may (ungilded) wrote in wonshic,

devil is a lady

devil is a lady
NC-17 + Ilhoon/Changsub, Ilhoon/Eunkwang, Ilhoon/Minhyuk, Ilhoon/Hyunsik + 4661 words
eau de ilsoon.
includes: crossdressing, tattoo worship, rough sex, thigh highs, etc. are these warnings or are they reasons to read? you decide.


Changsub doesn't react at first beyond blinking the sleep out of his eyes and looking around the empty dressing room. He quietly says, "Ilhoon?" fighting off a yawn at the end of second syllable. "Why are you still—?"

Ilhoon raises a finger to his mouth and smiles like there's something he knows that Changsub doesn't, like he has a secret hidden between his glossed up lips. "Hyung, I want to ask you a question. Just one and then I'll leave you alone if you want me to. Is that okay?"

There's no use in answering the question, because Ilhoon doesn't really care whether it's okay with Changsub or not. When it comes to being heard, Ilhoon makes sure he is, every time. Changsub nods, but he really has no choice in the matter. Even if he said no, Ilhoon's fingers are wrapped around his wrist, keeping him here.

"Do you think—" Ilhoon swallows and the shadows on his face are soft like his fingers on Changsub's pulse "—do you think I'm pretty?"

"Aish." Changsub pushes Ilhoon's hand away from him and sits up. He should have known. "No, Ilhoon, I don't. Where is everyone else, don't tell me we got left behind."

"We're leaving in a half an hour or so, I came to wake you up to let you know," Ilhoon admits, watching Changsub use a mirror to fix his hair. "But, hyung, I—"

"But nothing, I'm not telling you that you're pretty." Changsub doesn't even want to glance down at Ilhoon. Seeing him like that, on his knees is—not uncomfortable exactly, but something like that. Something that makes him nervous in the pit of his stomach.

"That's not what I was going to say." Ilhoon's hands are on his knees, pushing them apart and now he's in-between them, eyes wide and make-up still on as he says, "I wanted to tell you that—hyung, even if you don't think I'm pretty I think you're—I think you're really handsome."

Changsub doesn't know what to say for a moment, hands hovering in the air above his lap, eyes moving back and forth between his own reflection in the mirror and Ilhoon's face in front of him. "Ilhoon that's not even funny, it's not—"

"I'm not trying to be funny," Ilhoon says, whine caught between his tongue and and the back of his throat and Changsub knows that Ilhoon doesn't like to touch people and yet here he is, voice breathless. "I mean it. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. I—I want—"

Ilhoon's hands are moving up his thighs and he's leaning forward, angling his head upwards and Changsub only just realizes what he wants because it seems so unreal, so unlikely. He wants to ask Ilhoon if he's sure about this, but instead he has his hands on the side of Ilhoon's face and Ilhoon is kissing him hungrily, messily, pushing himself upward and onto Changsub's lap.

When Ilhoon pulls away, for a second or thirty, he'll say, "Please, please, please," and his hips are moving downward the whole time, his ass against Changsub's clothed dick and it's impossible for Changsub to not get half-hard from just the feeling of it. Ilhoon kisses the side of his face, licks at the skin of his jaw, and says, "Want you so bad."

And Changsub can't say no, because the reason Ilhoon always gets what he wants is because he makes other people want to give it to him. He works backwards, he's too smart for his own good.

What kills him is that Ilhoon came prepared, that he only has to push himself halfway over the back of the couch, leaning over Changsub's shoulders while Changsub holds his hips, to get to a small bag he has tucked away in his things.

Changsub says, "Ilhoon," nervously as Ilhoon drops lube and condom into his lap delicately. "Ilhoon, we can't do this, someone's going to come in here—someone's going to wonder where we are—"

"I lied, everyone left," Ilhoon interrupts him. "They didn't want to wait for you, no one else could wake you up and I told them—" he uses his teeth to rip open the foil of the condom "—that I'd get you to wake up and we'd get home on our own. No one's going to come in. I need to take off these tights."

Changsub is too tired to do anything but make a slightly confused face at this news as Ilhoon stands up and lifts the skirts of his dress up, pushing the navy blue tights down and kicking them away. As he's climbing back onto Changsub's lap, Changsub notices that there are silky grey briefs, the kind Ilhoon always wears, on the floor as well.

"Ilhoon," he says, softly, and Ilhoon looks up at him, his hands on the front of Changsub's jeans. "Have you done this before?"

"Well," Ilhoon pauses, shifting so the hem of his dress rides up his thighs. "Well, no, but—I think it would be good if it's you. Because you're nice and I like you. And you won't tell everyone. And I like your tattoos."

"My tattoos?"

"I want—" Ilhoon looks to the side, nervous for the first time since Changsub woke up. "I want to kiss them."

The thought makes Changsub's heart race for some reason he's not exactly able to pinpoint. It makes him want to kiss Ilhoon again so he does, taking control this time so it's less frantic and more controlled, more lingering. He has Ilhoon's hot breath on his face as he says, "Alright. You can do that."

Ilhoon's eyes flutter closed at his words and they only open again when Changsub's got three fingers in his ass, crooked sideways, and he's letting out little puffs of air. "Are you really—are you really that big, hyung?" he asks and he sounds curious, his arms loose around Changsub's neck, his vowels drawn out in the way that they are when he's trying to sound cute. He wants the question to sound less serious than it is.

Changsub wants to press a kiss to Ilhoon's forehead, but there's hair there so he settles for saying, "You can handle me, Hoonie," for feeling the way Ilhoon leans against him, warm like the sun and only half as bright, moving against Changsub's fingers like he needs something more.

And he's the one to roll the condom onto Changsub's dick with nervous hands and a half-open mouth. He looks up at Changsub through too-long eyelashes and says, "Can I lay down while you do it?" in a shaky voice. He's more fragile than Changsub has ever seen him, more beautiful than ever when he's on his back, legs around Changsub's hips as he pushes into him, fingers on his own lips.

"Are you okay?" Changsub asks and it's hard to even get the sentence out. Because he's sure—he's sure—Ilhoon's hurting because of it, but he's so tight, so hot around Changsub's dick that he feels like he can't breathe.

Ilhoon is sinfully pretty when he says, "No, but—yes, ah, it hurts more than I th-thought it would, but," he swallows, "it's you, I like you. Can I—?" He has his fingers on Changsub's forearm, his fingertips on the letters of his tattoo and Changsub lets him grab his wrist and pull his arm forward so that he can press his lips to it. Ilhoon opens his mouth against the skin, tongue burning against the words there, gasping out with each slow roll of Changsub's hips. He feels Ilhoon whispering against his skin, like a prayer, like worship.

Changsub's going at an agonizingly slow pace. He wants to go faster, to fuck Ilhoon and hear his name echo through the empty room, but he knows it's better if he doesn't. And, really, he's still so tired.

He feels Ilhoon's teeth graze the skin of his wrist and then his lips are against his palm, and then his fingers are in Ilhoon's mouth and Changsub feels the heat in his stomach spill over, feels himself falter, his hips snapping forward one last time before he comes.

Ilhoon comes not a minute later, Changsub's fingers leaving his spit-slicked mouth with a soft pop, his hips rising up as he gasps out all the air from his lungs.

He's quiet for a minute before he says, "We have to go," and then sticks out his lower lip. "I don't want to go. I don't want to walk. Can you carry me, hyung?"

"No," Changsub says, because Ilhoon is such a brat, he's such a baby, and he's so pretty that sometimes he just can't get what he wants.

Sometimes, but not all the time.


Eunkwang isn't too entirely upset about Ilhoon leaning over him while wearing a wig and pressing a kiss to his cheek. It's just that it's a bit unexpected and he had really planned on taking a nap for once, even if it was inevitable that he'd end up staring at the ceiling trying to remember the name of a movie he saw almost two years ago, the one with the ghosts and the little boy.

He says, "Ilhoon—"

And Ilhoon interrupts him, says, "No, Ilsoon," with a cautious sort of insistence. A call me this or else I don't know what, or else I'll feel bad, I'll make you feel bad, and you're the only one I can ask to do this for me.

Eunkwang isn't used to his dongsaengs straddling him, but he is used to them asking him for things that they're too nervous to ask of anyone else. Most of the things he does for Sungjae, for Donggeun, for Ilhoon too, are things that he knows no one else does for them. Helping Donggeun with Korean words that everyone else thinks he knows by now. Sitting with Sungjae on the bathroom floor when he's tired and nauseous and needs someone to make him laugh.

Calling Ilhoon, "Ilsoonie," instead of what he usually calls him, saying, "what do you want?"

"I want you to make me feel good," is Ilhoon's answer and he really is so pretty, backlit by the light filtering through the blinds of the window behind him, eyes so wide that they all forget how old he is now, sometimes.

"Oh," Eunkwang says with a nervous laugh that slips out of his mouth without his permission. Things are always doing that to him, words too. No one really listens to him. "Oh, Il—Ilsoonie I don't know what you mean by that."

"I mean," Ilhoon leans down, lips just an inch away from Eunkwang's, "that I want you to fuck me."

Eunkwang nearly yelps at that, but the sound is swallowed up by Ilhoon kissing him, drinking the air out of his lungs. There's something sticky between them and that makes Eunkwang's eyes close, makes him think oh no, makes him lick into Ilhoon's mouth without thinking and taste the hope there.

Because he'd thought this was a joke for a second, that Sungjae would pop out of somewhere, from under one of the beds or from the other side of the closed door and burst into laughter as he took a picture on his phone. He'd thought Ilhoon was just—just being Ilhoon, teasing and pushing and then pulling away before anything can actually happen.

But—no. Ilhoon's kissing his jaw now, kissing down the side of his neck, making needy noises and he only pauses to whisper, "I need to be under you," and Eunkwang only hesitates for a few suspended seconds before making it happen.

Ilhoon with his neck exposed, Ilhoon with his lips parted as he exhales breathy moans, Ilhoon lifting up his hips so Eunkwang can pull down the skirt and briefs he's wearing. All of it is too pretty to be real.

"Where did you get this?" Eunkwang asks, holding the skirt in his hands. The shirt Ilhoon is wearing is nothing special, just plain black, but the skirt is nothing he's ever seen before.

"I bought it," Ilhoon replies and the question seems silly as he trails his own hands down his stomach, towards his exposed dick. "I know you like pretty girls, do you like me now?"

Eunkwang's answer of, "Like you always," is breathed out against the skin of Ilhoon's hip. He pushes his words into Ilhoon's skin, his hands on the back of his thighs. The head of Ilhoon's cock against his lips and Ilhoon whispers, "Fuck," at that, hums out as Eunkwang takes him in just a little further.

"Hyung," he whines when Eunkwang backs off, runs his tongue along the head of his dick and then takes his mouth off it completely.

"Ilsoonie, I'm oppa," Eunkwang corrects and he can't help but smiling at the sour face Ilhoon makes in response to that. "Does Ilsoonie want me to—"

"Ilsoonie wants oppa to fuck her and—ah." Ilhoon squirms around as Eunkwang presses a kiss to his tummy. "Hyung?"

"Sorry," Eunkwang whispers, feeling sheepish. "It's cute."

Ilhoon turns pink, an embarrassed sound coming from between his lips. "I-I'm not. I'm pretty, right? Tell me—"

"The prettiest baby," Eunkwang answers and Ilhoon is still pink, still embarrassed, but there's a smile on his face now and he turns away to grab a bag at the edge of the mattress, something he must have brought with him. It's small and black and Eunkwang probably wouldn't notice it if it wasn't in Ilhoon's hands, if it wasn't being opened, if a packet of condoms and lube wasn't falling onto the mattress next to them.

It's just—it's too easy to fuck Ilhoon, easier than it should be. He should have some reservations about stretching him with his fingers, about kissing his shoulder and tasting his sweat. He should feel bad about pushing his dick into Ilhoon, about letting one hand grab his ass, hold him up so he has better leverage with which to fuck him.

But he doesn't at all. Mostly he feels warm all over, feels like he's spent a day at the beach in the sun. He feels Ilhoon's hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him down into a kiss that's so desperate he can feel it trailing down his spine like sweat on skin. He feels Ilhoon's dick in his hand, hears the oh god yes please i need it i need it i need its falling from his lips.

He doesn't feel bad because it's impossible to when Ilhoon comes between them, sticky white on Eunkwang's hand, a shuddering breath that ends with, "Hyung, you're so good, you're so good, I'm yours, please, let me be—let me be your baby."

"You are, you are," Eunkwang replies, murmurs against Ilhoon's lips, kissing him again as he comes, grip still tight on Ilhoon's ass and—that's when it occurs to him. It takes him a minute to say it, blinking the spots out of his vision and rolling to the side. "The Sixth Sense."

"What?" Ilhoon says, confused, already sitting up and reading for his clothes.

"The movie I was trying to remember—it's The Sixth Sense," Eunkwang explains. "There's ghosts and a little kid—it scared me pretty badly."

"Hyung." Ilhoon pulls his shirt over his head and gives him a pointed look. The wig on his head is askew now. He looks a little like an angel. "You're weird."

Eunkwang smiles, he feels happy. "I know."


Minhyuk bites down on the skin of the inside of Ilhoon's thigh, the part that's only just exposed, right above the top of the lace of the thigh highs he's wearing. The skin is soft against his lips, his tongue, the remnants of baby fat there, the reminder that Ilhoon is just barely an adult, that the boy underneath him on the couch of the composition room is probably too innocent for all of this.

Not that Minhyuk really cares about that.

The fact is, Ilhoon is the one who asked him to come here, who said they should work on something together. He was the one who was laying on the couch when Minhyuk got here. He's the one in the wig, the thigh highs, and the silk underwear which are, incidentally, already stained from Minhyuk doing nothing more than touching.

Ilhoon didn't even have to ask, though, because Minhyuk knows what he's doing. Maybe no one else notices, but for Minhyuk it's hard to miss the self-satisfied smiles Ilhoon wears some days, the way Eunkwang especially looks at him now. That and, of course, Eunkwang's babbling confession about what happened a few weeks ago, about how he can't stop thinking about it. And Minhyuk would feel bad for doing this, really, he would, but he's just not the type to turn a blind eye to something that he's being told is so good.

After all, if even picky Changsub (disgruntled Changsub who hates fan service more than any of them) couldn't resist then who is Minhyuk to deny himself a taste.

And Ilhoon is like something fresh, something maybe lemon flavored, sour with a hint of sweetness to it. His bottom lip is full and catches between Minhyuk's teeth easily. The moans coming out his mouth are throaty, dark chocolate and cherry-dipped, and Minhyuk wants to indulge.

"Where did you get all of this?" he asks, hooking two fingers under the top elastic of one of the thigh highs, pulling it away from Ilhoon's leg and then letting it snap back into place, feeling heat pool in his stomach as Ilhoon jumps in response to that, lets out a sharp breath.

"It's—um, it's mine." Ilhoon licks at his lips and whether it's out of nerves or an attempt to make them shiny, Minhyuk doesn't know. "They're mine. I bought it all. I ordered it online with some other clothes, n-none of you even noticed."

He sounds self-satisfied and Minhyuk supposes he's a little impressed. It takes guts to get what you want when you know what you want will seem wrong to everyone else. Ilhoon's always seemed a little different, but now Minhyuk knows he is, understands it on a level that he's not sure anyone else does.

"This stuff is yours—it's Ilhoon's, right?" he asks, careful with his words and Ilhoon's response is a heavy blink, like the weight of the world is on him, then a cautious nod. "So, am I dealing with Ilsoon right now? Or is it Ilhoon?"

"It's just me," Ilhoon breathes out. "There's really no difference, it's just me. And I just want, hyung, I want you to ruin me." His voice cracks and Minhyuk can feel that he's desperate, can feel that he means it.

And because he wants it, Minhyuk has no problem pushing Ilhoon's face into the couch, back pretty and exposed, thigh highs still on but panties on the floor, ass in front of Minhyuk, begging for it.

Ilhoon says, "Please," like a prayer, whispered and reverent. And Minhyuk, condom on and fingers sticky with lube still as they're curled around Ilhoons hips, gives him exactly what he's asking for.

Minhyuk knows what it's like to be stretched open, he knows that it burns, but that after a while the burn starts to feel good. He knows that the noises Ilhoon are making are already from the good part of things and he asks him, "Do you like dick that much, Ilhoon, does it make you feel good?"

"Yes, yes," Ilhoon's words are wet with the spit from his mouth, almost delirious. "Oh, yes, oh god, I love it. B-But, hyung?"

"Hm?" Minhyuk's buried deep and Ilhoon is warm against him, his chest pressed to the curve of Ilhoon's back, Ilhoon's shoulder under his lips.

"I've been—so b-bad," Ilhoon gasps out. "Haven't I? A-Aren't you going to—shouldn't I b-be in trouble?"

"Oh," Minhyuk smiles against warm skin, "you are." Grip tight on Ilhoon's hips he pulls back and then pushes back in, much harder than before. Ilhoon makes a choking noise, his arms shaking. "You have no idea how much trouble you're in."

He sucks on the skin of the side of Ilhoon's neck, bites down there and then licks at it as he fucks him harder. Ilhoon is trying not to be loud, he can tell, though he's not sure why since the room they're in is soundproof—but, regardless, the only sounds are his hips hitting Ilhoon's ass and Ilhoon breathing heavily, saying, "I'm sorry, oh, y-you're so good, please," like if he stops talking that will mean that this ends.

"Are you going to fuck someone else after me?" Minhyuk asks, pausing his movements, voice low, like he doesn't know the answer. "Hm, Ilhoon?"

"P-Please," Ilhoon's voice is a whimper and he's trying to move backwards, but Minhyuk holds steady, keeps his hips in place.

"Are you," Minhyuk starts again, leaning down close, "going to," lips just a centimeter away from Ilhoon's skin, "fuck someone else?"

Ilhoon's eyes are closed tight and his voice is hardly a whisper when he answers, "Yes."

Minhyuk slams his hips forward and Ilhoon gasps out, words suddenly tumbling out of his mouth, "I'm g-going to like them better than you, I'm th-thinking about them right now, I-I'm sorry, I'm so bad."

Somehow that's what breaks Minhyuk and with one final snap of his hips forward he comes and then slumps forward, exhausted and covered in sweat. Ilhoon makes a tiny noise of surprise at the sudden weight on him and then another one as Minhyuk shifts them both so that they're laying on their sides, his arms around Ilhoon.

He takes Ilhoon's cock in one hand and it's not even a challenge. Ilhoon breathes out his name at the touch and comes after just a few strokes, all over Minhyuk's fingers. He looks so cute it causes Minhyuk to falter, watching his wide eyes and open mouth. He grabs Minhyuk's hand seemingly without thinking and then he's licking his own cum off of them, greedy as always.

Minhyuk whispers, "Good boy," as he watches him do it, and then again as he presses a kiss to Ilhoon's temple. "You're a good boy, Ilhoon."

And Ilhoon, cum on his lips, smiles up at him, like he's known that all along.


Hyunsik hears Ilhoon say, "Hyung?" from the other side of the hotel room, but doesn't look up from his phone.

"Hm?" Hyunsik swipes two candies to the side and then another, a ding sounding when he does. There are seventeen seconds left and he knows he'll be able to get enough points if he doesn't break his concentration.

"Hyung," more insistently this time, "please look at me."

"Hoonie, I'm in the middle of something." Ding. Ten seconds left and Hyunsik makes the mistake of glancing up for one of them.

His phone falls out of his hands and there's the distinctive sound that tells him that he didn't manage to pass the level, but that barely registers in his mind.

Ilhoon is standing by the bathroom door in high heels. He's got his hands fisted in a dark grey skirt that ends right above his knees and a short, brown wig on. Hyunsik can't be sure from far away but he's fairly certain he's wearing mascara and eyeshadow, especially when he closes his eyes for a few seconds, looking like he's gathering up the courage to say something.

"S-Surprise," he says, softly. He's wobbling a little in the shoes. Hyunsik doesn't know what kind they are, but they're black and the heels are at least four inches. "I got you Ilsoonie. Are you happy?"

"Ilhoon—I didn't ask you to—this is—"

"If you don't like it," Ilhoon interrupts, eyes closed again, "you can just tell me. I didn't really do it for you. It's okay, I'm doing it for me. I just thought you might want to see. I thought maybe you might want—" Ilhoon breathes in, like it's his last chance to "—me."

"Come here," Hyunsik says and it comes out more like a command than he means for it to. Watching Ilhoon walk like a baby deer in high heels is too satisfying and that's why, more than anything, he smiles when he puts his hand on Ilhoon's wrist, when he pulls him down into a kiss.

Ilhoon's lip gloss is sticky, but it tastes like something sweet against Hyunsik's lips. He makes noises in the back of his throat as he scrambles to get on top of Hyunsik, to straddle him. The top of his thigh is smooth and hard against Hyunsik's palm and there's just something in the way he kisses, like a dam's been broken open and Hyunsik is caught in the flood.

"How long?" he asks, an inch away from kissing Ilhoon again, two inches as Ilhoon leans backwards and then even further as Ilhoon turns to slip off his shoes and push them off the side of the bed.

"Since I saw you," he answers and he's definitely wearing makeup, applied so perfectly that Hyunsik can tell he's been practicing. His eyes are even bigger than usual as he looks up at Hyunsik through long eyelashes, pretty like a snake is before it sinks its teeth into you, and says, "What about you?"

Hyunsik doesn't know how to answer that concisely, and instead he pulls Ilhoon down again, both of them below water, drowning into each other, hoping that Ilhoon understands him.

Because there have been days where Ilhoon has smiled at him even though they're both exhausted, times where Ilhoon has sat next to him and made him feel better just by being there, nights where Ilhoon is on his mind and he doesn't know why, but he won't leave, he won't ever leave.

Ilhoon's skirt slips off easily, his tights falling on the floor by his shoes, his top coming off more gently than Hyunsik's so that his wig stays in place.

He asks, "What do you want?" in a voice that Hyunsik has never heard from him before, with a tone that suggests that he'll actually do what Hyunsik asks (though, with Ilhoon, it's hard to be sure). "What do you want me to do? I'll do anything."

Hyunsik wants Ilhoon on his lap and he gets it, Ilhoon's thighs around his waist, his ass against Hyunsik's dick, one finger in his own mouth and his eyeshadow is silver and cobalt, like something dark and expensive. Something worth its weight in gold.

Lube halfway gone and condom on and Ilhoon has his hands on Hyunsik's chest as he lowers himself onto his dick, thighs shaking and mouth wide open. His nails dig into Hyunsik's skin and there's already sweat on his temple. He says, "Hyung, h-hyung," in a way that makes him sound scared, makes him sound nervous and Hyunsik has his hands on his hips, guiding him downwards.

"I've got you," he says, breathes out, words fragile like Ilhoon likes to pretend he isn't. Everything in the world is slip-silky smooth and molten lava, the sheets under Hyunsik are melting away and Ilhoon on top of him is something he's disappearing into.

Buried deep he pulls Ilhoon close and kisses his collarbone, whispers something in Mandarin against his skin, words liquid, sliding off his tongue.

"What was that?" Ilhoon asks, voice heavy and gasping. "Oh—hyung, y-you're so good—d-did you say you love me?"

"Ah," Hyunsik laughs, embarrassed, hands on Ilhoon's back, breathing out as Ilhoon's hips rise finally. "I-I think that was my usual order at, um, a-at, ah, th-this family restaurant I used to go to in Beijing."

Ilhoon slams a hand against his shoulder and lets out a slurred, "F-fuck—fuck—fuck," that Hyunsik suspects is more due to the lack of dick in his ass than any anger he actually has about what Hyunsik said. "M-Make it up to me, please, hyung. Tell me I'm the kind of g-girl you like."

"Oh, I thought you knew that," Hyunsik says, thumb against Ilhoon's lips now, between his teeth, against his tongue. "You're the type of boy I like, too, Ilhoon. Y-You're just everything." Ilhoon tight around him, leaning forward, kissing him, tasting like something he shouldn't be allowed to eat, something he stole when no one was looking. Ilhoon pulls away and Hyunsik whispers, words sticky and slow, "You've always been the prettiest, always."

And there's a smile on Ilhoon's lips, teeth showing, the inescapable laughter that comes from him when he's actually happy about something and not just pretending for the sake of other people.

He kisses Hyunsik with those smile-stained lips and his fingers are warm against exposed skin.

Even with Hyunsik's eyes closed, Ilhoon is the prettiest thing he's ever seen.
Tags: f: btob, g: pwp, p: ilhoon/changsub, p: ilhoon/eunkwang, p: ilhoon/hyunsik, p: ilhoon/minhyuk, t: oneshot
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