who do i write about? -> nct & riize
what do i write? -> one shots with lots of smut!!!, angst, heavy dark fiction & dead dove fics
therefore, no minors allowed!!
requests? -> i'd love to!! open!! feel free to ask! :3
ao3 available
side blog with fic recs and my bs -> @cami3o3
hot girls' favorite (most notes)🍎 my personal favorite(s)🫐
┆@ riize﹒♡┈୨୧
anton
୭ৎ bloddy lilies (anton x reader, dark fiction, 4k words)🫐
୭ৎ thigh riding anton (anton x reader, smut!! (no plot), 1k words)🍎
eunseok
୭ৎ no one noticed (eunseok x reader, dark fiction, dead dove no not eat!!, 4k words)
┆@ nct﹒♡┈୨୧
jisung
୭ৎ can you handle me? (nerd jisung x reader, smut!!!, strangers to lovers, slowburn, 6k words)🍎
୭ৎ off the record night (bodyguard!jisung x rich girl!reader, smut, slow burn, 3k words)
haechan
୭ৎ baby don't like it (haechan x reader, smut (no plot), 4k words)
୭ৎ lover of mine (haechan x reader, smut + angst!!!, office affair, 10k words)🫐🍎
im ovulating in less than 5 days and i can definitely tell....i was reading an alpha haechan fic that i downloaded from ao3 and i was fucking throbbing omg a few lines more and i could have moaned
and then i went out to live my life as a normal adult would and saw a random dude and felt like i was in love
the disadvantages of being a virgin in the big 26 bye
warnings: smut, mdni, masturbation (f receiving), oral, face sitting, squirting, dirty talk, dom!dreamies, face sitting, bondage (renjuns&chenle), fingering, anal play (jeno), ass eating (jeno), unprotected sex plz don’t, clit play, overstim, some are lil mean (mainly haechan) dacryphila, daddy kink for all, omoshari (chenle) vibrators, pet names, jenos is really long i got carried away oops
summary: bf dreamies making you squirt
renjun:
loves making you squirt, you always get so dumb and cock drunk before you do. he has you in mating press, hands tied to your ankles as he knows you like to try push him away when it gets too much in this position, but not tonight, as he’s on a mission. you’re cheeks are flushed, sweat clinging to you, your tongue lolling out and you just look so spent. his hand is on your cheek wiping away stray tears and he laughs a little at you. “look at you sweet thing, all fucked out” you try and look at him but when he’s hitting that gummy spot inside your eyes cross and your head falls back. “what’s got you so dumb pretty baby?” your chest heaves as you try answer him “da… daddy” he’s surprised at the name, you’ve never called him daddy before but in your fucked out state you’ve clearly lost all ability to control your words. he goes with it as he brings the hand that was on your cheek to rub harsh circles on your clit and you sob hard. “daddy’s making you feel this good? you gonna show me?” you let out a long moan listening to just his voice and the wet slaps of skin on skin. he watches as you rattle your wrists against the ropes around them and your ankles and lets out an evil laugh. “whatcha doin silly girl? you know you can’t get out”. your eyes roll back at his tone, so condescending and belittling and you keep babbling the new name you gave him. the sharp snap of his hips and his fingers tight on your clit has a scream drawing out of you, voice cracking and broken. he feels the swell of your tummy and desperate clench of your pussy trying to push him out but he just thrusts deeper and harder, the knot in your belly snaps and hot liquid shoots out coating his dick and abdomen. he keeps thrusting through it, making it splash and you’re full on crying, hot tears streaming down. once he’s sure you’re finished pulls out slowly and paints your lower tummy with his seed, smearing it in with your own. “such a messy girl”. he unties your limps and you’re immediately reaching for him and he brings you into his lap, cradling you
“daddy’s here baby”
jeno:
jeno loves playing with your pussy, watching you leak around his fingers, pussy on show for him, glistening and puffy. he’s got you arched over his lap, facing his feet, pussy on display right in front of his face. his long fingers toying with your clit, swiping his palm and fingers over it, covering your sensitive skin on your slick. both hands coming up, thumbs spreading your pussy open slowly for him to watch as strings of your arousal spread and across. you would close your legs if it wasn’t for the fact his torso was between them. “daddy please, need to cum, please let me” a gentle hand comes to caress your ass cheek giving it a light pat. “i know angel, just let me see you, look so fucking pretty all spread out like this for me” you softly nod your head against his knee, letting him draw out his torture. “good girl”. he dips his head a little to get a better view of you “pussy’s so swollen baby i know you’re so pent up, doing so good, promise i’ll make you cum real soon”. he licks his middle and ring finger and draws them over your rim before dragging slowly down and over your hole up your slit making you whine and your head falls back to his knee. he doesn’t miss the way your toes curl when he brings them back up to your puckered hole. “you like that baby? like when daddy touches you here?” you let out a shaky breath as he adds slight pressure. “y-yes! fuck! feels so good daddy” he hums sweetly and he wets his fingers again, then spits down on your hole. he begins to press his middle finger in, the tight stretch makes you let out a shriek but that doesn’t stop him, he just lets out a groan as he watches as you slowly suck him in. “god baby every bit of you was just made for me, sucking daddy’s finger in so nice” all you can do is hold onto his calves tightly. after more teasing and touching he rewards you with 3 fingers in your cunt. pumping them in and out at a brutal pace his face coming down to lick around your tight rim. you’re moaning out as he laps his tongue in between your cheeks as his fingers don’t let up, hitting your sweet spot over and over relentlessly. fingers scissoring and curling inside. after a few bites to your ass cheek as well as all the relentless teasing earlier has your orgasm approaching fast. faster than you can comprehend as before you can think or warn him your cunt is squirting and spraying over his lap and he rubs your pussy through it. he talks you through it, cooing and praising while slowly bringing you back down to earth. you sit up and lay against his chest heaving, ass damp from sitting in your squirt on his lap. his hand comes down the front of your stomach and in between your legs again making you twitch. “daddy… can’t…”
“let daddy show you how proud i am of you baby”
haechan:
prides himself on being able to make you squirt almost effortlessly, all it takes is some clit play n you’re like putty in his hands. his fingers spread you open, middle finger coming up to tease your clit, he could spend hours like this, just his hand in your shorts, while you rut desperately beside him. his strong fingers are circling and pinching at your clit. 10, 15, 20 minutes go by and he’s still not even pressed his fingers inside you yet and your shaking. “daddy you-your fingers… feel so good” he smiles sweetly down at you “yeah? feels good when daddy plays with your sloppy cunt?” you mewl at his words and nod your head. he alternates between gentle circles with the pads of his fingertips, to splayed out hands rubbing manically over your clit. you cling to his bicep while he works his fingers. all it takes is a little pinching and hard pressurised flicks before he hears the soft hiss of your orgasm. his legs trap your thighs before you have the chance to close them and he keeps going, drawing the liquid out of you for longer, even when you think it’s over a couple more taps to your clit and you’re spraying again. you think he’s gonna just stop there? oh no, now is when he finally pushes into your pussy, fingers pressing in slowly and liquid seeps out, soaking his wrist. “did you just squirt from me sliding my fingers in? baby you’re pathetic”. you hide your face with his bicep and he starts pumping slowly, overstimulation takes over and your going limp against him, pussy spurting non stop while he finger fucks you slowly. “i’m barely touching you and you’re gushing” his degradation sends another hot wave to your core and it sprays out harder this time, like the first one and he huffs out a scoff. “you’re real nasty huh? who would’ve thought my pretty girl was so fucking disgusting, squirting all over me like this and from what? a bit of degradation and my fingers?” your eyes squeeze shut and he picks up the pace. fingers brutally snapping against the spot that has you seeing stars. he can see when you’re about to cum again, and he leans in, mouth wide, catching it in his mouth before holding your jaw and forcing your mouth open, spitting your juices into your mouth and watches you swollow.
“that’s it, don’t fucking waste it baby”
jaemin:
another eater! he loves eating your pussy. your hands in his hair or flailing around by your head as he dives in. he’s holding your legs up to your chest with on strong arm, pussy exposed and ready for him. he likes it messy and sloppy, spitting onto you head bobbing and shaking. sharp sucks on your clit and tongue pressing hard into you and it makes you see stars everytime. “daddy loves eating this pretty pussy baby, so sweet for me” he’s back in, slurping up your arousal. he looks up at you with those evil eyes and you can feel his wicked grin against you. every time he pulls back to admire you, your hips buck up trying to catch any form of friction. he licks hot stripes and spits down hot globs of spit on to you before his shit eating grin spreads across his face again, getting close to blow cold air on your clit making you sob, “daddy! please! feels so good!”. he can be really evil. after what felt like hours of him staring up at you, locking eyes as he ravishes you like you’re his last meal, he sits back and and watches as you squirt. the position makes it shoot up and back at you, covering you. he lets out a deep menacing laugh. you reach out for him with a long whine of his name, “daaddyyy…”. he takes your hand and with his free hand gently swipes the droplets off your face.
“look at my messy bunny~ squirting all over herself”
chenle:
he’s really disgusting. after watching you accidentally pee on yourself drunk, months ago, all he wants is to see you piss all over himself and you, so here you are, riding him. he’s holding your hips bouncing you up and down on him, and he’s got your hands cuffed behind your back. you have been going for a few rounds but the new position has him hitting deeper with the help of gravity, his cum and yours sticking to you where your connected and makes gross sticky strings whenever he lifts you up. “look at you~ daddy’s baby all sticky huh?” you lull your head in an attempt to nod yes, overstimulated to the point where you can only focus on the sound of his voice, not the words he’s saying. that is until your orgasm approaches and you cum with out warning, warm sticky cum coating his dick, you expect him to slow down, come to a stop after multiple rounds. but all he does is rut into you faster. “d-daddy- too much- daddy! need to-“. he licks his lips happily, “need to what baby?” you whine and try to free your hands from your cuffs. “need to pee! daddy! please!” he brings his hand down to your belly and presses down hard and you shake your head no desperately. “what’s wrong? thought you had to go? come on baby piss on daddy. make a mess” you clamp your eyes shut trying to focus on anything but the aching need to piss in the bit of your stomach “c-can hold it” he cocks an eyebrow at you and presses down harder and a little piss dribbles out “you sure about that princess” you drop your head to his shoulder and cry into his neck right by his ear. the sounds of your desperate sobs, pathetically trying to free your arms to push yourself off him or hold onto your cunt to stop yourself from pissing, it was heaven to him. you feel him laugh, chest shaking with delight. you let out a soft please hoping to reason with him but his mind is set, and what he wants he gets. after a few more thrusts your body goes limp, tired from tensing every muscle to stop yourself, you’re not sure what’s piss and what’s squirt, liquid gushing out splashing his thighs and the floor beneath you. it’s hot running down your thighs and legs and you’re crying hard with embarrassment. he lays you face down on the edge of the bed and rubs your clit through your orgasm and your legs shake and stomp trying to get away as more and more liquid spills out of you. once it comes to a stop chenle is uncuffing you and bringing you into his lap and holds you while you cry and hide your face
“pissed so much for me angel, such a good girl”
jisung:
jisung loves watching you come apart for him. holding your vibrator to your clit as his fingers work you open. hes been edging you for a good while now, pulling the toy away whenever he feels you clench. “prettiest girl in the world baby, doing so good” you whimper as you look up at him. he’s fully dressed while you’re completely bare and spread for him. you hiccup slightly, holding back tears. “daddy please” you look and sound so tiny laid out in front of him, “please what pretty baby? tell me what you need” you gulp “please need to cum, can’t take it” he pouts down in faux sympathy “yeah? too much?” you nod your head lazily and he pulls the vibrator away making you whine and buck towards it. “hmm, if it’s too much then why is your pussy begging for it?” you whine again and twist your hands in the sheets. he smiles softly before putting the toy back on you and you moan out and jerk. “just a little longer princess, you just look so cute just can’t stop watching you” you huff and lock eyes with him, your eyes wet and tears threaten to spill. “awe baby don’t cry, promise it’ll be worth it” you nod your head and lean back. when he slightly shifts the vibrator to catch more of your clit your back arches and your hips try get away but he’s quicker, keeping the buzz right on your sensitive nub. “ah ah baby… you wanted this, come on, beg a little more for me” you let out a broken choked out moan before trying to speak. “p-please daddy i need it so much please give it to me, please- fuck! daddy! so good!”. jisung hums in approval and watches you as you writhe. he pushes his fingers back into you and can feel you flutter around him. “you’re close huh?” “yes! please daddy please let me-“ before you can finish he turns the vibrator up higher and you’re screaming, coming undone, release gushing out of you. he takes the toy off and uses his fingers to spread your folds and it splashes and sprays up and drops on your chest and stomach. he rubs you through it as more drools out of you in after shocks, once you’re fully done he keeps circling your clit softly, dragging the pads of his fingers across your slit and folds, spreading your juices. he slows down and comes to a halt and he shows you his dripping fingers.
“told you it would be worth it sweetheart”
a/n: #needthat anyway chenle is gross but we love that abt him <3
i love the nct dream × daddy kink agenda i can't lie. and why am i enjoying a little too much the anal play and the piss kink??? omfg i feel so gross >y<
thigh riding anton while he's wearing those slutty shorts omfg
anton x reader, smut!!!, porn without plot
words-> 1.5k
content-> this is just porn, thigh riding, softdom!anton, pet names (love, baby) fluff (if u squint)
₊˚ʚ♡ɞ˚₊
it all started after he arrived from the gym as usual.
he's all sweaty, his hair is long, messy and damp. but those soft, olive green shorts that hug every curve of his powerful thighs, the fabric strained and riding high is what steals your attention.
he looks utterly edible, and a familiar, desperate heat coils low in your belly. you feel like an animal, acting up by pure impulse. you just can't help it!
he barely leaves his bag crumpled on the floor and you're on your feet before you know it. crossing the room as he moves toward the couch. he stumbles, more from exhaustion than clumsiness, and collapses back into the soft cushions with a heavy sigh.
seizing the opportunity, you don’t hesitate, you climb right into his lap, straddling one of those magnificent thighs. the firm muscle completely uncovered, soft fabric riding up his skin.
he gives you a tired smile, running a hand through his hair. “hey, sweetheart...” his voice is a little rough.
you don't utter a word, you just cup his face in your hands and frame his salty skin with soft but eager pecks. on his cheeks, on each of his closed eyelids, on his forehead, a few on his lips as you lower to his chin, leaving one on the soft stubble that has already grown, all the way down to his neck...
“woah… easy, love,” he chuckles, his hands coming up to steady your hips. his smile is now amused and fond.
your fingers find their way into his dampened hair, interlocking at the warm nape of his neck.
he smells of salt, faint remains of deodorant fight to conceal the sweat, and his own unique, intoxicating scent.
“you look so, so good… i really missed you, ton…” you murmur against his skin, your lips finally finding his in a deep, claiming kiss.
he responds instantly, one hand cradling your jaw, the other splayed possessively on the small of your back, holding you close against him.
the kiss is hungry, probably a week’s worth of longing poured into it.
when you finally break for air, you’re panting. you can feel the hard line of his erection straining against his shorts, pressed against your other thigh, but it’s the thigh you’re seated on that holds your focus.
you shift, a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, grinding down against the solid muscle, and he swears he can feel you pulsing against him. a soft, broken sound escapes you.
anton’s eyes darken, watching your face. he sees the desperate need there, the pure want.
his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “what’s all this, hmm baby?” he asks, his voice a mocking but gentle sigh “couldn’t wait?”
you nod desperately, eyes squeezed shut as your face contorts into pleasure and your grip at his nape tightens. grinding down again, the friction through your thin panties is a sweet promise of what's to happen shortly. “need you, tonnie...” you whimper, the words barely audible. “just... please, just let me...”
understanding dawns in his warm gaze. his poor little girl is so desperate for him!
his hands slide down to grip your hips firmly, not to stop you, but to guide you.
“shhh, i know,” he soothes, his tone achingly sweet yet laced with command. “you can use me, baby. take what you need. my good girl’s been so patient, hasn’t she?”
his permission, voiced in that tender but controlling way, unravels you further.
you nod frantically, your movements becoming more purposeful as you ride the thick muscle of his. the pressure is perfect, relentless, and exactly where you need it
your forehead falls to his shoulder, and you muffle your cries against the fabric of his black shirt, mouth open and drooling. making the fabric even wetter.
“that’s it,” he encourages, his voice a hot whisper in your ear. one hand remains on your hip, setting a slow, grinding rhythm, while the other strokes up and down your spine. “ride my thigh just like that, baby. make yourself feel good on me. let me feel you...you're so wet, i can feel you pulsing on me. you need me so bad, don't you, love?”
his filthy words make you feel dizzy and along with his gentle touch, he sends sparks through your veins. “anton… please…”
“please what, darling?” he prompts, nipping lightly at your earlobe and licking a wet strip on your neck afterwards. “tell me...”
“i’m gonna… i’m so close…” you mumble, rhythm growing desperate and messy. back and forth, sometimes in circles that tickle your clit just right along with anton's leg movements that slightly drive you up and down on his warm skin.
“come on, then,” he commands softly, his grip tightening. enjoying a little too much the flushed red color that decorates your cheeks and the way you keep biting your lip as you look down at the tent on his shorts “keep grinding against me like a bitch in heat and come all over my leg. let me feel you get me even wetter. show me how much you missed me, love...”
his words are the final push. the coil on your belly snaps, and pleasure crashes over you in deep, rolling waves. you shudder violently against him, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you grind down through the pulses, your body held tight in his strong arms as you pull at his hair to keep yourself on earth.
your body locks up, thighs clamping down hard around the muscle you’ve been abusing. your hips stutter, a frantic, jerking rhythm that milks every last drop of your orgasm as you shudder apart in his lap. you’re vaguely aware of the sound you’re making, something between a high, broken keen that’s half-cry, half-whimper and the feeling of wetness flooding the thin fabric of your panties, soaking into his skin and the soft olive of his shorts.
anton holds you through it, he murmurs praise, low and filthy, into your hair. “that’s my girl…” he groans, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “fuck, look at the mess you made. all over me. so perfect and beautiful for me, weren’t you? don't worry, baby, i've got you..."
as the tremors subside, you go boneless and breathing heavily against him.
he shifts you gently, pulling you fully into his lap so you’re cuddled against his chest, his arms wrapped around you.
you can still feel his erection poking at your side, but he doesn't seem to mind. your pleasure always before his.
he presses a long, tender kiss to the top of your head. “feel better, love?” he asks, his voice now pure, unadulterated softness.
You nod, nuzzling into his neck. “mhhmm. thank you, tonnie. but it's your fault for wearing these shorts, though. not fair. i can only imagine what all the girls at the gym were thinking too...” you pout cutely as you caress his chest and play with the fabric of his shirt.
he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. he rests his cheek on your head, content to just hold you.
“only get to see this though, don’t they?” he murmurs, rubbing your back soothingly. "they can look all they want, but this... this is all mine."
you hum in agreement, a sleepy, satisfied sound that makes him smile like a fool.
(request) @dieharddoyoungsquish said: i have a thought that you might be interested in … and i feel like you’d eat down if u you ever write something like this (a.n -> thanks girl, i love that faith u have in me). HEAR ME OUT- gynecologist jaemin and his patient who can never seem to figure out what’s wrong with her
You came to Dr. Na because something was wrong with your body. He promised he'd find the cause, and he finally did. The diagnosis was simple.
But the treatment is going to become your favorite secret.
gynecologist jaemin x reader, smut!!!, kinddd of a dark fic, noncon ig...
words-> 2.5k words
content-> medical malpractice (runaway if a doctor ever touches you this way omfg), masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation (f recieving), manipulation ig, pet names (sweetheart, princess, baby, dr. na omg that's hot isn't it) sexuality's a taboo for y/n, y/n's too naive, jaemin's a pervert, that's pretty much it but it's hot trust meee
cami's notes at the end :3
The air in Dr. Na's office was always the same: cold, smelling faintly of unsettling antiseptic and the subtle lavender from his oil burner at the corner of his desk.
It was a scent you’d come to associate with a specific kind of hope, one that always sent into a familiar, quiet despair.
You sat on the examination table for the third time in a month, the crinkly paper bunching under your thighs, your hands clenched in your lap, explaining it all over again.
“It’s just…uncomfortable,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on the diplomas lining his wall. “A constant pressure. A kind of…ache. I lay in bed and it’s all I can think about and I can't seem to do anything to stop it. Sometimes it gets so…much, I cry.” A traitorous tear escaped, tracing a hot path down your cheek. You swiped at it angrily but it was followed by many other salted drops, hating your own body.
Dr. Na shifted on his stool, his expression one of profound, gentle concern. “Oh sweetheart...” he murmured, his voice dropping into that soft, melodic register he used, soothing and cloyingly sweet. “We’ve tried the pelvic floor exercises, the vitamin regimen, the anti-inflammatory diet… and still my sweet girl is suffering.” He leaned forward, his handsome face a mask of empathetic frustration. “It just breaks my heart.”
You nodded, sniffling.
His kindness was both a balm and an agony to your soul.
He was so good, so patient, while you were just a broken thing he couldn’t fix.
You felt a confusing flush of warmth at his attention, quickly followed by shame.
He was silent for a long moment, tapping his pen against his chin. Then he blinked, as if a thought of startling clarity had just struck him. He let out a soft, almost laugh-like sigh. “I think...I’ve been approaching this all wrong.” he said, more to himself than to you.
His eyes, dark and suddenly intensely focused, lifted to yours.
“Sweetheart, I need to ask you something very personal. It’s important, okay? Can you be brave for me?”
You nodded enthusiastically, willing to please but with a tight throat.
“Has anyone ever…touched you before? Down there?”
You stared. Your mind blank. Touched? Like during an exam? “You… you touch me there…” you said, confused.
A small, patient smile played on his lips. “No, my darling. Not like a doctor. I mean… for pleasure. Has anyone ever pleased you? Or have you ever… pleased yourself?”
The words hung in the sterile air, making no sense.
Pleasure? That area was for discomfort, for problems, for doctor’s visits. Not pleasure. Your face must have shown your utter bewilderment.
He sighed, a sound of fond exasperation. “Let me be perfectly clear, sweetheart. Have you ever masturbated? Has a boy ever… fingered you?”
The clinical terms clashed in your head. You knew the words, of course, but in the abstract, distant way you knew about things that happened to other, different kinds of people. Not to you.
Your conservative upbringing had drawn an impermeable border around your body: it was not for your own curiosity, certainly not for pleasure.
It was a vessel for future duty, currently a source of malfunction.
You shook your head slowly. “I…I don’t know what you mean.”
A slow, brilliant smile spread across Dr. Na’s face. It was a smile of pure, triumphant discovery. “Oh, you precious thing,” he cooed, his voice dripping with a new, possessive warmth. “I understand now. I finally know what’s wrong with you, and I know exactly how to fix it...”
Your heart stammered. Fix it? Hope, fragile and desperate, fluttered in your chest. “Ohh, you do?!”
“I do,” he said, standing up. He moved to the door and turned the lock with a soft but definitive click.
He washed his hands meticulously at the sink, the water running and his back to you, defined muscles tight and covered by the white coat that seemed to hypnotize you with his every move. Each dip and curve looked as if it had been carved to his body by a divinity.
“We just need one last, very special examination. It’s a bit… unconventional. But you trust me, don’t you, sweetheart?”
You did. He was your doctor and he was so nice, he would never do anything wrong. “Yes...”
“Good girl.” He turned, drying his hands, his eyes gliding over you in a way that made your skin prickle, a strange heat pooling low in your belly, the very discomfort you’d complained about, but now it was…shifting. “Just lie back for me. Slide down to the edge of the table and put your feet in the stirrups. That’s my girl...”
You obeyed, the pose familiar yet suddenly charged with an unnamed tension.
His eyes, now cold and hungry analyzed your barely covered figure, the thin paper gown doing nothing to conceal your hardened nipples or the way your hip bones protrude.
Long fingers mindfully folding the white coat and shirt up all the way to his veiny forearms. Your eyes are on him, he knows it. An arrogant smirk forming into his soft features.
He sat on a rolling stool between your legs, now out of frame.
His hands were warm as they glided up your inner thighs, pushing the gown higher. You flinched at the contact.
“Shhh,” he soothed, baby voice wrapping around you. “It’s just me...you’re safe.” He snapped on a glove, the sound stark in the quiet room. “I need you to relax. This will only work if you relax for me. Can you do that, princess?”
You took a shaky breath and nodded, closing your eyes.
He hummed, a low, thoughtful sound in his throat. “So much tension...” he murmured, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. “You’re all wound up so tight here, sweetheart.”
Your breath hitched as his touch became slower, purposeful, exploring not for pathology but for something else. A fingertip circled a spot you didn’t know existed, and you jolted, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat.
That feeling wasn't the usual clinical discomfort, it was something else.
And that something made you feel alive.
“There it is,” he whispered, his voice losing some of its sugary tone, gaining an intimate depth. “That’s the source of all your tension, my poor little thing. Just a little bundle of nerves, all locked up and lonely.” His finger pressed again, a little firmer, and a bolt of pure, shocking sensation shot through you. You cried out, your back arching off the table.
“See?” he murmured, his other hand coming to rest on your trembling abdomen, holding you down. “Your body knows...it’s been begging for this. All that discomfort…it was just frustration.” His finger began a slow, torturous rhythm, circling, stroking.
“Shhhh, it’s okay,” he soothed, his fingers finding their new target, tracing the slick, heated folds.
Fingers pulling apart your major lips, trapping your clit along with your minor lips between his index and middle finger, digits caressing up and down with extra pressure that gets arousal gathering at your rim. “Your little pussy has never been touched like this, has it? Never know what it’s for." A shameless sigh followed by... "Fuck sweetheart, you're so wet...”
The crude words coming from his professional lips were a shock to you. But the shock was drowned out by the wave of sensation that followed as his thumb brushed again over the tiny, throbbing nub you didn’t know existed just minutes ago.
You gasped, your hips jerking off the table.
“There it is...” he breathed, a note of excitement in his tone. “That’s the problem. All this…energy…has nowhere to go. It’s all clogged up and it's making you sick with need. But don’t worry, sweetie I’m going to fix it...You’re going to be a good little patient for Dr. Na and let me empty you from all this nasty ache, won't you?"
Head nodding rapidly, quick to answer, too afraid he might take the delicious felling away. Lips parted open allowing pretty sobs slip from them.
“You’ve never felt this, have you? This heat? This tightness coiling in your sweet little belly?”
You couldn’t speak. Tears welled again, but these were tears from the overwhelming, terrifying sensation.
You shook your head, a sob mingling with a moan as his thumb dipped slightly inside you, then returned to that devastating, brilliant point.
The feeling was mounting, an unbearable pressure building deep inside, a coil twisting tighter and tighter, pushing against your bones. You felt frantic, wild, like an animal caught in a trap. You thrashed your head from side to side, your knuckles white where you gripped the edges of the table.
"It’s okay,” he crooned, his own breath becoming uneven. “It’s my job to take care of you, sweetie... Your body isn’t yours to worry about, is it? Let me take care of it. Just let go...”
His words slithered past the last fragments of your pavlovian conditioning.
Your body wasn’t your own. He was the authority. He was making the bad feeling go away, replacing it with this…this storm only he could create.
You surrendered to it, to him, a whimper escaping your lips as the coil inside you wound impossibly tight.
“Let go, baby,” he commanded, his voice suddenly a low growl. “Stop fighting me. Let go for Dr. Na. Cum. Cum for me. Now. Ohh yeah, that’s it, princess” he urged hearing the squelch that accompanied his thumb's every upward movement, his voice thick with a hunger you were too innocent to name. “Come on, sweet girl. Show me, show me you’re all better.”
With a guttural cry that was torn from your core, the coil snapped.
Your vision went white. A hot, pulsating wave of pure pleasure broke over you, so intense it was almost painful.
Erasing thought, erasing fear, erasing everything but the feeling and the sound of Dr. Na’s low, approving hum.
Your body bucked, your thighs trembling uncontrollably and your ears felt clogged as release washed through you in long, shuddering spasms, something warm trickling out, wetting your thighs and the crinkly paper. You were crying openly now, sobs of relief and utter confusion wracking your frame.
He kept working you through it, his touch relentless, drawing out every last aftershock until you collapsed, limp and panting, against the table.
You stared at the ceiling, the world slowly coming back into focus. As the tremors subsided, leaving you boneless and gasping, he slowly withdrew his hand. He peeled off the dampened glove with a soft snap, landing into the small metallic table with a thud. He's going to save it for later, for research purposes, of course.
He stood up, and you blinked, your vision clearing. His shirt was untucked at his chest, revealing his bumped pectorals along with a sheen of sweat on his brow and a very evident bulge pressing against his trousers.
The sight sent a fresh, confusing jolt through you.
He took your chin in his fingers, tilting your face up to his. He wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. His erection pressing against your thigh.
He smoothed your hair back from your damp forehead. “Look,” he said, his voice gentle once more, the authority replaced with a tenderness that felt like a reward. “Look at my sweet girl. All better now.” Places a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and his perfectly aligned teeth come to sight as his lips draw a smile that gives you goosebumps. "All better. The diagnosis was simple: chronic neglect."
“That was the cure, princess,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “Your body was starving for release. For a man’s touch. My touch.”
You could only stare at him, your mind a blank canvas he was painting on. The ache, the one that had been your constant companion for months, was gone. In its place was a strange, pleasant warmth and a deep, aching void that already seemed to miss his touch.
“Now, the prescription?” He smiled again, a gentle, benevolent curve of his lips that didn’t reach his hungry, possessive eyes. “Regular hands-on therapy. We’ll need to schedule follow-ups… quite frequently. To ensure the discomfort doesn’t return, is that okay, princess?"
You could only nod, your mind completely blank. He helped you sit up, the paper gown rustling. Your legs felt like jelly.
“I need you to understand something, sweetheart,” he said, his hands on your shoulders, holding you steady. His gaze was intense, locking you in place. “This is our special secret. You can’t tell anyone. No one would understand our methods. They wouldn’t understand that I had to touch you like that to make you feel better. They might try to take your treatment away. We can’t let that happen, can we?”
You shook your head, the thought of losing this relief, of letting the ache return was unbearable.
This feeling was wrong, you knew it, but it was the first thing that had ever felt truly right.
He had fixed you. He had found what was wrong...
“That’s my good girl,” he purred, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. His lips were warm and the kiss felt like a blessing. “Such a smart, obedient patient for me!”
He stepped back, adjusting himself. He became Dr. Na again, composed, professional, but the air between you had been irrevocably altered, thick with the knowledge of what had just occurred.
He watched you with an unnerving stillness, your movements clumsy in the aftermath. You slid off the table, your bare feet meeting the cool floor, and a new kind of slickness trickled down your inner thigh, a reminder of what he had taken from you.
Dr. Na walked to his desk, his back to you once more, and picked up a sleek silver pen. He clicked it once, the sharp, precise sound cutting through the hum of the lights. He began to write on a fresh prescription pad, the scratch of the pen the only sound in the room. You stood there, feeling exposed and small, clutching the flimsy paper to your chest like a shield.
Finally, he tore off the sheet. He didn't hand it to you. He folded it neatly and placed it inside a small, discreet white envelope. He turned and held it out. Your fingers trembled as you took it.
“This is for our next session,” he said, his tone all business now. “I’ve written my personal number on the back. You don’t call the front desk anymore. You call me, directly.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.
❤︎₊ ⊹
haiii, omggg my second anon!! as soon as i recieved this i KNEW i had to start writing. i li-terally reached a flow state and i've been writing since the evening...and now it's midnight :,0
i love the concept of jaem being a nasty freak and a pervert, he's just like me......
anyway, just to let u know that obviously i do nawt condone this behavior, it's ok to have a small kinkk but do not!! let a doctor touch you this way EVER. okay, ty.
hope you enjoyed it!! PLEASE let me know if you did!! feedback and any other comments or thoughts are always appreciated :3 tysmmmm for readiiiing <3
& thxs to @dieharddoyoungsquish for the ideaaaaa<33
available on ao3 as well! -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/89348466
summary: you have a strange addiction and when you finally get caught, your punishment tastes sweeter than you anticipated...
pairing: haechan x reader
genre: smut, fluff, best friends to lovers
warnings: borrowing/stealing, swearing, slapping, blowjob/mouth-fucking, hair-pulling, cum-eating, humiliation kink (implied), degradation+praise, fingering, size kink, lowkey mean dom!haechan, unprotected sex (pls don't), creampie (uh oh), pinching, confessions
word count: 3.6k
author's note: so i've read lots of fics where the ML steals panties or smth but i wanted to try something different and make reader the thief lmao, the fic is somewhat inspired by haechan's iconic song roll with me and the abundance of teddy bear pyjamas i saw when shopping recently; keep an eye out for the usual song references
You know what you've been doing for the past couple of months is deeply questionable and borderline creepy. But you really can't help yourself. It's like whenever the opportunity arises, some demon possesses you to do this crazy, unacceptable thing.
The insane act in question is that you've been stealing your best friend's pyjamas obsessively. Whenever he invites you to have a sleepover at his place, you always forget to bring your own pyjamas. So, Haechan, being the kind host he is, always lets you borrow his. And like, in your defense, he has so many of them. Teddy bear pyjamas, Kuromi pyjamas, candy cane pyjamas, pink ribbons pyjamas…His pyjama collection is truly astonishing. You always promise you'll wash them and return them later, but whenever morning comes, you've sneaked out of his place before he could wake up or even make breakfast.
You never return his pyjamas…And Haechan never asks for them back. You don't know why you're doing this. Scratch that, you do. Because his pyjamas always smell like him. The truth of the matter is…you might have a bit of a crush on your best friend. But you can't possibly tell him. Because that would be the end of it all. There is no way in hell your feelings are reciprocated. So you've decided not to say anything at all.
But fate, or to be more specific, Haechan seems to have other plans.
"What do you mean you need a place to crash?" you ask the brown-haired boy standing at your doorstep.
"They've been spraying against cockroaches at my apartment," Haechan explains calmly. "It smells like shit. I literally can't breathe there anymore, let alone sleep."
"So you thought of me?" you blink in shock.
"Duh. Who else would let me in?" Haechan shrugs and sneaks inside of your apartment before you could protest.
"But…my place is so cramped," you look around, suddenly feeling nervous. Haechan never comes to your place, in the early days of your friendship he would complain that it's too small and he would rather you two hang out at his. And who were you to argue? But now…you just have to make sure he doesn't find HIS own pyjamas that you've been stealing and keeping in YOUR wardrobe. Like the crazy person you are.
"Eh, it'll be fine for just one night."
He looks around the living roomcuriously, eyeing the tiny couch with distaste. There is no way in hell he'll fit in there.
"I can take the bed, right?" Haechan doesn't even wait for an answer and heads towards your bedroom. You are completely stunned by his lack of decorum. Sure, you're the thief in this friendship, but…inviting himself like this and expecting to use your bed is just too much…
"Erm," you follow him awkwardly to your bedroom, trying to keep your composure.
"Ooh, cozy," Haechan flops himself onto your bed, immediately grabbing one of your teddy bears to hug. "Why don't we spend more time at yours?"
What. The. Fuck?!
"You literally always say my place is too small," you remind him. "That's why you generally insist on having sleepovers at yours."
"Hmm, I wouldn't say your apartment is that small," Haechan replies with an easy grin. "After all, it's big enough for your collection."
You freeze. No way he's figured it out. He hasn't mentioned it so far. Why now?
"What collection?" you ask dumbly and perhaps somewhat guiltily.
"Your book collection," Haechan smirks. "If there's enough space for all these books, then surely there's enough space for me, as well."
Hah. Little does he know how much of him you're keeping in your wardrobe metres away from him.
"Uh, sure, yes," you mumble. Never before have you been so monosyllabic in your conversations with Haechan. He's always made you feel comfortable enough to rant about anything and everything. But you feel so consumed with thoughts about your criminal behaviour and the idea of getting caught that whatever you say feels awkward and wrong.
"Aren't you gonna offer me pyjamas to sleep in?" he blinks innocently. "I always have a spare for you."
Come on. He's acting like he knows. You wonder if Haechan is tormenting you on purpose or if this is his usual way of interacting. Might as well come clean already and put an end to your suffering. But admitting it out loud would feel so shameful…So, you stubbornly keep the act up.
"I don't think there's anything in here that would fit you."
This is the dumbest thing you could have said. Because you tend to wear oversized pyjamas and if anything, it's Haechan's that are a bit tight for you…
"Oh, really?" Haechan raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "Mind if I check?"
You gulp nervously, no longer finding a way out of this situation.
If you tell him you don't want him going through your wardrobe, you will have to think of a logical explanation for your refusal. If you let him do it…it's basically equal to admitting culpability.
You nod half-heartedly, feeling the colour drain from your cheeks. The tension is going to kill you, as Haechan walks towards your wardrobe. You feel like you will pass out any second now. You need to think of something. But your brain is refusing to cooperate. It's too late. What if you go to prison for this? Or worse…What if Haechan never speaks to you again?
With your peripheral vision, you see Haechan opening the wardrobe and finding the dreaded pyjamas.
"I've been looking for these forever!" he gasps in mock surprise. But his tone is suggesting that he already knew. Fuck.
"I'm sorry…I was intending to return them," you try to talk your way out of this.
"When?" he questions you, tilting his head to the side.
"Um…eventually?"
Haechan sniffs the pair of pyjamas you stole most recently.
"Funny. They still smell like my perfume. Looks like you haven't even washed them."
"I know how this looks…" you mumble and somehow you've ended up on your knees, as if pleading for his mercy.
"Explain it, then. If you can," Haechan stares at you mockingly as if he's already won a game you weren't aware you've been playing.
"I just…forgot to return them?" you try.
"Is that so? Surely, you open your wardrobe every day. And we see each other often enough for you to remember. Try harder," he sits on your bed once again, legs spread like he owns the place. Perhaps he does. In more ways than one.
"Uh…they just smell really nice."
"Is it my perfume you're addicted to?" Haechan continues teasing you. "I could have told you the brand, you just had to ask."
"It's not the perfume, to be exact. They…smell like you," you confess, feeling more mortified than when he opened the wardrobe moments ago.
"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," he nods in approval. "You like my pyjamas. You like my smell. What's next? You're gonna say you like me?"
The way Haechan blurts it out so casually makes your blood run cold. You look up guiltily. If he hasn't figured it out already, then the truth is evident enough in your moist eyes.
"I thought it was obvious…" you murmur.
"There's nothing obvious about you," Haechan shakes his head. "Imma need you to spell it out for me."
"Why? What difference does it make?" you cry out. "If you're just trying to humiliate me…"
"Now, why would I want that? Unless it's something you're into…"
What the hell?!
"Say it," he urges you. "Tell me you like me."
"I like you," you finally cave. "I like you so much I resort to insane acts like stealing your pyjamas whenever you let me borrow them. I like you so much I'm obsessed with the way you smell. I like you so much I think of you whenever I see teddy bears or Kuromi or even the stupid Sun. I like you so fucking much it terrifies me. Are you happy now, Haechan?"
"Ecstatic," he admits and leans down, capturing your lips in a rough but nevertheless comforting kiss. You can hardly believe what's happening but you would be a fool not to kiss him back just as eagerly, as if to convey all the emotions you've been keeping bottled up for so long. And damnit, it feels good. Better than you've ever imagined. Haechan's lips are soft and taste like honey, but his kiss is merciless, fucking your tongue as if he's angry at you for lying, for stealing, for liking him. And you know you deserve his anger. But what you don't think you deserve is how delicious this is…
Haechan breaks the kiss and caresses your cheek softly. You're already kneeling for some reason so what he has in mind would be easier to achieve than he initially intended.
"Open your mouth," he commands you easily and you do so without thinking.
Seconds later he's pulling his cock out of his dark jeans and you're stunned by how quickly everything is progressing. Minutes ago, you were worried about how he'd react when he found out your dirty little secret and now you're engaging in activities you never thought possible with him. Whether your feelings are requited or not or he's just intent on playing with you, you genuinely can't tell. But you can't find it in yourself to deny him the pleasure you so desperately want to give him. So, you obediently wrap your lips around his length, trying your best to suck and lick and do everything that might stimulate him.
Haechan pulls your hair tightly and fucks your mouth with a savage pace, further intensifying the wave of anger you think he feels towards you. It's so humiliating and satisfying at once.
"That's right, take it like the stupid whore you are," he whispers meanly and you can't help but moan at the intrusion.
Tears clouding your vision, throat already sore, you grip the back of his legs for dear life, wanting to be good for him, wanting to make up for everything. Even if you're not sure you're doing that much of a good job, Haechan seems enthusiastic enough to send spurts of cum down your throat. You nearly choke but you keep swallowing until he finally lets go of your head and looks at you with a mixture of amazement and…pity? You can't tell. He's so difficult to read in this moment.
"Get up," he orders you and you follow, even though your brain already feels foggy and your legs are threatening to give out from kneeling for so long. "Lie down."
You stare at your own bed as if it's the strangest, most terrifying object you've ever seen. Hesitantly, you climb on the bed, obeying Haechan's instructions.
He leans closer and without warning, slides his hand inside your shorts, taking your pussy with his fingers like it's rightfully his. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it has been for a long time now…
"Relax for me, don't tense up," Haechan mumbles in your ear. You do your best to let go and just enjoy the feeling. But overthinking gets the worst of you and your start panicking a little. It should feel so good and yet…you're so stiff that the sensation of his fingers entering you becomes somewhat uncomfortable.
"I c-can't," you try to remove his hand with your own.
"Don't you like me?" Haechan pouts with the cutest pleading eyes ever.
"I do, I do like you," you repeat. "But it's so weird, I can't."
"Just don't think about it, hm? I'll take care of you, yeah?" he promises.
You shake your head furiously.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Why do you think?" Haechan sighs as it's as plain as a pikestaff.
"To…punish me for stealing your pyjamas?"
"Punish you?" he laughs. He has the audacity to laugh. You're losing your mind here and he's laughing?! "Fuck, you're really more clueless than I thought."
You don't know what that means, but his words are powerful enough to distract you and soon you've realized you're starting to relax, his ministrations making you feel euphoric and wetter. He relentlessly fucks your pussy with his ridiculously long fingers and the sight of his veiny hand inside you is enough to send you over the edge.
"There you go, sweetheart, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Haechan coos in your ear, as if you're a petulant child who's been stubbornly trying to escape being disciplined.
"N-no," you admit reluctantly, gasping in disbelief at the situation you've found yourself in.
He slaps your cheek gently without putting any force behind the action.
"Good girl," he says and those two little words are enough to send goosebumps running down your skin.
You blink furiously to stop yourself from bursting into tears when Haechan mutters something that shocks you even further.
"I want to fuck you while you're wearing my pyjamas."
"You want to what?" you yelp.
"Don't make me repeat myself," his unforgiving tone suggests he won't take 'no' for an answer and you decide it would be wise not to argue. After all, you are the one in the wrong here. Whatever your best friend wants, he should get. Right? "I'll be nice and let you pick a pair. You've taken how many exactly? Three? Four?"
"Four," you clarify, stupidly confessing your crime once again.
"Four," he repeats with a humming sound. "So, which one is your favourite pair? The Kuromi one?"
"The teddy bear pyjamas," you admit, feeling even more ashamed. Because you've always associated him with bears. And you've told him so on multiple occasions.
Haechan chuckles knowingly.
"Of course it is," he gets up from the bed and picks it up from your wardrobe. "What are you waiting for? Strip."
You are pretty sure your soul has already left your body but your hands seem to have a mind of their own and start removing your shorts and T-shirt slowly. You're left in nothing but your already soaked panties since you generally don't wear a bra at home. You look at Haechan, feeling more nervous than before.
"Put it on," he instructs you yet again and you hurriedly slide into his teddy bear pyjamas.
This is insane. You are surely dreaming.
"Cute," he breathes out. "Too bad I'm gonna have to ruin them."
"Do you really have to?" you ask.
Not that you don't want this. You do. More badly than anything you've ever longed for. But you're still unsure whether Haechan actually wants to fuck you or rather…fuck with you.
"I don't have to," he explains patiently. "But how else am I supposed to teach you a lesson, hm? If I don't, you'll just keep stealing until I have no pyjamas left."
"I won't, I promise," you sniffle helplessly.
"See, I don't trust you. And if you want to gain my trust back, you're gonna have to listen and do as I say, 'kay?"
You nod desperately. Losing Haechan's trust would be far more terrifying than the ridiculous idea of going to prison.
"That's what I thought," he scoffs and kisses you once more. If you thought your first kiss was savage in its intensity, then you've obviously underestimated Haechan's ability to make you go absolutely crazy for him. He's biting your lips hard enough to draw blood, pulling your hair back. Then, he moves on to your neck, sucking the sensitive skin there until hickeys form. "Fucking hell, you look so adorable like this. Wearing my pyjamas."
"I'm sorry," you moan, even though you're not sure what you're apologizing for.
"Don't be. Why do you think I never called you out earlier? Did you seriously think I didn't notice?"
Wait, what?!
"I wanted to see how far you'd go. I wanted to check if you'd come clean by yourself or if I'd have to fuck it out of you," Haechan whispers wickedly.
You're still not following, but you decide not to ask any further questions and just enjoy…whatever this is. While it lasts.
He pulls the pyjama pants slightly down your body and pushes your flimsy panties to the side, easily teasing your folds with the tip of his thick cock. He hasn't even entered you fully yet and you're already on the verge of passing out. You like him so fucking much it would be pathetic if you weren't so damn happy about it.
Haechan pumps his cock a couple of times, continuing to torment you oh so sweetly. Then, he lifts your legs up so that he has easier access and slides inside of you.
"Fuck," you have no choice but to gasp at the sudden stretch.
"Shhh, you can take me," he caresses your hair gently, but his movements are so violently erratic that the contrast between his sweet words and cruel actions gives you a whiplash.
"You're so b-big," you moan and thrash under him.
"I know, sweetheart," Haechan purrs condescendingly. "But you need to be taught a lesson. You need this."
"I do, I need you," you repeat dumbly like a mantra. Because it's true. You've needed him for as long as you can remember. And now that he's finally here, skin to skin, connecting with you, you can't bear the thought of ever letting go.
"Are you close?" he asks as he caresses your clit with his thumb, while still fucking into you with his cock. The sensation is so overwhelming it is a true wonder your eyes are still open.
"Yeah," you admit.
"Me too. Tell me where to cum," Haechan pleads.
Wait, what? It only now hits you that you're not using any protection. Everything happened so quickly, so unexpectedly (for you) that you are completely unprepared for the safety aspect.
"I d-don't know," you are so fucked out that your brain refuses to come up with a logical solution.
"If you don't tell me, I'll just do it inside of you," he threatens.
Huh. Suddenly, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea. Perhaps you'll regret it later. But in this moment, you couldn't care less.
"3…2…1," Haechan counts down and you find yourself filled with his warm seed. Fuck. You feel your orgasm hitting you stronger than ever and you shake underneath him. You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to be close. It's so cozy and comfortable.
Alas, he slides out and watches in amazement as his cum starts dripping out of you.
"So pretty like this," Haechan marvels in awe. "So filthy and messy."
"Nngh," you can't be bothered with full sentences.
"Should I fuck you again until you lose consciousness?" he wonders out loud.
You are awake enough to freeze at the warning. Weakly, you shake your head, but you know it's not really up to you. If he wanted to, Haechan could do anything and you would gladly accept it.
"I won't. Another time, maybe," he vows mysteriously.
"Another time?" you ask hopefully. "You want…to do this again?"
"I mean, ideally we would have gone out on a date first, but…of course, I want to do this again, baby."
Baby? Hold up, rewind a minute. Did you miss a chapter?
"You're not angry? You don't want to end our friendship?"
"Angry? No," Haechan groans as if he find the mere idea repulsive. "And if by ending the friendship you mean starting to date, then, yeah, that's exactly what I want."
"Am I dreaming?" you need to know.
Haechan pinches your cheeks hard enough to make it hurt.
"Ouch," you complain loudly.
"Yeah, you're definitely not dreaming," he reassures you.
"So…you like me, too?" you just want to hear him say it. At least once.
"I like you. I like you so much I resort to insane acts like letting you borrow my pyjamas and being happy when you steal them. I like you so much I'm obsessed with the sight of you wearing my stuff. I like you so much I think of you whenever I see strawberries or ribbons or sunflowers. I like you so fucking much it terrifies me. Because losing you is my worst nightmare. Are you happy now, Y/N?" Haechan confesses, reitarating your words from earlier but from his own perspective.
The unexpected reality is so much sweeter than your wildest dreams.
"Never been happier," you grin widely and kiss him again. Your third kiss is softer, more languid than the first and infinitely less savage than your second. But honestly? You enjoy all three of them. In different ways.
"Next time you feel like stealing my pyjamas, just say so. I'll have to buy more pairs, spray them with my perfume and give them to you," Haechan promises sweetly.
"Your perfume isn't enough," you sigh. "They need to smell like you."
"Oh, you're such a freak," he nudges your shoulder playfully.
"But I'm your freak," you stick your tongue out at him.
"That you are," Haechan agrees, rolling with you in bed, capturing you in the tightest, warmest hug ever.
"You're my everything, Haechan. Never forget that," you insist.
"I won't," he smiles softly, kissing your forehead. "Just stop stealing from me."
"Noted," you chuckle.
"Or even better. We'll get matching pyjamas and just share them! What's mine is yours and vice versa."
"You're obsessed with pyjamas, aren't you?" you shake your head.
"Said the pyjama thief," Haechan flicks your nose.
"You'll never let me live it down, will you?"
"Nope. You're stuck with the victim of your crimes forever."
"So dramatic," you roll your eyes.
"You love it," Haechan reminds you.
And you can't argue because he's right. A little bit crazy and sometimes mean. But still your favourite sunshine, your teddy bear. And always, perfectly right for you.
HI MOOT ! first off i wanna say your writing is so delicious (i am still hung up on lover of mine) and i feel honored to be moots with you wisiwjjd
i have a thought that you might be interested in … and i feel like you’d eat down if u you ever write something like this
HEAR ME OUT- gynecologist jaemin and his patient who can never seem to figure out what’s wrong with her
she’d go to him complaining about how uncomfortable it is down there, how she can’t sleep sometimes because it’s too much, how she sometimes cries because of the discomfort. dr. na listens intently to all her concerns, his heart aches as a tear rolls down her cheek as she explains for the 3rd visit that week that the discomfort hasn’t passed. she tried the exercises he recommended, the vitamins he prescribed, the diet he said she should try, and still feels uncomfortable. it finally hits him, something that never crossed his mind during the past few consultations because after all, she was a grown woman, and based on what he’d heard from her he had no reason to check her sexual activity, so he decides to ask her.
“have you ever been touched before?”
she stared at him confused. he thought maybe he should be more forward.
“has anybody ever pleased you? or have you been pleasing yourself?”
the confused look on her face remained. he sighs, maybe he really needs to spell it out for her
“have you ever masturbated? been fingered?”
he stares at her, waiting for her answer, and she finally gives one
“i don’t know what you mean”
a small smile creeps on his face, he’d finally figured it out.
“poor girl. i think i know what will fix you.”
IWJJJSJWD I AM GOING INSANE now im gonna go crawl back to the whole i came from
Haiiii, i'm pleased to announce that i loved your thoughts and i was able to finish writing just now.....I REALLY HOPE U LIKE IT😭😭
here it isss ->
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · doctor!doctor! · (request) @dieharddoyoungsquish said: i have a thought that you might be interested in … and i feel like y
tysm for being my second request!!! and tysm for supporting me too, means a lott💗💗💗
(request) @dieharddoyoungsquish said: i have a thought that you might be interested in … and i feel like you’d eat down if u you ever write something like this (a.n -> thanks girl, i love that faith u have in me). HEAR ME OUT- gynecologist jaemin and his patient who can never seem to figure out what’s wrong with her
You came to Dr. Na because something was wrong with your body. He promised he'd find the cause, and he finally did. The diagnosis was simple.
But the treatment is going to become your favorite secret.
gynecologist jaemin x reader, smut!!!, kinddd of a dark fic, noncon ig...
words-> 2.5k words
content-> medical malpractice (runaway if a doctor ever touches you this way omfg), masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation (f recieving), manipulation ig, pet names (sweetheart, princess, baby, dr. na omg that's hot isn't it) sexuality's a taboo for y/n, y/n's too naive, jaemin's a pervert, that's pretty much it but it's hot trust meee
cami's notes at the end :3
The air in Dr. Na's office was always the same: cold, smelling faintly of unsettling antiseptic and the subtle lavender from his oil burner at the corner of his desk.
It was a scent you’d come to associate with a specific kind of hope, one that always sent into a familiar, quiet despair.
You sat on the examination table for the third time in a month, the crinkly paper bunching under your thighs, your hands clenched in your lap, explaining it all over again.
“It’s just…uncomfortable,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on the diplomas lining his wall. “A constant pressure. A kind of…ache. I lay in bed and it’s all I can think about and I can't seem to do anything to stop it. Sometimes it gets so…much, I cry.” A traitorous tear escaped, tracing a hot path down your cheek. You swiped at it angrily but it was followed by many other salted drops, hating your own body.
Dr. Na shifted on his stool, his expression one of profound, gentle concern. “Oh sweetheart...” he murmured, his voice dropping into that soft, melodic register he used, soothing and cloyingly sweet. “We’ve tried the pelvic floor exercises, the vitamin regimen, the anti-inflammatory diet… and still my sweet girl is suffering.” He leaned forward, his handsome face a mask of empathetic frustration. “It just breaks my heart.”
You nodded, sniffling.
His kindness was both a balm and an agony to your soul.
He was so good, so patient, while you were just a broken thing he couldn’t fix.
You felt a confusing flush of warmth at his attention, quickly followed by shame.
He was silent for a long moment, tapping his pen against his chin. Then he blinked, as if a thought of startling clarity had just struck him. He let out a soft, almost laugh-like sigh. “I think...I’ve been approaching this all wrong.” he said, more to himself than to you.
His eyes, dark and suddenly intensely focused, lifted to yours.
“Sweetheart, I need to ask you something very personal. It’s important, okay? Can you be brave for me?”
You nodded enthusiastically, willing to please but with a tight throat.
“Has anyone ever…touched you before? Down there?”
You stared. Your mind blank. Touched? Like during an exam? “You… you touch me there…” you said, confused.
A small, patient smile played on his lips. “No, my darling. Not like a doctor. I mean… for pleasure. Has anyone ever pleased you? Or have you ever… pleased yourself?”
The words hung in the sterile air, making no sense.
Pleasure? That area was for discomfort, for problems, for doctor’s visits. Not pleasure. Your face must have shown your utter bewilderment.
He sighed, a sound of fond exasperation. “Let me be perfectly clear, sweetheart. Have you ever masturbated? Has a boy ever… fingered you?”
The clinical terms clashed in your head. You knew the words, of course, but in the abstract, distant way you knew about things that happened to other, different kinds of people. Not to you.
Your conservative upbringing had drawn an impermeable border around your body: it was not for your own curiosity, certainly not for pleasure.
It was a vessel for future duty, currently a source of malfunction.
You shook your head slowly. “I…I don’t know what you mean.”
A slow, brilliant smile spread across Dr. Na’s face. It was a smile of pure, triumphant discovery. “Oh, you precious thing,” he cooed, his voice dripping with a new, possessive warmth. “I understand now. I finally know what’s wrong with you, and I know exactly how to fix it...”
Your heart stammered. Fix it? Hope, fragile and desperate, fluttered in your chest. “Ohh, you do?!”
“I do,” he said, standing up. He moved to the door and turned the lock with a soft but definitive click.
He washed his hands meticulously at the sink, the water running and his back to you, defined muscles tight and covered by the white coat that seemed to hypnotize you with his every move. Each dip and curve looked as if it had been carved to his body by a divinity.
“We just need one last, very special examination. It’s a bit… unconventional. But you trust me, don’t you, sweetheart?”
You did. He was your doctor and he was so nice, he would never do anything wrong. “Yes...”
“Good girl.” He turned, drying his hands, his eyes gliding over you in a way that made your skin prickle, a strange heat pooling low in your belly, the very discomfort you’d complained about, but now it was…shifting. “Just lie back for me. Slide down to the edge of the table and put your feet in the stirrups. That’s my girl...”
You obeyed, the pose familiar yet suddenly charged with an unnamed tension.
His eyes, now cold and hungry analyzed your barely covered figure, the thin paper gown doing nothing to conceal your hardened nipples or the way your hip bones protrude.
Long fingers mindfully folding the white coat and shirt up all the way to his veiny forearms. Your eyes are on him, he knows it. An arrogant smirk forming into his soft features.
He sat on a rolling stool between your legs, now out of frame.
His hands were warm as they glided up your inner thighs, pushing the gown higher. You flinched at the contact.
“Shhh,” he soothed, baby voice wrapping around you. “It’s just me...you’re safe.” He snapped on a glove, the sound stark in the quiet room. “I need you to relax. This will only work if you relax for me. Can you do that, princess?”
You took a shaky breath and nodded, closing your eyes.
He hummed, a low, thoughtful sound in his throat. “So much tension...” he murmured, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. “You’re all wound up so tight here, sweetheart.”
Your breath hitched as his touch became slower, purposeful, exploring not for pathology but for something else. A fingertip circled a spot you didn’t know existed, and you jolted, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat.
That feeling wasn't the usual clinical discomfort, it was something else.
And that something made you feel alive.
“There it is,” he whispered, his voice losing some of its sugary tone, gaining an intimate depth. “That’s the source of all your tension, my poor little thing. Just a little bundle of nerves, all locked up and lonely.” His finger pressed again, a little firmer, and a bolt of pure, shocking sensation shot through you. You cried out, your back arching off the table.
“See?” he murmured, his other hand coming to rest on your trembling abdomen, holding you down. “Your body knows...it’s been begging for this. All that discomfort…it was just frustration.” His finger began a slow, torturous rhythm, circling, stroking.
“Shhhh, it’s okay,” he soothed, his fingers finding their new target, tracing the slick, heated folds.
Fingers pulling apart your major lips, trapping your clit along with your minor lips between his index and middle finger, digits caressing up and down with extra pressure that gets arousal gathering at your rim. “Your little pussy has never been touched like this, has it? Never know what it’s for." A shameless sigh followed by... "Fuck sweetheart, you're so wet...”
The crude words coming from his professional lips were a shock to you. But the shock was drowned out by the wave of sensation that followed as his thumb brushed again over the tiny, throbbing nub you didn’t know existed just minutes ago.
You gasped, your hips jerking off the table.
“There it is...” he breathed, a note of excitement in his tone. “That’s the problem. All this…energy…has nowhere to go. It’s all clogged up and it's making you sick with need. But don’t worry, sweetie I’m going to fix it...You’re going to be a good little patient for Dr. Na and let me empty you from all this nasty ache, won't you?"
Head nodding rapidly, quick to answer, too afraid he might take the delicious felling away. Lips parted open allowing pretty sobs slip from them.
“You’ve never felt this, have you? This heat? This tightness coiling in your sweet little belly?”
You couldn’t speak. Tears welled again, but these were tears from the overwhelming, terrifying sensation.
You shook your head, a sob mingling with a moan as his thumb dipped slightly inside you, then returned to that devastating, brilliant point.
The feeling was mounting, an unbearable pressure building deep inside, a coil twisting tighter and tighter, pushing against your bones. You felt frantic, wild, like an animal caught in a trap. You thrashed your head from side to side, your knuckles white where you gripped the edges of the table.
"It’s okay,” he crooned, his own breath becoming uneven. “It’s my job to take care of you, sweetie... Your body isn’t yours to worry about, is it? Let me take care of it. Just let go...”
His words slithered past the last fragments of your pavlovian conditioning.
Your body wasn’t your own. He was the authority. He was making the bad feeling go away, replacing it with this…this storm only he could create.
You surrendered to it, to him, a whimper escaping your lips as the coil inside you wound impossibly tight.
“Let go, baby,” he commanded, his voice suddenly a low growl. “Stop fighting me. Let go for Dr. Na. Cum. Cum for me. Now. Ohh yeah, that’s it, princess” he urged hearing the squelch that accompanied his thumb's every upward movement, his voice thick with a hunger you were too innocent to name. “Come on, sweet girl. Show me, show me you’re all better.”
With a guttural cry that was torn from your core, the coil snapped.
Your vision went white. A hot, pulsating wave of pure pleasure broke over you, so intense it was almost painful.
Erasing thought, erasing fear, erasing everything but the feeling and the sound of Dr. Na’s low, approving hum.
Your body bucked, your thighs trembling uncontrollably and your ears felt clogged as release washed through you in long, shuddering spasms, something warm trickling out, wetting your thighs and the crinkly paper. You were crying openly now, sobs of relief and utter confusion wracking your frame.
He kept working you through it, his touch relentless, drawing out every last aftershock until you collapsed, limp and panting, against the table.
You stared at the ceiling, the world slowly coming back into focus. As the tremors subsided, leaving you boneless and gasping, he slowly withdrew his hand. He peeled off the dampened glove with a soft snap, landing into the small metallic table with a thud. He's going to save it for later, for research purposes, of course.
He stood up, and you blinked, your vision clearing. His shirt was untucked at his chest, revealing his bumped pectorals along with a sheen of sweat on his brow and a very evident bulge pressing against his trousers.
The sight sent a fresh, confusing jolt through you.
He took your chin in his fingers, tilting your face up to his. He wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. His erection pressing against your thigh.
He smoothed your hair back from your damp forehead. “Look,” he said, his voice gentle once more, the authority replaced with a tenderness that felt like a reward. “Look at my sweet girl. All better now.” Places a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and his perfectly aligned teeth come to sight as his lips draw a smile that gives you goosebumps. "All better. The diagnosis was simple: chronic neglect."
“That was the cure, princess,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “Your body was starving for release. For a man’s touch. My touch.”
You could only stare at him, your mind a blank canvas he was painting on. The ache, the one that had been your constant companion for months, was gone. In its place was a strange, pleasant warmth and a deep, aching void that already seemed to miss his touch.
“Now, the prescription?” He smiled again, a gentle, benevolent curve of his lips that didn’t reach his hungry, possessive eyes. “Regular hands-on therapy. We’ll need to schedule follow-ups… quite frequently. To ensure the discomfort doesn’t return, is that okay, princess?"
You could only nod, your mind completely blank. He helped you sit up, the paper gown rustling. Your legs felt like jelly.
“I need you to understand something, sweetheart,” he said, his hands on your shoulders, holding you steady. His gaze was intense, locking you in place. “This is our special secret. You can’t tell anyone. No one would understand our methods. They wouldn’t understand that I had to touch you like that to make you feel better. They might try to take your treatment away. We can’t let that happen, can we?”
You shook your head, the thought of losing this relief, of letting the ache return was unbearable.
This feeling was wrong, you knew it, but it was the first thing that had ever felt truly right.
He had fixed you. He had found what was wrong...
“That’s my good girl,” he purred, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. His lips were warm and the kiss felt like a blessing. “Such a smart, obedient patient for me!”
He stepped back, adjusting himself. He became Dr. Na again, composed, professional, but the air between you had been irrevocably altered, thick with the knowledge of what had just occurred.
He watched you with an unnerving stillness, your movements clumsy in the aftermath. You slid off the table, your bare feet meeting the cool floor, and a new kind of slickness trickled down your inner thigh, a reminder of what he had taken from you.
Dr. Na walked to his desk, his back to you once more, and picked up a sleek silver pen. He clicked it once, the sharp, precise sound cutting through the hum of the lights. He began to write on a fresh prescription pad, the scratch of the pen the only sound in the room. You stood there, feeling exposed and small, clutching the flimsy paper to your chest like a shield.
Finally, he tore off the sheet. He didn't hand it to you. He folded it neatly and placed it inside a small, discreet white envelope. He turned and held it out. Your fingers trembled as you took it.
“This is for our next session,” he said, his tone all business now. “I’ve written my personal number on the back. You don’t call the front desk anymore. You call me, directly.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.
❤︎₊ ⊹
haiii, omggg my second anon!! as soon as i recieved this i KNEW i had to start writing. i li-terally reached a flow state and i've been writing since the evening...and now it's midnight :,0
i love the concept of jaem being a nasty freak and a pervert, he's just like me......
anyway, just to let u know that obviously i do nawt condone this behavior, it's ok to have a small kinkk but do not!! let a doctor touch you this way EVER. okay, ty.
hope you enjoyed it!! PLEASE let me know if you did!! feedback and any other comments or thoughts are always appreciated :3 tysmmmm for readiiiing <3
& thxs to @dieharddoyoungsquish for the ideaaaaa<33
available on ao3 as well! -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/89348466
