides itself on thorough results.”
“oh, i noticed,” you deadpanned. “i think i saw god.”
mark let out a soft laugh, “i take it your file won’t need another ‘no prior orgasm’ flag.”
you rolled your eyes. “no, i think we can check that one off. multiple times, actually. all thanks to you.”
he cocked his head, the edge of a smirk playing on his lips, “you did the work.”
you snorted, “right. i was just lying there, crying and begging while you—never mind. forget it. you know what you did.”
“professionally, of course,” he said smoothly, “all part of the protocol.”
you looked him up and down, “if that was protocol, i’d hate to see what your personal life looks like.”
his smirk sharpened, almost imperceptibly, “you wouldn’t survive it.”
you raised a brow, “is that a challenge?”
his eyes glinted, “only if you book another appointment.”
you laughed then leaned in slightly, just enough for him to hear, “but seriously, you didn’t just make me orgasm. you made me feel like…like my body finally belongs to me.”
something flickered in his expression, not warmth, not empathy. just... acknowledgment. like a box being ticked. another line in the report. mark’s gaze held yours. there was no smugness, no pride. just warmth. steadiness — a donor who’d done exactly what he promised and only what you needed.
“thank you for trusting the process,” he said simply.
then, with a crooked grin, you added, “i should probably leave a tip. or at least a five-star review.”
he raised an eyebrow in amusement, “tips aren’t required. but reviews help with the rankings.”
“oh, i’ll be specific,” you said, walking toward the door leading to the lounge, “something like: ‘ruined me in under an hour. swore i saw heaven. would recommend.’”
mark tilted his head, quietly chuckling beside you. the door opened. you stepped inside and turned back toward him. “seriously though five star session.”
he nodded once, “glad we could meet your goals.”
you smirked, “gonna be hard to top this one.”
the corner of his mouth curled, sharp and knowing.
“book me again.” he said lowly, voice like velvet, “i’ll try.”
then, offering his hand once more, firm and polite, “it was a pleasure to be your donor, ms. y/n.”
you shook it, firm, “i’ll be your client any day.”
and with one last glance, one last smile, he turned back toward the double doors. and just like that it was over.
✚ END OF SESSION ✚
the door whispered shut behind him, soft and final. you stood in the lounge for a second longer than necessary, trying to get back into reality.
you were still warm. still sore. still…not quite in the world. your legs wobbled slightly, the plush carpet beneath your feet suddenly feeling too soft. too quiet. the silence here was different. this one was polished. the kind that came with good lighting and air purifiers and an undercurrent of expensive professionalism.
you approached the front desk slowly, finding taeyong already tapping away at his tablet, his perfect posture and gel-slicked hair still completely intact, like nothing behind those doors could ruffle him. he glanced up with the kind of smile that had been trained into perfection. not fake. just smooth. comforting. scripted.
“that’ll be charged to the card on file,” he said gently, voice soft enough not to jar you.
you nodded. your voice wasn’t ready yet.
“also, this is for you.” he reached beneath the desk and pulled out a matte black paper bag with subtle silver foil lettering that gleamed when it caught the light:
thank you for trusting neo orgasm clinic with your satisfaction.
you blinked. “what’s this?”
“a small thank-you from our donors,” he said, still smiling, still unbothered — as though this entire exchange was no more intimate than a routine dentist visit. like you weren’t just being fucked to your next life behind those doors.
you took the bag with both hands, still feeling like you were floating slightly outside yourself.
“have a good rest of your evening! we hope to see you again,” taeyong smiled from behind his computer.
you gave him a tired little smile, a soft wave and murmured a polite “thanks,” and turned toward the exit.
you made your way to your car, dropped into the driver’s seat, and opened the bag, curious to see what it holds — inside was a neatly folded hoodie, ultra-soft, white, with bold letters:
ORGASM DONOR
you stared. then snorted. a full bodied laugh punched out of your chest. it was dumb. it was ridiculous. it was perfect. tucked beside it, almost like an afterthought, was a juice box. your laugh came sharper this time.
you popped the straw in, took a long sip and leaned your head back against the seat. let the juice cool your tongue. let the moment wash over you and muttered to yourself, “best. fucking. clinic.”
you pulled your phone out. opened the clinic’s feedback portal. your fingers hovered for a second. then you typed:
released me from the shackles of my mind. came four times. even squirted. lost track of the tears. saw god. 10/10. highly recommend. would let mark destroy me again. professionally, of course.
somewhere behind those pristine white doors, donor mark was already reviewing his next file. another client. another list of goals. another carefully measured beginning.
✚ APPOINTMENT STATUS: COMPLETE ✚
—
18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content
BONUS: #1. #2. #3. #4. #5.
—
an: and the first donor is done! i hope this lived up to the expectation. if you hate it please don’t tell me lmao. this whole entire concept is supposed to be silly! i hope you had fun reading it! please don’t take it too seriously :)
🩺 likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated
summary: Haechan’s entire brain rewired after that single sentence sweet, shy, innocent Jisung oh-so nonchalantly said while eating a burger, and now? He’s on a mission.
this story is a sequel of:
╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ ‘choose me’ ʕ •ᴥ• ʔ ♡
pairings: haechan x afab!reader┊genre: fluff (with a sprinkle of comedy), hc is a hard simp who values consent & is patient┊wc: 2.8k┊cw: minimal cursing/swearing
a/n: thank u to the anon who motivated me to write this sequel 🫶
—
Lee Donghyuck, also known to the general public as Haechan, menace, chaotic but charming pos, vocal king, and professional yapper, was many things.
But above all?
He was head-over-heels, irrevocably, unapologetically, pathetically in love with you.
And damn, did everyone know it.
“You’ve literally been smiling at your phone for the past ten minutes,” Mark muttered, balancing a chopstick between his upper lip and nose for some unknown reason.
Haechan didn’t even look up.
“Can you blame me? She asked me out. ME! I was the chosen one.”
Renjun rolled his eyes. “You act like you didn’t spend months soft-launching her in every Instagram story and thirsting in her DMs.”
“Exactly! And all that hard work paid off,” Haechan declared, holding his heart like a Disney Princess who just found true love.
“This isn’t just a win for me. This is a win for all persistent, chaotic men out there.”
“You’re so dramatic,” Chenle snorted.
“Let him be,” Jaemin grinned. “He’s fucking in love.”
And yeah, he really fucking was.
After months of him yapping at you in hallways, showing up with your favorite drinks unannounced, and turning every conversation into a chance to make you laugh, you had reached out first for a date.
Haechan had been spinning since.
But he wasn’t blind. He knew your reputation very well.
People liked to talk. “Tinder girl” or “serial swiper”, as many people call you. And while it bugged him sometimes, he never said anything.
He liked you for you. Every unbothered, clever, sarcastic, onion-loving bit of you.
But then Jisung—sweet, shy, innocent Park Jisung who had zero idea what kind of bomb he was dropping—uttered a single sentence that rewired Haechan’s entire brain.
“Did you know she deleted Tinder.”
Haechan stared at Jisung like he had just grown a second head like the mythical creatures you two often talked about.
“What?”
“She deleted Tinder,” Jisung repeated, mid-bite of his burger.
“Said she’s not interested in dating around anymore, just seeing where it goes now with you.” he added, nonchalantly.
A hush fell over the lunch table.
Mark choked on his rice.
Chenle gasped so loudly, an old lady at the next table turned to look.
Jaemin screamed into a napkin.
Renjun and Jeno stared at Haechan like he was about to spontaneously combust.
Jisung shrugged as he took another bite of his burger.
“I guess so.”
It was at that moment that Haechan knew he needed to step up his game. Again.
Not to win you over, though. You were already on your way to being his.
But to show you that he noticed.
That he cared about every little thing.
Your likes, your dislikes. Your stress levels, your bad back, your caffeine dependency, your hatred of soggy onions.
ALL of it.
So when he heard you were skipping lunch to prep for the university festival?
He rallied the squad.
You were sweating, covered in paint, and very close to committing minor arson when you heard it.
“Y/N!”
You turned around mid-rant after some freshman had dropped a whole box of flyers and froze.
Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung were all standing in the middle of the hallway, looking way too clean and composed to be real.
“What the hell?”
“We’re here to help,” Mark said casually, already rolling up his sleeves.
“Are you serious? Why?”
“Because we like you,” Jaemin said with a wink.
“Because you clearly need it,” Renjun added, stepping over a paintbrush.
“Also because Haechan threatened us,” Jeno deadpanned.
“Where is Haechan?” you asked, suspicious.
“He’ll be here,” Chenle grinned. “Had to pick something up.”
You narrowed your eyes but didn’t argue. You were too tired, and honestly, you needed the help.
But of course, nothing was ever simple when the boys were around.
Because within five minutes, a group of university girls (probably from the next booth over) had started coming over where you were. Smiling, twirling their hair, leaning in to 'ask for help'.
“Hey, can you help me lift this? You look so strong,” one of them purred at Jeno.
“Uh… I have a girlfriend.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Chenle whispered. Jeno elbowed him in the ribs.
“Renjun, by any chance, are you single?” another girl asked, practically batting her eyelashes. Renjun didn’t even look up.
“Emotionally unavailable.”
“Hi, what’s your name?” someone tried with Jaemin.
“Sorry, I’m in love with someone else,” he said brightly, then muttered, “Who I haven’t even met yet, but I’m manifesting.”
But then the worst one turned to Haechan, who had just arrived—sweaty, breathless, arms holding a large paper bag.
“Hey, Haechan. I was wondering if we can go on a date after the festival?”
He didn’t miss a beat.
“No, I'm taken. Very taken. Stupidly, pathetically taken.”
The girl scoffed. “Oh, you serious?”
“Yeah. Serious enough that I’d reject you in this life, the next one, and every damn lifetime I get after that,” Haechan said, not even sparing her a glance as he pushed past.
He made a beeline for you.
“Did you think I’d let you starve again?”
You turned, surprised, as he dropped a paper bag in front of you.
Inside was your favorite food—with extra onions, just the way you liked it. Your go-to dessert and coffee from that café a good thirty-minute walk away. Energy drinks, and pain relief patches.
“For your back,” he added, holding them up proudly.
“Because I know it acts up when you’re stressed.”
You stared at him, the noise around you fading in the background.
“What the fuck,” you whispered. “How do you remember all this?”
He just grinned, boyish and cocky and painfully attractive.
“I just do.”
Hours later, when the festival prep was done and the guys had retreated to their dorms, Haechan found himself on your couch, legs tucked up, phone discarded somewhere.
“You wanna eat dinner?” he asked casually.
“I’m too tired to chew,” you groaned from where you were face-down in a pillow.
He clicked his tongue. “You can’t sleep on an empty stomach.”
“You gonna force-feed me?”
“I’m gonna cook for you, actually.”
“You can cook???”
“I can cook ramen,” he said, rummaging through your empty fridge and pathetic excuse of a pantry.
“You need to go grocery shopping.”
“No time.”
“We’ll go together this weekend.”
You didn’t argue.
Eventually, he found ramen and made it exactly the way you liked it. You took one bite and stared at him like he had just performed a miracle.
“What the—how the fuck did you make it perfect?”
With a smug smile, he slid his phone across the table.
“Notes app. Took notes during our FaceTime calls. Every time you made ramen, I watched, listened, and learned.”
You stared at him in disbelief.
“You have a Notes app entry dedicated to my ramen?” you said as you read the very detailed notes he took.
1. Add only half of the seasoning packet after 2 minutes of boiling
2. Add sesame oil; 1 and a half teaspoons only
3. Boil noodles for EXACTLY 3 min & 30 seconds; no more, no less!!!!!!
4. Turn stove off, add egg immediately, cover and leave to cook for 1 minute using residual heat
5. MOST IMPORTANT❗❗❗ Serve my 🤞future wife 👩❤️💋👨👰🏻🤵🏻🤞 with love 💖 affection 🥰 adoration 💕😍💘
“Don’t act surprised. You know I’m a hard simp for you.”
You laughed, loud and real. God, he loved that sound.
The two of you talked for hours. About nonsense, about dreams, about nothing and everything. And as you spoke, Haechan couldn’t stop staring.
The way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved. All your hand gestures. The way you tilted your head when you were about to say something smart-ass-y.
He was so screwed. So fucking screwed.
When it was time for him to leave, you walked him to the door, your voice softer than usual.
“Thanks for today, seriously… you were amazing.”
He shrugged, trying to seem cool despite the way his heart was screaming.
“Anything for you.”
You stepped in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
His brain shut down.
“That’s for being sweet,” you murmured, visibly blushing.
He opened his mouth to say something. Maybe a joke, maybe a plea for another kiss.
But before he could even get the words out, you leaned in again and kissed him on the lips.
It was so sweet, so soft, so warm that Haechan felt all fuzzy inside.
Then you pulled back with a shy smile.
“You deserved that. Good night, Lee Donghyuck.”
Haechan walked home that night giggling like a damn schoolgirl, skipping down the sidewalk.
He didn’t sleep that night. He just couldn’t.
Too busy replaying the kiss. Too busy falling in love all over again.
Haechan was dead serious about grocery shopping with you that weekend. He never forgot the image of your empty fridge and pantry.
From the moment the shopping cart hit the tile floor of the supermarket, however, he knew he had made a mistake.
Not about coming here with you. Never about that.
But bringing along the rest of NCT DREAM? That was asking for chaos.
And they delivered.
Renjun and Chenle were three seconds away from a fistfight over which brand of dumplings “tasted like home".
Mark was trying to prevent Jisung from dumping eight family-size frozen pizzas into the cart.
Jaemin had disappeared somewhere near the meat section.
And Jeno… well, Jeno was quietly loading protein bars.
In the middle of it all was you, trying so hard not to lose your mind. Eyes sharp, sleeves rolled, your phone out with a list, and your tolerance hanging by a thread.
Haechan couldn’t stop staring at you in awe though.
You were tired, stressed, beautiful. His (even if you hadn’t officially said it yet; he just believed in manifestation). And he had never wanted to take care of someone more in his life.
He drifted toward you, grinning. “You good, baby?”
You let out a sigh.
“I just saw Jisung try to eat a dried squid like a snack.”
“Protein,” Haechan nodded seriously.
“You all have one brain cell and it’s constantly overheating.”
“And yet,” he said, bumping your shoulder playfully, “you keep showing up.”
You shook your head, but your smile tugged at the corners. He caught it, always did.
And then, he started his little mission.
While the guys fought over snacks and Jisung questioned the difference between ‘plain yogurt' and ‘Greek yogurt’, Haechan was pulling things from your cart and swapping them.
He snuck in quality produce, whole grains, probiotic drinks. Things he knew you never bought for yourself because they were too expensive or felt unnecessary.
“You’re not sneaky,” you whispered, catching him replacing your soda with vitamin water.
“I’m caring,” he replied. “There’s a difference.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You’re unhealthy. Let me love you properly.”
He meant it.
At checkout, you tried to pay. And Haechan—full-time menace, part-time boyfriend hopeful—snatched your wallet with reflexes born from years of being nosy.
“I got it.”
“Haechan—”
“Nope, I’m paying. You deserve nice things. Like salmon and A5 Wagyu.”
“It’s a grocery run, not a honeymoon—”
“Too late. I’m already emotionally invested in your fridge, your health, and your life.”
He said it so confidently, so shamelessly, the cashier actually giggled.
Haechan didn’t care. He tapped his card like it was nothing and slung the bags over his shoulders like a knight delivering offerings to his queen.
Back at your apartment, you both unpacked in comfortable silence. The rest of the guys had gone back to their dorms, and now it was just you and him.
Haechan placed your drinks in the fridge in rainbow order while you arranged the dry goods.
He felt good here, like he always belonged.
He snuck glances at you as you folded and stacked, moving around the space he now knew better than his own dorm kitchen. You looked peaceful, your brows slightly furrowed in concentration.
God, he was down bad.
Once everything was away, he leaned on the counter and gave you a look.
That look.
“What?” you asked, cautious.
“Can I kiss you?”
Your shoulders relaxed just a little.
“You’re asking?”
“I just want to make sure,” he said.
“Because this one’s not just for being cute... or for making Mark gag. This one’s because I’m into you. Deep. I want this to be meaningful.”
You smiled softly at him and nodded, “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Haechan didn’t think the moment could get any better after you said yes to the kiss.
He had asked because, of course, he would. He should.
That was just who he was with you: careful, patient, a little hopeless. Always waiting for the green light. And when you gave it with that soft smile on your face, he swore the earth tilted under his feet.
The kiss had been slow, sweet, and tender. And now, you sat next to him on your couch, your fingers still tangled with his, your heart steady but loud in the quiet of the apartment.
Then you looked at him, and he saw something shift in your eyes. Something big.
“Haechan…” you called softly.
“Can I be your girlfriend?”
His heart slammed in his chest.
He froze, blinking as if he hadn’t heard you right. But before he could say anything, you kept going.
“I think you’re the one I’ve been looking for all along. And I don’t know if it’s too late, but I really regret not making the effort to get to know you better earlier... I wasted so much time dating shitty men who couldn’t even treat me like a person… or see me the way you've always seen me.”
His chest ached, but you weren’t done.
“You were always there. Holding space for me... never asking for anything. And now, looking at you, I just—I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You’re the best plot twist of my life.”
He swore time stood still.
“I’m sorry I made you wait this long. I’m sorry I was out there swiping left and right while you were just… quietly being everything I ever needed. Thank you for sticking with me, Lee Donghyuck.”
And then—
“I love you,” Haechan blurted.
The words slipped out so fast, so soft, he barely noticed he said them aloud until your eyes widened.
He didn’t even mean to blurt it—he was just overflowing with so much love for you. Shocked. Elated. Completely gone.
You finally chose him.
He took a shaky breath, calming his racing heart.
“I didn’t say it because I wanted anything back,” he murmured.
“I just… I’ve loved you for so long without needing you to love me too. But now you’re here saying all this… it feels like I finally got to wake up in the dream I’ve been stuck in for a long time.”
You stared at him, visibly flustered now, lips parted like you couldn’t figure out what to do with yourself. Your eyes flicked everywhere, anywhere but his, like his confession shut your brain off.
He chuckled softly. “You’re shy now? After all that?” he teased, leaning in just enough to nudge your nose with his.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say anything like that?”
You couldn’t hide the obvious blush creeping up your face anymore, and with a small noise, you grabbed him and hugged him tightly, arms around his waist like you needed to hide in him.
Haechan melted immediately, arms coming around you, a huge smile tugging at his lips it almost hurt.
“God, you’re so cute,” he whispered into your hair.
“You’re done for, you know that? I’m gonna spoil you so bad, you’ll forget Tinder ever existed.”
You let out a muffled laugh against his chest.
And that’s when it finally hit him, the absurdity of it all.
“Oh my god, the guys owe me so much money.”
You pulled back slightly to look at him, confused.
“They all said I was delusional,” he said, dramatically rolling his eyes.
“That I’d stay your unofficial simp until I died. Jeno even bet me an entire month’s allowance that I’d never get past friend zone.”
You burst out laughing, and he grinned, leaning in like he was letting you in on a secret.
“But look at me now,” he whispered.
“Right here, with the girl who chose me.”
He kissed your cheek once, then twice for good luck, then smiled into your skin.
“I can’t wait to tell Jeno. I’m asking for payment in both hard cash and public humiliation.”
You giggled and leaned into him again, cheeks warm, heart full of happiness.
He was still Haechan. Dramatic, ridiculous, absolutely in love.
hi idk if ur accepting thoughts but i need to empty my brain sub!reader but subbier(?)!renjun ……. i’m gonna die
𓏲 ˖. ♡̷̸ soft & sweet ⤿ ( 黄仁俊 )
cw. ⋮ smut .ᐟ lots of begging and desperation, unprotected sex ( do not do this ), oral ( f and m receiving ). mdni. ﾒ 紀要 can two people both be shy and still fall into something this intense?
ㅤ作者 : hiaiiai anon ! i hope u love this needy, begging renjun just as much as i loved writing him :3 watching him so soft and desperate was honestly the best. i really hope this hits just right for u 😋
the sun is going down slow, bleeding gold and pink across the sky. you’re at some rental villa on the coast, invited by mutual friends, crammed into rooms with too little sleep and too many inside jokes, and the pool has been your favorite part.
quiet. private. hidden behind the tall walls of the property. and right now, it’s only you and renjun.
he’s sitting at the edge, legs in the water, palms pressed behind him, leaning back with his head tilted toward the sky. golden hour is cruel to him. it softens every edge, glows on his collarbones and cheeks, lights his wet lashes from the side.
his hair’s still damp from earlier — he hasn’t gone back in since — and he hasn’t looked at you since you came out in your swimsuit. or rather, he’s tried not to.
you wade into the pool slowly, the water cool against your thighs. you’d brought a towel with you, but you shed it before stepping in, and now you feel.. almost naked.
too exposed. the swimsuit is modest enough in theory, one piece, open back, not even that much cleavage, but the way his eyes keep flickering your way and then darting away says otherwise.
"you okay?" you ask, voice light, trying to play it off.
renjun nods too quickly. “yeah. yeah, just—warm. sun’s nice.”
you glance at him, he’s not even facing the sun. “you’re red,” you say, teasing, moving closer. “are you blushing?”
he scoffs under his breath, like it’s ridiculous. “no.”
but his ears give him away. that pretty flush is crawling down his neck, blooming under the collar of the oversized button-down he threw on earlier.
it’s unbuttoned now, hanging loose over his swim trunks, revealing soft lines of skin you’ve definitely never seen before, not like this. not half-wet, shirt clinging, hair sticking to his forehead.
you’re close enough to see his throat flex when he swallows. “you’re staring,” he mumbles.
you blink. “so were you.” he shuts his eyes. sighs. “i wasn’t trying to.”
"you do a bad job at hiding it."
“you—” his voice cuts out as you take another step forward. water lapping at your hips now. closer. closer. the space between your legs and his knees is almost gone. “you’re literally in that. how am i supposed to not look?”
you cross your arms, trying not to squirm under his gaze. "it’s just a swimsuit."
“it’s not just anything,” he says, eyes flickering up. you catch it. the full glance. the little inhale. “you look… really good.”
your stomach flips. he says it like it hurts to admit it. like he’s barely holding it in.
you shift your weight, water sloshing around your thighs. “you’ve never looked at me like this before.”
he opens his mouth, then shuts it again.
his hands flex against the tile. he’s nervous, you can see it, feel it. his whole body is stiff, like he’s holding himself back.
not from you, exactly, but from something inside himself. something tight, unfamiliar, impossible to say out loud. “maybe i’ve always wanted to,” he finally says, voice low.
you blinked, the air changes. his eyes meet yours for the first time all evening. they’re big and brown and glassy, like he’s caught in the middle of wanting to run away and wanting you to pull him closer. it makes your chest squeeze.
you step between his knees. carefully. softly. the water laps at his legs now.
“so what now?” you ask, half-laughing, voice too breathless to sound confident. “do we.. act on it? or just pretend this isn’t happening?”
he looks overwhelmed. you don’t blame him. your heart’s beating too fast. your fingers are trembling where they float under the water.
“i don’t know,” he says honestly. “i’ve never wanted to be the first one to—”
“me neither.”
you’re both too soft for this.
too easily flustered. too used to the background, to letting everyone else be loud and wild and bold. and yet — somehow — you’ve always ended up next to each other, gravitating toward the same quiet corners, whispering in dark kitchens at 2am while the party swirls around you. and now here you are: almost touching. almost something.
renjun’s voice breaks the silence. “can i..?”
you nod, not even knowing what he’s about to do.
he lifts his hand. moves like he’s going to touch your waist, but changes his mind at the last second and lets his fingers barely graze your wrist instead. it’s so gentle. so painfully soft.
“i’m so scared of ruining this,” he whispers.
“what if it’s not ruined?” you ask.
you step in again, until your knees hit the edge of the pool. his thighs are warm against your sides. he’s breathing fast. you can see it in the rise and fall of his chest. his hands hover, unsure.
“can i… see more?” he asks, eyes flicking to your chest and then back to your face. “not—not everything, i mean. i just—fuck, i feel so stupid.”
“you’re not.”
“i just…” he hesitates, eyes darting down again. “i keep thinking about how soft you’d feel.”
you blinked. "renjun."
he buries his face in his hands, groaning. "sorry—i'm sorry, i don't know why i said that."
you feel like you’re on fire. cheeks hot. body tingling. “what if i wanted to hear it?”
he peeks up at you, startled. you reach for his hands, pulling them gently from his face.
and his eyes — god, they look wrecked. like he’s already imagining things he shouldn’t. like he’s been craving this for way longer than he’d ever admit.
“do you want me to get closer?” you ask.
he nods, barely. like he’s scared to speak again. so you did. you climb up, straddling the space between his legs, chest still glistening with water, face inches from his.
he breathes in sharp. “what are we doing?” he whispers.
you don’t know. but you’re both trembling. both flushed. both hard and wet and aching with something bigger than shyness now. something you’ve been holding back for too long.
you brush your lips over his cheek — barely there. his hands grip your thighs like he can’t believe you’re real. and then, in a voice so quiet it almost breaks —
“can we go inside?” he asks.
the door shuts behind you with a soft click, muffled under the sound of your quiet breaths and the faint drip of water from your soaked skin.
you’re still wrapped in towels from the pool — barely, anyway — and everything feels louder now. the silence. the tension. the way renjun keeps glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking.
you walk a little ahead, heart pounding as you step into the dim hallway, the light of your shared guest room spilling out faintly. you can feel his eyes on the back of your legs. you wonder if he can hear the way your breath hitches.
your hands are trembling as you touch the edge of the bed. you sit down slowly, legs still damp, towel slipping just slightly as your thighs press together. you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet.
“are you sure?” you ask, your voice small. nervous.
renjun is standing just a few feet away, still at the threshold of the room. he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he stares at you for a moment, like he’s memorizing something he never thought he’d get to see. then, carefully, he steps inside and walks toward you.
he kneels down in front of you, the wooden floor creaking faintly beneath him. “i’ve never been more sure about anything,” he says quietly, and when he says it, it sounds so sincere, it makes your stomach twist.
he’s flushed all the way to his collarbone, skin dewy and glowing from the pool. his towel sits low on his hips, clinging to him slightly from the water.
but it’s his eyes that make your throat dry, the way they look up at you like he’s in awe. like you’re something precious he doesn’t know how to touch yet.
“can i kiss you?” he asks, voice breaking just slightly at the edges.
you nod, barely, cheeks burning, heart in your throat.
renjun leans in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you need to. but you don’t. you can’t. not when he’s looking at you like this.
his lips brush against yours, soft at first — barely a kiss, really — like he’s testing the weight of it. then he kisses you again, deeper this time, and you can feel how nervous he is. the kiss is tentative, trembling, both of you figuring it out as you go.
your mouths open against each other slowly. you taste the faint sweetness of the poolwater on his lips. his fingers find your thighs, the skin still wet and warm from earlier. yours reach up into his damp hair, curling around the strands at the nape of his neck.
he lets out a tiny, muffled sound when you tug gently. you pull him closer — just slightly — and your towel slips further. he pulls back for just a second, eyes flicking down, and his breath catches.
“fuck,” he whispers, not even meaning to say it out loud. “you’re so—”
“don’t say it,” you murmur, suddenly shy, ducking your head.
he tilts his head, looking at you with the softest smile. “why not?”
“you’ll make me shy,” you mumble, barely able to meet his gaze.
his hand comes up to your chin, gently tipping it toward him.
“you are shy,” he says softly. “but you’re still letting me see you. that’s.. that’s the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen.”
you look away again, but your heart is fluttering now. it feels overwhelming, being wanted like this. being seen.
you don’t know what’s changed tonight, what made all of this cross that invisible line, but when he leans in to kiss you again, your body leans into it instinctively. you don’t even think. you just want.
this time, you push him back with you. slowly, you shift until he’s on his back against the mattress, towel barely holding onto his hips. his cheeks go bright red when you straddle him, the softest gasp falling from his lips.
you hesitate, looking down at the knot of fabric.
“can i..?” you ask softly, fingers resting against the edge.
he nods quickly, breathlessly. “yeah. please.”
you pull it away slowly. his cock springs free, already flushed pink at the tip, stiff against his belly. the breath he lets out is shaky, almost embarrassed. his hands come up to hide his face, forearm shielding his eyes.
“don’t look at me like that,” he says under his breath.
“why?”
“you’ll make me shy,” he mumbles, voice tight.
you bite your lip to keep from smiling, still blushing yourself. you glance down at him, blinking slowly, your gaze lingering on the way he’s twitching under your eyes. you lean down, heart pounding, and press the softest kiss to the base of his cock.
his hips jerk.
“b-baby—” he breathes, voice cracking. “you don’t—you don’t have to—oh my god—”
you kiss up the length of him, slowly, teasingly, until your lips wrap around the head. he lets out the softest, most broken moan, head falling back into the pillow. one of his hands flies up, clutching the sheets like it’s the only thing grounding him.
you pull off slowly, leaving a string of spit clinging to your lips. his cock twitches as the cool air brushes over the wet skin, and his thighs are shaking. you glance up, flushed and breathless.
renjun is staring at you like he’s seeing something unreal, like you’ve just cracked open a part of him no one else has ever reached. his hand grips the sheets so tightly his knuckles are white.
“c-can i touch you?” he breathes out. “p-please, baby, i—i need to. i want to make you feel that good too. please let me—”
your heart races. you don’t say anything at first, just nod slowly, and his whole body seems to sigh in relief.
he shifts down between your thighs so fast it's almost clumsy, towel forgotten somewhere at the edge of the bed. you lie back against the pillows, your own towel still half-wrapped around your chest, legs trembling as he spreads them gently.
he looks up, eyes wide, voice small. “you okay?”
you nod, already breathless. “y-yeah...”
“tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, and then, like he can’t help himself, he mutters, “even though i’ll die if you do.”
he leans down, breathing deeply. and the moment his lips graze your folds, he lets out the softest moan, like just tasting you short-circuits something in his brain.
“oh my god,” he says into your skin, voice muffled. “oh my god. you taste like fucking heaven.”
you let out a tiny whimper, hand flying up to cover your face again.
“no, don’t hide—please—please let me see you like this,” he begs softly, voice raw with need. his hands gently pull yours away from your eyes, then he kisses the inside of your thigh like an apology. “you’re so pretty. you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”
he starts slow. languid licks, long and deliberate, his tongue pressing into you like he wants to memorize your taste. every time you twitch, he moans into you, like your pleasure is his own.
“you’re so wet,” he pants. “did i do that? was that for me?”
you nod, barely able to breathe. “y-yeah…”
he groans, full-bodied, and his hips grind faintly against the mattress like he’s struggling not to touch himself.
“i wanna live here,” he whimpers, voice shaking. “i don’t wanna stop—don’t make me stop—fuck—please keep letting me—”
and then he sucks gently on your clit and you cry out, thighs jerking around his head. he moans again, louder this time, and flattens his tongue, licking in soft circles until you’re squirming, hands gripping the sheets like lifelines.
he keeps muttering into your pussy like he’s drunk on you.
“so soft, so sweet… god, you’re so warm—can’t believe this is real—”
you try to close your legs again, too sensitive, but he won’t let you.
“baby,” he whines, “don’t run away, please—just a little more, i’ll be so gentle, promise—just let me have you.”
you cum like that — soft and sudden, a cry caught in your throat, thighs shaking as he licks you through it. he doesn’t stop. he stays there, tongue working slow and deep, humming softly as he drinks it all in.
it makes your back arch. you sob into the pillow.
“you taste so f-fucking good,” he groans against your skin. “i could eat you all night—fuck, let me keep going—please—please—”
you finally have to tug at his hair gently to get him to stop, and when he pulls back, his mouth and chin are soaked, lips swollen, eyes glassy.
he crawls up your body slowly, like he’s still floating, dazed. his hands find your hips, fingers trembling.
“you let me do that,” he whispers in awe. “you’re so sweet, baby—so good for me—so fucking good, i don’t even deserve—”
you kiss him softly to shut him up, and he whines into your mouth.
his cock is pressed between your bodies now, slick from earlier, twitching and needy. you reach down, wrap your hand around it again, and he gasps.
“n-no, i’ll cum—please—let me cum inside—please—please—”
and that’s when he says it.
“please let me be inside you,” he begs, his voice breaking, lips brushing against your cheek like a prayer. “i—i won’t move unless you want me to. i just wanna feel you. i’ve never wanted anything this badly, i swear.”
and you say yes. because nothing has ever felt so right.
you don’t even have to say anything. just the way your eyes flutter when he kisses you, the way your legs shift apart instinctively beneath his weight, it’s enough.
renjun moves quickly but gently, guiding you to lie back on the bed. his hands tremble as he settles over you, the towel finally falling from his hips.
your bodies press together, skin warm and damp, and for a long second, he just looks at you. like he can’t believe this is real. renjun exhales shakily above you, like he’s been holding his breath all night. he brushes his nose against yours, careful, affectionate.
“lie back for me,” he murmurs. “let me take care of you.”
you obey without thinking, heart thudding hard in your chest as you sink into the pillows. renjun follows, towel falling completely away now. he settles between your legs, bracing himself on trembling arms, and just stays there for a moment, hovering.
his eyes roam your face like he’s memorizing every detail. flushed cheeks, parted lips, soft gaze. he brushes your hair away, then leans in and kisses you again, slower this time. deeper.
you make a soft noise in the back of your throat and he swallows it down like it’ll kill him if he doesn’t.
“i’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers, lips barely touching yours. “wanted you. just like this. just for me.”
you reach down, fingers shaky, and guide him where you want him. his eyes flutter shut when he feels it, your hand wrapping around him, lining him up to your entrance, your body already aching, already wet. your thighs tremble.
“please,” you whisper. “i want you inside.”
renjun chokes on a sound that’s almost a sob. he presses his forehead to yours, voice cracking as he stares down at you.
“baby—please tell me you want it too,” he begs. “tell me you need me. i’m gonna lose my mind if you don’t say it again.”
you nod, breath catching. “i need you. i need you so bad.”
“fuck, thank you,” he gasps. “thank you—please let me make you feel good. i’ll be good, i swear—i’ll make it so good—”
his hips roll forward gently, and when he finally pushes in, both of you gasp at once. the stretch is deep, slow, painfully tender. your hands cling to his back, nails biting into his skin. he keeps moving inch by inch, shallow thrusts to ease the burn, to hear every breath you take.
“fuck—baby, you’re so warm, so perfect,” he whimpers, already shaking. “please keep me in, don’t push me out. let me stay, let me give you everything—”
“don’t stop using me,” he begs. “please keep me inside—let me stay like this,”
your thighs wrap around his waist, locking him in. he groans when he sinks the rest of the way in, fully seated inside you, chest heaving against yours.
“don’t stop,” you beg, voice soft and broken. “don’t pull out. stay, just stay, please.”
he kisses you again, sloppier this time. desperate. like he’s about to break in your arms.
“i’m not going anywhere,” he promises. “not when you feel like this. baby, i don’t ever wanna leave.”
he starts moving, slow, deep thrusts that make you whimper into his mouth. your legs tighten around his hips. his pelvis brushes yours with every grind, and he shudders each time he hears you moan.
“you’re so good,” you pant. “feels so good, jun. you’re filling me up so deep—”
“yeah?” he pants, hips rocking harder. “you like being under me like this? you like me fucking you slow?”
“yes—yes—please, keep going—feels so good i can’t think—”
“don’t say that,” he moans, full-body trembling. “don’t say it like that—i’m gonna lose it, fuck—i don’t deserve to hear you like this, don’t deserve how sweet you sound—”
your hands cup his face, pulling him down so he’s even closer. you kiss him again, deeper now, hips meeting his in a slow grind that drives both of you mad.
your bodies move like they were made for this. his thrusts get more frantic, needy, but still controlled, still tender.
“you’re making me feel insane,” he sobs against your lips. “please tell me it’s mine, tell me you’re mine.”
“i’m yours,” you whisper, tears pricking your lashes. “you feel so good, renjun, i don’t wanna be anywhere else. just want you—”
he gasps, almost cries right there. “you’re gonna make me cry—fuck—baby, you’re gonna make me cry.”
he pulls back slightly, breath ragged, and blinks down at you.
“come sit on me,” he breathes. “i wanna see you. wanna feel you all around me.”
you nod, dazed, and he shifts quickly — backs up toward the headboard, sitting against it with his legs crossed. his cock, flushed and glistening, bobs between his thighs as he waits, arms outstretched.
you crawl into his lap slowly, still trembling, and line yourself up. when you sink down onto him, both of you moan loud. it’s deeper this way. so much deeper. your arms loop around his shoulders and his hands grab at your hips like he’s scared you’ll disappear.
“fuck—fuck—you’re taking me so well,” he gasps. “i can feel everything—so tight—so perfect, baby, please don’t stop grinding, please—i’ll do anything—”
you whimper as you start to move, rolling your hips in slow, aching circles. the friction is perfect. overwhelming. you bury your face in his neck, panting.
“i love this,” you whisper. “jun, it feels too good, i don’t know what to do—”
“just keep going, baby, please ride me just like that. don’t stop, don’t stop—please—fuck, i’ll beg you forever—”
“please please don’t let go,” you sob against his shoulder. “i feel too good—i’m gonna cry, jun, i can’t—i need you so bad—”
he’s crying too, just quieter. breath shaking as he clings to you like something precious. “baby, you feel like heaven, please let me give you more.. i-i’ll never stop if you let me—please—let me love you like this—”
you cling to him, moaning into his skin as the pressure builds. he’s trembling now, arms locked tight around you, hips moving up to meet yours with every roll.
“you’re making me lose my mind,” he sobs. “i can’t, i’m gonna cum—fuck, i’m gonna cum j-just from this—please let me—baby, i need it so bad—”
you’re so close. you whimper his name, again and again, until you’re barely saying anything at all. just gasping. clinging. grinding harder.
“please cum with me,” you whisper. “please, renjun. i want it. i-i want e-everything—”
“fuckfuckfuck—baby, i’m there, i’m gonna fill you up, please let me—please.. i can’t hold it—”
you clench around him hard and it pushes him over the edge. he cums with a cry, buried deep inside you, voice cracking with every twitch of his hips. he holds you like he’ll fall apart without you, like if he lets go he’ll break into pieces.
and you fall with him.
you came in his lap, legs trembling, body pulsing around him, forehead pressed to his as he whispers your name like a prayer.
it takes a while to come down. you’re both soaked in sweat, still joined, still clinging. his breath hitches as he feels you shake in his arms, lips brushing your temple.
“you’re mine,” he whispers. “can’t believe you’re mine.”
you nod, breath still shaky. voice hoarse. renjun clings to you like he never wants to be anywhere else again. “only yours,” you whisper back. “always.”
and he noticed it real quick, how could he not? the way your gaze instantly dropped the moment he walked in wearing those damn shorts. his thighs, plump and stupidly juicy, were just there, out in the open, and your eyes followed them like they had a gravitational pull. you tried to be subtle. really, you did. but he wasn’t stupid. especially not when your hand found its way to his leg under the table, caressing the skin like it was second nature now. sometimes slow, sometimes idle, sometimes with purpose, but always there.
he didn’t say anything at first, just kept smirking to himself every time your fingers twitched when he shifted, like you were trying so hard not to react. cute. but pointless. because he could feel it. see it. all of it. so when you both finally got home, all that pretending? gone. you weren’t even trying to be subtle anymore. you practically threw yourself at him, pulling him into a kiss the second the door shut, lips crashing into his like you’d been holding back for hours, because you had.
and he barely had time to react before you pushed him down onto the couch, straddling his lap like it was your throne, your hands in his hair, your mouth on his, desperate and demanding. it was cute. really cute. especially with the way you immediately tried to roll your hips against him, chasing the friction you so needed. he just chuckled lowly, holding you firmly in place, both hands gripping your hips, keeping you still.
"what's gotten into you today, hm?" he teased, biting your lower lip gently before pulling his head back, just enough to watch you chase his mouth in frustration. "nothing," you murmured, a little breathless, your voice muffled against his neck as you pressed soft kisses there. "just need you," you shifted your hips again, trying to grind down.
“yeah?” he nibblied gently at your ear. “you wanna ride my thigh, baby? is that what you need?” your soft moan in response was all the confirmation he needed—but of course, he needed to tease you just a little bit more.
his hand slid under your pants, fingertips finding the damp heat of your panties. “you’re dripping,” his voice filled with amusement, “all that for just a little of me?” the soft pressure of his fingers against your aching cunt made you tremble, a shiver running down your spine as your hips instinctively rolled down against his hand, seeking more.
"yes, yes, hyuck, only you, so please—" you whined, the sound shaky and desperate, one of his favorite versions of you: needy and willing to beg for him. he silenced you with a kiss, lips pressing against yours with a permissive smile as you clumsily worked your pants off, clearly too impatient to stop kissing him for even a second.
he leaned back and just watched you, eyes dark with hunger as your hands gripped his shoulders and you straddled his thigh like it was exactly where you belonged. you positioned yourself quickly, and the moment your soaked, bare pussy made contact with the firm muscle, you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, already rolling your hips forward, slowly at first, but soon picking the pace. slick sounds followed immediately, and hyuck groaned softly, gripping your waist as you began grinding with more determination.
he didn’t really need to do anything, just sit back and let you use him. and god, did you. the way your forehead dropped onto his shoulder, your hands clutching him for support as you rocked yourself on his thigh, moaning his name like it was the only word you knew. the sound of your wetness smearing against his skin, the needy little gasps spilling from your lips—it was intoxicating.
and you must’ve really been craving it all night, because the next thing he knew, you were crying out his name in that soft, breathless voice he loved so much, trembling as you came on him. your chest rose and fell with each pant, and he could feel the warm, slick trail of your release dripping down his thigh.
2087
stormborns
theartofmadeline
izzy806
jacobvanloon
dededos
