Archive of Our Own

Donghyuck’s mouth goes dry the second he makes eye contact with Jaemin across the room.

Dangerous. A bad move.

Sweat instantly beads around his collar, his scalp goes flush, he’s sure pink is blooming across his neck and cheeks. Sometimes he feels like a frog waiting to be dissected, a butterfly waiting to be pinned to a board, the way she looks at him. Freezes him in place with her stare, her smile cruel and her eyes sparkling like a cat with its paw smushing down a mouse’s tail. Ready to sink its cute little fangs in, to tear it up, give it as a present to the poor sap that feeds it before devouring it whole.

Predator, meet Prey.

To be honest, he thinks Jaemin is terrifying. He’s the only one who thinks so, apparently. Everyone else is met with a different face, something kind, and sweet, and supportive, and affectionate.

Jaemin tutors Jisung for free, goes to Chenle and Mark’s pick-up basketball games and brings them Pocari Sweat… and, most importantly, is Jeno’s doting girlfriend.

But none of that matters. None of that has anything to do with their relationship. Their relationship being, as it currently stands, one of intimidation and a whole lot left unsaid.

Because Jaemin knows. She has to know. It’s obvious the way she completely ignores Donghyuck when she hangs out with the rest of Jeno’s friends, the only exception being when she throws a spiked barb of an insult Donghyuck’s way. Laughs it off as a joke, cuts him down in front of everyone with startling accuracy and aim (and a beautiful laugh). How does she know exactly how to make him shut up, how is she able to pinpoint his secret insecurities? She takes him down on these little specifics that he swears his friends aren’t even privy to, don’t ever notice, despite being friends for years.

But she does. She notices everything. Which makes her a great friend, he supposes. Makes her an even better girlfriend. On the other hand, it almost makes her a devastatingly great…asshole. He wants to call her a bitch, but he’s too scared to, worried somehow that the surveillance equipment she’s planted in the grooves of his brain will pick it up and expose him even further.

A bitch. That’s really what Jaemin is, to Donghyuck. It’s kind of a scary thing to verbalize, even cerebrally. Donghyuck has never called a woman a bitch ever in his life (he’s wanted to).

Na Jaemin is a total bitch.

He swallows hard as Jaemin smirks, wraps her hand around Jeno’s nape and whispers into his ear. She’s met with a puppy smile and a soft kiss to her temple.

She doesn’t deserve it. Jeno is too good for her. He’s kind, and sweet, and supportive, and affectionate.

Of course, Donghyuck figures, of course he’d be the only one to see the real her.

It doesn’t stop him from behaving as he normally would in a social situation, Jaemin present or not–loud and unserious and earnest, trying to get a reaction (hopefully a positive one, but he’ll easily settle for a negative one if that means he gets a little much needed attention). He goes to great lengths to conceal how uncomfortable she makes him, how mad she makes him.

It’s Friday night and Mark's having a little get together at his apartment, nothing crazy, he promised, but somehow it turned into a proper party. Mark’s social like that, pulling friends out of thin air. How does he even have time to make all these connections? Friends from pick-up basketball, friends from old clubs in college, friends from past jobs, friends from his current job, etc. But Mark was stuck with Donghyuck for life, whether he likes it or not, they made a blood pact when they were thirteen, and you don’t go back on those.

Maybe Donghyuck would have more friends outside his little circle if he socialized at work, didn’t just bury his head in his two laptops and three monitors at the office and code as fast as he possibly can to dip early without anyone noticing. The guys on his dev team aren’t worth talking to. And the girls…they aren’t his type. (Why else would he talk to them?)

Maybe he’d have more friends if he didn’t spend his weekends with his ass glued to his Razer, smashing his keyboard so hard his fingertips smart, didn’t scream insults into his headset and then promptly throw it against the wall after losing.

(Or if he didn’t spend an almost concerningly similar amount of time jerking off, browsing Reddit ((he was a moderator on r/jerkbudsHentai)) for hours, edging himself. He liked to edge, like to get so close–press on his taint, pull on his balls, and then stave off the impending orgasm. He was working on his endurance, and didn't want to lose any excess testosterone.)

He blinks quickly, realizes that Jaemin is, in fact, weaving through the small throng of people standing around in their socks to make her way towards him. Well, them. Chenle has been ranting to him about something for the past five minutes, but the moment Jaemin stepped through the door with Jeno’s muscled arm around her shoulders Donghyuck had put his monologue on mute. To no fault of Chenle’s own.

It’s just that thoughts of Jaemin, sharp-toothed, sharp-eyed Jaemin, invaded his brain and plastered themselves over his retinas immediately. He wasn’t even seeing her physical form, just his internal projections.

“Hey boys!” Jaemin says with a smile as she joins them in the corner of the living room. “Sorry to interrupt, Chenle.”

She puts a manicured hand on Chenle’s shoulder and gives a little squeeze. Chenle melts instantly, because of course he does. Everyone does.

Donghyuck doesn’t.

”Hey Jaem! It’s okay,” Chenle laughs, eyes crinkling. “I don’t even think Donghyuck was listening to me.”

Jaemin makes a surprised face, shiny lips forming a little ‘o’. Donghyuck socks Chenle in the bicep and whines.

“That’s not true,” he complains. “I’m a great listener.”

”Yeah, I believe that for a second,” Jaemin says. Cuts him down with hard eyes before turning her bright smile to Chenle and asking him about his life, his job, his dating prospects.

She always takes a heavy interest in Jeno’s friends’ romantic lives. It’s sick. Donghyuck knows what she’s doing.

He tunes Chenle out again and takes a sip of his beer, loudly, annoyingly. A little smack of his lips, a noisy gulp, an exhale of enjoyment.

Jaemin’s eyes flit back to Donghyuck, a warning. Chenle doesn’t notice, just keeps excitedly chattering.

Donghyuck knows her game. She wants all of Jeno’s friends to fall all over her, drop everything for her if she needs help (and Jeno’s unavailable), want them to pathetically peacock, wants them to debase themselves, almost unknowingly, to get just a crumb of female attention.

She’s dating a hot dork for a reason. To be the hottest girlfriend amongst his friends, to be the only girlfriend, to watch them all salivate over her pretty face just to boost her big ego.

Okay, maybe that’s not so true. Mark did just start dating Renjun who is, without a doubt, equally as pretty. And equally as terrifying. But just in a different way. She’s softer around the edges.

Donghyuck eyes Jaemin up and down as he takes another drink, a quiet one this time. She’s wearing a pink tube top, nipples poking out against the tight fabric. Low slung jeans that flare out at the bottoms. Long blonde hair curled and swishing against her back with every little movement of her head. Nails all pink and sparkly. Eyes too.

Always trying so hard. He scoffs to himself, shakes his head.

Okay, he’s a little drunk. No, tipsy. Actions uncontrolled, face an open book. He closes his eyes for a second, lets himself get washed in the hum of the party and leans against the wall (he knocks into one of Mark’s framed pictures, he doesn’t care). The second his eyes flutter open he realizes quickly that Chenle has disappeared. He’s met with Jaemin’s cold eyes on him, tracking over his face and down his chest and back up. He gulps. She smirks.

“Hi Donghyuckie,” Jaemin says. She crosses her arms, it smooshes her tits together. She notices that he notices, which is a mistake, it just gives her more power. “How’s my least favorite incel doing?”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, knocks his head against that stupid picture frame again, but controls his wince.

“Just peachy. How’s your most favorite incel doing? Has Jeno learned any new tricks lately?”

Jaemin doesn’t react. Well, not too much. Donghyuck notices the way her eyelashes twitch, the way that she’s obviously fighting back a reaction. He smiles, cocky. Not feeling the least bit bad about dragging one of his close friends, Jeno would understand. (He wouldn’t.) What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Like this little feud with Jaemin, this little rivalry, this little battle of the minds. Donghyuck refuses to be the first one to break.

”You know,” Jaemin drawls. Her voice always sounds a little fried, it scratches something in his brain, he’s never heard a voice like hers. “I don’t think my Jeno could be considered an incel, given how much pussy he gets on a daily basis. He came twice before we got here. Unlike you…poor Donghyuckie is the only one touching his own cock, isn’t that right?”

Donghyuck sputters at the crudeness of her words, looks around scandalized. She takes a step closer, crowding him even further into the wall. He has to tip his head up a little to look at her, a byproduct of his poor posture and her intimidating stature.

“Am I wrong? Has Donghyuckie finally been getting some action?” It’s a condescending coo. She takes her manicured hand and pinches at the shoulder of his worn t-shirt, lifting it an inch off his skin with a purse of her lips. Examining, calculating. Judging. Donghyuck’s lungs burn from holding his breath. She’s never been this close to him before. She turns her big eyes on him, searching his expression, and then smiling the second he glances away. An answer in itself. “Nah, I didn’t think so. Do you still rely on those weird little mutual masturbation sessions online?”

Donghyuck fish mouths. He told Jeno about that in confidence! She smiles, narrows her eyes, lightly pushes his shoulder back with her fingers.

“And you wonder why you aren’t getting laid,” she scoffs. With a bored flip of her hair she looks behind her exposed shoulder and gives a little wave to someone. Donghyuck can’t help put stare at her creamy skin,, her dainty collarbone and shoulders…fuck, did she put body glitter on or something!? “Well, as much of a great conversationalist as you are, I think I’m going to go back to my very cute, very non-incel boyfriend.”

It takes a few minutes for Donghyuck to compose himself after Jaemin rejoins the party, rejoins her boyfriend. He looks down at his clothes, the ones she had plucked with her long nails and sneered at. His faded t-shirt and worn out jeans. Then he looks around at the other guys milling around Mark’s apartment, notices how they’re dressed and how they don’t look like they just picked something up off the bedroom floor to wear (which is what he did). He pushes his glasses up his nose and pouts. Chugs the rest of his beer.

Women are so superficial.

Whatever. It’s not like he’s trying to impress anyone anyway.

He heads to the kitchen and takes a shot of Mark’s top shelf tequila by himself.

And then another one.

***********

Donghyuck finds himself drunk off his ass, drunker than appropriate, room spinning and faces blurring. He’s talking to (at) one of Mark’s “music scene” friends in the hallway by the bathroom, he doesn’t know their name but they’re letting him describe in great detail…something.

Wait, what was he talking about again?

He peters off mid-sentence once he catches a flash of long blond hair in the kitchen.

Oh right. Jaemin.

“She’s just using him,” he slurs. “He doesn’t even know, it’s pathetic.”

The guy just nods and arches his head toward the kitchen.

”Uh…I don’t–“

”Seriously, she thinks she’s so hot, she’s so,” he hiccups, rubs his chest, “so, like, she’s hot, but she’s…I don’t know, she’s just…I wish that she’d just dump him already.”

“Alright, man. Whatever you say.” The guy scratches his neck. “You said she’s a blonde?”

Donghyuck nods, sighs.

“She’s, uh…” the guy trails off.

A cheery voice cuts in. ”Your rescue party is here.”

Donghyuck’s blood runs cold.

“I think somebody’s had too much to drink, I’ll take care of him.” Jaemin wraps her arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder, it feels like it weighs 20 pounds. He takes in the profile of her face, the hair tucked behind her ear, her inhumanly long eyelashes, her…really shiny lips. ”Go have fun.”

The guy looks between them, confused (relieved), and departs with a little mock-salute.

Jaemin watches the stranger leave, nails digging into Donghyuck’s shoulder but her smile still plastered on her face. The second he rounds the corner, disappears, Donghyuck gets shoved into the open bathroom.

He stumbles over his feet, almost eats shit on the tiled floor, but Jaemin’s hand wraps around his bicep and steadies him. It’s not a friendly helping hand, it’s harsh and rough.

“Hey!” It comes out a whine.

“You little piece of shit,” Jaemin growls. She locks the door to the bathroom and switches the light on. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Donghyuck shifts back and forth on his feet, trying to focus on Jaemin’s face and to stop the bathroom from swirling. His stomach hurts, his head feels fuzzy.

He’s too fucking drunk for this.

The only reply he can muster up is a genuinely confused, “Huh?”

Jaemin blinks at him, expression hardened, eyes narrowed. She crowds him into the bathroom counter until the ledge is painfully digging into the small of his back. His hands fumble to grab onto it, to steady himself.

She’s in his space again, just like earlier. He can smell her perfume, can count every eyelash, can see each individual sparkle in her eyeshadow glimmer. Like before, he tries to hold his breath, but now he can’t help but let out a little shaky gasp. It makes her scoff softly.

Jaemin reaches towards his face, and he jerks back instinctively, even though there’s not much space for him to retreat. He tenses as if for a slap or a pinch, but her fingers don’t touch his face, there’s no skin contact, instead she carefully pulls his thick glasses off and places them on the counter beside him.

“W-what..What are you–“ He’s silenced with Jaemin’s palm pressing over his lips.

”You talk too much, Donghyuck.” She gets further in his face, so close his eyes go crossed. “What are you trying to do, huh?”

Donghyuck tries to squawk, but her hands presses harder against his lips, which doesn’t stop the sound but startles him into cutting it off himself.

“Walking around, talking about me to anybody who’ll listen. You’re fucking obsessed with me. It’s pathetic.”

His eyes widen. He could probably wrench her hand off his mouth, could probably get her to back off, but he doesn’t. He’s frozen in place, he can’t move.

“Are you not getting enough attention, is that it? So now you’re acting out?”

Her free hand comes up to the back of his neck, fingers combing through the shorter hairs of his nape before traveling upwards. She grabs a handful of hair and jerks his head back.

And Donghyuck’s reaction to that? A flutter of his lashes and an unabashed moan.

Before Donghyuck is forced to confront…that, somebody knocks on the bathroom door. Urgently.

”Fuck off!” Jaemin calls out kindly. “He’s puking his guts out in here!”

The person on the other side of the door makes a loud noise of disgust and doesn’t knock again. Jaemin keeps her grip on his shaggy hair, but removes the one on his mouth.

Donghyuck squeezes his eyes closed, lost in a swirl of booze and confusion and horror.

Humiliation.

What the fuck just happened, what is going on!?

He feels Jaemin’s puffs of silent laughter on his face, she’s still so, so close. Too close. His stomach turns. He wants to press his legs together, but she’s standing between them, her legs brushing his. Something is swirling in his gut and he does not want to face the music, does not want to admit even to himself the arousal pooling, the blood rushing towards his groin.

Humiliation.

What’s more, Jaemin’s hand is grabbing at his chubbed cock through his jeans, squeezing hard. Long nails sinking into tender flesh, even through the starchy layers of his jeans and boxers. Donghyuck presses his lips together and lets out a shaky exhale through his nose. He keeps his eyes slammed closed, doesn’t dare open them. Maybe if he goes still enough, doesn’t give a reaction, doesn’t make eye contact, maybe this will all just…stop, maybe this won’t have even happened.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen.” Jaemin whispers into his ear. It’s gravely, biting. “You’re going to put your number in my phone. You’re going to leave the party. You’re gonna go home and do whatever the fuck it is you usually do on a Friday night, jerking off to perverted shit on the internet or calling kids slurs on Fortnite, I don’t care. And then, when I text you, you will do exactly as I say. Do you understand? We’re going to put an end to this. I won’t have you embarrassing me like this anymore.”

His head gets wrenched back again, scalp burning, and he whines. Plaintive, pitiful.

“Do you understand?” The hand on his cock makes harsh contact with his right cheek. It startles his eyes open, shaky, wide, and wet.

He licks his lips, searching Jaemin’s face for…something. But she just shakes his head back and forth, expression totally blank besides the playfulness gleaming in her eyes. He’s had enough time studying her micro expressions to pinpoint it.

“Say ‘Yes, mommy.’” A shark-like smile spreads across her face. She has too many teeth, Donghyuck thinks to himself, it’s almost off-putting.

Donghyuck’s lips purse and go slack, over and over again. Brain not connecting with his tongue, can’t decode the befuddled collection of thoughts between his ears.

What? Why? What do you mean? What’s happening right now? What do you want with me? What about Jeno?

That’s what he should ask. That and so much more.

But his mouth is apparently on auto-pilot. That or it’s connected to his dick rather than his brain, because what comes out is a meek, wavering, “Yes, mommy.”

He’s never heard his voice go that high before, go that…pathetic. She’s delighted, that much is obvious.

“Aigoo, look at you,” she smiles, grabs his cheeks and squishes his face like you would a child. He lets her. What’s worse is that his dick gets even harder from it. “Maybe you can behave.”

And so, what happens, in the span of about three minutes, is Donghyuck puts his number in Jaemin’s pink phone with shaky hands, follows her out of the bathroom and watches with flushed cheeks as she sidles up next to Jeno and presses a kiss to his shoulder, and then shoves his feet into his slides piled next the front door and leaves without saying a word to anybody.

What doesn’t happen is Donghyuck doesn’t jerk off to perverted shit on the internet once he gets back to his apartment. He doesn’t call kids slurs on Fortnite.

Instead he bites the back of his hand in the shower as he fists his cock, thinking about the way that Jaemin manhandled him, slapped him, pulled his hair…squeezed at his bulge, spoke to him like a child, like he was stupid, like he was beneath her. It’s how she always speaks to him, but this time…

He comes with a whimper, a broken little sound muffled by his fingers, and watches the way his come swirls down the drain.

Oh god.

What had he just gotten himself into.

***********

Over the next couple of weeks Donghyuck learns that when Jaemin texts him, she expects a speedy reply.

She pries dirty secrets out of him, makes him get his hair cut, makes him send photos of himself in…compromising positions.

And he does all of these things in almost complete and utter obedience. He pushes back, he throws up a little opposition, she reads him to filth, and he listens.

He’s ashamed of himself, honestly. Or he would be, under normal circumstances. His self respect went straight out the window when she demanded a dick pic in her first text.

Or, more likely, the second she pushed him into Mark’s bathroom.

Listen, Donghyuck hasn’t gotten laid in a while, okay? And he can count on one hand the number of times he’s actually scored. The last time he got with a girl was more than a year ago, and it wasn’t even that great. Well, no it was actually pretty great for him, but she ghosted him immediately afterwards. Probably because he only lasted like…ten minutes. And he did not even try to help her come afterwards, which he realizes now might have been a mistake? Don’t girls usually come from getting fucked?

He tries not to dwell on it too much. Which is why he decided to take care of himself, not really put himself out there, if just to save himself from cringing at his attempts at picking up.

But Donghyuck is someone who needs…attention, even bad attention, like a noisy kid in class. You think he’s going to turn this down? Yeah right.

No matter how bizarre. And…degrading. No matter how much he resents her for it, how his whirl of feelings towards her spin hot in his chest.

She makes him send a picture of him fingering his ass, which, for the record, he’s never done before. Kinda. And what does he get in return?

Not much. Just cruelty, just humiliation, just Jaemin being Jaemin, on her high horse, heel pressed to his head. In short, she hasn’t even sent any pics back, no full body shots, nothing. He was hoping this would become, like, some kind of nude exchange or something, but nope.

He hasn’t spoken to Jeno at all about it. Jaemin said not to worry about it, so he doesn’t. His dick is too hard to think about Jeno at all right now, to be perfectly honest.

All he can think about is Jeno’s pretty, bitchy girlfriend.

***********

That’s how he finds himself hovering outside Jaemin’s door one night at her request (demand), hand raised in the air to knock. But he’s quickly losing his nerve.

He’s rethinking everything, especially his outfit. He tried…kinda. Figured girls care about that sort of thing. All he could really find were ripped jeans and a black tee-shirt, then he threw a hoodie on and shoved his feet into his normal, dirty slides.

God, he’s never cared about his appearance before, and he didn’t even do anything different. This was bad.

This was a bad idea, right?

Jaemin whips the door open and bats his arm down.

“Stop standing there like a creep, my neighbors are gonna think I have a stalker.”

That’s how she invites him in, by the way. That and an impatient jerk with her chin.

He lowers his eyes as he crosses the threshold, kicks his slides off, quietly relishes the way her ondol heating warms up his bare toes with a little arch and flex.

She leads him into the living room and motions to her couch. It’s big and white. Everything in her apartment is…big and white. Her giant air purifier, the kind he usually sees in restaurants, her humidifier, her coffee table, her lamps. It would feel almost clinical if it wasn’t so cozy.

Jaemin is walking around in these little bunny slippers, puttering about. It’s kind of cute.

Oh god, she’s kind of cute.

She’s really, really cute.

Oh god.

Jaemin walks from the kitchen with a glass of water in hand and he stands up off the couch so quickly that he gets dizzy and has to balance himself with his hands on his knees.

“I should, I should go,” he says weakly, hoarsely. “I’m sorry, this isn’t…I’m gonna go.”

She easily pushes him back onto the couch with one hand on his pec. Legs wide, he looks up at her through his glasses, watches how she takes a step closer between his knees.

Jaemin looks down on him as she takes a sip of the water. And then another one.

It’s weird. Off putting. And yet, it goes straight to his dick.

She swishes the water around in her mouth for a second before leaning over him, cheeks full like a hamster. She opens his slack mouth with her thumb, and then, with her eyes fixated on his open lips, she spits the water into his mouth.

Not so hard it makes him choke, it’s more of a trickle, like a mother bird feeding her baby chick. It’s shocking, the water is warm from her mouth, it’s the only taste of her he’s ever gotten.

He tries to keep his throat open, to swallow it down, but it still dribbles from the sides of his mouth despite his best efforts.

Once the water’s gone, she lifts her eyes to his and spits onto his tongue, closes his mouth, and taps his cheek. A quiet order to swallow.

He does. Cheeks flushed and eyes wet, completely overwhelmed.

She brushes the hair off of his forehead, almost gently, before closing her large hand around his throat.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

***********

Ten minutes later he’s on his knees, hands grabbing Jaemin’s clothed thighs like a lifeline, gagging around her pink strap.

It’s about his size, a modest 5.5 inches, which makes him feel a little less intimidated.

That’s a lie. He’s incredibly intimidated right now.

At least she took his glasses off for him.

Throat burning, tears tracking down his cheeks, stomach violently turning over and over. He’s never…done anything like this, he’s never shoved something down his throat like this, his gag reflex is so intense he has trouble brushing his teeth sometimes.

She’d strapped the harness on over her cream colored sweats, giggling to herself when Donghyuck’s eyes went wide with surprise.

Honestly, he’s not sure what he expected. Now he feels a bit foolish, that he thought she’d actually let him fuck her, that she’d actually pay any attention to his cock.

Because she made clear, infinitely clear, that he wouldn’t really be able to put a single finger on her. Well, on the parts that mattered. She’d be keeping her clothes on. He’d be naked. He wouldn’t, couldn’t kiss her. It wasn’t allowed. She didn’t want him to.

She just wanted to play with him.

It felt more like bullying, to be quite honest. Like the mean girls in high school that would laugh behind their hands at him in English class, that would get their athlete boyfriends to shoulder him into the lockers “on accident.” Because they knew, they knew what his furtive looks meant, knew what it meant when he curled in on himself at his deck, hand groping himself over his pants like he couldn’t help it.

Jaemin had to have been one of those girls. Mean spirited and cruel to those beneath her, an angel to everyone else.

But Donghyuck was always a bit self-destructive. Kept love notes to the popular girls scribbled in the back of his notebooks, tortured himself with fantasties of them turning kind eyes on him, when he knew all he’d get is malice.

And so he blossoms under Jaemin’s demanding attention.

She has her hand knit in his hair, pushing his small head down, down, down on the silicone cock. So far down that it breaches his throat. He’s coughing around it, crying around it, nose leaking and chest heaving.

She pulls him off it by the hair every minute or so, watches him gasp in air, watches the drool connect his swollen lips to the strap.

He’s not even sure why they’re doing this. Doesn’t imagine she could be getting any pleasure for this. Physically, at least.

Was watching him struggle to suck a fake dick really that satisfying?

(He also won’t let himself think about the homoerotic implications, he’s straight. He’s never wanted to suck dick before…ever. (Though there was that one time, when the five of them were in high school, and Mark put on a porno, and they all jerked off together in his parents living room…he’d come with his eyes locked on Mark’s dick, but he tries not to dwell on that weird memory much.))

She hums happily as he swirls his tongue around the tip, taking it back into his mouth without her guidance, doing it by himself this time. He wants to show her…what, exactly?

He’s not sure himself. All he knows is that he’s bobbing his head, putting pressure with his tongue on the underside of the cock where there’s a realistically protruding vein. All the knows is that he’s swallowing it down to the base, lips brushing where harness secures it. All he knows is that he’s using one hand to stroke it from base to tip, to provide friction to the inches he can’t fit in his mouth. Like she could feel it.

Now her manicured nails are scratching at his scalp gently, softly. An almost sweet touch, encouraging and tender.

“Good boy,” Jaemin says.

And it’s not cruel. It’s not condescending.

So he keeps going, for so long that his lips start going a little numb, that the roof of his mouth starts feeling tender, that his bony kneecaps burn red hot.

He’s half naked, clad only in his tighty-whities, and he can feel his dick, his very real and very average-sized dick, leaking.

He goes for so long, that when she finally lifts him off by the scalp again, he’s gone all fuzzy and unfocused. Maybe he should be ashamed of the way he looks up at her, eyes half-lidded and searching, but he’s not.

She looks at him, really, really looks at him, until he’s squirming between her legs, unsure what to do or where to look.

“Donghyuck.” She thumbs at his cheek, lips quirked in a pout. Like she’s almost put-out. “You weren’t supposed to be so good at this.”

He flushes, so hard that he feels it reach his ears, and lowers his gaze back to her pink cock. It feels safer than making eye contact.

”It was supposed to be funny,” she continues. “But you’re…you’re a real weirdo, aren’t you? You actually like this.”

He burns. She’s the one that put him on his knees, she’s the one that forced his lips around the silicone cock, she’s the reason all of this is happening.

She smiles as she notices his quietly boiling anger. “Aw, don’t be like that, you little baby. It’s cute!”

Donghyuck is a chronic pouter, and so he pouts. On his knees, between her thighs, sweat drying on his chin.

“Aigooo,” Jaemin coos. “Donghyuck-ah, why are you being such a cutie right now!?”

She reaches out to pull on his ears and he jerks his head away. She makes a little grunt of displeasure, one that doesn’t sound upset, more like when you’re playing with a kitten and it starts attacking your ankles. She pinches his cheeks and leans over him, making baby noises in his face.

It’s kind of weird.

This, he assumes, must be what being on the receiving end of positive attention from Jaemin must be like. He’s seen it before, seen the way she’s playful with his friends…with Jeno. But he’s never gotten this.

Again, Donghyuck is someone who craves attention in his personal life, he needs that external validation or at least recognition of his presence. And so, because he’s weak, because he truly can’t help it, a small smile starts creeping across his face. He lets out a scoff of his laugh and playfully bats Jaemin’s hands away from his cheeks.

He’s flustered. Insanely over his head, and a tad bit charmed by Jaemin.

Her pink nails, her cream colored crop top, her nipples poking through (did she ever wear bras?), the way her matching sweats fit snug around her hips…her jelly-pink dildo bobbing in the air…

Yeah, he probably should’ve asked a few questions before he came over and just…blanket consented to all of this.

Because…she had him gagging on it…she probably wanted to fuck him with it too, right? That’s how this whole thing works…right!? Honestly, he’s not sure if he’s ready for that. That’s a lot.

The most that’s ever been in his ass were a couple exploratory fingers, only sunk in to the second knuckle. In and then quickly out, no feeling around really, no searching for his prostate. Just a test to see if they’d fit (they did) and if he liked it (he might).

So his small smile quickly fades from his face due to nerves, a little anxiety over her expectations of him. His expectations of himself.

He’s…he’s enjoying this. But something inside him, this little angry voice in his head, is loudly banging on his skull with an open fist and saying that he shouldn’t. This is not how things should be going, this is not how he and Jaemin should be having…sex.

Shouldn’t she be the one on her knees, taking his cock into her mouth and moaning around the tip? Shouldn’t she be the one on her back, spreading her legs, asking him to fuck her?

What did this say about him? That he so readily degraded himself like this, that he so quickly submitted without so much as a single complaint. That he sucked on her silicone cock like a duck to water, despite never having thought about doing such a thing before he stepped into her apartment tonight? That two seconds ago he realized she wanted to shove the same dildo in his ass, and he viewed it as a solid, even exciting, option?

He squeezes his eyes shut, tries not to feel the way her hands burn red hot on his face and head, tries not to show how stormy he’s starting to feel inside.

But Jaemin, as previously mentioned, is perceptive.

“Hey,” she says quietly. “None of that. You’re doing a good job. We’re just having some fun, right Donghyuck-ah? We’re just playing, it’s fine.”

He nods jerkily, it seems like the right response. It must be, because she hums in satisfaction and smiles down at him. It’s not the same smile he sees directed at his friends, and it’s definitely not the same smile he ever sees directed at Jeno. There’s not that goopiness in her eyes, that softness.

What’s in her eyes right now is excitement. And something else, something he used to see in those mean girls’ eyes back in high school, the knowledge that she can get away with whatever she’s about to do to him. And he won’t say a word, won’t fight back. He’ll take it. And, secretly, he’ll love it. He’ll bask in her attention, bask in her acknowledgement of his existence, and will take any torture inflicted upon him with downcast eyes, maybe silent rage, and almost always a poorly hid and utterly perverse enjoyment.

“Donghyuckie,” she says, voice all sacchine sweat, drawing out each syllable of his name with a drumbeat. “Let’s go play in the bedroom. I’m gonna pop your cherry.”

His cheeks burn even hotter, if that’s possible, his eyes flutter quickly, his chest rises and falls with painful, shallow breaths.

”And you’re going to love it.” She boops his nose as punctuation.

So he follows her to the bedroom, it’s not a long walk, just fifteen steps or so. And her bedroom…her bedroom is really cute. Jaemin likes cute, frilly, pink-y things. That much is obvious. There’s a canopy draped over her bed, there are fuzzy throw rugs and bean bag chairs. Shelves with little trinkets. Donghyuck feels out of place. Too masculine, too boyish, for this ultra-feminine space.

Jaemin stretches her arms over her head with a soft little sound, scrunching up her face. Donghyuck watches the way it makes her crop top ride up, exposing more of her stomach. Just a little more, just a little more and the undersides of her boobs would be on display. But he has no such luck.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Jaemin says as she walks across the room, rummages in her bedside table. “Start getting ready for me.”

A bottle of lube is chucked at his naked chest and he scrambles to catch it. He does, but it’s kind of slippery, so it wasn’t easy.

“Start? What do you…” he trails off in embarrassment as he realizes what she meant. Get started. Get started opening himself up. For her.

She waggles her eyebrows at him before walking out of the room, cock still harnessed to her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

***********

When she walks back into the room quite a few minutes later, fiddling with the straps on the harness, pulling them tight around her bare thighs, Donghyuck is ass up on the bed with two fingers in himself. It was the position that made the most sense to him when he was left to his own devices, but now it feels a bit humiliating. His underwear are snagged on one of his ankles. His dick, his balls, hanging between his legs, reddened and engorged and aching.

Presented like this, it’s like how he imagined Jaemin bending over for him when Jeno first introduced her, when he first started fantasizing about the ways that he would take her (rough, soft, animalistic, etc.).

But it’s Donghyuck with his ass in the air at the end of the day.

He’s so distracted, whimpering into the bed from arousal and frustration, that he doesn’t even notice she’s stripped down to her underwear. But when he does, he bites at the soft fabric of the comforter, letting out a muffled moan.

She’s so hot it’s maddening, clad in a simple pink set of panties and the same skimpy crop top. He wants to sink his fingers into the plush of her thighs, her belly, the curves of her hips…and god, her tits. The way her nipples are always hard and pebbled through her shirts, like she never wears bras and she’s always cold. He wants to rub his face between them, suckle on them like a baby, just suffocate in her soft skin with grabby hands and a full mouth. Wants to sink his cock into her, feel the warmth and wetness of her pussy clench around him and milk him dry.

But he probably isn’t going to get any of those things.

“J-Jaemin,” Donghyuck mewls. And he wants to take it back immediately. The way something dark passes over her face, the way her posture changes, the way that he realizes he really gave her all the power, and now he’s begging for…he’s not even sure. “I don’t–I can’t…”

He can’t fucking do this, not himself, not like this. His fingers are cramping, he can’t get himself to relax, his muscles are all taut and resistant. It doesn’t feel good, it just feels weird and wrong.

Jaemin crawls across the bed to get close, but not so close that their skin is brushing. He quickly removes his fingers and flips over onto his back, wants to assume a position that doesn’t leave him so vulnerable, doesn’t seem like he’s presenting himself. Instinctively he cups a hand over his dick for modesty. He’s still reeling at the situation he finds himself in, naked in her bed.

She props her head on one hand as she runs a finger down his arm, long nail creating a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It makes him shiver. Makes his dick jump under his hand.

Did she put on lipgloss in the bathroom?

”How are your lips always so shiny?” Donghyuck blurts out. Wants to divert her attention from his naked body, would rather have her eyes trained on his face than…anything below his neck.

He knows he looks nothing like Jeno, isn’t just pale chiseled muscle and topped off with a strong jaw. Maybe she doesn’t care, maybe she likes his warm skin, his moles, his narrow shoulders.

Jaemin barks out a laugh, takes her nail and starts tracing circles on his chest, circling around his left pec until she’s driving closer to his brown nipple surrounded by light hair.

“Why are you looking at my lips, chocoball?”

It’s Donghyuck’s turn to let out a surprised laugh. “What!? Chocoball!? What does that even mean?”

”Before you got your haircut you looked like a little chocoball,” Jaemin says with a playfully blank face, finger tapping on his nipple. She smiles to herself for a moment, and Donghyuck takes that in. A warm smile, a sweet smile. From Jaemin. Directed at him.

And then she’s pinching his nipple so hard he’s curling into himself, jerking off the bed and clutching at her hand to try and rip it off. It felt the same as someone holding a lighter to his skin, the pain was radiating.

”Ahh–ah, fuck! Jaem–Jaemin, God, what the fuck!” After giving it a twist to top things off, she lets go with a laugh. Donghyuck whines, grabbing at his throbbing pec.

With a gleeful little sound (he can’t describe it, it’s one of her…noises), she jabs at his side with her long nail. Probably to get another cry, another yelp of pain, another jerk away from her touch.

He shifts up the bed until he’s leaning against the mound of pillows at the top, putting some distance between them. And to think he was getting lulled into feeling safe and craving her touch a moment ago…

“Are you ready for me?” Jaemin drawls. She forces his knees apart with two hands, ripping them open to reveal his cock and hole. Crouching down, ass in the air, she parts his cheeks to look, fingers brushing against the hairs circling it. Donghyuck tries to kick at her, to wiggle away from her weird inspection of his privates. “Hey! Stop moving!”

She lands a harsh slap on his leg, on the juicy meat of his inner thigh. It fucking hurts, and he tells her as much, heart racing and voice pleading.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’re ready,” she leans back and wipes the excess lube off her fingers onto his legs. “And I can’t do it myself.” She wiggles her fingers to show off her manicure, long nails with severely pointed tips. Bejeweled with little gemstones. Yeah, he doesn’t want those in him.

The bottle is put back in his hands and Donghyuck decides fuck it. He opens himself up under her watching gaze, slow blinking eyes directed at his fingers prodding his hole, at his dick jumping from the stimulation, at his chest getting flushed, at his teeth biting his lip.

It’s kind of weird. No, it’s very weird. But as he slowly adjusts to the pressure and presence of his fingers within him, scissoring them a little, just going off pure instinct, the weirdness becomes less all consuming.

Donghyuck grunts as he forces the third finger in, sinking down to the second knuckle immediately. He uses his other hand to squeeze at his dick, to keep it hard despite its attempts at flagging (Jaemin’s watchful gaze, the dull pain at his rim). It’s getting easier, it’s even getting…enjoyable, in a way. Especially when he brushes his prostate, that fabled, mythical thing, and his hips lift off the bedspread immediately, a little cry leaving his lips.

Fuck. That felt fucking good.

He tries to repeat his actions, crook his fingers just right, and hit it again. When he does it’s another knee jerk reaction, another cry, another crunch of his abdomen. Another electric volt thrumming through him, deep seeded pleasure the likes of which he’s never felt before. He’s sinking his fingers further inside with newfound desperation.

“Fuck!” He pants. “Does it always feel like that?”

“I don’t know, I don’t have one.”Jaemin laughs. She runs her hand up Donghyuck’s leg, against the grain of his sparse leg hair, until her long nails are lightly scratching at the soft skin between his thigh and groin. Impatient. “But I’m getting bored.”

He wishes she’d move her hand just a few inches over, scratch her nails over the loose skin of his balls, trace around his tip and dip into his slit.

But she won’t. Jaemin won’t touch his dick. At all. She told him so earlier, she made it abundantly clear. His hips jerk a tiny bit just from having the warmth of her hand so close to his erection, but he tries to swallow down the annoyance, the frustration, the arousal-driven anger of not being touched where he wants to be. Because at least she’s touching him at all

So Donghyuck nods (to himself, to her, he’s not sure), and removes his fingers with a small hiss. He misses them immediately, somehow taking them out makes him feel the ache and the foreignness of the intrusion more.

In the next few seconds, Jaemin is pushing herself between his legs, shoving a pillow under his lower back, and pressing the head of the pink dildo against his fluttering hole.

He’s fighting off another spiral of self-doubt and vague terror at the position he finds himself in, and Jaemin’s large hands wrapping around the backs of his knees are strangely grounding.

“I’ll go in slow,” Jaemin says sweetly. Her nails dig into his skin, it’s a needed distraction from the pressure against his hole.

Donghyuck slams his eyes shut and keeps nodding. Yes, yes, yes, whatever you want.

She sinks into him, slowly, just like she promised. Moves in a millimeter, pauses, then another, and another, until she’s moving in centimeters and inches. Until she’s shoved the whole thing in, until he has a foreign object lodged up his ass, ghosting his prostate, feeling things he has absolutely never felt before.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Donghyuck chants quietly, arm thrown over his face. “Shit, oh my god. Fuck! Don’t–Don’t move!’

She hums and runs a hand down his chest, pulls at his right nipple haphazardly (he yelps), and then grinds deeper.

“Stop! Oh my god. Oh fuck,” he cries. Almost for real. Eyes wet, voice gone totally shaky. “Jaem–Jaemin, please…”

”What baby?” Jaemin asks. Cooes. Goads. Pulls out an inch and rocks back in. He keeps trying to lock his legs together, to use them as a barrier to keep her out, not because he wants that but because his body is just…confused, a little slow on the uptake. She doesn’t let it happen, keeps pulling his legs wide with a firm hand.

“Nngh.”

That’s all he can really say at this point. His brain is getting scrambled, Jaemin’s cock in his ass somehow frying his cognitive abilities. Sex has never felt like this before. She’s pounding into him now, harder and faster, rocking his body with every harsh thrust. The muscles in her abdomen light up, her biceps flex, her breasts bounce. Long blond hair keeps tickling his legs, brushes against his belly and chest when he leans over him during particularly rough thrusts.

Jaemin’s punching the air out of his lungs, he wishes he could keep his little staccatoed cries to himself, bury them in his voice box never to be heard by anyone, least of all her, but he can’t. He’s crying and moaning and gripping at the pillows, so loud and so pathetic that she starts laughing at him. Amused, breath a little heavy from exertion. She’s really giving it to him, fuck.

Donghyuck things back to the times (again, counting on one hand) that he gave it. And honestly, he’s not sure if it was anything like this. If it was, he probably wouldn’t have been ghosted.

As if sensing his mind drifting, Jaemin pulls out just so the tip catches on his entrance and then slams back in, so hard that Donghyuck yells, grips at her arms. She quickly bats his hands away and shoves them onto his chest.

“No touching,” Jaemin reminds him. Voice firm but not angry. And then she does it again, pulls out, rubs at his entrance, and then slams deep, deep inside. Again, and again, until she’s grinding filthy circles into him, taking pity on him almost.

But each deep grind just rubs at his prostate unrelentlessly. It’s like once she was able to find it, she wouldn’t stop angling the pink dildo that way, unwilling to give him any time to breathe or recover from the unfamiliar sensation of arousal radiating inside of him. His cock is drooling from it, precome leaking sticky on his belly. Cooling, going tacky.

Jaemin pushes his knees up to his chest so he’s bent in half, and then puts her weight on the backs of his legs to pin him in the position as she starts jackhammering him at a brutal pace.

She lands a harsh slap to the back of his thigh near his ass, as if for good measure. He can barely feel it, all the nerve endings in his body overwhelmed by her fucking him.

It burns, it aches, but she’s driving home with insane precision. Flares of fiery pleasure setting off inside, arching up to his jumping cock, sparks landing in his chest and fuzzy head. She’s biting on her shiny lips, all focus and power, eyes flickering over him to make sure, he figures, that he’s losing his mind. That he’s drowning in sensation under her. And he is.

He wishes he could reach out and touch, that her plush lips would press against his neck, that she’d whisper something sweet in his ear, something about him doing a good job, something about him being a good boy.

Oh.

Yeah, that’s…that’s new.

Donghyuck realizes he is definitely, definitely losing his mind. And so, he tries to regain a bit of footing. Tries to distract her from the irrevocable damage that she’s doing to his body and his understanding of sexual pleasure. It’s almost a relief that he can still tap into his combativeness despite being on his back, legs spread, ass getting throroughly fucked.

With a choked voice, he asks (and he shouldn’t ask, he doesn’t really want to ask), “You–mpf–you fuck your boyfriend like this?”

Instead of stilling from shock or flinching with annoyance, Jaemin just starts fucking into him even harder, if that’s possible. So hard his teeth clack together. Jaemin reaches up and wraps a hand around his throat, not as loosely as earlier when he was on his knees before her, hard. Thumb and fingers pressing hard into the sides of his neck, palm putting pressure on his bobbing Adam’s Apple. She squeezes. He whimpers.

“You think I fuck Jeno like this?” She growls. Releases his throat to pinch his nose shut and cover his mouth, completely blocking off his airways. His eyes go as wide as saucers, surprised, a little bit scared (a lot bit horny). “Get this through your tiny head, there’s no way I would fuck him the way I do pathetic creeps like you. I fuck him like the good boy he is, just the way he deserves.”

She slams in and stays buried to the hilt, still covering his nose and mouth firmly, not letting any air through to his burning lungs and throat. Lowering her face, until they are almost nose to nose, she burns her eyes into his.

“You need to shut up and take it, Donghyuck. Can you do that?” She punctuates the question with another grind of her hips, carving even more space inside of him. He’s starting to get a little panicky from the lack of air, a little fuzzy and gray around the edges.

So he nods, quickly and frantically. Yes, yes, whatever you want.

She smiles, meanly. The smile from earlier, not as indulgent or forgiving. Commanding and powerful.

Donghyuck gasps in a painful lungful of air the second she releases her hand from his face. His own hands grab at his chest and throat, soothing himself.

“Say ‘Yes, mommy.’” She demands, twisting both nipples in her fingers and pulling. Hard. “Say ‘Please, mommy.””

“Y-yes, mommy!” He cries, outside of himself. Tears threatening to spill from his lashes. “Please, puhlease, mommy. Please!”

“Aww, what a baby!”

Jaemin laughs, lets go of his nipples to pinch at his cheeks. And then she’s knocking his right leg down to push his left knee up further into his chest, pressing into it as she continues fucking him.

What the fuck. That was kind of scary.

Yet somehow it had all of his blood running south, pooling between his legs. His cock keeps fattening and softening, unaccustomed to… all of this, the intermingling of pleasure and pain and the sheer domination from a pretty girl. But when she choked him, cut off his air supply entirely…he’s not sure what happened, if it was purely a physical response, but his dick was rock hard. His balls were tightening, too.

Fuck, he was actually getting close, even though the only stimulation his cock had been getting was whatever friction is could get against his own skin. And she was being awful to him.

And he likes it. Likes begging for her, likes calling her mommy.

He really, really likes it.

“Do you want to come, Donghyuckie?” Jaemin asks, spitting some of her hair out of her mouth. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her makeup was smearing from exertion. Her cheeks were flushed and sweat was beading at her hairline.

She still looked gorgeous. Maybe even more so. The strap to her crop top was sliding down one of her shoulders, and Donghyuck felt a surge of lust at the exposure of her collarbone. He’d seen it before, it was nothing new, but with her buried deep in him…fuck, he wanted her so bad.

“Hmm? No? You don’t want to come?” Jaemin chides him. “You’re really dumb aren’t you, did Mommy’s cock make you stupid?”

She slaps at his dick bobbing between his legs, a harsh smack that he feels before he even sees what’s happening.

“Ow! Fuck!” He grabs at his cock himself, if just to protect it. “What!?”

”I said,” Jaemin thrusts with every word, “do you want to come? Did Mommy’s cock make you stupid? Yes or no?”

There’s so much going on, the stimulation to his prostate and the slap to his dick is making him feel weird. Almost like he has to pee. A burning sensation, an urge to release, different than how he usually feels when he’s tipping over the edge.

”Yes! Yes, Mommy, yes, yes, please,” he begs, throwing his head back.

He wants to come so bad. He’s exhausted, overstimulated, shaken up. He kind of wants this to be over and done with, safe away from Jaemin and her violent hands. But he also wants to drag the minutes into hours, just feel her lodged inside. It’s so good.

“You can only come if you don’t touch your little cock,” Jaemin says. She roughly rips his hand off his dick.

She keeps fucking him, he keeps babbling nonsense, things he wants to scrub from her memory (from his, while he’s at it). Begging for Mommy to fuck him, begging for Mommy to let him come, begging for Mommy to touch him please, please, he’ll be good, just please…

And then he’s releasing all over his stomach. But to his horror, he quickly realizes something is wrong. She presses a hand on his lower abdomen, where his bladder is, as his mind belatedly catches up with the grim reality of what’s happening–he’s pissing himself, shooting urine over his belly and chest. It’s dripping off him onto the bedspread.

“Oh my god!” Jaemin laughs. Delighted. Not the least bit put out. “Donghyuckie! Eww!”

She’s laughing, running her fingers through the growing puddle of piss and flicking droplets further onto his chest. What’s worse is she sticks her pee-soaked fingers to his mouth and bullies them inside. He’s forced to taste himself on her finger pads, and it makes him gag, the taste and the fact that her long nails are ghosting the back of his sore throat. She pulls them out to wipe them on his tear-wet cheek.

“Somebody made a mess.” Jaemin says in her baby voice, the voice he’s heard her direct at kittens and other small animals. “You’re so nasty. Yucky, yucky baby.”

Oh god, he’s crying. Tears tracking down his cheeks from humiliation and frustration at the bizarre orgasm. Her baby talk is cringey and degrading, but once the piss is done dribbling from his cock, finally, finally come takes it place. Thick and milky, pooling on his dirty belly, oozing down his cock and matting his pubes.

He’s sniffling and crying, muscles all locked up and tense. He’s squeezed tight around the cock inside him, he could feel himself pulse around it as he came, as he pissed and came almost simultaneously. Honestly, he’s not sure of the order or the science behind it, all he knows it that he’s seriously depleted and sore and tired and done, arousal vanishing quickly post-orgasm.

“What the fuck,” he says quietly, scrubbing at his face, wiping his eyes. It’s mostly to himself.

Jaemin slams into him again, jostling him. He whine and tries to squirm away, wants to push her off and out.

Thankfully she’s not a monster. She just giggles before pulling out slowly, tapping the tip against his swollen entrance a couple of times for fun.

“Damn,” Jaemin says. “I didn’t know you were going to literally wet the bed.” She tosses the harness onto the floor. “A little warning might have been nice.”

Her panties are soaked. But Donghyuck can’t even relish in that, because he’s laying in a pool of his own sweat, piss, and come. It’s disgusting, and he’s mortified.

“Uh-“ He tries to say something, but he doesn’t know what to say. Voice gone all scratchy. He stands up on shaky legs, hand cupping his privates.

“Go clean up. The bathroom is just right there,” she vaguely points out the bedroom door, occupied with stripping the wet sheets from the bed.

“Um, okay.”

***********

When he comes back, having rinsed himself off quickly and dried off with a clean hand towel, he hobbles back to the bedroom. Limps, actually. Lower back sore, hole aching.

He lingers in the door, watching Jaemin still fussing with the bed.

“Sorry,” He says quietly. “I don’t know–that’s never happened, I didn’t know I would…I’m sorry. I can get you new sheets or something.”

Humiliating.

But Jaemin is…surprisingly nice about it. Just flips her hair over her shoulder and gives him a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it, it happens. That’s why I always have a pee pad down. I mean, it’s definitely gross, but it’s fine.”

Donghyuck blinks quickly.

“Huh?”

Jaemin’s smile quickly becomes more of a smirk. “Don’t worry about it,” she says again.

What kind of freaky shit did she and Jeno even get up to!?

He doesn’t linger long, puts his clothes on quietly and offers again to buy her new sheets, but she just waves him away. It’s weird. Now she’s almost being nice to him. Far nicer than any other point during the night. It throws him even further off balance.

Donghyuck watches as she pulls her sweats back on and throws her hair back in a claw clip. He doesn’t know how to navigate his exit, but thankfully she leads him through it. Takes him to the door, watches him slide his feet back in his sandals, pats him on the back. The way she usually does to his friends.

“Are you going to behave now?” She asks, crossing her arms across her chest, kicking him lightly in the shins. “You going to be good?”

Donghyuck scoffs out a laugh, blushes. His heart is pounding in his chest, so hard he’s scared she can hear it. He nods, bites his lip.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

”Good,” Jaemin smiles. “Because next time I won’t be as nice.”

He gulps, nods. Waves a silent goodbye, refusing to look her in the eye, hears the door lock behind him with a little beep.

Donghyuck crouches down in front of her door, head in his hands.

”What the fuck,” he groans into his hands. “What the fuck.”

”Uh, Donghyuck? Are you okay?”

Donghyuck looks up quickly to see Jeno standing in front of him, a little bag from the convenience store in hand.

“Uh.” He stands up and brushes imaginary dirt off his jeans. “I’m–yes, I’m fine, how are–uh–how are you? You’re here right now.”

Jeno is obviously holding in a laugh, eyes flooding with understanding. He pats him on the arm affectionately.

“I am here. To see my girlfriend. So if you’ll excuse me,” Jeno looks behind him with arched brows.

Donghyuck realizes, belatedly, that he’s blocking the door, so he quickly shuffles out of the way.

“Right! Right. Of course. Okay, well, I guess I’ll go? Yeah. I’m going. Okay.”

Jeno chuckles, eyes crinkling with his smile.

God, why is Jeno so nice!? Donghyuck literally just fucked (read: got fucked by) his girlfriend. His insanely hot girlfriend. He doesn’t care!?

Jeno waves goodbye like it was any other night, like nothing weird had happened at all.

Yup, he doesn’t care.

When Jeno opens the door Donghyuck hears a loud, happy, “Sa-mo-ye-d!!!!” Hears Jeno make a surprise sound, like he’s getting attacked by a hug. And then the door clicks behind him, locks with another beep.

Donghyuck scrubs his face.

Well. That was that then.

The other r/jerkbudhentai mods were never gonna believe this.

He walks to the bus stop slowly, trying to hide his limp, and tries to ignore the angry swirl of emotions rattling around his ribs and between his ears. He tries very hard not to label what he’s feeling, because that would make things a whole lot more complicated.

Instead he impulse buys a pink dildo for overnight delivery.

***********

The next time they see each other he gives a slight bow, gives a respectful hello, and he can see the approval in her eyes, the warmth radiating from them.

Jaemin touches his arm softly, leans in.

“Good boy, Donghyuck.”

Said quietly, a whisper, only for him to hear.

He pops a boner immediately.

And Donghyuck realizes that he’s gotten himself into a very, very sticky situation.