#kpop Fanfiction

[stillmonsterz]

birds of a feather

this is part two to brave it together.

pairing: jay x reader, jake x reader genre: smut, angst, slight humor summary: after your eventful week, you assumed that life would go back to normal. instead, things only become even more complicated and tangled. your feelings for jay continue morphing, and his treatment of you only make you feel even more confused. as you attempt to balance your newfound social life, your complex intrapersonal relationships, and the mystery surrounding mina's suicide, you begin to wonder if there's anyone in the school you could trust. contains: unprotected sex, dubcon, drug usage, alcohol usage, manipulation, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder, infidelity, exhibitionism, name calling word count: 28.9k taglist: @moon7jay @ui11iane @bambangan @belowbun @sseobonggs

You were lying in Jay’s arms, and you were scared to make a sound. If you did, you felt as though he would remember you were there and tell you to leave. But right now, as his cheek rested on your bare shoulder, you didn’t want to go.

After you had gone to his room, you had drunk exactly one shot of the whiskey he had promised you before he was all over you again. You’d had sex twice more in his bedroom after your time on the roof. It was a blur to you, a hazy deluge of memories: being spanked, thrown around in whatever position he wanted you in, hands gripping you tight enough to leave an array of bruises more vibrant than the last set, kisses full of venom.

Jay clung to you after he came the third time, your back flush against his chest so that you were spooning. You basked in his attention, in the scent of Jay’s sweat mixed with his cologne.

You didn’t want to move your head, so you had a limited view of his room. In the dark, you could see his nightstand, whereupon a half-empty package of cigarettes, a box of condoms, some scattered books, and assorted jewelry lay. The condoms surprised you, because Jay hadn’t used any with you.The floor was messy, with clothes strewn haphazardly on the plush carpet. Some of those were yours. You could see band posters stuck all over, some you recognized and some you didn’t. The room was gradually becoming brighter, and you dimly realized that the sun was rising. Already? It was November, meaning that it had to be approaching morning-time. 

“Jay,” you muttered. He made a muffled noise and shifted, pressing his cheek against you. “Jay, it’s morning.”

“Mm…”

“I should go.”

Some part of you wanted him to tell you to stay, but instead Jay whispered, “One more round?” HIs hands started to caress your waist again.

You sighed. “No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Jay groaned and released you, sitting up in his bed. His hair was messy, and by the light filtering in through his curtains, you could see that you had left scratches on his back and shoulders. The cigarette mark you had made last night still lingered on his arm. “You’re still such a prude,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“What if someone catches us?” You sat up as well, mustering the urge to stand. Your legs were terribly sore, and when you tried to stand up they shook like a fawn’s. 

Jay watched you as you collected your clothes from the ground and put them on mechanically.  “You’re right,” he said in a strange voice. “It’s 7, so I doubt anyone in Stoker will be up anyways. If you take the back exit…down the back set of stairs…take a right…you should be fine.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, fumbling with the buttons of your jacket. All you’d had to eat yesterday was a samosa and three cigarettes, with scant sleep in between, and it was starting to take a toll on your body. The cold that had been brewing was starting to rear its ugly head, and you made a note to get your hands on some cough syrup. You were glad that you wore shoes you could slip into, because you doubted that you could be trusted to tie shoelaces.

Jay sighed and beckoned for you. “C’mere,” he said. “You’re so helpless. You’re like a newborn or something.”

You shuffled over to the bed, sitting on the edge. “You have sex with newborns often?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Jay fixed your buttons for you, one by one. “Don’t get cute with me.” 

“Sorry.”

“And don’t be sarcastic, either. It doesn’t look good on you.” Jay squeezed your cheeks between his thumb and middle finger, pulling it this way and that as though to inspect your features. “You look like shit.”

“It’s been a long weekend,” you say dryly. 

“Hm.” Jay looked into your eyes for a few seconds too long before releasing you. “Well, get out of here. Don’t need Jake having a stroke because I’ve defiled his new white whale.” Jay chuckled, his usual smug expression returning. “On second thought, maybe you should stay. I could call Jakey, he could come over here, and I could show him just how good you are at taking my-,”

“Goodbye,” you said, pulling away from him and standing upright. Just the sound of Jake’s name made you feel odd. Not guilt, not shame, but another emotion you couldn’t place. Something nasty, something that felt like tar trickling down your throat. 

“Bye, little prude,” Jay said. “Oh, where are my manners?” He got out of bed, shivered at the cold, and opened the door for you. His eyes glittered with their usual spark of malice, and it made you wonder what he was going to do. You didn’t want to stick around to find out, so you nodded your head and took a step from his room. 

There was a tug at your jacket’s collar, and Jay whispered your name. You turned your head to meet his gaze once more. “Probably don’t have to tell you this,” he began, eyes trained on you,  “but don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“Who would I tell?” you replied quietly. 

Jay smiled, his dimple adding an uncharacteristic boyishness to his otherwise chiseled face. “Good answer,” he said, “but that’s not a yes. Don’t tell anyone we fucked, alright?”

You looked down at the ground. For some reason, it still hadn’t sunk in that you had voluntarily slept with Jay. Several times, at that. 

“Look at me,” he said, and you lifted your head. “You won’t tell a soul?”

“I won’t,” you said softly. 

Jay nodded and let go of your jacket. “You’re so obedient,” he muttered. “You’ll make an excellent housewife someday.”

“Housewife? I don’t know if I want to get married.”

“Please. Nice, meek girls like you always end up barefoot and pregnant to some hulking idiot,” Jay said dismissively. “It’s a matter of when, not if.”

“What about you?” you asked.

Jay frowned. “What about me?” 

“Will you get married, have kids?”

A brief flash of hurt crossed Jay’s features, the first time you had ever seen it on his face. “Can’t have kids,” he said. “I shoot blanks.”

“Oh.”

“I had hypospadias as a baby. Got the surgery young, everything is fine, I’m just completely sterile. So I’ll never bear my parents an heir.” Jay said the last sentence in someone else’s voice, as though he were mimicking words another had said. 

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Jay snorted and scratched his arm. “Don’t be,” he said. “I can fuck like an animal and never get a bitch pregnant. It’s the best. So you don’t have to worry about having my kid…although I feel like you would look good pregnant.”

“Jay.”

“You’d gain weight in all the right places…yeah, I wouldn’t let you abort my kid,” Jay continued. “You’d be forced to bear little Jay junior, and like a good father I would pay child support and take the little shit to Disneyland once in a while. And he’d be like, ‘Daddy, daddy, I just got a b minus in math class!’ And I’d say, ‘Son, you’re going to learn that math matters little in the real world. Come, let me take you to Hooters, so that you can swim in the ocean with men, instead of wallowing in the kiddy pool of arithmetic.’”

“Little Jay junior wouldn’t be happy,” you said, smiling slightly. “How could he be happy when Daddy hates Mommy?”

Jay laughed, quietly enough so the sound didn’t resonate down the hallway. He leaned against the doorframe, holding his arm above his head. “Please. Daddies hate mommies all the time. It’s normal.”

You hesitated before whispering, “And do mommies hate daddies?”

Jay paused as well. One of his hands reached out slowly and gently rubbed at the corner of your lips. ”They should,” he murmured, flicking something away. “They should hate daddies. Mommies aren’t very smart sometimes.” Jay cleared his throat, pulling his hand away from you. “Now run along or I really will split you open in front of Jake.” 

Without another word, you took off down the hallway. The wide hallway alone reeked of decadence and dripped with pretension. There was no reason why a college dorm should have delicate china vases balancing on hardwood nightstands that lined the hallways, nor why the walls should have crown molding. What asshole had spent this much money on a college dorm?

As you crept towards the back staircase, you noticed that one of the dorm rooms had a sock on the doorknob. That seemed much more appropriate for a building populated largely by idiotic young men. You continued down the steps, to the right, and exited the building safely. 

Just before you left to head to Fawcett, you turned around. The lights were off in all of the rooms except for one, and if you shielded your eyes, you could see a dark figure inside. You wondered if it wasn’t Jay watching you. You thought about waving, but that would seem far too playful. You continued walking through the cold, back to your own dorm. 

–

After a weary shower in the communal bathroom and a long, long nap in your room, you decided that it might be time to actually get some schoolwork done. You had a group project that you hadn’t started, assignments in all of your classes, and you had to be at the library by four to start your shift there. 

You were ravenous, though. Damned if you saw Isa, or Riki, or whoever else. You were going to go to Fawcett and get yourself something to eat. You put some decent clothes on, pocketed some of the money Jay had given you, and went to the caf. Amazingly, no one was there. No one you knew, anyways. You got yourself a breakfast meal and tore into it. As you ate, you decided to text Isa. Yesterday had been too busy, too overwhelming to even think about talking to another soul. 

You: Sorry for the late message. I’m doing all right. Hope you’re okay.

Isa texted back so quickly, your head spun.

Isa: im doing great omg

Isa: no need to apologize!

Isa: are u okay though? :(((

Isa: jake told me jay was bothering you again :/ 

Isa: i talked to jay about it and he says he’ll stop

Isa: im so glad we’re talking again i missed him badddd

What?

You: You and Jay?

Isa: yupp 

Isa: he says hi btw

Isa: he’s with me rn

Isa: oh him and jake fought 

Isa: jake looks fuckedddd lol 

Isa: shouldn’t have fought w jay

Isa: he’s a psycho fr

Isa: i’ve always liked them a little crazy lmao

A chill ran through you, and the bite of food you had been chewing turned into ash. You swallowed it, nearly choking. Already? He had gone to Isa already? Mere hours after you two had fucked? And what did she mean by “my man”, when Jay had explicitly told you that they weren’t dating?

You recollected yourself and typed out a quick “see you at work” message to Isa. Why did you care so much? Things were going back to the way they had always been. Jay teased you, Isa was gorgeous, and they would make tender, sweet love while you twiddled your fucking thumbs and knitted sweaters. This was the way things had been for weeks, months, years. Why should they change now? It was obvious to you now. Jay had merely used you to get his rocks off, just another ploy in his juvenile game. In just a few days, he had erased months of harassment by showing you the barest modicum of kindness. Jay was right. You were pathetic. 

You forced yourself to eat the rest of your food, lest you faint from hunger. If Jay was going to return to his old self, so would you. You would withdraw into yourself once more and pretend like the past week had never happened.

–

You didn’t know why you still bothered making dramatic ultimatums like that. After your classes on Monday, which were such an unbearable slog that you almost wished Jay had pushed you off the roof, you trudged to your job at the library. 

When you got to the main desk, Jay and Isa were already there. It was revolting, seeing Jay lean in to give Isa a gentle kiss on the lips, far sweeter than any he had given you. Your face burned with indignation, but you swallowed it down. If there was anything you were good at, it was pretending not to have emotions. Sometimes you almost believed it.

Isa was wearing a baggy T-shirt, which you recognized as Jay’s Jane’s Addiction t-shirt, over a red-and-black plaid skirt with combat boots. It was a cute, punk look. 

“Isa,” you said with a slight wave. She turned to you and squealed, and any irritation you held towards her washed away. 

“I was so worried about you,” Isa wailed, rushing forward to give you a hug. You hugged her back stiffly, patting her back. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sick,” you said quietly. “The weather.” She smelled like Jay’s cologne. 

“Stupid Jake and his golf cart,” Isa mumbled. 

“Golf cart? He had my golf cart?” Jay’s voice was incredulous, and you tried not to focus on the way his thumb was hooked through the belt loops on Isa’s skirt. 

“Yeah, he drove us to Yeonjun’s in it,” Isa said, turning to look at Jay with shimmering eyes. 

“What the fuck? That was mine,” Jay said. “I was wondering why it was missing. What the fuck is his problem?” 

“I didn’t know you played golf.”

“I do a lot of things you don’t know about.”

Isa danced her fingers up Jay’s chest. “Maybe you could show me some of those things.”

Jesus. You walked past Isa and stood behind the main desk, picking up the list of tasks. The words swam in front of your eyes, and you blinked several times to clear up the dizziness. “I’m going to contact the clubs,” you said weakly. The library regularly booked spaces for different clubs, and you were in charge of corresponding with them. Sometimes you wondered exactly what the morning library staff did. 

Isa nodded at you. “Jay’s gonna help me shelve the books,” she said, gripping the front of his shirt. “Aren’t you?” She pouted at him. 

“Whatever,” Jay said. You kept your head bowed as you settled into the swivel chair, booting up the computer. Their footsteps faded, and you snuck one look at their retreating figures. Just like last week, you observed that they did look good together. 

The minutes passed by without you realizing it. You were grateful for the routine: help people with stupid questions, check out books, place holds. Sometimes you would hear Isa’s giggle and your heart would clench. As you worked at the desk, a shadow covered your workspace. Assuming that it was a student, you said, “Can I help you?” before you looked up.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to get someone a smoothie, but she doesn’t stop working,” a familiar voice said. Jake stood in front of you, both hands drumming on the desk. His eye was still swollen, his eyelids painted a harsh, glossy purple. His smile only served to showcase his split lip, and his hair fell into his eyes as usual. 

“Jake,” you said. “I don’t get off for another ten minutes.” 

“I figured,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “But I wanted to see you before then. You aren’t busy, are you?”

“Incredibly busy. Can’t you see I’m being swarmed by people?”

Jake laughed, so you let out a soft chuckle too. If only he didn’t have feelings for you. If only he wasn’t in the Karma Club. If only he hadn’t potentially driven a girl to suicide, or worse. 

“Anything I can help with?” he asked, resting his arms on the desk and propping his chin on his sleeves. Now that he was eye-level with you, you could study his features closely. Despite his injuries, Jake was still really cute. 

“Don’t think so,” you said. “Hardest thing to do is reshelving, and Isa and Jay are doing that.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows at the sound of Jay’s name. “So they’re back together?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a surprise, considering how much Jay bitches about Isa. Then again, what doesn’t Jay bitch about? He’d whine about a fountain of gold if he could. And he’s helping her do something? Seriously? Isa’s amazing.”

You must have looked pretty bad, because Jake’s face grew worried. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Just a little sick. Hurricane and all.”

“The smoothie will be full of Vitamin C,” Jake said thoughtfully. “So that should help rejuvenate your system, boost your immune system. Oh, speaking of that, you mind if Sunghoon comes? He’s chill.”

Sunghoon? He was the one who had been there on that first fateful day of school, the one who had looked at you with such scorn. “Sure,” you said. “Hey, by the w-,”

Jake cut you off by plucking something off of your sweater; a little piece of yarn. “Sorry,” he said, flicking it away, “it was bothering me.”

“No problem,” you mumbled. It had been so natural, the way he had done that. You couldn’t imagine what it was like to just live without second-guessing your actions, your words. In that moment, you deeply envied Jake. 

His soft eyes met with yours again. “How come you always wear those big sweaters, anyways?”

“They’re comfortable,” you said.

“Seems a little hot,” Jake said. “I mean, you’re even wearing a turtleneck under there.”

You couldn’t exactly tell him that you were trying to hide the hickeys Jay had given you, so you muttered, “It’s winter soon.”

“I guess,” Jake said. He didn’t sound entirely convinced, but he dropped it. 

“I’ll meet you at Stopkewich,” you said, adjusting the collar of your sweater. “Just have to finish up here.”

“Sure, sure,” Jake said, grinning widely. “See you.”

For some reason, you wanted to feel normal, like everyone else. You reached out and grabbed the cuff of his flannel’s sleeve. Jake looked at you expectantly. “What is it, Wednesday?”

You grasped for words before finally mustering up a quiet, “Thanks for coming to see me.”

To your surprise, and slight confusion, Jake grew bashful, looking down at the ground. “Aw, it was no big deal. It’s fun seeing you…seeing you in the zone, y’know?” 

You let go of his sleeve, pleased at your success. It was really that easy? “Thank you anyways,” you said. 

Jake waved at you, licking his busted lip as he walked backwards. “See you in five,” he said before accidentally knocking into a display of pamphlets. He glanced around him before walking away quickly, heading out the doors. Cute. 

“Ooh,” Isa said. You hadn’t even realized that she had returned, but when you looked away from the exit you saw Isa and Jay standing around the desk. “You and Jake, huh?”

“I didn’t realize Jake liked her,” Jay said, his eyes fixed on Isa. You had resented his cold gaze for a long time, but you disliked his indifference more. 

“Oh, they were so close at Yeonjun’s,” Isa said, clasping her hands together. “They were dancing together, and when she went to lie down, Jake went in after her. He didn’t come out for a while…” 

“Is that so?” Jay asked coolly. 

“Yeah,” you said, looking directly at Isa. “We just talked, though.”

Isa looked disappointed. “That’s it?”

You shrugged. “That’s all.” 

“Well, I support it,” Isa said, regaining steam. “Maybe we could go on double dates.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Jay said quickly. “Jake’s a pussy. He’d never ask her out.”

“I mean…” Isa’s voice turned sly, and she playfully poked your arm. “They’re already going out for smoothies today, right?”

“Yeah. That’s why Jake came here,” you said, “he wanted to see me before we went…”

Isa clapped her hands together and pushed Jay. “Oh, so cute. If you guys got together, wouldn’t he be your first boyfriend?”

Scary how Isa already knew you had no experience, but you figured it was glaringly apparent. “He would be.”

“So cute,” she repeated. “You can go ahead and leave early. I’ll finish up around here.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Isa said fiercely. “You go get your man.”

You smiled at Isa, getting to your feet. “You’re so sweet,” you said.

“Just don’t forget to invite me to the wedding,” she said with a laugh. You walked out of the library without casting another glance in Jay’s direction. You didn’t know what his game was, but you didn’t care. If your life wouldn’t return to normal, then you would at least try to get a smoothie out of the deal. 

–

Jake and Sunghoon were lingering just outside of Stopkewich. It was fascinating, seeing the effect that they had on people; swathes of students and even some members of the faculty gave them such a wide berth that one could think there was a bubble surrounding them. 

You waved at Jake when you got closer, and Jake smiled and trotted up to you. Sunghoon followed, pale hands in his pockets. 

“Hey,” Jake said. “Jay didn’t bother you today, right?”

You shook your head. 

“Great. Great, good. Probably doesn’t want another fight,” Jake said, looking away. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t,” Sunghoon said, nudging Jake’s arm. He gave you an appraising look. It seemed that all members of the Karma Club had a way of analyzing people, breaking them into their basest components. 

“Fuck off, Hoon,” Jake mumbled. 

Sunghoon laughed and stuck out his hand. “Sunghoon Park.”

You took his hand and shook it. You introduced yourself, including your major. 

“Nice to meet you,” Sunghoon said, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. “God, Heeseung hates you.”

“What?”

Jake shook his hands, glancing between you and Sunghoon. He laughed nervously. “Well, he doesn’t hate y-,”

“Two members in a fight,” Sunghoon continued, “our newest recruit living in Fawcett because he picked a fight with Jay about you, Sunoo poisoning the lacrosse team…”

You squinted. “That last one…”

“At this point, Heeseung’s sort of just blaming you for everything,” Sunghoon said with a shrug. “But the first two are your fault.”

“Hey,” Jake said, stepping in between the two of you. You hadn’t sensed any real malice coming from Sunghoon, so you weren’t sure why Jake was acting so skittish. “None of that is her fault. It’s not her fault Jay has a hate boner for her.”

Sunghoon put his hands up, relenting. “Hey, hey, I’m not blaming her. I’m just saying that Heeseung wants her head on a pike.”

“Then he should say so,” you said. 

Jake and Sunghoon both looked at you, with Sunghoon snorting as he attempted to stifle a laugh. “Pardon?” Sunghoon asked, pushing his glasses up. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Maybe we could talk. If I’m doing something wrong, I should fix it, right?”

Sunghoon let out a full laugh. “She’s got balls, huh, Jake?”

Jake groaned. “Let’s just go get a smoothie. Everything is always a federal fucking issue with the Karmas, I swear…” Jake started stalking over to the entrance of Stopkewich, with you and Sunghoon following behind.

“I hope that bitch isn’t there,” Sunghoon said, screwing up his nose. “I wanted a simple smoothie and she wouldn’t make it. She was all, ‘Um, I don’t do remixes on drinks!’ Uppity whore. Who calls a drink a remix? Cringe. I should fucking have this place demolished and turned into a Carl’s Jr. See how those vegans like it then.”

“Don’t pick a fight with the barista, Hoon.”

“I won’t if she makes my smoothie order the way I asked.”

“And what was that smoothie order, again?” Jake asked lightly. He looked back and gave you a small smile. You liked it. It made you feel like you were in on something.

“It was simple. Chia seeds, organic almond milk because regular milk fucks with my skin’s barrier, camu camu powder - from the Amazon, it’s the best there - red algae for my complexion, goji berries, spinach, and maca powder. Like it wasn’t a very tall order but this uppity- oh fuck, there she is.” Sunghoon jerked his thumb at Lily and groaned. “God fucking dammit.”

“You’d better go ahead first,” Jake said. “Sunghoon here has to decompress.”

“‘Uh, we don’t have any red algae,’” Sunghoon mocked. “‘Why would you want algae in a smoothie?’” 

You headed over to the counter, where Lily was currently using a pitter on the cherries. Her gloved hands were stained red. She glanced up at you briefly and smiled. “Hey,” she said brightly. “I thought you would have abandoned me.”

“No way. How could I do that?” You settled into a booth and scoured the menu. You figured you’d just have whatever she gave you.

Lily tossed another cherry pit into a bowl. “Well, I saw that you were partying with the KC…”

You blinked. “How did you see that?”

“Oh, I follow what’s-her-name on Instagram…Isa? She posted a picture of you guys on her story. I didn’t know you were so popular.”

“Neither did I,” you mumbled. “What’s on the menu today?”

Lily smiled and held up the cherries. “Funny you should ask. I’ve just gotten the last ingredient for my newest idea. So it’s going to be cherries, banana, chia seeds, almond butter, almond milk…”

“So far so good.”

“Stinging nettle.”

“Lily…”

Lily procured a baggie from her apron’s pocket and shook it. “What? It’s perfectly safe! It’s not like it-,”

“Well, well, well,” a voice behind you said. Sunghoon snatched the stinging nettle from Lily’s hands and examined its contents.

“You,” she said, glaring at Sunghoon. “This is the guy who got mad at me because I don’t do remixes.”

“And here’s the girl who doesn’t do remixes.” He tapped the baggie with his index finger. “But, you know, I can’t help but notice that this…herb…isn’t on the menu. Yet here you are, about to put it into a drink that isn’t on the menu. Isn’t that crazy? Isn’t that crazy, Jake?”

“Leave me out of this,” Jake said. “Can I get the watermelon mint smoothie?”

“Coming right up,” Lily said through gritted teeth. “For your information, I was testing a recipe out, that’s why I have that.”

“Sure,” Sunghoon said, “sure. Or the more obvious answer, which is that you’re prejudiced against members of the KC.”

Lily gasped. “Not true!”  She peeled her old gloves off, got new ones, and started putting chunks of watermelon in the blender. 

Sunghoon shook the baggie even though Lily couldn’t see it. “Oh, it’s very true.”

“I’m making Jake a smoothie right now, he’s KC.”

“Jake is Australian, so you two probably have some sort of secret bond. He doesn’t count.”

“What the fuck,” Jake mumbled.

Lily scoffed. “And also for your information, I didn’t have the ingredients!”

Sunghoon shook the baggie again. “And why wasn’t your kitchen stocked with the basics?”

“Normally,” Lily said, tossing things into the blender, “people don’t ask for camu camu powder. Never gotten that request before.”

“You should buy more ingredients then,” Sunghoon said, putting the baggie on the counter. “You could offer a wider selection of drinks that have added health benefits.”

“And where am I supposed to get the extra money?” Lily turned the blender on. “No one knows we’re here, anyways. They’re considering replacing us with a Jamba Juice.”

“I’ll give you the ingredients,” Sunghoon yelled over the harsh noise.

“You want your weird smoothie that bad?” Lily asked, holding onto the top of the blender. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“You know what?” Lily pointed at Sunghoon. “I can respect a guy who wants a weird smoothie.”

Sunghoon smiled. “Thank you! Thank you! That pauper over there doesn’t get it.”

“What the fuck,” Jake whispered to himself. 

“Sorry for being so rude,” Sunghoon said, projecting his voice. “I really did think you were being a bitch for no reason.”

Lily turned the blender off and poured Jake’s smoothie into a glass jar, carefully affixing a little red gingham bow around its neck. “Thanks for the apology,” she said, pushing the smoothie over to Jake. She looked at you next. “Did you want the stinging nettle and cherry smoothie?”

“Yeah, sure,” you said. 

Jake sipped on his smoothie through the straw. “Oh, this is good,” he said, holding the jar out to you. “Try a sip.”

You’d had this flavour before, but you took a sip anyway. “Lily is great,” you said, “that’s why I always come here.”

Sunghoon remained quiet, pressing his hands on the counter, before saying, “Could I get one too, a stinging nettle and cherry smoothie?”

Lily smiled. “Of course!”

Sunghoon offered her a soft smile, his lips pressed tightly together. He watched her closely as she went about preparing the smoothies. Jake looked at you, and you looked at Jake. He mimed shooting himself in the head and you grinned.

After Lily finished making you and Sunghoon your drinks, you looked at her expectantly. “Could I get your phone number?” 

She looked at you in mild surprise. “Really? Yeah, sure. Pass your phone.”

You opened the phone up to your contacts and held it out to her. As she typed her number in, she smiled. “We should hang sometime.”

“Yeah,” you said. You had no intention of hanging out with her. You did plan to wheedle information out of her regarding Mina. Despite Riki telling you that no one knew about her suicide attempt in the bathroom, Lily had mentioned an attempted murder performed by the KC  in the school bathroom. Who could the victim have been, if not Mina? 

Lily handed you your phone back and grinned. Jake tapped his card on the reader, paying for your orders. “Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said. “I said I would.”

“I was just kidding about it at the party, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to buy you smoothies,” Jake said. “Just let me try yours when it’s ready.”

Lily got to work preparing her newest mix, and you noticed that Sunghoon was staring at her with curious eyes. When he saw you looking at him, he cleared his throat and focused his attention on his wristwatch.  Strange, strange things were happening.

–

You got to your dorm room and started on your work. You were a scholarship student, so it was imperative that you kept your grades up. Which meant that you ended up ignoring the incessant knocking on your dorm door. Eventually, you heard the doorknob rattling violently. You pulled your headphones off and knocked on the door. “Who is it?”

“Open up,” Jay grumbled. “Don’t you answer your phone? I’ve been out here for like five minutes.” Sighing, you unlocked your door. Jay strided in, closing the door behind himself. He leaned against the door with his arms crossed and glanced around your room. “What were you doing, homework?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course you are,” he said. 

“You don’t study?”

“Why would I do that?”

You let out a frustrated huff of breath. “What do you want, Jay?”

“‘What do you want, Jay?’” he mocked. A familiar scene was stretching out in front of you. “I want more of what I got yesterday, but you were busy hanging around dickless.”

You leaned against the wall. “Dickless? Who, Jake?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t stop,” you said. “You don’t own me, and we’re not dating.”

Jay barked out a laugh. “Oh, wow. Since when do you talk back?”

“Around when you threatened to kill me.”

Jay’s eyes were chunks of obsidian glinting in the afternoon sun. “You know I was just playing around, right? I wasn’t actually going to kill you. I’m not a psycho. I just wanted…”

Suddenly, the room seemed stiflingly warm. Your voice was even quieter than usual. “Wanted what?”

“I wanted…” Jay pushed his hair out of his face and licked his lips, looking around your room. “I wanted to see you do something besides stand around looking at me like you’re…like there’s nothing inside of you. Just an automaton pretending to be a human, just taking everything, passive, nothing, boring.”

“Well,” you said flatly, “am I acting like a human now?”

Jay cracked a grin. “A little. You’re blossoming under my tutelage. With a little more training…” Jay reached his hand out towards you.

You smacked his hand away lightly. “Training?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking your hand in his, “you could end up becoming a real human.”

“Like you?”

His smile grew wider. “Nah, you could never be like me.”

“Thank God.”

Jay laughed, and you had to admit that you didn’t hate the sound. “See what I mean? You’re coming along nicely.”

“You’re not responsible for my personality,” you said.

“Who, if not me? Jake?”

“No, no one is. What is with you and Jake?”

“I could ask you the same question, you and your filthy fixation with him.”

“There is no fixation,” you said, frustration nipping at your voice. “He’s just nice to me.”

Jay pulled you towards him with the hand holding yours. “I’m nice to you, aren’t I?” His other hand came to grab your chin, forcing your head up. “I’m so nice to you,” he murmured. “You don’t even appreciate it.” He leaned in and kissed you in that same smothering manner as before, his mouth hot and wet. As though you were being controlled by outside forces, you kissed him back. Your arms still hung limply against your side. 

Jay pulled away and tugged your turtleneck’s collar down, exposing the hickeys he had given you. “Wish you didn’t dress like a nun,” he said. “You could show these off.”

You turned your head, staring down at your floor. “What about Isa, Jay? You two are together.”

Jay groaned. “Don’t worry about her. Fuck, you always bring her up.”

You looked back at him. “Why shouldn’t I? She really likes you.”

“Her mistake,” Jay replied, a sneer on his face. His hand reached out to caress the back of your head. “I told you she doesn’t matter to me.”

“And who does?”

Jay didn’t answer at first. Instead, he spun you around so that you were pressed against the door. He kissed you with the same ferocity, hands clutching your shoulders. “Don’t talk about Isa,” he said hoarsely.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you said, a weak appeal. 

Jay groaned. “Fine. Let’s play a game, then. It’s really simple. You wanna hear the rules?”

“Fine.”

His hand hiked your skirt up, all the way to your waist. The other hand rested on your thigh, dangerously close to your underwear. “If I check and you’re wet, I get to fuck you. If you’re not wet, I’ll leave you alone and go weave baskets and pick daisies with Isa. Deal?”

You nodded. “Sure,” you said, as though he wouldn’t be able to feel the moisture pooling between your legs. Maybe he wouldn’t feel anything through a stroke of sheer luck. Jay slipped two of his fingers inside of your panties, and you winced as you heard a squelching noise.

“Look at that. You’re wet,” Jay said in an accusatory voice. Jay dragged his fingers along your labial lips, smearing your arousal. He didn’t plunge his fingers into your desperate pussy, nor did he touch your clitoris. Judging by his smile, he relished in withholding pleasure from you. “You’re soaking wet just from a few kisses. You couldn’t be more pathetic if you tried.”

The constant teasing at relief was driving you mad. “Just fuck me.”

Jay let out a breathy laugh. “Look at you, getting so bold. Just listen to yourself.” He didn’t allow you any time to reflect on his statement, working on tugging your panties and skirt all the way down. You stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. 

“You haven’t changed me,” you said, eyebrows glowering in defiance. 

“You’ll see,” Jay replied. You closed your eyes so you could hear the rattle of his belt buckle as it clicked, the sound of his jeans sliding to the floor, his soft grunts.  

Jay lifted your leg up and pounded you, your back pressed against the door. It creaked loudly enough that you figured that someone would hear, but Fawcett was a loud dorm. “Pussy’s so good,” Jay whispered through gritted teeth, leaning his head back. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Thought I would have fucked you loose by now.” 

It was almost more than you could handle, considering only a mere 12 hours had passed since the last time. But you were already growing to love how Jay felt inside of you, the aggressive way he snapped his hips, the shapes of the bruises he left on your arms. You clamped your hand over your mouth so your moans would be muffled. Jay had a similar idea, biting his lip and only letting out faint grunts. He lifted your other leg up, utilizing strength you didn’t know he had to fuck into you while he was standing. Your arms hung around his neck.

You wrapped your legs around him, and he carried you away from the door and onto the bed. By now, you had noticed that Jay liked to alternate between fucking into you rapidly and employing hard, somewhat slower strokes. The shift was dizzying; your nails dug into his shirt, leaving miniscule holes behind in the fabric. 

After Jay came, he remained on top of you, his limp cock lying on your thigh. He pushed himself off and crawled to the side of the bed facing the window. 

You rolled away from Jay, reaching into your nightstand’s drawer. You pulled out your pack of cigarettes and took one out.

“Give me one,” he called from behind you.

“Sure. Open the window for me.” Jay lifted the window upwards, and chilly air wafted into the room. You tucked yourself under your blanket, scooted towards the window, and lit your cigarettes. You handed one to Jay and placed your own between your lips. Your dorm room faced the woods, so you generally didn’t see people come around. On nights when the weather was bad and you couldn’t go up to the roof, you liked to open the window and smoke, listening to the rain. 

Jay sat upright, smoking his own cigarette. His eyebrows were knit in concentration. 

Your phone buzzed on your desk, so you clambered to your feet. You opened the text as you headed to your bed.

Riki: help

Riki: my girlfriend is trying out her makeup on me :/ 

Riki: *sent 1 picture*

Riki: i kinda fw it tbqh

You: You look very pretty.

Riki: thank u

You: You have a girlfriend?

Riki: o yeah

Riki: don’t tell anyone lmao 

Riki: it’s a secret like not even jake knows

Riki: i don’t want her getting mina’d

Riki: or you’d

Riki: no offense 

You: None taken.

Riki: 👍

Riki: lowk i’m considering using some bb cream now

Riki: could be a good look for me

You: Go talk to your girlfriend or something. I’m busy.

Riki: busy my ass

Riki: and my gf is on her phone looking at tiktok pranks to torture me with

You: You deserve the misery.

Riki: fuck u 🖕

Riki: betrayal can never come from your opps ig

“Who are you texting?” Jay asked. “I didn’t know you had friends.”

“Riki,” you said, turning your phone off. 

“Riki? You’re friends with Riki?” Jay looked incredulous, his cigarette hanging from his lips. 

You shrugged, holding your cigarette between your lips as you laid back down on your bed. It was a no-smoking building, but a part of you just couldn’t be bothered anymore. “Well, ‘friends’ is a strong word. We’ve known each other for a few days. He just texts a lot.” 

Jay took another long drag, blowing it out of the window. “You guys are around the same age, right?”

“Yeah, same year.”

“Hm.” Jay turned to look at you. “Have you met any other Karmas?”

“Sunghoon, Jungwon briefly…that’s it.” You breathed out more smoke. “Heeseung hates me, apparently.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jay said, “Ha. Yeah, he doesn’t like you. Thinks you’re tearing us apart.”

“But I’m not.”

“Yeah, I know that, and you know that, and even Heeseung knows that. I think it’s because he can’t exhume Mina’s dead body and yell at her for corrupting poor little Jakey, so you’re the next best thing.”

Your eyes were focused on Jay now, on his hunched back, on his serious brows. “You think Mina’s dead?”

“Dropped out of school, disappeared off the face of the earth, her friends all left her behind…she’s probably dead, yeah.” After a moment, he said, “Do I sound terrible?”

You shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong person.”

Jay smiled again. “I guess so.” He waved his cigarette, now only a smouldering nub. “Where can I put this out? On you again?” 

You reached under your bed and pulled out a small ceramic dish, already scattered with cigarette butts. “Use this.”

He stubbed his cigarette out. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

You gave him a quick little nod and watched him zip his pants up, put his belt back on, smooth out his hair. Without another word, he left your room. 

–

You decided to call Lily rather than texting her. You had found, through texting with Riki, that you largely preferred talking out loud. Pacing around the room, you waited for her to pick up. 

“Hey,” she said, her voice sounding lighter than usual. 

“Hi. I had to ask you a question.”

“Sure, anything.”

You tried to invoke the same nonchalant tone you normally used, but you found that it was strangely difficult. “Last week, you told me that the Karma Club nearly killed a girl in the bathroom…”

“Oh,” she said. “That was just a silly rumour…groundless…” Lily’s voice faded as she spoke, almost sheepishly.

“Do you know who told you?”

“Why do you ask?”

You already had a lie for this. “You know how Jake brought me that smoothie?” 

Lily’s voice immediately took on interest, and you marveled at how similar she was to Isa. “Yeah…?”

“Well, the thing is, he told me he likes me…”

Lily shrieked. “Aw, that is so cute. Jake is like the nicest - well, you know, there are a few nice ones in the KC, but he’s really nice. That is just adorable, oh my god.”

“Don’t tell anyone I told you,” you added.

 “Not a word out of me. So do you guys have, like, a thing?”

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t want to pursue anything before I know he’s good,” you lied, scratching your head. “You know how cautious I am.”

“Oh, I get it, I get it,” Lily said. “Sure. I think I heard that from this girl named Nina? She’s a year below me. She’s Aussie, which is how I know her…She’s nice. If you have any questions about him, you should ask her. She runs the girl’s gaming club. You know where that is?”

“No.”

“Oh. It’s held in Nakashima’s common room. You can probably find out when they meet from the school website.”

“Thanks, Lily.” You paused, figuring that you had to ask her something. So you didn’t seem suspicious. “So…stinging nettle. Why?”

“Fun fact, actually. Stinging nettle is a galactagogue!”

“What’s a galactagogue?”

“Uh, increases breast milk production.”

“I’m going to hang up on you now, Lily.”

Lily laughed, and you did too. “Hey, you wanna hang out sometime? Like, for real?”

Out of anyone in the school, you would prefer to hang out with Lily the most. You desperately hoped that she didn’t get involved in the Karma Club. “What would we do?”

“I haven’t gone to see a movie in a while. You?”

“I pirate everything, so no.”

“Sooo…” You could practically hear Lily creeping towards you with a silly smile pasted on her face. “We should see one together. Something scary.”

“Sounds good. Text me when you’re free.”

“Great! Have a good night.”

“You too, Lily.” You hung up on her and your smile fell. The true reason for your call dawned on you once more, and now you had to do some research. First, you Googled the word you had been dreading: naloxone. Jay had mentioned watching the paramedics administer it to Mina when she had overdosed. When you searched it up, you found that it was an opioid antagonist. In the case of anti-psychotic overdose, particularly Seroquel, activated charcoal was used as treatment. So either Jay had misremembered, Jay had lied, or Jay didn’t know.

Why would Jay lie about that? But then, it was Jay. Nothing he did made sense. You couldn’t go to Riki for help, either, because he didn’t know what Mina had overdosed on. Jake hadn’t even mentioned Mina’s suicide, so he definitely couldn’t help you. None of the three had mentioned opioids. It was a dead end. 

You moved on to finding out when the gaming club met next: That Friday at 6 pm. Anyone could come, apparently. Perfect. You wondered if Jay liked gaming. 

At any rate, you had exhausted your meager resources. All you could do now was wait for Friday. 

– 

The week passed by largely the same way. You would wake up to a barrage of texts from Riki and Lily, tiredly answer them, and trudge to class. Then you would go to the library, watch Isa coo over Jay while he ignored you, and get picked up by Jake to get a smoothie from Stopkewich. Sunghoon notably only showed up when Lily had a shift there and did nothing but stare at her adoringly. You and Jake would make eye contact every time Sunghoon smiled at her, mimicking his lovesick expression. Jake’s eye healed well, and his face became less painful to look at for more than one reason. The more time you spent with Jake, trying each other’s drinks, the more you realized that you didn’t mind him. 

After talking to Jake, you would go to your room, try to do homework, and answer the knock at the door. Jay would come in, you would protest for the sake of doing so, and then you’d fuck. He stayed for longer and longer every time, his scent beginning to permeate your bed already, down to the mattress. You wouldn’t talk very much, which suited you just fine. You’d just stare at the ceiling. Occasionally, he would complain about something Riki or Jungwon did. He never brought up Jake or Isa, so neither did you.

On Thursday, you were both lying in your bed, naked. You were draped in your quilt while he blew cigarette smoke to the ceiling. 

“You’re not cold?” you asked, forgoing smoking your own cigarette for today. You didn’t feel like it, for some reason. When you smacked your lips together, you could taste the strawberry banana smoothie one of the other barista’s had made on your lips. Jay had commented on it when he kissed you, saying that you tasted sweet. 

“I don’t get cold that easily,” Jay said. 

“Oh.”

“If you want me to join you under there, just say so.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Jay shrugged. “Closed mouths don’t get fed.” 

“Implying that you’re a necessity?”

“Some could say that, yeah.” 

“Some could be mentally ill.”

“Like you’re so sane,” Jay said, jabbing his cigarette in your direction. “Sunoo could fix your ass up nicely. He might end up giving you diarrhea, though. It’s a mixed bag with him. Still worth a shot, though.”

Sunoo…why hadn’t you considered him?

You pulled your phone from the nightstand and opened it up. 

You: Riki.

Riki: hey

Riki: you finally changed your mind about cliffside laser tag?

You: No.

Riki: then there’s no reason for you to text me

You: I need to know which room Sunoo is in.

Riki: why lol

You: Decided to develop a drug dependency

Riki: nooooo you have so much life to live

Riki: noooooooooo don’t do it

Riki: well

Riki: that covers my ass 

Riki: you can’t get mad at me when your life falls apart

Riki: he’s in room 24

Riki: i’m in 22 by the way

Riki: in case you ever change your mind about the slap jenga tournament

You: I won’t.

Riki: i never liked you

You: Thanks for the help.

Riki: 🖕

Riki: seriously though be careful

You: I’ll be okay.

Riki: you’d better

“Texting Riki again?” Jay asked. His gaze danced suspiciously between your phone and your face. 

“Yeah.” You put your phone back on your nightstand. 

“About?”

You shrugged and leaned against the headboard, bringing your heavy quilt around your shoulders. “He wants to try cliffside laser tag in the dark.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Jay groaned. “Are you going to go?”

“Do I look stupid to you?”

“Well, I mean…”

“No.” You tried to ignore Jay’s snickers. “No, I didn’t even consider it.”

Jay leaned back as well, seeming somewhat mollified. “That kid is going to get himself killed doing something stupid one day. Or someone else, honestly.”

“Then he’d be a true member of the Karma Club,” you said jokingly. Jay’s jaw tightened, and the hairs on your arms raised. You hadn’t seen that angry look in his eyes in nearly a week. 

“Look. You might think,” he began, his voice as venomous as it had always been. You realized that you hadn’t even noticed that his voice had softened until now. “You might think that because we fuck that we’re close or something. We’re not. Joke about shit like that again and I swear to God, I’ll-,”

“You’ll what?”

Jay grabbed your shoulder, jostling the quilt covering you. His grip was tight, and his eyes sparked with anger. “I’ll make sure you end up just like Mina. How’s that?”

You swallowed, unable to speak. Your eyes were trained on his other hand, and you realized just how stupid you had been, allowing yourself to be lulled into this stupor by him. Jay still hated you. 

Jay let go of you and made a frustrated noise. “Fuck, fuck. Fuck, I hate it when you do that. Play mute.”

“I don’t have anything to say right now,” you replied. 

“I thought we made progress,” Jay said, putting his cigarette behind his ear. “You were really growing a spine there, making jokes, fighting back. You were starting to be a lot of fun.”

You stared at Jay, and the unfamiliar sensation of anger broiled in your stomach. “For someone who doesn’t believe that people can change,” you said slowly, “you sure are trying to change me.”

“That’s different,” Jay insisted, crawling out of your bed. He pulled his boxers up and fixed his shirt. “There’s a very interesting girl in you begging to be let out, and all you have to do is give in.”

Your eyes locked with his, the anger in his a mirror of your own. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know enough,” Jay said slowly, tilting his head even closer. 

“No,” you whispered, “you don’t.”

Jay’s lips brushed yours, ever-so-slightly, his eyes never straying away from yours. “It’s like I said. It’s already inside you, and all you have to do is just…let her out.” His breath ghosted your lips once more before he briefly closed the gap.

–

Jay didn’t come to the library on Friday. 

“He got busy,” Isa said sadly, flicking away some lint off of her ripped sweater. “Family stuff.” The two of you were pasting barcodes on the backs of books, spreading the thin paper carefully to avoid ripples. You put a thin piece of plastic over top to protect the code. Easy, monotonous work.

“Oh.” Quickly, you added. “That sucks.”

“Yeah…he’s been so distant recently,” she continued, idly flipping through a new YA romance novel. “Ever since the party, or a little before then…can I be a little TMI?”

“Go for it,” you said. 

Isa put the book down carefully, and you could see her bottom lip tremble. Her eyes fell to the floor and her voice was a mere whisper. “He doesn’t touch me. Like, we’ve done some…stuff. And, you know, it was nice. But that was it. Nothing serious, you know? I mean, we’ve been talking on and off for a month, but he hasn’t initiated anything.”

Guilt filled your mouth with the bitter edge of bile. Isa reached for the sheet of codes before laying her hands flat on the table. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she said. “I’m trying to be patient with him, but he doesn’t even open up to me.” 

You should come clean, admit that Jay had been fucking you, but you remembered that he told you not to utter a word to anyone. Isa might run behind your back and confront him, which would be disastrous for you. And, worst of all, a part of you felt a certain thrill at being the one he chose. In some capacity, he was picking you. 

Reality struck you once more. He wasn’t picking you. Isa was the one he had chosen to be his girlfriend, or at least the woman with whom he could be seen. You were the one he slept with, like a secret rotting away in a dusty attic. He hated you, no matter how he felt about Isa. 

Isa glanced at you, biting her lip, and you realized that you hadn’t said anything. “I’m sorry,” you said finally. 

She mustered up a small smile and shook her head, her red curls flicking back and forth like a flame. “It’s okay,” she replied. “Thanks for listening. I’d tell my friends but I’d feel pathetic telling them.” Her eyes widened. “Not that I don’t see you as a friend or anything…”

You smiled back at her, resting your hand on her shoulder. “I know what you meant.”

Isa patted your hand. “Thanks, pookie. You’re a good listener. We should hang out again soon. It was so fun when we watched Oldboy and Lady Vengeance.”

“Actually,” you said slowly, “Lily wanted to watch a movie with me. Do you know her?”

Isa brightened, seeming to regain some of her buoyancy. “Yeah, we were in second year philosophy together. Yeah, I know her. Oh, that’s great. I’ll make a group chat for us!” Then she bit her lip. “I wonder if she’ll want to hang with me, though?”

“Don’t worry,” you said. “Everyone does.”

–

Nakashima’s dorm was unlike the others. It was the newest, a tall, sleek, bauhaus white building with a gray stone path leading inside. To the left, obscured by a hill, was the school’s greenhouse. You would have liked to explore the inside, but it was normally staffed by at least 3 bleary-eyed, surly students, so you didn’t bother. 

As you walked inside, you marveled at the change in atmosphere. Your own dorm seemed carefree, Stopkewich had an airiness, and Stoker managed to avoid feeling stiflingly opulent with its small markers of humanity. Nakashima students all bustled around with their heads tucked low. The common room was on the second floor, so you took the translucent glass steps carefully. It was down a hallway lined with achievements garnered from previous Nakashima students. Self-fellatio was a skill honed into an art at Sadame University, it seemed. 

You never went inside of Fawcett’s common room, so you weren’t sure how it looked. Nakashima’s was lined with computers, expensive gaming chairs, and a vending machine in the corner. The main lights were turned off, so the glow from their keyboards and the purple LED strips lining the walls was what illuminated the space. 

The Nakashima girls in the common room dressed in the ubiquitous STEM student uniform of a hoodie and sweatpants or jeans. You had arrived early, but they were already logging onto the computers. A woman wearing a white Sadame sweatshirt who, based on your surveyal of the gaming club’s page, was Nina, hunched over a monitor as another woman sat in the chair. You waited for Nina to finish helping the other student before you approached her. 

“Are you Nina?” you asked quietly. 

Nina smiled at you. “That’s me! Are you here to join the gaming club?” 

“Ah…no, sorry,” you said, watching the smile falter on her face. “No, I’m here because of something else.”

She frowned. “Something else?” 

You nodded. 

“You wanna talk outside?” With another nod of your head, she ushered you out into the hallway and looked at you expectantly. 

“It’s just…a friend of mine told me that…you knew about what happened with that girl, Mina,” you said slowly. “And, I was wondering how you knew, because, um…”

“Because the Karma Club cover everything up,” Nina finished. 

“Right, that.”

“Because they’re a bunch of fucking assholes who treat everyone, especially women, like shit.”

“Yeah…”

Nina placed her hand on your shoulder. “Did they…hurt you?”

Now that was a question for the ages. “Yeah.”

Nina pursed her lips together and sighed. “Another one. Those bastards…look, there’s a group chat I know of. If you give me your Instagram-,”

“I don’t have one.”

“Really? How?”

You shrugged. 

“Well, go ahead and make one. I’ll give you mine…” Nina pulled a blue pen from her pocket, took the palm of your hand, and scribbled her Instagram’s handle on it. “So once you’ve made an account, DM me, and I’ll have you added.”

You stared at your palm. “What’s the group chat for?”

Nina capped the pen and tucked it behind her ear. “For victims of the Karma Creeps. It started shortly after Mina disappeared. Just make sure to keep it DL, okay? Those weirdos have eyes everywhere in this school, but I’m sure you already know that.”

Did you ever? “Thank you, Nina.”

“Also,” she added hastily, “don’t screenshot anything. We don’t need anything leaking, you know? It might seem really stringent, but we can’t let anything get back to them.”

“Makes sense,” you said softly. 

“I heard that they’re planning on compiling all the information, maybe trying to bring it to the local news,” she continued. “Again, don’t bring that up.”

“I won’t.”

Nina smiled at you. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get you some help.” 

When you walked away from her, you realized that she had never asked you for your name.

–

As you were walking back to the Fawcett campus, holding your palm face down, you got a call. It was Jay. For a second, you felt stricken by guilt, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You answered the call. 

“Open the door,” Jay said, exasperated. “Seriously, I’m starting to feel stupid standing out here.”

“I’m not in my room.”

“Are you avoiding me?”

“No,” you said. “I had to talk to someone about a project.”

“You can do that literally any other time,” Jay said. He lowered his voice; from the background chatter, you could tell that people were walking in the hallway. “I need you right now. I had the shittiest day and Isa wants me to watch some braindead movie with her.” 

“Just have sex with Isa,” you said, your voice equally as quiet. 

Jay shifted. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Then she’ll think I’m serious.”

“So why won’t you break up with her?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jay said. 

“Right,” you replied dryly. “I could never hope to understand the complexities of your mind.”

“First of all, that wasn’t as cutting as you thought it was. Second of all, I think that was the longest sentence I’ve heard you say. So touching. Like seeing a dog learn how to use its legs again after a car accident. I could cry.”

“Then cry.”

“Just shut up and get over here,” Jay said. “I hate being in Fawcett too long.” 

You stopped, halting near a warehouse. Belatedly, you realized that it was the same building where you had seen Jay for the first time. The wall was plain, but for some reason you had expected to see a garish, red bloodstain. 

“Hello? You still there?”

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry,” you said. 

“Yeah, you’re a goody-two-shoes who thinks she’ll go to heaven if she gets good grades, it’s fine.”

“Not that. I’m sorry I said that yesterday. You know…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly. “You know me. The tiniest thing annoys me. Didn’t think about it after you said it.”

“Sorry anyways.”

Jay fell silent as well. Just as you had assumed that he had forgotten to hang up, he said, “Yeah, well. Me too. Now come here and show me how sorry you are.”

You smiled, just slightly. “Be there in 5.”

“Make it three.” 

“Not possible.”

“Well, come as soon as you can, then.” He hung up on you, and you walked just the slightest bit faster. Just enough that you could convince yourself that you hadn’t. 

Just before you got to your room, you wrote Nina’s username into your notes app. Then you licked your hand, smearing the letters until they were an incomprehensible blur.

–

After he fucked you, Jay sprawled onto your bed, as if attempting to take up as much room as possible. You were lying on top of his arm on his right side, too lazy to even get the quilt to cover yourself up. 

“God,” he breathed out. “I almost forgot about how shit today was.”

You stared up at the popcorn ceiling. “What happened?”

Jay scoffed. “You don’t give a shit.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

Neither of you spoke for a full minute.

“Just…it’s Jake,” Jay said finally. “Can I get a smoke?”

You reached over to your cigarette package, realizing that you only had two left. You handed one to him and took one for yourself. “Need to get more.”

“Remind me to get some,” Jay said, gesturing for the lighter. He lit yours, then his, then handed the lighter back to you. “It’s Jake. He’s doing his ‘wahh, wahh, everyone wants me to be the nice one’ routine. Saying that the pressure of having boyish good looks, good grades, and being rich is just too much for him.”

You reached below your bed to get your makeshift ashtray. “He seems normal to me.”

“Yeah, because if he knows if you saw him for the spineless dick he was, you wouldn’t want to fuck him anymore,” Jay said. 

“I don’t want to fuck him.”

“What? You don’t want Jakey in you?” Jay asked with a snicker.

You laughed quietly. “Not when you’ve already had him.”

“Fuck off,” Jay said, lightly pushing you. ”Even if Jake were the only hole left in the world, I’d never touch him.”

“A very convincing vindication of your heterosexuality.”

Rolling his eyes, Jay took a long drag. “I just don’t know. Everyone worships Jake, anyways. Even if people think he’s a dick, he’s still not as bad as the rest of us.”

“So what, do you wish people liked you?”

“No, God no,” Jay said. “I just wish I didn’t have to see Jake have a meltdown every month because he hates that everyone loves him. Or that he loves that everyone loves him, I can’t keep up with his shit.”

You blew smoke out of your mouth, closing your eyes. “This doesn’t seem like enough to constitute being a shitty day.”

“Oh, trust me,” Jay said. “It is. Heeseung shuts everything down to take care of Jake. Got a lecture from Heeseung…and then my parents called, nagging and shit…I have to go redo my statistics test…and then Isa wants to watch White Girls or Mean Chicks, something like that…and my dog wasn’t there when I needed her.”

“You have a dog?”

Jay smirked at you. “I do. She’s quiet, isn’t very well-trained yet, but I’m working on it. She’s very good at coming when I call for her, though.”

You turned away from him and took an annoyed little drag. “I’m not a dog.”

“What was that? All I heard was ‘woof woof woof’,” Jay said, reaching out and turning your head towards his. 

“Jay, y-,”

“Bark, bark, bark.”

“Jay.”

“Grrr.” 

“Shut up.” 

Pulling his cigarette out of his mouth, Jay blew smoke into your face gently. “Make me shut up.”

You had a feeling you knew where this was going. You reached over, placed your cigarette on the nightstand, and lowered your lips onto his. 

Jay broke the kiss, the tip of his nose still rubbing against yours. “Good doggy,” Jay whispered before leaning in to kiss you again.

– 

On Saturday, you had already steeled your nerves and decided to head into Stoker early in the morning. Jay had offhandedly mentioned that he hated getting out of bed before noon, and you could only pray that Jake wasn’t around. 

As you walked to Stoker, bundled in your coat, you noticed that something was different. A niggling feeling in the back of your neck. Trudging along the path, you heard a voice telling you slow down. You turned and saw a girl you had never once seen before, with bouncy brown curls. A group of people, presumably her friends, lingered a few meters away.

“Hey,” she said, voice bright and chirpy, “that skirt is so cute, oh my god. Where did you get it?”

You’d gone through this song and dance before. When you were younger, sometimes people would ask you where you had bought your shabby clothes, knowing fully well that you were too poor to buy them at full price. “Thrifted,” you said brusquely. 

“That is so cool,” she said. “Thrifting is so much fun. I can never find anything good, though.”

What were you supposed to say? “Oh.”

“Where do you go thrifting?”

“My hometown,” you said. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t go thrifting here, either,” she said. “Nothing good.”

You said that already, you thought. Instead, you said, “I guess.” 

“I’ve always loved your style,” she continued. “Whenever I see you, I’m like, oh, that is so grungecore.” 

“Thanks, but I have to meet someone,” you said, jerking your thumb at Stoker. 

“Oh, of course. Have a good one,” she said before waving and walking back towards her friends. What an earnest attempt at bullying. 

You walked into Stoker, wiping your shoes off on the plush welcome mat. To the right was the restaurant and dining area, so you glanced over. You could see Riki standing in line, checking his phone. 

You: Look at the doors. 

Riki lifted his head, saw you, and grinned. He waved you over, so you entered the dining area. The few people who were eating looked at you as you walked in, and you forced yourself to look straight at Riki. 

“Hey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Sunoo,” you said. “Is he awake?”

Riki nodded. “Sunoo always gets up early.”

“How come you’re up?”

“I’m going to go to the gym early,” he explained. “My girlfriend wants to watch that new horror movie.”

“The one with the ghosts that can possess you if you’re the same zodiac sign as them?”

Riki grinned. “Fuck yeah.”

“Lily, Isa, and I are seeing that tonight,” you said. Isa had very neatly arranged it in the new group chat she had created. It was the first group chat you had ever been in, and even though you barely spoke while the pair planned the outing, it still felt nice to be included. 

Riki had been checking on his order, but his eyes widened in surprise. “What showing?”

“8:30 pm.”

He visibly relaxed, putting a hand over his heart. “Good. We’re going at 6.” You didn’t say that you had vetoed a potential 6 pm showing because that was when Jay would knock on your door. 

“No spoilers,” you said.

“Swear on my heart,” Riki said. 

“Good.” You stuffed your hands into your coat pocket. “By the way, I got bullied today.”

“Jay again?”

“No, some girl. She asked me where I got my skirt,” you explained. 

Riki stared at you, dumbfounded. “So she liked your skirt.”

“No,” you said. “Haven’t you ever had someone ask where you got your clothes, but it was meant in a…demeaning way?”

“No, generally guys will just say, ‘Your shirt is ugly and you get no hoes’,” Riki said, shaking his head. “Girls complicate things too much. She probably really did just like your skirt. It’s nice.”

You looked down. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I like your fashion sense.” 

“Thanks,” you said. “I’ll see you around, okay? You enjoy your…”

“Breakfast burrito,” Riki said. “I’m going to tear this shit up, hit the gym, pass out, beg Sunoo for an edible so I can watch that movie zooted, pass out again…”

“Good plan.” 

“The best,” Riki said. “See you later.”

–

You knocked on Sunoo’s door falteringly. You had never actually seen the guy, but the descriptions of him you had been given thus far were scary. You wondered if he were as tall as Riki, or imposing and muscular? 

The door opened, and a gentle face with plush cheeks and soft lips peered at you. Sunoo was wearing a baby-blue baseball tee with black accents. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi,” you said, caught off-guard. You introduced yourself. 

“Nice to meet you,” Sunoo said, sticking his hand out. You shook it, bewildered by his smile. “I’m Sunoo. Riki’s been talking about you.”

“Has he?”

“Mhm! He says he’s happy to have a friend his own age.”

“Well,” you said. “He’s a nice friend to have.” 

Sunoo beamed at you. “How sweet! Did you need something?”

“I was wondering if you had, uh…drugs?” You cursed yourself for sounding so amateurish.

If you had seemed inexperienced, Sunoo didn’t seem to mind. “I do,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

“Uh, do you sell, uh, opioids?” 

Sunoo’s face fell. “No,” he said gravely. “I don’t. I haven’t carried opioids for a long time. No, only fun stuff here.”

“Fun stuff?”

“Yes,” Sunoo said with a giggle. “You want to try a little speed?”

“No…no Xanax?”

Sunoo shook his head. “Nope. No opioids and no benzodiazepines. I could give you a little K.”

Your head was starting to hurt. “What?”

“You know, put you in a K-hole. Experience ego death. It could be very enlightening,” Sunoo said earnestly. “Want some?”

“I’ll pass,” you said weakly. 

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Sunoo said. “You shouldn’t be afraid of ascension.”

Your parka was starting to feel too hot and Sunoo was starting to creep you out. “Sorry,” you said. “Not today. Have a nice day.”

As you walked away, you heard him call, “Don’t be afraid…”

You shivered as you re-entered the Stoker dining hall. You spotted Riki sitting down alone and headed towards him, sitting on the long bench in front of him. “How was it?” he asked through a muffled bite of breakfast burrito.

“He’s scary,” you said. 

Riki laughed, choking on his burrito. He covered his mouth as he caught his breath. “Yeah, that’s Sunoo for you. Did you get anything?”

You shook your head. “No. Got too spooked. I’m straight edge now.”

“Good,” Riki said. “It’s nothing to play around with.” 

You gestured for him to bring his burrito towards you, remembering the playful way he had taken a bite of your samosa last week. He reminded you of Lily, vaguely. You felt like you could try out being human around him. It was nice that he didn’t have any strong feelings for you. Riki held his food towards you and you took a bite. 

You swallowed. “I’ll be safe,” you said. 

“You better,” Riki said. “Listen, I know we’ve been friends for like, five minutes, but, well, you know... So I just wanted to let you know that if you, you know…ever need someone to… ah, this is so corny.”

“It is corny.” 

“Shut up,” Riki mumbled. 

“The same to you,” you said, a bit awkwardly. “If you ever, uh…”

“Thanks.” 

“Whatever.”

Riki held up his breakfast burrito; a lone bean toppled to the table. “Want another bite?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

–

There was a bus stop a few blocks away from the school. Isa, Lily, and you  all lived on-campus, and all of them were from out of town, so you took the bus to the movie theatre. Sitting on the cramped bench, squeezed in-between Lily and Isa, was enough to make your palms sweat. 

You had never had friends, save for ones in middle school who would guise their ridicule as teasing. They’d tell you that you had thin skin, that they teased you because it was so easy to get a reaction out of you. So you stopped giving them a reaction. Now, inexplicably, you waited for the shoe to drop.

Isa was dressed in an oversized sweater with tweed pants, her padded coat tossed over top. It was much more like the outfits you were used to seeing her wearing. Lily wore a baggy hoodie with a long skirt, an outfit similar to yours. Isa touched up her lip gloss while she waited for the bus to arrive. 

“This movie is going to be so ass,” she said, puckering her lips. “Can’t wait.”

“It has like a 20% on Rotten Tomatoes,” Lily replied. 

“That’s not too bad,” Isa said. “That’s like a ‘so bad it’s good’ rating.”

“I just hope it’s entertaining at least,” Lily said with a sigh. “If it won’t scare me, I want to at least laugh.”

“If it’s not funny, I’ll find the director myself,” you said dryly.

Lily laughed. “What would you do?”

“Can’t say,” you said. Isa snorted and nudged you with her elbow.

“Little vigilante,” Isa said. 

The bus arrived, you shakily dropped a few coins into the machine, and you were on. Then there was the matter of sitting. The scratchy, navy blue bus seats were arranged by twos. So Lily and Isa would sit together, and you would sit in the back. Or should you sit in the front while they sat in the back together? 

Isa sat down first, patting the seat next to her. “Come sit,” she said, beckoning you. You sat down beside her, folding your hands in your lap. So it was that easy. You caught a whiff of her perfume. 

“You smell good,” you said quietly. Was that creepy?

“Oh, thank you,” Isa said. “This is actually a sample I got from Marc Jacobs, Daisy Fresh.”

“Let me smell,” Lily said. Isa held her wrist behind her and Lily took a dramatic inhale. “That is really good. I wonder if I could put daisies in the smoothies…”

Isa wrinkled her nose. “Are daisies edible?”

“Chamomile is edible,” you said, “and those are daisies.”

“They are?”

“Not all daisies are chamomiles, but all chamomiles are daisies.”

Lily snapped her fingers. “Perfect. Chamomile smoothie next.”

“It could be like a sleepytime smoothie,” Isa suggested. “Lily’s Night Night Potion.”

“I like that,” Lily said approvingly. “I think chamomile is also a galactagogue.” 

“A what?”

“Increases milk flow,” Lily said.

Isa turned and gave you a little conspiratorial look. She swirled her finger around her head as if to say, “She’s crazy.” It made you feel special, the same way you did when Jake treated you like a friend. Like you were normal.

It dawned on you then, as you rode the bus with two people you could consider your friends, that this could all end. If Lily found out that the Mina thing had actually happened, she would be disgusted by Jake, Sunghoon, and your association with them. You could hardly imagine what Isa would do if she found out that Jay had been breaking your back every single day for a week. It was so fragile. The basis of your friendship with them was contingent on secrets.

You started to wonder if it was worth it to figure out the full truth about what happened to Mina. You were starting to wonder why you cared. 

As you watched the unsurprisingly mediocre film, sharing a full tub of popcorn between Lily and Isa, the phone containing Nina’s Instagram name burnt in your back pocket. Just a little longer. You would wait just a little longer to keep digging. 

–

On Sunday, as you sat on your bed getting some studying in, you heard knocking at your door. It was a bit later, around eight. Jay hadn’t come by that evening, so you figured that he wasn’t interested. A part of you felt sad, but a part of you wished that he would come by.

To both your glee and chagrin, it was Jay. You sat down on your bed in anticipation for whatever was to come. Jay locked the door behind himself and grinned at you. “How was the movie?”

“Bad.”

“Isa said it was really shit.” 

“She wasn’t lying.”

“Do you ever feel weird, working with her and talking to her while I’m…” Jay made an OK-sign and violently shoved his finger into it. 

Every day. “No, do you?”

“No. Anyways, Sunoo was talking and mentioned that you wanted to try getting high,” he said, sitting on your bed. He pulled a dime bag decorated with Hello Kitty stickers out of his pocket and dangled it in front of your face. “But you got scared. So I brought you a little gift.” He threw one leg over yours and rested against the headboard.

You looked at the baggie warily. “Is that…”

Jay smiled at you. “It is.”

“Isn’t cocaine…not a, uh, beginner drug? Isn’t it normally weed?”

Jay opened the bag and touched his pinky to the powder. He tasted it and nodded. “Please. You’ll be fine. I mean, middle schoolers do coke.”

“Do they?”

“Sure they do. C’mere.”

Reluctantly, you scooted closer to Jay, who promptly wrapped one arm around you. He held your chin with one hand, his arm hooked around your neck. 

“Now open wide,” he said. “I’ll rub it on your gums, the way you see in movies. You ever watch Scarface?”

“No?”

“Seriously? Well, it’ll be like that.”

You opened your mouth, just enough to accommodate a finger. He gently inserted his other pinky into your mouth and rubbed the cocaine directly onto your gums. You thought it would taste like talcum powder, but instead it was more like crushed up multivitamins. The taste was almost enough to make you gag. You were expecting to feel heart palpitations, nausea, and maybe a sneak peek at death at any second. You had bought some weed back in high school, dabbled with Xanax at your lowest, but nothing that felt this dangerous.

“You’ll be fine,” Jay said, as though he could read your mind. He continued rubbing the bitter powder over your gums. “It’ll feel really good. Promise.” 

Your lips grew cold and numb, and you clamped your mouth around Jay’s finger to test if you could feel something. No dice. Jay smiled and pulled his pinky away, sucking the tip of it. “Feels numb?”

You nodded and Jay laughed. “You can talk,” he said in an almost gentle tone. 

“It’s numb,” you said, pressing your fingers to your lips. “My gums are numb too.”

“Is it freaky?”

“A little,” you admitted. “Don’t like it.”

“You will,” Jay said. “Trust me. You sit tight over there, I’m gonna get myself started.” You watched as Jay used one of your textbook and a razor to cut neat little lines of cocaine. You wondered if the razor marks would be embedded into the hardcover. 

He snorted the lines, holding the bridge of his nose once he was done. “Fuck,” he said. “Always hurts...” Jay sat next to you again, wrapped his arm around you, and held you closely. His other hand rubbed your thigh in a languid motion. 

“I fucked a girl on ecstasy once,” Jay said, brushing his fingers against you gently. “We fucked for like three hours, and she loved every second.”

“Was it that good?” you asked. Normally, you figured you would feel that strange burning sensation in your chest at the mention of another woman, but it was absent this time. You tried to scoot the slightest bit closer to him without drawing his attention.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Rolling sex is different from coke sex. Rolling sex is like…I hate to sound pretentious or corny, but it really does feel spiritual sometimes. You feel so connected to the other person, like there’s something deeper at work. To me, sex on coke is more…raw.” As he said that last word, his hand slipped under your skirt. 

“It sounds fun,” you said. “Sex on ecstasy.” His subtle touch felt wonderful. It made you want to be bold again, so you ran your fingers along his jaw. It was so sharp, so perfectly sculpted. 

Jay laughed. “What, you wanna try it?” His hand was now caressing your bare upper thigh with long, slow strokes, his thumb just barely teasing the edge of your panties.

“We’d have to see if I like this first,” you whispered, dragging your index finger along his Adam’s apple. You felt the way it bobbed when he swallowed, the stiffness of the cartilage of his trachea. 

“Like what? Fucking me on coke?” Jay looked into your eyes and smiled in a lackadaisical manner you weren’t used to. 

“Yeah,” you said. You placed your thumb and middle finger against the sides of his throat, lightly pressing down. Its rigidity juxtaposed with its fragility fascinated you. It felt like you held his life in your hands. 

“Squeeze a little harder,” Jay said, heaviness sinking into his voice. 

You gripped his throat a little harder, and he let out a labored breath. “Fuck,” he whispered. “More.” 

You shifted yourself that you were straddling his lap. Your skirt had ridden up, bunched around your waist. Just the slight brush of his crotch against your clothed pussy was enough to make you gasp. both of your hands encircled his neck and you squeezed again. Jay let out a surprisingly loud moan, shivering underneath you. Normally, he muffled any sounds he made or merely gritted his teeth together.

“More,” Jay said, closing his eyes. “Harder, harder, harder.” 

Additional pressure on his neck made Jay cry out again. He rutted his crotch against yours, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. “More,” he said, sweat starting to form beads on his forehead. His lips were parted. “Harder.” 

You were starting to actually strangle him, but you didn’t care. Another squeeze and Jay groaned, involuntarily canting his hips into you again. “Fuck, fuck, stop.” He grabbed your hands and pulled them off of his neck. His eyes were bloodshot and his breathing was heavy. “Almost came…I almost came. Shit.” 

You remained straddling his lap, your mind hazed over by lust. You pulled your sweater off, tossing it to the side. Jay shook his head and laughed as he threw his shirt off. “God, we should fuck on E after all,” he said. “Get off real quick?”

You pulled yourself off of his body, struggling to take your dress off. Once you had disrobed, your underwear included, you turned back to Jay. He was undressed as well, tugging his Calvin Klein boxers down; his cock sprang free, reddened and hard, the tip already wet with precum.

“I can’t do foreplay today,” Jay said, his voice strained. “Need to fuck you now. You wet enough?” 

“Find out,” you said, as eager as him. 

Jay laughed breathlessly, holding his arms out. You crawled back onto his lap, sitting on his thigh, and his hands settled on your hips. “I can feel it,” he whispered. “You’re dripping all over me. Can’t wait to get inside you, shit. You ever ride dick?”

You squinted at him.

“Stupid question,” Jay said. “Okay, I’ll teach you how to ride dick.” He lifted you up, giving you just enough support. “Put your hands on my shoulders. Knees on either side of me.” He wriggled backwards so that he was leaning against the headboard again, and you followed his instructions.

“Good,” he said. “Now, you just…lower yourself down on it.” You bit your lip, marveling at the lack of sensation, and lifted your hips up with Jay’s help. Sinking down on his cock made you moan, deeper than you had ever done before. Jay hissed, your name slipping from his lips. You felt your walls expanding to envelop Jay’s cock, and you felt like screaming already.

Jay guided your hips up slowly before bringing you down on his length again. “That’s all,” he said. “Up and down.” With his hands loosely holding your hips, you tried it yourself, lowering yourself on his cock again. He let out a pornographic groan which only spurred you on. Once again, you took his dick. It felt like it was filling you, all the way to your guts. 

You developed a rhythm, working his cock the best you could. “That’s it,” Jay grunted, his nails digging into your flesh as he gripped your hips tighter. “Bounce on it, bounce on this dick. Like you’re my… little pornstar.” Normally, when Jay fucked you, you let him do whatever he want. It felt fine no matter what. But you liked this, being adventurous, like you were taking the lead. Testing a move you had seen in a porno a while ago, you tentatively swirled your pussy around his cock. Jay groaned and ground you down onto his lap, his balls slapping your ass. “Do that again,” he said. When you raised yourself up again, you performed the same motion. “Jesus.”

After a while, your thighs started to burn. “Hurts,” you said, slowing down. You felt disappointed that you couldn’t keep going, but apparently coke didn’t give you superpowers. 

With a speed you didn’t know he possessed, Jay pulled out of you and pushed you down onto the sheets. Rolling you over onto your stomach, he lifted your hips up. His hand cracked against your ass, and you yelped. “Gonna fuck you into the mattress,” he hissed. 

This wasn’t the first time he had taken you from behind, nor was it the first time he had been rough, but it still felt amazing. He pushed your head down, his hand lightly settling on your throat. With your face planted firmly inside your sheets, you rocked back onto his cock, trying to match his pace. Another hard slap landed on your ass. “Good bitch,” Jay said. 

As he slid his dick in and out of you, the wetness making obscene noises, Jay nibbled and sucked harshly on a small spot on your shoulder. He loved marking you, even though you never wore anything that would reveal the traces he left behind.

Jay pounded into you from behind, his hands crawling to your tummy. He moaned erratically, and when you looked behind you, you saw that his eyes were screwed shut. You collected the arousal dripping from your pussy and played with your clit. “Gonna cum,” Jay said, panting. “Cum for me.” 

You felt your orgasm building, hot and palpitating, and you moaned his name. You’d never done it before, and it made you feel self-conscious. Until Jay chanted your own name like a mantra, intermingled with loud curses. Just as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you screaming and shaking, you felt Jay pull out of you. A cool substance splattered over your back, probably his cum. Exhausted, you dropped your hips onto the bed and groaned. Your pussy contracted while you tried to ride out your orgasm, your fingers still gently making circles on your tired clit before you felt calm enough to stop.

As you laid there, you realized that you hadn’t thought about Isa once. Normally, even when he was inside you, you wondered if he had done this with Isa, and if so, how many times, and who had made him cum more, and on and on. But you hadn’t compared yourself with her once. You had just enjoyed yourself. But now the reality crept on you, that you were fucking someone else’s man. You were a homewrecker, a cheater. If the old you could see you now, she would hate you.

Jay slapped your ass again, snapping you out of your reverie. “You good?”

Lifting your head up, you turned to face Jay. Sweat dripped down his face, and his torso was trembling. You nodded, but your face must have been unconvincing. 

“It’s the comedown,” Jay said. “It’s brutal the first time. You feel like shit now, right?”

“Sure, yeah,” you said shakily. “I do.”

“It’ll pass,” he said. “Come on, sit up.”

You crawled over to your headboard, feeling cold all of a sudden. Cold and empty. You thought Jay would put his arm around you, but all he did was rummage through your nightstand’s drawer for your smokes and lighter. He lit two and put one in between your lips. “It’ll help,” he murmured.

You took a long drag, shakily exhaling the smoke. 

“You should take a shower after this,” Jay said. “It’ll help you clear your head.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not nearly so bad,” Jay said. Then he chuckled. “I hope you enjoyed that. That’s the best high you’ll get.” His eyes were reflective, and he took a short, angry drag. 

“After this?”

“The old cliche. Now you’ll just try to chase this feeling,” he said. Clearing his throat, Jay reached for his boxers. “I gotta go. Gotta meet Sunghoon. You’ll be fine.” 

You blearily watched him get dressed. He hadn’t kissed you once. 

He left. You took a shower. 

It didn’t help. 

When you opened the door to your room, the scent of sex was so heady that you took a step back. Every time he fucked you, you felt full, until you felt hopelessly empty. Tears welled in your eyes, and you wiped them away angrily. It had been so long since you had cried properly. Now, you felt like a broken piece of china, nothing but sharp, jagged edges. 

You didn’t want to be alone right now, so you picked up your cell phone. Riki had said that you were friends, and friends helped each other, right?

“Riki?” you said, your throat hoarse. 

“Yeah?” he asked. “You good?”

“No,” you said quietly. “My, uh, my dog died.”

Riki fell silent. “Really?” 

“Yeah.”

“Shit,” he said, his voice growing somber. “I’m sorry.”

“He was my best friend,” you said. “I’m just…sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you, but…” 

“No, no, no,” Riki said. “No, Jesus, your dog died. It’s fine. You wanna meet up?” 

“Yes,” you said, almost too eagerly. “Sure.”

“Your room?”

“No, no…”

“Mine?” And potentially run into Jay? You’d pass. Just as you were about to decline, Riki said, “Jay’s out with Sunghoon right now, and Jake is studying, so you won’t run into them.”

Huh. So he wasn’t lying. “Sure, yeah. I’ll come over.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come to yours? You sound really messed up.”

“I’m positive,” you said, trying to sound neutral. You knew you were failing. 

–

Riki’s room was different than Jay’s in a good way. Movie posters lined his walls, and he had stuck random fast-food receipts to the walls. Clothes were thrown around haphazardly, even tossed onto his lamp. Riki was lying in bed, watching something on his laptop, but when he saw you he closed the screen and walked towards you. Without waiting for a word, he enveloped you in a hug.

It felt so good to touch someone who wasn’t involved in the stupid Jay-Isa-Jake conundrum. When you felt his arms wrap around you, you broke down into tears. It was embarrassing, falling apart in the embrace of someone you had effectively known for a few weeks. Still, Riki rubbed your back.

“I know how it is,” Riki murmured, patting your head. “If I lost bisco, I’d lose my mind. You guys were close?”

“Yeah,” you lied, allowing yourself to hug Riki back. “He was my only friend when I was younger.”

“Sorry,” he whispered. “You really must have loved him.” 

“Yeah,” you said. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a shuddering sob. “I think I did. And I feel stupid for it.”

Riki pulled away slightly, just so he could look at your face. “Why?”

“He’s…” you swallowed. “He was just a dog. I know that they have shorter lifespans than humans, and-and I knew that…it wouldn’t last. So why am I so upset?”

Riki pressed your head into his shoulder. “Because you’re human,” he said with a soft, not unkind, laugh. “You’re a human. It’s normal to love dogs, even if they have short lifespans. You can’t choose how you react to situations. It’d be great if you could, but you can’t.”

“I wish I could,” you said helplessly. “I wish I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Don’t say that,” Riki said. “You don’t mean that. You felt good when you were with your dog, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, tears still spilling onto Riki’s sweater. “Yeah, I did.”

“You wouldn’t get to feel that if you had no feelings. You can’t experience the highs without the lows and all that.”

You laughed despite yourself. “So wise.”

“I’m a fount of knowledge,” Riki said, patting your head again. “I keep telling you.”

You sniffled and a realization overtook you. You pulled away from Riki and he stepped back, surprised. “What is it?”

“You’re dating someone,” you said quietly. “Sorry, I forgot. I forgot you were…sorry.”

Riki grabbed your wrist, preventing you from leaving. “Hey. My girlfriend doesn’t own me, first of all. If anyone I date gets mad because I’m comforting a friend with a dead dog, then I wouldn’t date them. That’s fucked. Second of all…” Riki hesitated, pressing his thumb against your veins. “I think we’re done soon, anyways.”

“Really?”

Riki nodded, letting go of you. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I’m not….the best person, you know. So it’s sort of inevitable.”

“You don’t seem so bad to me,” you protested. “You aren’t as bad as Jay.”

Riki covered his mouth as he snickered. “If you have to use Jay as a benchmark…”

“Fair enough.”

Riki shrugged, kicking a stray sock around on his floor. 

“Well, you’re nice to me,” you said. 

That made Riki scoff. “Quit it. You sound like an orphan again. It’s not that hard to be nice to you, you know. I’m not a good person just because I don’t treat you like shit.”

You bit your lip, feeling admonished. Riki looked up at you and winced. “Look at me, being a dick to a girl with a dead dog. I told you I’m not nice.”

It was your turn to scoff, lightly hitting his arm. “Shut up.”

Riki chuckled. “What was his name?”

“Whose?”

“Your dog’s, dummy.”

Shit. Shit, shit, what was a name? “Mr. Wigglesworth,” you offered.

“Mr.? Did he have a first name?”

“Mr. was his first name.”

“That’s a really stupid name for a dog.”

“Well,” you said flatly. “He’s dead, so at least he doesn’t have it anymore.”

“All right, Wednesday, I was just joking.”

“So was I.”

With a shake of his head, Riki flopped back onto his bed. “You’re so difficult,” he said with a smile. “And very annoying.”

“You’re rubbing off on me,” you retorted. 

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s my birthday month. Be nice to me. Oh, shit, I didn’t invite you to the party yet.”

“Party?”

“Sunghoon’s birthday is on the 8th, and mine is on the 9th, so we’re going to have a joint party. It’ll start at 11 on the 8th and end…whenever it ends. It’ll be really fun. You should come. Well, no, you have to come. It’s an order from the birthday boy.”

You didn’t relish the thought of another party, but how could you refuse Riki after he had been so kind to you? “Yeah, of course. Where is it?”

“Heh. I won’t tell you. You’ll have to drive there with me,” Riki said.

“Oh. So I won’t need a password?”

“Nah,” Riki said. “If you want it, it’s ‘foreshadow’.”

“How cryptic,” you said. 

Riki smiled. “I try. Anyways, you want to watch Jujutsu Kaisen with me?”

“Never seen it.”

“Oh, you’re missing out,” he said, turning his tablet back on. 

“I bet.”

–

Jake texted you on Sunday night, asking you to meet up at Stoker’s cafeteria. You were starting to spend far too much time there for your liking. As you diligently walked over there, you felt the same feeling, like something was off. The clusters of people still dotting the fields glanced at you - that was it. People were looking at you. They never used to pay attention to you before, but now their eyes burnt holes into you. You were starting to become associated with the Karma Club, and you realized that that association would make joining the group chat even more difficult. You’d have to use a burner account, if you did join it. If.

Jake was sitting on one of the oak benches, two bagels in his hands. His black eye had faded into a yellow-green smear, and his lip had scarred over. “Hey,” he said, smiling at you. “I hope you like bagels.”

You took one of the bagels and sat down across from him. “Bagels at night?”

Jake shrugged. “Why not?”

“Why not, indeed?” You took a bite of it and wiped the crumbs from your lips. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he said slowly. “It’s just that I’m going away for my birthday. I’ll be gone for two weeks.”

“Two weeks for your birthday?”

“My parents are extra,” Jake said, tearing off a chunk of his bagel. “I’ll be back in time for Sunghoon and Riki’s birthday party, though. You going?”

“Riki forced my hand,” you said.

Jake grinned. “Attaboy. So, you know, if Jay does anything, just let me know. I hate that I’m leaving you alone with him for two weeks.”

“He hasn’t done anything to me in a while,” you said, your eyes drifting away from Jake’s face. 

“That’s good,” Jake said. “It’s just…you can never know with him. He’s so unpredictable. We had an argument a few days ago…” Jake popped another bite of bagel into his mouth.

“Argument?”

“I haven’t been doing very well,” Jake said quietly. Now it was his turn to avert his gaze; he picked at a thread on his large grey hoodie. “I’ve been doing shit recently. Nothing to do with you, just life. I, you know, I’ve always had problems, and sometimes I can deal with them. Control them, be the person my friends want me to be. But sometimes they get the best of me.”

“What do your friends want you to be?”

“Nice guy Jake.” Jake’s voice was bitter. “Everyone wants me to be that way. Can’t make a mistake. Can’t slip up. When someone else fucks up, it’s fine. It’s normal. But when I fuck up, it’s the end of the world. I’m the worst person alive.”

You nodded slowly, comparing his words with what Jay had told you. “I don’t think you’re the worst person alive.”

Jake chuckled, examining his bagel. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“You’ve been nice to me,” you continued. “So thank you. I know it must be weird…”

“It’s not weird at all,” Jake said. “It’s not weird for me, I swear. I fell for you really fast, I know. I don’t expect anything and I still don’t.” 

You didn’t know what else to say, and Jake fell silent too. “I love the Karma Club,” he said after a while, “but sometimes I feel like I’m losing myself, hanging around them all the time, always doing risky shit.”

“Maybe this will be good for you,” you said. “Your vacation, I mean.”

“Vacation,” Jake said vaguely. “Maybe it will. Thanks for letting me talk, Wednesday.”

“No problem,” you said. ���Thanks for the bagel.”

“No problem.”

You smiled at Jake, and Jake smiled at you, and for a moment you wished that you could just like Jake. You could have a million nights like this, eating bagels together, talking, baring your souls. If you thought about it, it nearly sounded appealing.

“Happy early birthday,” you said after a while. 

“Thank you,” Jake said. 

The two of you ate your bagels in silence.

–

You spent the next three weeks as usual. This time, after your library shift, you, Isa, Sunghoon, and Riki would go to the smoothie shop. When Lily wasn’t working there, she would go as well, sitting next to Sunghoon and discussing different flavour pairings. You, Isa, and Riki would sit at a table, sipping your smoothie and talking. Isa treated Riki like a little brother, and it was fun to see them argue about nothing in particular. 

Jay still came into your room every evening. At some point, you could tell that he had started to derive some sort of pleasure in ignoring you at the library only to be intimate with you in private. When Isa wasn’t looking, he would give you a quick once-over, mouth obscenities at you, or even wink at you. 

He was staying for longer, now. Jay would laze in your room for an entire hour afterwards. You wondered where he told his friends he was going every evening, if he told them anything at all. You didn’t want to ask, though. The “relationship” between the two of you seemed so tenuous, so fragile, that if you pulled at any of the threads it could unravel. The emptiness after he left was becoming worse, too. What was once an indefinite, hazy feeling turned into a wound that began to fester. You constantly had to gauge how much you could reveal, holding back on kissing him passionately lest Jay find out that you didn’t hate him. That you were starting to want more. 

It was a Tuesday. Sunghoon’s birthday fell on Wednesday, and Riki’s fell on Thursday, so everyone who was going to the party was planning on skipping school. You had never skipped a day of college before, so you felt a delicious little thrill at the thought of it. Jay was lying in your bed, his hand on your stomach, lightly squeezing it. His hair was stuck to his forehead, and he was only now starting to catch his breath. He had gotten a new gash on his arm, probably from a stupid fight. He would always summarize those skirmishes as, “dumbass bullshit.” You never pried too deeply into what he did when he was being a Karma Club member. “I was thinking,” he said, “you know that motel, Colborne Motel?”

“No.”

“The one where that guy killed that hooker?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Huh. Well, a guy killed a hooker in one of those rooms, Room 115 or 116 or something.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Jay smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the darkening light filtering in from outside. “I think we should go there, drop E, and fuck.”

You squinted. “You want to hook up where someone got murdered?”

“I thought that that would appeal to you,” Jay said, continuing to squeeze and stroke your stomach. “Given your…personality.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You flicked his forehead, something you had seen Isa do to Riki.

Jay lightly flicked you back with his free hand. “You know exactly what that’s supposed to mean.” 

You reached out to flick him again, but Jay grabbed your wrist and rolled on top of you, pinning you to the bed. “Say it anyways.”

“Well, you certainly don’t seem scared of death,” he said, “and your Emily the Strange vibe doesn’t help.”

“You know who Emily the Strange is?”

“She was my first crush,” Jay said.

“Explains a lot about your psyche,” you deadpanned. “It’s very Freudian, your first love-object.”

“Oh, don’t start talking pseudoscience,” Jay said, pulling both of your wrists over your head. “It makes me want to do nasty things to you.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, but you’re lucky I’m too tired.” Jay leaned down and kissed you, holding your wrists in one hand. The other slipped to your cheek. When he pulled away, he gave you an odd look. “Have you bought anything for Riki’s birthday?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t really know what to get him.”

Jay let go of your wrists and fell down beside you once more. “Neither do I,” Jay said. “That kid already has everything. Sunghoon was easy to shop for.”

“What’d you get him?”

“A novelty toaster oven.”

“Where’s the novelty?”

“It can toast a picture of a penguin on the bread,” Jay said. “It’s pretty cool.”

“I see.”

Jay sighed, running his fingers through his damp hair. “What do I get that kid?”

“Maybe I’ll get him a cologne,” you said thoughtfully. “He doesn’t seem like he has a lot. I guess I can take the bus to the mall”

“I’ll just drive you,” Jay said. You stared at him, befuddled. “What? It makes sense. I can find something for Riki, you can get him something so he knows that you’re not a shit friend who didn’t buy him a birthday gift, you give me head in a change room…”

“Jay.”

“The perfect plan,” he continued. “Go shower. Meet me on the corner of Decelis Street and blossom avenue.” Jay rolled out of your bed and started to put his clothes back on.

You could hardly move, but you got up anyway and started going through your closet for something to wear. You laid your clothes out on your bed.

“See you in 20,” Jay said once he was fully dressed. When he left, you shoved the wad of bills he had given you last month into your purse. Thanks to Jay, you could afford to buy Riki something nice.

—

Jay pulled up in his all-black Mazda. It didn’t have a single scuff, or any visible use of wear, which surprised you. You had figured that he would be a risky driver. Jay opened the door for you, yelling, “Get in.” 

You sank your head into the soft leather seat, trying not to make it apparent that you were admiring his car. No such luck. Jay looked at you and smirked.

“You’ve never even seen a car this nice, right?” he asked. 

“It serves its purpose as compensation for your manhood quite well,” you said. 

Jay scoffed, buckling his seatbelt. “That little joke would work better if you hadn’t seen how big my dick is. And you can’t say it’s not, either.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. You have a huge dick, a nice car, and you’re rich. You win.”

“Thank you,” Jay said. “That’s all I’ve been wanting to hear.”

“Can you put some sunglasses on, too?” you asked, putting your own seatbelt on over your bulky sweater. “So you can be as douchey as possible?”

Jay opened the glove compartment, fumbled around, and took out a small glasses case embossed with the word PRADA in gold lettering. He took out a sleek pair of sunglasses and put them on. “Are you ready for the most pretentious car ride of your goddamn life?”

“Ready,” you said, fighting a grin. 

Jay peeled off of the curb and drove towards the mall. You stared out of the window, trying to absorb everything about the surrounding city. Having no reason to venture off campus, this was practically new territory for you. The leaves were already red, shifting into a decaying brown. The houses you passed were somewhat smaller than Yeonjun’s place, yet still just as lavish. Jay turned onto the highway. 

“Gonna play some rock music,” he said, fidding with the Spotify app on the dashboard panel. “I know it’s not Alanis Morisette, but…”

“I like rock,” you said. “As most people do.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jay said. “Isa listens to the most mainstream shit ever. Frank Ocean, SZA, Taylor Swift…” Jay wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“They’re popular artists,” you said. 

“Popular shartists,” he said. Jay put on Highway to Hell by AC/DC, and you rolled your eyes.

“Asserting your musical dominance by playing one of the most well-known rock songs of all time, are we?”

“You don’t deserve to hear my selection of deep cuts,” Jay retorted. “Bitch.” 

You laughed. “Deep cuts such as American Idiot by Green Day and Smells like Teen Spirit by Nirvana?” 

“Oh, fuck you,” Jay said, but he was fighting a grin. “Pretentious slut.”

“Hypocritical manwhore.”

“Gloomy bitch.”

“Unfunny asshole.”

“Humourless cunt.”

“You copied mine,” you said. 

“That wasn’t copying,” Jay replied. “That was me improving upon your work.”

“Improving used subjectively here?”

“I’ll use you subjectively,” Jay said.

“What?”

“My dick is like half-mast right now,” he said. “Can I pull over so we can…”

“No.”

Jay laughed so loudly he nearly swerved into a semi-truck. You yelled, which only made him laugh more. Eventually, you joined in as well. 

–

You had never been to an outlet mall before, let alone one so upscale. You only recognized some of the names displayed on the map just outside the entrance - Prada, Dior, Chanel, Gucci, Versace. It was a dizzying list, one that harkened back the years of thrift store clothes and exclusion. 

“You see anywhere you want to go?” Jay asked, coming up behind you. He had been busy trying to tuck his sunglasses into his loose baggy T-shirt, eventually settling with wearing them around the back of his head. 

“Uh,” you said. “Don’t know.”

“There’s a Tom Ford store,” Jay said, pointing towards the north of the map. They make good fragrances. I have a few, actually. We could go there first, then I’ll get my gift for him.”

“Sounds good,” you said weakly. Even though he was dressed casually, Jay still seemed like he meshed better with the platoon of patrons wandering around, hauling shopping bags as big as suitcases around. You felt like someone’s raggedy little sister. 

“What are you waiting for?” Jay asked. “Shoo.”

You sighed, walking towards Tom Ford. As you walked, you passed by stores with avant-garde clothes pasted on mannequins in different poses, makeup boutiques, and lingerie stores. 

“Should we stop here?” Jay asked innocently, pointing at La Perla.

“What, for you? Sure,” you said. 

“Maybe I will,” Jay said. “I’d look cute in a thong, wouldn’t you agree.”

You clamped your mouth shut and he snorted. “This mall is nice because no one from our school comes here,” he said. “They just shop online, or if they shop in person, they go to the one over in Riverfield.”

“Why?”

“There’s boba,” he explained. “And there’s trendier stores there, but I like classic stores better. You know what I mean?”

“No.”

“I guess you wouldn’t,” he said. “Like Cinderella without the talking rats.”

“There’s one right next to me,” you said. 

Jay snorted. “That was good, actually.”

You smiled and continued taking in your surroundings. The sky was dark, but the cobblestone paths of the outlet mall were lined with old-fashioned street lamps that illuminated the area well. Eventually, you made your way to Tom Ford. Jay opened the door for you, impatiently ushering you inside. The store was hopelessly luxurious. Two sumptuous grey couches faced each other, settled on swirled marble floors. The shelves were glass, and the items were one of each. You supposed that you had to request the item you wanted. 

You wandered towards the fragrance section, where an overly-effusive worker hounded you. Jay nodded at him once and then he went away somewhere else. You marveled at how Jay’s aura, if you could call it that, extended outside of school. You spritzed a random bottle of cologne onto a strip of paper, waved it in the air, and took a sniff. 

“Costa Azzura,” Jay said, watching you closely. “That’s a good one.” 

“I don’t know if it’ll suit Riki,” you mumbled. Jay snatched the piece of paper from you and inhaled. 

“You’re right,” he said. “Too mature for him.” 

You took a lighter-coloured bottle and sampled that next. It was citrusy, with a hint of spice. “This is better,” you said. Grey Vetiver.

Jay frowned at you. “Don’t you want to try more?”

“Why? This one smells fine.” 

“Maybe there’s one that’ll be better,” Jay said. 

You groaned and put the bottle back on the shelf. Azure Lime was next, then Tuscan Leather, then Fucking Fabulous. “There’s too many,” you grumbled. “I’m getting Grey Vetiver.”

“You’re rushing the process,” Jay said. “Here, try Electric Cherry.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Do it,” he growled. You reluctantly took a sniff of the strip of paper Jay had thrust under your nose. 

“It’s fine,” you said weakly. “It’s very feminine, though. Not sure if Riki would like it.”

“Riki,” Jay said. “Riki. Yeah, you’re right. Get the Grey Vetiver.” Jay beckoned a store attendant to come over, requesting a box of the cologne. While they were gone, you opened your purse and took out a few of the $100 bills Jay had given you.

Jay stared at you, dumbfounded. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m going to pay for th-,”

“No,” Jay said sternly. “No, no paying with fucking cash at a luxury store. Were you raised in a barn?”

“But-,”

“So useless,” Jay said. “I’ll just pay for it. It’s my money you were going to use anyways.” He walked over to the cash register and paid for the cologne, a scowl on his face the entire time. When he was done, he thrusted the bag into your hands. “You’re welcome,” he said.

You stumbled out of the store after him. “Where will you go to get your gift for Riki?” you asked. 

“I don’t know, prude,” Jay snapped. “Unlike you, I know how to enjoy a shopping experience.” 

Enjoy was a very generous word to use. Jay dragged you to virtually every single store in the mall that sold men’s clothing. He hemmed and hawed over the cut of pants, asked the store attendants to bring out clothes that he examined with the scrutiny of a surgeon, and fingered the fabric of every piece he liked. 

He made you try on the clothes over your own outfit, forcing you to put on bombers, puffs, leather jackets, and assorted hats. 

“This Moncler raincoat suits you,” Jay murmured. It had been two hours, and your feet were aching. 

“It doesn’t matter if it suits me,” you said, your voice coming out in a whine. “It’s for Riki.”

Jay waved his hand. “All you younger people are the same anyways. Come on, put this short down jacket on.” 

You stripped the raincoat off and handed it over to an attendant before trying on the jacket. 

“Very nice,” Jay said, a hand over his mouth. “Very nice…”

“How come you’re getting him a jacket, anyways? Doesn’t he already have one? Or several?”

“Every year, the KC goes on a trip over winter break,” Jay explained, fondling the hem of the jacket. “We all pick straws to see who gets to pick the location. Jungwon drew the longest, so we’re going to the Swiss Alps.”

“The Alps?”

“Don’t bother asking,” Jay muttered. “I don’t know either. Arms up.”

You stuck your arms out so Jay could examine the “movement” of the jacket, whatever that meant. He wasn’t even getting them in Riki’s size anymore. 

“Yes….good…Now take it off.” Once you peeled off the warm coat, Jay gestured for a store attendant. “One in this size,” he said. 

“Riki won’t fit in that,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jay said. “That’s for something else.”

Or someone else. You bit your lip in frustration. He was probably buying that stupid jacket for Isa, and you were just the model. 

“I’m tired,” you said. 

“One last store,” Jay said, his voice dropping slightly. “Wanted to go back to Armani, get him a nice suit.”

“Whatever.”

“Poor doggy,” Jay said, scratching your chin. “All tired out?”

You pulled your head away from his hand. “I’m not a dog.”

“Woof.”

“I hope you get stranded in the Swiss Alps,” you grumbled. 

“You’d get stranded there too,” Jay said.

“Why would I be there?”

Jay smiled, once again brandishing his credit card as he walked to the cash register. “Trip rules state that we can take one person as a date,” he said. “And dickless is probably going to ask you to go with him.”

“And you’ll ask Isa?”

If you hadn’t been so attuned to his actions, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way his fingers tightened on his bank card. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll take Isa.”

–

When you got back to your dorm room, clutching the Tom Ford back, you let out a shaky sigh. You considered tossing the cologne onto your bed, but Riki didn’t deserve to suffer just because you were upset. Instead, you pulled out your phone and downloaded the Instagram app.

You needed a good name, something anonymous, something that no one could ever associate with you. Just in case things went tits-up. You decided on the moniker “jumblesack82.” Then you went to your Notes app, found Nina’s Instagram handle, and typed it in. She wasn’t private, so you could scroll through her photos. 

Nina was pretty, sociable, smart, and outgoing. Her feed was plastered with pictures of her with friends, wearing cute outfits, and enjoying life. Just before you followed her, you decided to see if you couldn’t find Lily.

Scrolling through her followers list, you eventually found her. lily2morrow. Her entire page appeared to be pictures of her holding various drinks and smiling, one of which you recognized as the maca root smoothie she had given you last month. Lily had posted something on her Instagram story, so you clicked on it. It was a picture of someone with their face cut off, holding the straw of a smoothie and playfully trying to cover the photo with the other. To your horror and dismay, you recognized those pale, pale hands. Sunghoon and Lily…? The Karma Club truly left no stones unturned.

You went through her following to find Isa’s page next. It just made you feel like throwing up. Seeing her selfies, her vibrant red hair, her stupid fucking captions like, “I’d marry you with paper rings~” it made you feel insane. What turned your stomach the most recent photo she had taken, one of her and Jay. His hand settled on her waist, and she was cupping his chin in her hand. He was actually smiling into the camera. 

From what you had ascertained from his comments about her, you had assumed that Jay disliked Isa. You couldn’t understand why he was still with her, but you could at least revel in the fact that he disliked her in some way. But this picture of them, undeniable proof that people knew they were together, that they existed beyond four walls, it made your skin crawl. People probably mentioned them in tandem: there’s Jay and Isa, are Isa and Jay going to the party, Jay likes Isa, Isa likes Jay, Isa loves Jay, Isa wants to fuck Jay. Seemingly to protect your sensibilities, Isa rarely talked about Jay in the group chat you had with her and Lily. Mainly, you coordinated when you were going to meet up, shared funny pictures. Occasionally, she would allude to “her man”, but you could take that in stride. You realized that she probably spoke to Lily about Jay, behind your back. 

You didn’t bother trying to find the Karma Club members on Instagram. You felt like your world was already imploding. Through blurred vision, you DMed Nina. You thought it would be wise to disguise your typing style. 

You: hi im the girl you met earlier >_<

Nina: Hi! You’re the one who had trouble with the Karma Club

You: yes ._.

Nina: I’ll tell one of them to invite you right now, girlie!

You: thank you girlie >3<

Soon, you were inside of the group chat, conveniently and aptly titled “Anti KC”. Immediately, several people started texting at once, relaying a variety of greetings. They asked you what your name was, and you said you were hiding your identity for protection. “So smart,” one of them typed. You frowned. None of them had used alternate accounts? 

You scrolled through the members of the group chat. You didn’t know most of them. Jisun, Somi, Rachel, Sieun, Irene, Chaeyoung, Minji, Dia. All very beautiful girls.

One of them asked what the Karma Club had done to you, and the others concurred. They wanted to know everything. So they could help you, they said. You briefly considered lying, but then you remembered that picture, that damned picture of Jay and Isa. 

So you typed out everything leading up to Jay’s rape of you. After some hesitation, you included that. You read your message back over before you sent it. It looked so garish, awful, and inhumane looking at it. The facts were cold and conveyed none of the nuance. None of the emotions you had felt. You sent it anyways.

You received a sympathetic wave of asspats, which did nothing to lessen your internal anguish. Oh, well. They believed you, and they trusted you. That was something. You didn’t exactly join the group chat to kumbaya anyways. You were here for answers, to figure out what had happened to Mina once and for all. Nina had mentioned that the group chat was made shortly after the Mina incident, so you started by backscrolling. You didn’t care that it would take a while.

You were surprised by the sheer inanity of half of the conversations in the group chat. You had assumed that it would be more like a group of women attempting to take down the Karma Club, but instead it was partially being used for idle gossip. Still, some of the things you saw were interesting. For example, that Heeseung was a serial cheater, and had slept with nearly every single girl in the group besides Sieun and Minji, who were your age. 

One year, the Karma Club had allegedly destroyed thousands of dollars worth of alcohol when they went to a bar. Sunoo had given the rugby team, the volleyball team, the cheerleading squad, several teachers, and a few of the girls in the chat the shits. Sunghoon extorted people for money, Jungwon supposedly had blackmail on half of the school, and Riki was “cute but evil.” They didn’t say anything about the things he had done, oddly enough.

None of this seemed as bad as what Jay had done to you, although Jay was a most reviled figure in the chat. Strangely enough, they seemed to slobber over him in equal measure to their lambasement of him. “He’s so hot but so fucked up,” one of them said. “He’s like irl Takumi from Nana frrrr” another person said. Ridiculous. All they could say about him was that he got into fights, had a nasty temper, and couldn’t hold a girlfriend down. “Good luck to Isa,” one person said. You had to bite your fist to stop yourself from screaming. 

Eventually, after what felt like a month of nonstop scrolling, you got into the earlier years of the chat. Dia, Chaeyoung, and Rachel had started the group chat because they had gotten cheated on by Heeseung. They commented on the Mina incident, initially condemning her.

“she makes the rest of us look bad,” Rachel had typed. “lying about rape is crazyyy”

“fr,” Chaeyoung had sent. “amber heard ass”

Then someone named Jisun had been introduced into the chat. She had been diligent in cataloging what the Karma Club had done. Jisun had apparently been friends with Mina and defended her friend.

“jake is so evil and im sick of people acting like he’s not as equally as big of a piece of shit as the rest of them lmao,” Jisun had said. “jake ruined her life. hes the one that got her hooked on oxy. shes prbly in rehab rn. i dont even know if she lied her not. even if she did, he deserved it”

“fuck fake” Dia had typed. “*jake”

Oxy? Oxycontin? You already knew, but you Googled it just to be sure. Your heart was pounding inside of your ears. Oxycontin, a known opioid. On one hand, you should be wary of any information you got from people who hated the Karma Club members. On the other hand, it was a coincidence you couldn’t ignore. 

Mina had to be administered naloxone, something used during an opioid overdose. Jake had introduced Mina to opioids. 

And tomorrow night, you would be partying with him.

(continued in next part)

#enha smut #enhypen smut #kpop fanfiction #jay smut #jay x reader #enhypen x reader #jay enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts

[dadddybangtan]

mtl: txt being into car sex

pairing: txt x gn!reader

cw: smut, mdni

word count: 0.3k

a.n. it’s been a couple months since my last post. i’m in a relationship that doesn’t force me to use fanfic as escapism lmao!! something just inspired me to make this… hope you enjoy <3

MOST

beomgyu,,,

he loves everything about car sex. driving around aimlessly as he teases you, finding a discreet parking spot, hooking up a playlist to the radio, undressing you and trying not to get caught. the thrill of it all turns him on. his favorite part is when the windows get foggy and blocks out the rest of the world. it’s just you, him and your bodies loving each other on his leather seats.

yeonjun,,,

he likes car sex for the convenience. he’s a busy man and sometimes a quickie in his car on the way home from work is the only way he can hookup with you. but he knows how to spice it up. the confined space only brings you two closer together. and the threat of getting caught makes you both more desperate for each other.

taehyun,,,

he’s in the middle of this list because he likes his privacy and space. he likes the comfort of a bed, a couch, even a shower or the carpeted floor. there’s nothing appealing about fucking in his car. until, of course, you both are heading home from a date and you’re tipsy, horny and impatient. he’ll pull over and give you a preview of what’s to come before you guys get home.

huening kai,,,

he’s just as tall and lanky as soobin, but the reason he’s not at the bottom is because he definitely enjoys a little bit of carplay. maybe it’s fingering you from the drivers seat or having his dick sucked on the road. he’s the type that can’t resist you wherever he is.

soobin,,,

listen, he’s too long and lanky to be fucking around in a car. unless it’s a camper, he literally cannot fit. as much as he wants to try it, he can’t get comfortable no matter how much you contort the seats. it’s okay, just wait until you guys get home.

LEAST

#dadddybangtan #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt fanfic #txt hard thoughts #soobin smut #txt x reader #yeonjun smut #beomgyu smut #hueningkai smut #taehyun smut #txt mtl #mtl smut

[acciojaeyun]

under the web | p.sh.

PAIRING. officemate!sunghoon x fem!reader

SUMMARY. there's something about the way people seemed to scurry about whenever park sunghoon from the IT department would be coming to whichever area of the office. that's something that would be all because of you, his lovely officemate. your constant teasing and mockery of that one thing you know about park sunghoon made it seem to reach the headlines, and park sunghoon was determined to let you know that you're not the boss here.

CONTENTS. smut, some angst, some fluff. smut with plot. not beta-read. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

SMUT WARNINGS. making out, humiliation, implied dom vs. dom dynamics, dirty talk, slight exhibition, curses, virginity, unprotected sex (please practice safe s), reader is a jealous menace (a bit stalker-ish), mentions of manga, mentions of other members, if i forgot some, lmk!

WORD COUNT. 4.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE. this will be my first ever sunghoon fic after a long while! i did take a hugeee slump after writing ( and had never been so inspired to write oneshots until now. and i'm such a sucker for glasses hoon and this is the product of it. thank you so much for reading! <3

MY LIBRARY. REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

It was an annoying morning.

Or well, for you, it was annoying. For you had to witness a group of interns gushing over the "guy with rolled sleeves and glasses making his coffee," and you scoffed when they mentioned that he looked like an Americano drinker, which, in their words, made him more attractive.

You rolled your eyes, the guy that they were talking about never liked Americano. In fact, his black instant coffee had the same amount, if not more, of cream added to his stainless steel coffee tumbler.

How did you know about that, though?

One thing about you was that you knew Park Sunghoon very well. He was the Class Salutatorian of Batch 2023, bachelor's in Information Technology. It was pretty impressive, if you were to ask everyone else. Park Sunghoon was immediately hired by the company that you are working in, and while you can say that Sunghoon did deserve both the position and the benefits, you couldn't help but feel like he didn't deserve the attention men and women alike were pouring him.

Of course, if anything, it should be you showering him attention. But, you wouldn't do that. Not when you're Y/N Y/L/N. You're the darling of the company, the sweetheart, so to speak. Because even though you cannot be of the same level as that of talent, knowledge, and skill which Sunghoon possess along with his looks, you were a pretty hardworking person.

Being in the Marketing Department also had its hardships, and while you still pray for the day commoners stop shunning down your bachelors, you are able to supply yourself with your needs and wants just by exerting everything you've learned in business and people-speaking.

But there was something about Park Sunghoon that makes him your own thesis.

Your own skill in building relationships didn't seem to work on him as much as you had hoped. Okay, let's admit it, you had taken a liking into Park Sunghoon. The quiet IT Specialist that exuded looks that were enough to make women fall to their knees.

A little bit of chit-chat here and there, some subtle glances and light touches, you were still far from the starting line. Park Sunghoon still hadn't reciprocated at least a fraction of your advancement towards him.

And by now, you're almost as helpless as it could be as you're munching on your own lunch, eyes over the cubicle of the IT department, watching how Sunghoon eats his sandwich, gaze never leaving his computer as he typed in codes with his other hand.

"How's the thing with Mr. Cold guy doing?" Sunoo would nudge your side as he caught you staring at Sunghoon for the nth time today.

You rolled your eyes for the nth time today as well, "He's so annoying."

"Now, he's annoying? Please, Y/N, cut yourself some slack. You need to get humbled, too, you know?" The blonde boy laughed as he sipped on his coffee.

"I just don't know how he hasn't caught up on it yet," you groaned, stabbing your fork on the penne pasta that you had on your lunchbox, "I've been doing a lot! How come he's still oblivious!"

"That, or he knows and just doesn't want to do anything."

You furrowed your eyebrows at Sunoo, "What do you mean?"

"Please, you're practically throwing yourself at him, it's a miracle how he hasn't caught up on yet."

"Or, he's a virgin."

Sunoo laughed, "Maybe,"

A loud thud on your desk was heard throughout the department as you placed your lunchbox down, "I'll talk to him."

"Again?" Sunoo looked at you, bewildered. "And, while he's working?"

"What, can't he handle a little distraction?"

"With you almost pushing your boobs towards his face? I think not."

"You know what? Fuck you." You flipped your best friend off, making him laugh as he ate his tteokbokki happily, ready to see you in your downfall yet again.

You, on the other hand, were determined. Straightening your slacks and blouse, grabbing your laptop, you made your way over to the IT Department, greeting everyone along the way while making a beeline straight to Sunghoon.

"Hi," you greeted.

Sunghoon hummed, his eyes still not leaving his screen.

"I mean to come to you to help me with a feature on the application that we're using?"

The boy glanced at you, his chewing coming to a slow halt.

"What about it?"

"Oh, I was hoping that I can access the Network's files? I've forgotten my flash drive at home and I only have access to some of the files but it would be in Sunoo's disk."

Sunghoon flashed you an impressed look at your terms, at the bare minimum.

"It'd be against company policy to allow you to access other people's disks without their consent, Ms," Sunghoon cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "and besides, aren't you friends with Mr Kim, anyway? Why wouldn't you ask him directly?"

"Uh, well..." you trailed off, "well, Sunoo also has the copy of this file on his flash drive, and coincidentally, he has also forgotten it at home!"

The boy raised an eyebrow at you. He was not buying it, you thought.

But your thoughts were proven wrong as Sunghoon swivelled in his chair, clicking on the multiple tabs open until he had manipulated the system for the time-being upon your request.

Your hands glanced on his hands, so dainty, long, and pretty. You wondered how it would feel around your neck, or in your pussy.

"It'll be open only for your access, Ms," Sunghoon said, looking up at you, "I'll be resetting it to company's default after forty-five minutes. Would that be enough time for you to get your files?"

You nodded, "Yes, thank you,"

"Do you have anything else for me to help with?" Sunghoon looked at you with a raised brow, making you blush.

"N-No, not that I know of, thank you, Sunghoon," you smiled at him.

He merely nodded before opening his coding software, clearly blocking you out from all his senses as he returned to eating his sandwich and work.

You pursed your lips, inhaling a large breath as you excused yourself from his cubicle, greeting yet another group of people acknowledging your presence as you made your way out of their department.

You were not expecting what you are seeing.

Not at all.

Whatever it was, there seems to be a glitch in the system as you also had an access to Sunghoon's drive.

You see, it was not your fault you were a bit nosy over your crush. You had taken a liking in him, and maybe, you think, there may be some stuff about him in his drive that could let you know a little more about him.

If not him, then, maybe, technology, his trusted friend, could help you.

You've seen his curriculum vitae, all the data he's working with, his clients, as well as a folder of his personal stuff which included torrented movies.

You laughed, his degree really has his perks.

You were so close to clicking off the movie folder named "O", but as you clicked on the next folder, named "P," you gasped at the number of porn videos were downloaded into the folder.

And all of them had the same theme: office sex.

It maybe too much, but in your mind, it made sense, when you were noticing how each of the female partners had the same features as you. Smirking to yourself, you glanced a look at the IT Specialist, bingo.

Surprised would be an understatement when Sunghoon entered the pantry as he went through his usual routine: leave his things at his desk, make his creamy coffee, work, leave to buy Subway for lunch, work, leave at 5:30 PM sharp.

He was surprised when the first people in the pantry left as he entered the room, furrowing his eyebrows when he heard faint words such as, "porn," "boundaries," and "couldn't he have had downloaded it in his own laptop?"

Now, Sunghoon may have been overthinking. His quiet life at work was already enough for him. But there was something bugging him for the first time in his life as he placed water in his stainless cup, especially when after making his coffee, no one would even dare look at him as he made his way to his cubicle, men and women, alike, swivelling their chairs to move farther from him, as if he were a plague.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, it was getting to his nerves.

And if it weren't for Jake, his only friend in the department, who initially swivelled his chair away form Sunghoon, but then decided to swivel back as Sunghoon didn't even stand up for lunch, who told him about the rumours that spread about him, he wouldn't have known, and there was only one person who would have accessed his files.

You.

He snickered at the story Jake was telling him, and left Jake to his imagination whether the story was true or not, only giving him a shrug when the older did try to confirm to him.

"Believe what you want," Sunghoon responded, typing aggressively on his keyboard, "besides, I think you have, since you initially scooted away from me."

"Look, man," Jake scooted closer, whispering, "if it's not true, I could tell it to them, you know? I don't want them to think of you as some horny teenager who doesn't know about work boundaries."

"As if they're going to believe you," Sunghoon curtly responded before pressing a key harshly before looking at his friend, "if it came from Y/N, no one would even bat an eye at you."

"Y/N? Why her?"

"Only she had access to my files yesterday. Wouldn't it be too much of a coincidence if the story only spread now?" He chuckled, amused.

"So, it's true?"

Sunghoon shrugged again.

"Are you going to do something to address it?"

"Address it? What for? They already think I'm some horny dude, anyway."

"Well," Jake licked his lips, "just send me the stashes next time, too, okay?"

Sunghoon laughed.

Your plan was working.

A lot of people had taken their distances from Park Sunghoon. Making you think you're progressing at your plan to keep people away from him.

You can't help it. As long as there were hindrances in your way towards Sunghoon, you think there would be little chances to make your advances to him. You had yet to tell Sunoo, but you know that he was already aware of the rumour, and he would ask you about it after his client events.

So, while everyone had left Sunghoon alone in the pantry, that was your cue to enter the pantry. Making your way as calmly as possible to the counter as possible, you placed your food on the microwave, heating your breakfast as Sunghoon was stirring his drink in his cup.

"I never took you as the guy," you sighed, faking sympathy, getting more annoyed as you never got any reaction from the boy.

"I was expecting more from you, Mr. Salutatorian, I'm sure you know about policy since you were so high and mighty about it when I tried to get into Sunoo's files," you continued, watching his every reaction.

But he remained stoic. And that irked you.

You were about to open your mouth when the microwave had beeped, making you jump and take your food, frustrated over the fact that Sunghoon was ignoring you. Forgetting that it was still hot and you didn't retrieve the mittens beside it, you burned your fingers, finally getting Sunghoon's attention.

He discarded his coffee and immediately went his way over to you, grabbing a hold of your hand before examining your fingers, his eyes never leaving it as he tried to suck on it in attempts of both soothing the wound and seducing you.

Your breath hitched, making you look at him. What the hell was he doing?

"S-Sunghoon?"

He smirked at you as he pushed your fingers to his mouth, wetting your pointer finger with his warm tongue, only for him to retract it and swirl it on the tip of it.

"There's one menace between the two of us," Sunghoon whispered as he pulled away, leaning in to you, "and it's not gonna be you."

You let out a breath you didn't know you held as he pulled away and made his way out of the pantry.

Weeks later, you found yourself mad at Park Sunghoon.

Because after the incident at the pantry, he seemed to be hovering in your space more times than you would like. And while it did seem the best thing for you, it wasn't. For Sunghoon was not only hovering, but he made sure his presence was made known whenever he was around.

Holding on your waist, rubbing his crotch against your bum, rolling his sleeves whenever he knew you looked at him – while keeping his unbothered expression at his face.

Other than that, you were thinking he was losing his game as another person had suddenly took a liking into you. Food in carton boxes at your table by the morning you come in to work, and while you had hoped that it were him, your hopes were shut down as fifteen minutes after you had arrived from work, only had then Sunghoon, too.

Flowers were also hard to miss every week. There was a different flower every week, the whole department gushing whenever you grab a stem on your desk. And while you had hoped it was Sunghoon, again, you looked at his desk and see him in his natural habitat: working and face straight to the computer.

By this time, you had grown infuriated. Because you felt like he was toying with you. Especially when he was not paying you any attention at the Thanksgiving Party your office had held after reaching more than the targeted quarterly sales, and it was because of you! Why wasn't he giving you any attention?

Blame it on the alcohol in your system, and your innate drive to prove something to Sunghoon, a trait of yours that you have acquired overtime, you made your way towards the guy who was alone at the bar, nursing his on the rocks with his finger dancing around the rim of the glass.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me?" you spat, annoyed.

Sunghoon turned on his seat, smirking at you, "For being the best employee?"

"What else!"

He chuckled, taking a sip on his drink, "Congratulations, princess,"

You scoffed, "That's it?"

He grinned, "What, you'd want me to kneel for you?"

You were stunned. "You know what? Whatever, Sunghoon, I feel like I'm just a game to you, anyway."

And maybe that's what did it for Sunghoon, because the moment you uttered those words, you found yourself being pulled by your wrist outside of the ballroom you were in by none other than Park Sunghoon himself.

"Let go of me, Sunghoon!" you said as you tried to escape from his grasp.

But Sunghoon did not budge, he was determined on making you regret what you say. He pushed the fourteenth floor button, the floor where he was staying, and even though it took quite a while to get to the floor, Sunghoon didn't even try to lay his hands on you, it was better for him to do it on his bed, anyway.

Because you deserved it.

The moment the elevator doors opened, you found yourself being pulled to his room, with heavy breaths as he discarded his suit jacket on the couch, he turned around and met you in a passionate kiss, surprising both you and Sunghoon.

Ah, if there was one thing you didn't know about Sunghoon? Was the fact that he was a virgin. He never had any relationships in the past, and it had only been you whom he was very attracted by. So, it was bound to happen, perhaps. Sunghoon giving you his virginity in the hopes of you reciprocating his feelings.

But Sunghoon was a realistic man, of course, he knew that he was just your own entertainment. Having a lot of suitors here and there, he knew he had to step up his game.

That meant, letting you see through his drive because he was scared of doing the first move of asking you out on a proper date, because everyone was always first in doing so.

A few occurrences later, Sunghoon had decided on levelling his courtship up by bringing you food to your table the moment he gets to work. His bag still on his hand as he ordered your favourite meal as he sped placing it on your table before making his coffee.

Sunghoon had started realising that you liked flowers, so he had brought it upon himself to at least give you flowers every week, keeping it anonymous before he finally musters enough confidence to tell you that it was him who was giving you the gifts.

Not Jake, not Jay, and most certainly not Heeseung.

So, he hopes he had translated all of his misunderstood feelings into the kiss, cupping your jaw as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, swallowing the moan that you had blessed him.

"You drive me so fucking crazy, Y/N," he groans into the kiss, "accusing me of playing with you when you were the one who started this in the first place." He trails off, his lips pressing onto your mouth up and down before stopping by the skin near your collarbones for him to suck.

You let out a whimper, too lost in the feeling of his lips on your skin, "You drive me so fucking crazy, too," you start, letting your head fall back to have the boy kiss more of your skin, "I don't know what's on your mind most of the time." Sunghoon had found your sweet spot below your ear, making you gasp.

The boy hummed, wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling your body flush against his, slowly rolling his hips forward so you could feel his hard cock pressed against you, "Well, it's about time you know that you take over the expanse of my mind, princess."

You were already soaking wet at this point, basking in how Sunghoon looked today, you swear you could feel yourself salivating over how he presents himself. You pull his face away from your neck, locking your lips in an uncoordinated kiss. "I need you, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon groaned, kissing you for a moment longer before abiding to his girl's needs. His cock was aching, and you needed him. It was time to cut the chase.

"My needy little slut," Sunghoon growls as he teased you by rubbing your clit over your panties, and when he slid his hands through her folds, he was met by pleasing wetness, making him chuckle, "You've been trying to fool everyone with how much of a sweetheart you are, angel," he hummed, rubbing his nose on the crook of your neck, "but you really are a menace. Wanting her Sunghoon to give all of his attention to her,"

"Y-Yes," You moaned, grinding your hips on his fingers, "M-My Sunghoon,"

And when he motions to remove his glasses, you tap his wrist and shook your head, making him realise you never want his glasses off, making him chuckle.

"You liked hearing it, don't you?" Sunghoon inquires as he pushes you to the bed, pulling you over the edge of it as he bites on your panties, pulling it down to pool on your ankles, "You love the idea of me being yours, don't you, Y/N?" He smiles as he sinks his finger in you, curling as you clench around you.

"Yes, I do - shit, Sunghoon!" You managed to say, "I did everything because I only want you! Only you!"

Sunghoon docks his head in between your thighs to hide the blush creeping to his cheeks before pressing hot kisses into the expanse of your inner thighs, fluttering light kisses as his lips made its way to your folds, kissing it before he gives kitten licks to your bud.

Your back arches, satisfying Sunghoon with his little experimentation. He, then, soon, pushes another finger in as he started swirling his tongue on your clit, alternating between licking his tongue flat from your hole up to your clit, making you thrash your legs everywhere.

He moaned when you clamped your legs around his face, urging him to continue his movements, "M' close, Hoon," you whispered, one of your hands leaving the sheets to tangle in his newly-cut hair, and with one more curl of Sunghoon's fingers, you were already tumbling over the edge, your cries of his name falling from your mouth.

"God, you're so beautiful, Y/N," Sunghoon whispers as he cleans you off with his tongue, and when he was done, he pushes himself up as he unbuckles his belt and removes his trousers, discarding the article at some part of the room.

"I wanna ride you," You confess, making Sunghoon blush again, "oh, are you... is this your first time?" You asked, your eyes widening slightly as Sunghoon replied with a nod.

Your heart almost burst at his confession, making you sit up and pull him into a slow kiss, "I want to see how you'd look so damn sexy sitting on my cock, Y/N," Sunghoon breathes, "but I want- I need-"

"Take your time with me, Hoon."

A breath escapes you when Sunghoon finally gets you out of your dress, his hands immediately pinching at your nipple. And without another word, Sunghoon lifts your leg and lines himself to your entrance. And with a heavy breath in, he pushes in slowly, the roll of his hips feeling delicious until he's fully buried inside you, low moans heard throughout the room.

"I, fuck, Y/N," Sunghoon starts, groaning instead as you clench around him. Sunghoon hovers over you, his arms on either side of your head before resting his forehead against yours so he could look into your eyes, "God, I love you so much, Y/N."

Before Sunghoon ever regrets he had confessed out of nowhere, you had already pushed your lips on his hungrily, meeting his thrusts, you let out a whine as Sunghoon placed your legs over his shoulders, reaching deeper of you, the same time he rubs slow circles on your clit in time with his harsh thrusts.

"God, you feel so fucking amazing, Y/N," he breathes, earning a chuckle from you as you say, "You're fucking me so good, Hoon,"

Sunghoon smiles at your continuous use of his nickname, before his eyebrows furrow as he lets out a breathless moan as he hit your g-spot, making you squeal, "Jesus, I'm not gonna last much longer!" you say, and you were quick to wrap your legs around his waist, aiming to feel him closer.

"Me either, darling," he whispers, "come with me, please?"

And with a few more thrusts, you feel yourself coming on him, your toes curling, back arching, eyes almost rolling at the back of your head, as your nails rake down Sunghoon's back from his nape. Your walls clench around his cock, making him also reach his climax. He cuts your moans as Sunghoon pulls you to him for a hungry kiss as he empties himself in you.

He slows his thrusts down as he helps you come down from your highs, his lips attached again to your jaw down to your neck, peppering light kisses. And sooner, Sunghoon pulls out and rolls onto his back, his arms around your waist to make you roll on top of him.

A silence was heard in the room as you mindlessly traced irregular shapes on the expanse of Sunghoon's pale skin. He feels like his heart is about to explode from mixed emotions, having the girl of his dreams on top of him, his virginity in your hands – but, at the end of the day, he's unsure about your feelings for him.

However, one thing's for sure: you were all Sunghoon had ever wanted and needed, no matter how much the world can prevent him from doing so.

"I mean every word I said," Sunghoon whispers, kissing your hair, a silent affirmation to the thousand words running in your head.

You giggled, "I feel like I'd look good bouncing on your cock, too, Sunghoon."

"N-Not that.." Sunghoon blushed, "I am really crazy for you, Y/N, but you know, we could just pretend it never happened and think this is a one time thing."

"That's so unfair of you," you say, looking up and leaning your chin on his chest, "because I'd rather have you bringing over lunch and flowers every time if that meant having you every day."

Sunghoon visibly relaxed, smiling at you warmly, "So, it's forever."

"It is."

© acciojaeyun, 2024.

#park sunghoon #sunghoon #enhypen #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enha fanfiction #enha smut #sunghoon fanfiction #ksmutsociety #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #sunghoon au #sunghoon imagine #enhypen hard hours #enhypen soft hours #enha hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enha soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #sunghoon imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen imagine #park sunghoon x reader

[sunshyni]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMilf

✎ n.a: finalmente respondendo esse pedido aqui que eu 'tava louca para escrever desde que recebi!!!

✎ avisos: menções ao Jaehyun, tá um teco sugestivo e provavelmente com alguns erros, mas relevem isso, depois eu arrumo KKKKKK

✎ w.c: 1.2k

Boa leitura, docinhos!!! ☂️

Você enviou uma última mensagem para Jaehyun respondendo sua pergunta sobre onde estava o brinquedo favorito do filho de vocês de 3 anos e ergueu a cabeça para encontrar Johnny te avaliando. De repente você se sentiu nervosa e ansiosa com aquela observação toda, mesmo que ele estivesse ocupando o cargo do seu melhor amigo há 2 anos.

Você não pode deixar de reparar que o restaurante que o Suh escolherá se parecia e muito com a sugestão de lugar para primeiro encontro que você o presenteara, um lugar a primeira vista chique mas que servia hambúrgueres do tamanho da cabeça de um recém nascido, ele estava vestido da forma casual de sempre, a calça jeans de lavagem clara e o suéter verde eram o bastante para torná-lo deslumbrante, mas você se vira passando uma camada além da conta de rímel e gloss labial diante do espelho.

— Como tá o meu bebê? — Johnny questionou depois de vocês dizerem seus pedidos para o garçom, obviamente ele estava se referindo ao seu filho que tinha puxado toda a aparência do pai, e você sabia disso só de olhar para aqueles olhinhos e um par de covinhas idênticas as de Jeong Yoonoh, mas em questão de personalidade, pelo menos todos os créditos eram seus.

— Ele amou aquele triciclo que você trouxe de...

— Nottingham — Você assentiu com a cabeça afinal Johnny viajava tanto devido a sua carreira muito bem sucedida de DJ que você até se confundia nos nomes das cidades que ele participava de festas badaladas.

A verdade é que vocês se conheceram por causa de Jaehyun, aproximadamente 4 anos atrás, numa situação atípica em que você bebeu demais e vomitou o que pareceu dois meses de digestão de alimentos, Johnny te ajudou segurando seu cabelo e tudo mais, mas na noite passada você acidentalmente acabou dormindo com um dos amigos do Suh, o que foi bastante certeiro considerando que você carregou no seu ventre uma miniatura bastante fiel de Jaehyun.

Você namorou com o Jeong durante o período de 2 anos, no entanto mesmo com o término ainda eram amigos e dividiam a guarda de um menininho que amavam mais do que qualquer coisa, Johnny acabou se aproximando de você após isso, mas nada indicava que era porque ele gostava de você, levando em conta que vocês dificilmente conversavam sobre questões amorosas.

E que bom por isso, porque você sentia-se estranhamente incomodada com a menção de Johnny visto nas festas em outro país na companhia de alguma estrangeira gostosona. Ele não sabia, é claro, mas já estava ficando difícil esconder que você o queria, sentia isso em cada partezinha do seu corpo.

— Eu gravei um vídeo olha — Você ofereceu o próprio celular para Johnny que encostou os dedos longos nos seus no processo e fez com que você sentisse as faíscas novamente, você instintivamente culpou seu período fértil e o fato de que fazia muito tempo que não saía para um rolê adulto, embora soubesse que a resposta dessa questão começava com a afirmação de que você estava apaixonada.

— Fofinho — Ele te devolveu o celular com um sorriso brilhante no rosto, Johnny era assim, fazia questão de presentear seu filho com presentes do mundo todo, te pedindo fotos e atualizações do pequeno todos os dias, surtando toda vez que ouvia o desajeitado e adorável “Tio John” sair da boca do menininho — Acho que eu tô gostando de uma mãe aí, isso me torna meio cara que curte uma milf?

Johnny não fazia ideia do quanto todas aquelas perguntas sobre primeiros encontros e como se comportar perante a pessoa que você se sente atraído estavam te perturbando, você tomou um gole do copo de água que descansava na mesa até então e não ousou olhar nos olhos dele naquele momento porque era bem capaz de revelar a frustração que tomou conta do seu corpo após a questão. Afinal, será que ele tinha mesmo te trazido para um restaurante perfeito, vestindo roupas perfeitas e perfeitamente perfumado apenas para te dizer com detalhes sobre a pessoa que ele desesperadamente queria beijar?

— Não... Se ela não for casada, tá tudo bem se envolver — Você afirmou, brincando com os dedos repousado no seu colo de forma impaciente e se lamentando por ter escolhido sua melhor calça jeans – a que delineava seu quadril melhor do que qualquer roupa – numa ilusão de que naquela noite participaria finalmente de um encontro com a pessoa por quem estava caidinha.

— Ela não é — Ele falou, rápido demais para o seu gosto — Mas e então? No encontro a gente faz o que?

Para você era muito difícil acreditar que Johnny não sabia a logística de um encontro, afinal de contas ele era lindo, tinha grana e era bom de papo, o tipo de cara engraçadinho que você não conseguia ignorar e no final terminava com uma aliança no dedo pista por ele mesmo. Então, estava começando a considerar que ele estava brincando com você, testando sua paciência como uma lição para uma professora do jardim de infância, no entanto você preferia ter que lidar com mil crianças na faixa etária de 5 anos do que com um único Johnny de olhar sedutor.

— Pelo amor de Deus, onde você quer chegar com todo esse interrogatório? — Foi a sua vez de questionar irritada com a situação toda — Quero dizer, você é um DJ foda e realmente tá pedindo conselho amoroso pra uma mulher que é professora da pré-escola e tem um filho de 3 anos? 'Cê tá de zoação comigo?

— Você não sabe mesmo, né? — Você queria muito desferir uns bons tapas naquele rostinho bonito quando Johnny desviou o olhar do seu e sorriu, como se você fosse uma criança inocente questionando a origem dos bebês. Você o chutou por debaixo da mesa, mas aquele gemido baixo de dor em união ao sorriso sem vergonha só serviram para seu cérebro descartar aquela ideia dos tapas e trocá-la por uma bem melhor, que envolvia beijos demorados e molhados e muita mão boba — Eu tô usando essa técnica tão antiga de sedução só pra ver se você se toca que eu tô na sua há muito tempo.

— Johnny, eu tô boiando sério — Você tinha uma expressão de confusão cobrindo seu rosto, que Johnny tratou de tirar de você quando ele afastou a cadeira, colocou seu rosto entre as mãos e te beijou, mesmo que ele tivesse que se inclinar desconfortavelmente devido a diferença de altura, no entanto nada mais importava agora que os lábios do Suh estavam sobre os seus e a única coisa que você conseguia ouvir de fundo era um coral de cupidos cantando alguma coisa melosa de forma afinada.

— Agora deu pra entender ou 'cê vai querer que eu desenhe? — Você sorriu contra os lábios dele, os olhos fechados extasiada demais com o que havia acabado de acontecer, sem compreender como as coisas tinham alcançado aquele nível, mas se deliciando com o ocorrido.

— Esqueci de te falar, mas a sobremesa é fundamental num encontro — Você começou, sorrindo como se tivesse se tornado milionária nos últimos 2 minutos — Mas, nesse caso acho que a gente já pode pular pra essa parte essencial.

— Qual das sobremesas? — Ele perguntou todo assanhadinho e você o beijou novamente, incapaz de resistir a todo aquele charme magnético que ele possuía.

— Pode ser as duas?

Johnny sorriu, ignorando completamente de que tinham feito pedidos e deixando o restante, mal se contendo até chegar no estacionamento e descansar as mãos grandes nos bolsos traseiros da sua calça apertada.

— O seu pedido é uma ordem, mamãe.

#sun favs #imagine nct #nct johnny #johnny nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct br #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct127 #nct x reader #nct pt br #nct imagines #johnny suh fanfic #johnny seo #johnny suh #suh youngho #seo youngho #johnny suh pt br #nct #kpop fanfic #kpop bg #kpop fanfiction #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 x reader #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh x you #nct x you #johnny suh fluff #kpop

[praeluxius]

Red Wine - Karina & Natty

Aespa Karina x Kiss of Life Natty x M Reader smut

thanks to @capslocked & @passingnotions & @friskyriskywhisky

Masterlist word count: 9,957 Kofi

A new girl every week.

Not like you mind it. As long as Karina is having a good time, then that's enough for you. She meets them all at work, and they're all equally pretty.

Of course they are—it's part of the job.

It's just how Karina is—she has always been a fountain of charisma and that's part of what drew you to her—some call it rizz. So, you know all too well how these girls feel when Karina cranks up that natural charm and it leads to her inevitably inviting them over on a Friday evening, an offer they can’t refuse.

A girl's night in. That's what she always calls it—truth or not.

It's a funny thing to call it, given that you're always there. Not that any of them ever complain. You're there. That's okay. You'll join in the chat or stay out of the way—it's all very casual. Most of the time, it’s just that—casual.

Most of the time.

"And then I told him: 'Look, this dress is Dior, and it's worth a year of your rent. So if you think, even for a second, that it's going to end up on your bedroom floor after you buy me a couple of glasses of bottom-shelf whiskey then you can Johnnie-Walk-the-fuck-on-out-of-here because there are a thousand more ways I can spend my night than wasting time on you.'"

The two girls break out into some sort of intoxicated, riotous laughter. The girl with the story? They call her Natty, and she is the latest of Karina's new friends to visit. This one sporting almond skin, eyes with an inky rich hue, thick lips and a smug look on her face that could melt the paint right off the wall, or the clothes off any man.

She has one leg crossed over the other, sitting at an angle towards Karina. The slight canting of her head, the way her black hair cascades over a bare shoulder, all of it conspires together in order to fully reveal her neck line where the loose t-shirt drapes from shoulder to shoulder.

"Yeah, like any dude's got enough bank to buy himself to a night with you." Karina laughs again before taking a drink from her wine.

You are trying to watch the TV, vaguely—your favourite team is on and it's a bit of a ritual for you.

You will never even know we're here. That's what Karina told you. Yet you’ve spent the better part of the last hour listening to them. We’ll be quiet.

As if that's ever true.

They've been reeling off anecdotes all the while, and if you've learned one thing about Natty, it's that she has a lot to say, and a lot if it comes down to either the pleasures, profits, or travails of her career. The stories just keep coming. And each and every one is punctuated by that same laugh from Natty. You have never heard anything quite like it before, and it's that which keeps drawing your attention back to their end of the couch. Much like her voice, it's high pitched, a little nasally and utterly adorable.

Karina laughs along as well; more than a few times a drink threatens to spill onto the carpet because one of them has laughed a little too hard or bumped into one another. Now that would be a disaster: red wine and a white carpet.

"So I got this really nice pink one. It's really pretty, a little sexy, but it's so comfy too." Natty is talking but you don't have a clue what about and Karina, turned away from you, is nodding her head, the ponytail on the back of her head shaking a little as a result.

You don't need to see Karina to know how she looks—as beautiful as ever. That same sharp jaw, high cheekbones and lips glistening pink, hued darker by her drink of choice. Those eyes. It’s always her eyes that captivate.

Her beauty and grace are two things she truly does share with Natty. All the women that come over are all part of the same constellation. Stars in their own right, but Karina is a supernova—or something equally poetic.

Karina says something, but the voice is soft and muffled and lost to you among the animated exchange.

"There's also this blue one. But I don't wear it nearly as much as the others, but it cuts real low. Nearly shows my, you know..."

That lowered voice draws your gaze right over to them both as Natty leans in towards the woman next to her. A gesture and the shape of her voice, the lilt of her accent, makes it sound as if she is being discreet even though you can clearly hear every single word.

"...you know." Natty then tugs a little at her own shirt.

The two giggle again as if they're not grown-ass women; two women who have admittedly drunk quite a lot.

"He loves this one I have, it's part of a set, and I picked it up in Paris last month,” Karina says. “Black and lacy. Super expensive, but it's so worth it."

"That pair would look good in anything," Natty lets out that same laugh again, if a little softer this time, as if the mood shifted a little. You felt this coming all along. If you're honest, sometimes as soon as Karina walks through the door with a girl on her arm, there’s a certain vibe that hangs in the air that tells you it’s one of those nights.

You're stealing glances at the two of them, and it's Natty who's looking towards you, over Karina's shoulder. Your eyes are caught in this awkward collision. Natty holds the stare, her smile shifting subtly from innocent to devilish.

She's a stunner. Even from the angle where you're catching glimpses at her, a glance out of the corner of your eye, there is something seductive and hypnotising.

"He's a really lucky guy." She says to Karina, keeping her eyes fixed on you.

That is usually the cue, one you're very familiar with. A flirty little comment, maybe an innuendo, something meant to test the waters—see where the land lies, the rocks you can stand on before stepping any further out into the surf. It's how so many of your Friday evenings play out. You are just that—an object of curiosity and interest to Karina's friends, and you have to credit the sales pitch she must deliver about you.

"You're damn right," Karina replies with a chuckle as she tilts back the remainder of her drink.

"Do you think he would like mine?"

"Of course, he would. But if you want, I can be the judge." Karina takes Natty's almost empty glass and sets both down on the table. Her expression and attitude—lips and body language—communicate her invitation far more eloquently.

Karina is reaching over and Natty's meeting her hands with her own at the hem of her shirt. A teasing lift and you can already envision what she's about to show. See, Natty's a dancer—you know that much, and a good one at that. That kind of talent comes with the blessing of a body that turns heads. Your girlfriend knew that well too when she had invited her back home.

"Go on then."

The shirt lifts off Natty's skin, with the help of Karina’s hands running up the side of her body, exposing a pierced belly button. You try, very valiantly, to pretend not to be watching, but you can't help it. Natty raises her arms and lets Karina pull off the shirt fully revealing her in her lace bralette. It's pink, it's pretty and a little sexy—just how she described it.

"They really are nice, wow," Karina leans in close and for a moment you think she's going to start kissing Natty right then and there.

Natty doesn't say a thing. She lets the next moment happen, and with their bodies so close you can feel the anticipation, there’s an agonising pause, but, just a moment later, Karina is running a hand up along her belly, cupping a hand over one of her breasts.

"Really nice," Karina repeats the compliment.

And you're all in now. Fuck the TV. You can't peel your eyes away from whatever the hell your girlfriend is about to do.

"Thank you," the girl purrs as she arches her body to push herself against Karina's hand.

A flirtatious hand and those slender fingers of hers begin to move delicately over the fabric. It's a good touch. You've experienced first-hand all the wonderful things Karina can do with it. She touches how she dances—passionate and precise.

"What do you think?" Karina's finally acknowledging you over her shoulder—your official invite to the fun.

"Gorgeous," you mumble, and Natty's smiling like a minx as Karina continues in a way that you should probably be offended. Your girlfriend runs her hands down to the girl's waist, round to the small of her back, and then all the way back to where she starts again.

"Come, take a closer look. What do you think?" Natty follows her words with a wink and a flick of the hair.

"Fuck yes." You whisper under your breath.

"What was that?" Your girlfriend's smirking to herself as you rise from your seat.

"Yes." You take a step towards them both.

"Yes?" Natty repeats, one of her dark brows arching.

"He thinks you're fucking beautiful, sweetheart. Gets a little lost in the moment sometimes." Karina is leaning her head in close, one arm around the girl. She has a finger running up along Natty's slender back as she pulls at the clips holding her bra together. "Isn’t she perfect, babe?"

"Something like that," you confess. You're standing in front of the girls, looking down at the topless Natty, at Karina who's still snaking her hands around her. And Natty looks up at you, eyes wide, inviting, smouldering with passion. She really is something else.

She peers beneath those bangs of hers with a look that says: why don't you sit right here beside me?

"There we go," Karina says and there's suddenly some slack. The weight of her pair is taken by gravity and Natty catches them into folded arms. She sinks back into the couch. You take a step, and taking her lead, you sit by her side.

Karina reaches down, pats you on your leg, then turns back to face Natty. "You were saying you thought he was pretty cute too, weren't you, Natty?"

"Pretty cute, yes. Hot too. Moreso now that he’s up close." Natty says while Karina's got her hands on her shoulders, taking the straps of her bra between her delicate fingers. And then her bra is gone—the last semblance of her modesty lost along with it. Her small nipples jutting, stiffened with arousal, ready and waiting.

"God, he's practically drooling."

"That's hot," Karina comments as her lips descend onto Natty's shoulder and she starts laying kisses up and along her neck, trailing all the way to her ears.

"Sit behind her, babe, let her make it easier for you," Karina says. There is something entirely different and erotic in the way your girlfriend commands you. It’s so often like this, the dynamic, the guest and you are equals but Karina? Karina is a level above, the one in control and setting the pace.

You move yourself further onto the sofa and seat yourself back, then Natty slides over your lap. She takes her place, just as Karina wants, in front of you. The look in your lover's eye tells you exactly what to do, while her hands give Natty some hands-on guidance. Holding her shoulders, she’s placing Natty’s back against your chest. 

You lay your own touch on the starlet’s waist, coiling them around her body. Dragging them up towards her smooth tits causes her to respond with a shudder. You keep your touches slow, leisurely, tentative and exploratory, but with no lack of appreciation.

Natty refuses to shy and settles firmly into your body. Karina, meanwhile, sets herself in front of the two of you, resting her hands on Natty's knees. Your beautiful guest parts her legs a little as Karina slips her hands between them, urging her thighs to open wider. Wider until she has to lift her legs over yours.

"Is this okay with you?" Karina is looking up into Natty's face and the woman simply nods."How does she feel?" Karina's asking you now, placing her hands on the back of yours, guiding your touch over her breast into a rougher pace.

"Perfect." The word slips from your mouth, followed by a throaty groan. Among all of this, Natty's ass is against your crotch, the weight of her pushing your manhood to swell and strain against your clothing. You are thankful she's wearing a thin enough pair of yoga pants that enhances it all.

Karina has planted her knees between yours and Natty's legs. She's pulling her own shirt over her head and you already know what's beneath. For all the talk earlier about bras, Karina isn't wearing one; she never does. "Fuck, Karina," Natty coos at her bare chest. "He likes it too. I can feel him twitching."

Natty’s hands are all over Karina as she pulls her in. There’s grace, there’s tension and there’s a coy giggle from Karina as their lips are only inches apart. The hammering of your heart echoes within as you take a front-row seat to their show. It always triggers something inside you when she first lays lips on someone, it always heightens that delicious, tingling, primal feeling.

"Oh shit, girls..."

Your girlfriend's the best kisser and you love watching her like this—exploring another woman's mouth. Natty is matching her tempo beat by beat, kiss by kiss. Her body arches as you squeeze her breasts. You swear Natty's making little whimpers as the two make out.

Her body is all action against you: ass grinding back, rolling slowly and languidly as your hands pull at her breasts—squeezing them together and then apart. You dip into her neck with your mouth. The sweetness of her skin fills your mouth and the richness of her perfume fills your nose.

You lower your lips and gently nibble at her neck, dragging teeth over her flesh until she gasps from a gentle bite and you work your lips on her skin. Tongue roaming as you feast on her taste. Karina's pushing forward now, Natty sandwiched between you, their pairs of tits pressing together with your hands somewhere between.

They break, and Natty naturally moves to your girlfriend’s neck. Karina has her sights set on you, prying your mouth from Natty's shoulder and catching you in a deep kiss. Tongues battling, clashing. There's the familiar fading taste of red wine in her mouth, and the unmistakable flavour of something foreign to you, the lingering taste of Natty.

She pulls away from your lips, staring down the two of you. There's dissatisfaction on her face. "Why aren't the two of you naked yet?"

She pulls at Natty's hips, relieving your cock of the pressure of her sitting on it, and you hold Natty so as to not let her slip too far away. You and Karina work Natty's yoga pants, and her panties, from her hips. They slip effortlessly down to her ankles, leaving her decidedly bare.

No one speaks and you all know this isn't the time to explain anything or ask questions. When her clothing is out of the way Karina descends upon Natty again, kissing her hard and you catch the dying whimpers of Natty's moans into Karina's lips. Karina's hand is snaking down Natty's back, reaching for your crotch. She unbuckles and opens your belt all the time fighting against Natty's movement as she tries to grind her ass back into you.

"Stop moving." Karina giggles into their kiss as her hand delves beneath your trousers. She breaks her kiss again. "Need some help."

Natty's peeling herself away from you, turning to face you. Natty's naked, Karina's halfway there, you're the one slacking. Not for long. Soon the two are tugging away all the unnecessary clothes until all three of you are equally exposed. Your cock stands heavy and ready under their gaze.

"Woah, you weren't lying." Natty's figuratively licking her lips, hungry and wide-eyed, and you'd bet your last dollar she's got an idea in mind. "Can I...?" Natty turns to ask Karina.

"I'd hate to be selfish." Karina shrugs her shoulders and winks. You're transfixed. There's natural magic about the way they move as if it is rehearsed; the way Natty sinks to her knees and the way Karina pulls your hips to the edge of the seat, then rises above you.

Karina hovers and watches, Natty leans in, and then your balls disappear into her mouth. She’s handling them with her tongue expertly as she takes hold of your cock.

"God, what a pro. She wasn’t lying when she told me she knew her way around a cock," she exclaims, savouring every second as the air rapidly leaves your lungs.

It is beyond explanation, the way Natty's tongue is dancing along the underside of your balls as her lips caress each one. Her eyes occasionally flick up and flash mischievously—it's the kind of look that means she could get away with absolutely anything, and there is no way you are going to stop her.

"She's got the face for it, doesn't she? Like she just gives the most amazing head." Karina's on her knees by your side, sliding a hand between her thighs.

"Y-yeah." You manage to reply. "S-so... ahh! Good."

Karina leans forward, cupping one of your cheeks as she looks into your eyes.

"He's speechless!" She laughs, moving a hand to the back of your head and tugging gently at the strands. "Natty baby, give him a few words or something, will you? If you can?"

It's hard to look at her, but you crane your neck and you catch her looking at you again—one hand upon your inner thigh, the other wrapped around your shaft. "That's a good boy," Natty murmurs.

She teases a thumb over the surface of your glistening wet tip. "She loves that shit. Watch her..." Karina explains, smiling, the delight on her face all you can look at for a moment or more.

She guides your chin and you follow your girlfriend's direction, then you see, Natty's taken her mouth from you for a second and she's licking your pre-cum from her thumb; her gaze on the pair of you. She repeats her motion once more and the grin on her face grows bigger as you leak another pearl for her.

"How does he taste?" Karina asks for both of you.

"Delicious." Natty answers—now she's literally licking her lips.

You'll believe anything this woman tells you.

She's running a teasing tongue along the underside of your shaft, and as she reaches the peak, she catches the snow-white trickle you drip right there. You close your eyes in ecstasy, but before long, you’re feeling a finger poke against your lips.

You part them open, letting Karina's two fingers inside, and she's running her digits over your tongue as you suck her fingertips. The taste is so undoubtedly her, nectar straight from her source, your mouth salivating for more.

The feel of Natty's soft plump lips against the end of your cock is incredible as she moves them in an inch, teasing, testing, and then she withdraws just the same and you want to cry out. But you can't, Karina still lubricating her fingers, your tongue swirling around the digits.

She withdraws and your eyes open. And as much as you wanted to see Natty ready to settle her mouth around your cock, she's got something else in mind. She has her tits in her hand. "Are they still gorgeous?"

"Yeah, totally," you sputter.

"Natty girl, let him fuck them." Karina tells her and then she turns to you, mouth to your ear. "You want your cock between them, don't you? Tell her." Karina's not leaving this up to interpretation. "Tell her you want them."

"Oh yes..." you blurt out, without even really thinking. Karina giggles—it's her sign of approval, a tick. "Your tits, Natty. Fuck. Please."

It's not something you haven't done before. You love Karina's pair too, after all. It would be hard for anyone with a dick to resist a pair of round tits like hers. Luckily for you, tonight she's brought you a girl with a pair to match her own.

"He asked so nicely."

"He's a real gentleman," Natty teases and she raises her breasts a little, then pushes them together. As your head slides into her cleavage, she puts her hand around them, and as the skin squeezes the sides of your member, you are reduced to shuddering. Karina knows exactly how this gets you, knows just how this can bring you undone. It doesn't even matter if the actual thing feels nothing like sex—you'll always go crazy over a great pair of tits.

As the tip of your manhood peeks out through the crease between them, Natty lowers her tongue to it and you swear you nearly cum right then. Then the words echo inside your brain: he wants them, Karina's voice and as soon as she says it, your subconscious concedes to the reality.

"Look how easy and willing he is," she says to Karina and both girls giggle, then Natty forms a mock pout. "Such a good boy. I really want to make him feel good."

"He does deserve something." Your girlfriend runs her fingers into your hair as Natty plants a soft kiss onto your cock-head. Instinctively, you reach out but before you can touch anything, Karina's hand finds your wrist. "Tell her what you want."

She's leaning in closer again and Natty looks up from where she's teasing your tip, sucking, tonguing and lavishing affection and attention. "Ask Natty nice. Tell her you want a blowjob. Tell her you want to cum. Tell her what you want," Karina purrs her words.

And god, if anything makes it impossible to think straight, it is Natty's gaze up at you. She wants to make it easy for you, impossible to do anything but give in to your wishes, whether it’s her intention or your deep-seated desire making it seem so.

"Natty... can you suck my cock?" Your mouth's dry and the words grate in the throat.

"Anything," she says with a twinkle in her eye. And now it's all one motion. Her tits clamped against the sides of your length. Your cock drives between them and into Natty's waiting mouth. She's all tongue, bobbing her head a little and taking the tip of you in and out of her mouth.

Karina's all over you—kissing your neck, holding a hand behind your head, caressing, squeezing. "Aren't I just the best? Always doing this for you with all these girls." She's muttering away in your ear. The heat of her breath is constant and burning. She continues with sweet nothings in her deep, sultry voice.

You're sinking deeper into the couch, like you're laid on the shore and the tide is enveloping you. Wave after wave crashing against you, rolling, engulfing you and drawing you out further and further. Natty is pulling you under; every time she takes you into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around you, it's another wave over you. Karina is a life rope. You're grabbing onto the strands of her ponytail, trying to keep your head above the water. All her touches, her words, her encouragement, that's the air you need.

But the torrent grows ever more intense and powerful and the riptide is too great, Natty's drawing the last vestiges of resolve from you. You lose grip of everything—of reality.

You're lost.

Lost in her mouth, lost between her tits.

Karina knows it, she's seen it all before, so many times, for her and others. "Feel like you're gonna cum?" Karina's in your ear asking you the obvious.

Your answer's a growl.

"Cum!" It's a low-roar in your ear.

You don't say a word.

"All over those perfect fucking tits. Her mouth, her face, look at her," and then that's it. You're drowning in pleasure. Every sense abandons you—hearing, touch, and sight, all surrendered.

You can't think or do anything, because every fibre of your being is focused on a single action—pouring out cum. You're rigid and straining.

Your eyes regain focus and you see it all. All of it smearing her tits and just a little on her face, and then more streams erupt. Natty doesn't shy and she doesn't stop. She is milking you for every single drop.

And Karina's ever the encourager, ever full of pride. "Just like that, yes. Empty all of it right there on her chest."

This is her thing now. Has been for a while, ever since she convinced you to try it just one time. Her imagination was fueled by all those dirty little stories she read online about voyeurism and the like. It opened her eyes and redefined your relationship. It started with an experiment. With her best friend, Winter, all those months ago. It was the first time she took enjoyment in her friend getting you off.

Now it's a regular surprise. Sometimes they're girls you met many times before, almost like she was dangling them in front of you, teasing you. Other times it's just like Natty. You barely say a few words to them and before you know it, you're covering them in your cum.

Truth is, you always get the gut feeling when it's one of these nights, as soon as Karina and whichever girl it is start their first drinks of the night; you know it's one of those nights. Then it's just a case of waiting.

Natty didn't take long to get on her knees—she must have been excited.

And lucky for her, you're nowhere near being finished.

Karina is prowling and on the move, towards Natty, and she reaches her with both arms as she locks her into her grasp. A kiss, deep, hungry. All tongue. Seeing is believing; some of you ended up inside Natty’s mouth and now she’s sharing, distributing to Karina. Back and forth it goes between their mouths, with some spilling from their lips. As it’s shared, it’s swallowed bit by bit between them.

"Your turn Natty. I want to watch you cum for me." Karina announces she breaks away, then lapping up what remains on her lips and she has a hand on Natty's chest, playing with the mess you made of them.

You're lying there, spent and watching, as Karina guides Natty to her feet.

"There you go," Karina is pushing the girl towards the couch and she gets to the edge, then places a knee on it. Your eyes drift over her body as Karina bends her into place, her sticky chest planted against the cushions. Her juicy ass is in the air and the light in the room highlights every line and contour. Her flawless curves are accentuated to their perfect best.

"Legs wider, yes, yes. That's perfect," Karina's voice cuts through the air. She's behind her, hand on the small of her back, urging Natty into position. Lower and lower, Natty's head pressed into the cushion; she's turning to look at you, face full of excitement, of yearning.

A quiver passes through her entire body as Karina's lips descend upon her lower back.

Then lower, kissing her tailbone.

Her ass.

Lower and lower, peppering her skin along the way, Karina finally nestles between the two cheeks. Then she places her hands on Natty and starts parting them. "Perfect. Isn't that so perfect?"

Karina doesn't wait for any reply from you.

She doesn't need to. You are fixed there, utterly mesmerised, entranced and completely undisturbed, watching this gorgeous woman lay tongue on her newest conquest. Karina, meanwhile, can't contain her excitement. She's feasting on Natty, lapping at her sex, diving lower and lower with her tongue. "Oh yes. You taste so good."

Everybody's taste is unique. Just as her aroma earlier was something you couldn't put into words or compare, you can only imagine how sweet Natty must taste. And as if she reads your mind, Karina adds to the narrative, "So sweet."

And the sounds.

Fuck. The sounds. 

Natty moans, loud, sharp and high. You should have known it, her voice being what it is—the tone; so unique, so unmissable. You should have expected the melodic composition. The pleasure is pure, crystal-clear music. It's perfection in sound. It's the kind of musicality people work their entire lives to compose, to play, to express.

To do all without a care in the world.

With as much freedom, spontaneity and energy as possible.

The tone shifts, and the octaves change. And it's Karina, playing her, burying a pair of fingers into Natty.

There is no question here. The two are in sync. Karina, a performer by profession, plays your guest as if Natty is merely an extension of herself. Your girlfriend, in her element, her playground, her stage and her domain. You are her audience. And she has never sounded, looked, or acted so majestic in her role.

Natty sings a string of profanities, nonsensical and fragmented phrases.

"That good?" Karina exclaims, teeth digging into her butt cheek as Natty spills into the cushion. Her legs quiver. Karina smiles into her ass, nipping her a second time and then she turns to you, staring at you with the same dark hunger, the same thirst, you always see.

"You still with us, babe?" she asks—rhetorical, she know’s you’re fixated. There's no question in her mind. She can read you and she knows how captivating this performance is.

"God yes," you whisper in reply. She's smiling wide.

"Good." That one word response, so laden with meaning.

It's a dangerous smile. It means only trouble. Good trouble.

"Come here," she's beckoning you behind Natty. Your legs feel weak and like jelly, yet you crawl up and behind her, your hand slips up to her thigh, pressing, pawing and grabbing her flesh. She purrs at your touch, and Karina, too, responds with delight.

"Natty," you begin, feeling her ass under your touch. "Do you want me inside you?"

"Mhm. Yes."

Karina slips a hand around your erection, her wet, lubricated fingertips meet your skin and when she says, let me get you ready for her. That alone could have done the job. But, damn, her hand feels so good as it strokes. The motion's just the right pace and when her grip gets tighter, a tremor courses through you.

"You did such a wonderful job already." Her praise is just as nice as her tongue running along the side of your length and then her lips, pursed, locking onto the tip.

"Karina..." it's a long-drawn groan. She lets her tongue swivel over you, each stroke lasting longer and longer. The more she continues, the more feels you grow and get hard—she works you until the last ounce of sanity leaves your brain.

Then she draws away and finishes her sentence, "I told you, you're the best. Now look at her, look how needy she is." Karina's still got a hand on your cock and the other caressing Natty's cunt.

Natty’s now the girl in the center of it all. Her beautiful face turned, eyes closed. She's twitching, aching, longing. She whimpers, and then gasps in desire as you angle your cock at her slit. Her folds open gratefully and the wet warmth of her sex embraces you. Her groans rise again, heightening ever more in the satisfaction as she backs herself further onto your length.

You move, thrusting into her, and she breaks into a tempered moan.

"Oh yes! God, yes."

And you feel a hand grab at your backside, encouraging, guiding, demanding more of you. She partners her touch with an all-telling grin. Karina's about as happy watching you fuck someone else as she is being fucked.

"That's it... You like it like this Natty? Does this feel good to you?"

It's a silly thing to ask, but it still makes Natty stir. It makes her hot—burning hot. As soon as the words are out of her, and she follows with a moan, she becomes tighter around you.

"Ah! Yes, yes, yes..." she trails into several more repetitions as you angle deeper into her.

Your girlfriend is dancing her fingertips over her skin. "So amazing," your lover is still muttering her words. "So fucking hot," Karina says as she tracks her kisses up Natty's back. Gentle kiss after gentle kiss to her glistening back as Natty keeps driving her ass back against you. 

There is the unmistakable look of an idea forming in Karina's mind. She's climbing onto the sofa, crawling past Natty onto the back of it, where Natty's head is pressed against the fabric. Natty grows hesitant at the expectation of what's to come, and it allows you to take over. A hand on either side. You're gripping her hips and really fucking her, pushing your cock fully into her and stretching her.

You see Natty's fingers wrapping around the bottom of the sofa cushions in an iron grasp, trying to bear the surge of bliss. She shudders and clenches up as Karina runs a set of nails up her back.

"Yes, baby, you take her, don't be afraid," Karina hisses her words, raking at Natty's back with her claws. "Harder." Karina demands and you pull on Natty's hips, pulling the gorgeous young woman into your hips as you fuck.

Karina's sliding into where she wants to be, right in front of Natty's face, sitting where she rests it. She's handling her like the toy she currently is, pulling her head exactly where Karina wants it, and coercing Natty's mouth onto her. To bury her in and make her satisfy Karina's craving.

And Natty wastes no time, sliding her lips onto Karina, exploring her core the way she has explored her mouth. "Just like that," your girlfriend cries as she rests a hand on Natty's head and rocks back against her. "See, I knew you'd be perfect for us."

You have to admit, Karina nailed it with this one. Before any of the girls even step into the apartment, they know why they're there, but none of them are as ready for it as Natty. It must be a deep, dark fantasy of her own, maybe something she's played out in her mind over and over. It must have been burning inside her before even that first taste of red wine.

Red wine.

That's it. That's how you knew it was always going to end up like this. Fuck, you must be a fool for having missed it all those times before. It's so obvious now that it's when she drinks red wine with them—that's the signal of how the night's going to end. Your subconscious had made the connection, now you realise.

You smile to yourself in the moment of clarity and Karina has noticed, breaking through her moans to ask, "You look a little lost back there, babe. Something funny?"

She's got a coy grin on her lips and her hand gripping Natty's hair, grinding the woman's face further into her pussy. It's a stream of muffled moans from Natty between her hungry licks of Karina's cunt. She's all action between you and Karina's stare. "Nothing."

You raise a hand and spank Natty's ass; the echo fills the air and her cheek ripples. Karina flinches with surprise and she's drawing the young woman further into her body. "Jesus, fuck. Again."

Again and you lay your palm on Natty. Harder. She mewls in pain and Karina shivers in bliss. Her fingertips dig at the younger woman, grabbing her by her scalp and pushing her harder.

A final time you spank her ass, planting your hands and digging your fingers into her soft flesh. Using the strike on your mount to signal one thing; faster.

You're reckless now—manic. Grab her ass and pound; that’s all that is on your mind. You're rabid—not holding anything back. This is the sole reason that girl's here tonight and you're not letting her down, nor Karina.

You hammer against her body, deep into her depths. Her cries echo over Karina's. Each hit a satisfying smack to Natty's cheeks. Slaps and claps and cries. Sounds fill the room. The wet squelch, the grunt of every stroke to the backing track of Karina's rich mewls.

It's a symphony, eroticism on an epic scale.

Your eyes roll upward, over Natty's body and land on Karina. She's bouncing on Natty's tongue. Head back, face creased with pleasure. A grimace so beautiful that you swear it is the definition of raw sexuality.

Natty's struggling; her legs are giving way and she keeps reaching with her hands. To the couch, the cushions, Karina's legs, to anything. There is no steadying her, and it looks like she's barely clinging on for dear life. She has only her waning strength and determination holding her together.

You think she's cumming. But fuck, it is hard to be sure. Maybe you should slow down, but if she is cumming once, better to make it twice. Or thrice. So, you pick up the pace instead. You become wilder, stronger, faster, more forceful.

She's not even eating Karina's cunt anymore—she just can't. You grab Natty's arms and pull her upright so she doesn't slip. Chest to back now—she’s against you and your thrusts drive upward into her.

Natty wails and all the while, Karina is sliding down the couch onto her knees, face to face with Natty. She brings a hand to Natty's throat, grabbing and pushing to pin her against you. And her other hand is sinking between Natty's legs.

Karina's teasing Natty's cunt with the soft caresses of her fingers, and you're sliding between those fingers and into the girl. "Look at you," Karina's saying between clenched teeth, then a loud hiss passes her lips. "Oh, fuck."

A fire blazes across the brunette's eyes—you swear it is an inferno. Fingernails and knuckles are going white in her grip of Natty's neck, and the same could be said of yours holding her arms.

"Oh, Karina!" Your newfound fuck toy screams your girlfriend's name out at the top of her voice.

Karina responds by rubbing her fingers on Natty's clit, then pressing hard, strumming it at a maniacal pace. She's whispering into Natty's ear, words only the girl can hear, coaxing something out of her.

Natty screams again and again. Your name then Karina's.

She's cumming. 

Not just that, she's fucking squirting.

Her body's a boneless jelly in your arms as it spasms. And your girlfriend just won't stop her mischievous act, not a single pause until she's dragged more from the young beauty. She's dragging her second and then a third eruption.

It pours. It flows. Eruption is exactly the right word. 

Natty's spraying onto your cock— 

onto Karina's fingers— 

down your legs— 

on the couch— 

everywhere.

You've got an ardent geyser in your grip and her voice cracks, the climax too much for her, for any of you.

In a flurry of a moment, Natty falls, slipping from your grasp and collapsing and sinking against Karina's chest. Limp. Saturated and dripping, sweat and cum.

The girl has come undone.

You've slipped out of her, set her free, but you're ready to burst. Staggering behind her, a mess and almost drunk on sex, you catch your breath. "Karina... I..." you begin.

"Look at the mess she made." Look at the mess she is. 

Karina's laying the girl down to the side; Natty is almost lifeless aside from the aftershocks still tearing through her.

"Karina..." you try again. "Karina, please..."

"Come here sweetie," and that's enough. You sink to your knees on the edge of the seat. Karina's in front of you, grabbing at your erection and lying back. You're collapsing over her, propping yourself with an arm. She's pulling at your cock. It doesn't take much and you're about to fire.

"Please Karina, please" you growl and Karina whispers back the sweetest reply, 'I love watching you do this'.

She's tugging your cock, aiming it at her wet cunt, freshly eaten.

Then your legs grow heavy and stiff, it's impossible to move, muscles tense, locking your body in place. Karina's jerking your cock and it's impossible to hold it.

Release.

It comes.

You can't explain, words can't describe it, the sheer, earth-shattering and mind-numbing rush as it pours. Spurt after spurt, you feel it all come out, and through your hazed vision you're watching it pour over her cunt. Some on her abs, some on her thigh, but most of it coating her pussy. It is all you want to see before you fall, slipping onto her, your head in the nook of her neck. Her words are just a noise in your ear.

"Stay with us," it's her soft voice that you feel vibrate in your ears as her chest rises and falls beneath you. "Natty? Darling, you too."

There's this moment of near silence. Three sets of heavy breaths.

There are things you know to expect before long, but in this space between you don't really know where it'll go. It’s all wild in the night.

"That was... fuck. Intense," you begin, laying the seeds to push the three of you to the next course, "Wasn't it?"

Karina's responding with a push at your shoulders, making you look at her. Her features, still so sharp, she's still so elegantly composed, the dark and playful look hasn't left her eyes. Her smile endearing. "We're not done," she begins, a whisper into your mouth as you lean over her.

Hand grasping your cock, firm, and she’ squeezing a drop or two more out. "I want you inside me." She demands it of you, of your spent dick. This is always the danger. You're just a single cock in a game that demands more.

It hurts as she rubs your cock. No matter how gentle her touch, it feels rough and you wince in her hold, it's raw pain and all you want is to draw back, but you stay. You have to stay. You want to stay. Refusing to let the pain, the momentary sting and discomfort end it. "Give her what she wants," it's Natty's voice, from beside the two of you. Who knows where the young girl even got the strength?

“Please,” It’s rare that Karina pleads, but her mouth is on your ear, nibbling softly. Her hot tongue traces the shell of it and the whole motion gives you a shiver that makes the hair stand on end. "Come on." She coaxes in a sultry, yet playful, sing-song voice. It makes her intentions unmistakable.

You draw your body back and rest on your knees, looking at the two girls, side-by-side, one melting and the other keening. Your heart is still trying to get out of your chest, but somehow the sight of them has calmed you. They make it all feel a little easier.

"I'm sure your cock can still work for me," Karina's words are undisguised lust.

Natty reaches a lazy arm, working her fingers into the cum you left on Karina's body, playing with it. She begins painting Karina's belly, streaking it over her skin. "So much," she purrs, adding a moan as a compliment, her tone soaked in desire.

Karina takes her own finger to it too, dousing it in your fluid before taking it to Natty's lips. It's a question that goes unspoken, not one word, one command, just a mere motion. Natty's reply is perfect; she opens her mouth and accepts it eagerly, slipping her tongue onto Karina's digit and suckling it. 

Natty returns the favour, her finger into Karina's mouth. They're both sucking, tasting, swirling their tongues as you watch, drinking the liquid, gulping it down, savouring the taste. Their eyes locked in an impossibly sinful gaze. Neither can bring themselves to break it.

They only give in and finally end it when their bodies move instinctively, rolling in to a desperate kiss. Mouths together, sharing the fluid back and forth in a series of dirty, noisy kisses.

Natty's running her hand down Karina's body, running it through your cum and heading right for her cunt. One finger sinks inside, met by a silent whimper from Karina and a second finger joins the first as the girl's now twisting inside your girlfriend. She draws in and out, each time pulling more of your cum into Karina's hole.

And your cock, exhausted moments before, now wants to wake. It's stiffening, not too far from hard once again. You're a moth to a flame and Karina's burning brighter than ever. 

Natty's insatiable thirst is getting the better of her and her finger fucks your lover relentlessly.

Karina's mewl of satisfaction turns into a blissful howl. And when you climb between the girl's legs, finding them parted, you grab her behind the knees. Karina moans once more when you move to slip her ankles over your shoulders and Natty is forced to concede. Your stiff shaft, the one Karina has yearned for, drives into her.

Karina absorbs you, clinging, squeezing, and she holds you, embracing you. Her body is soft against yours, yet inside she's hotter than molten iron. She's even wetter, every slick and intimate part of her is grinding against you. "Yes, fuck yes," she's slurring, muttering nonsense.

She's a fucking mess between her legs—there's some of Natty's, there's some of hers, and there's a lot of yours down there, and you're fucking it all into her as lubricant. Natty's forced to watch as you're pressing Karina's knees up to her chest. She's riding the edge between pleasure and pain and enjoying every bit of it.

And there's no better feeling than when you press her even closer, and now her ankles lock at the back of your neck. Every thrust from you forces her ass to rise from the cushion and her cheeks meet your hips in a way that resembles Natty not long ago. Her tits are pressed almost flat under the weight. She is so open to you—so, so willing. 

Her thighs tremble. Her hands claw. She's losing everything inside herself, everything but the one thing she wants most, a violent orgasm.

It's Natty's turn now, a role reversal, as she tries her hand at the encouragement, the guiding partner, "Harder," her first order. "Deeper," her second. Both punctuated with her nails scoring along your flesh. And in an act that's so entirely Natty, she's now spanking your ass and laughing as she does it. She's playfully flirty and full of giddy enthusiasm.

"Faster." Natty's clapping her hands and she's watching your thrusts drive Karina wild. Every stroke, every strike, all of it Karina is crying out for. Every push forward makes her twinge, a sensation, a mix of pleasure and pain, each jolting through her. "God, isn't she great to fuck?"

"She's the best," you groan, struggling to reply with the only response you can formulate. She is, of course, better to fuck than anybody else. There's no question about that.

"And you," Natty turns to her, "are you going to cum for us now?" Karina's hair sways. Her mouth is full of cries and whimpers. Every roll of your hips, every pull back and every plunge into her pussy steals every breath.

"Yes," she says. "Fuck yes. Right there, baby. Don't stop."

Natty relaxes to enjoy the show. She can see your shaft thrusting. She can see it when you withdraw, almost the full length and then every inch into Karina. Each time, your girlfriend's body jiggles and twists and writhes.

Karina's face grows contorted. A contortion of pure delight.

It's what Natty's been waiting for. Watching. The expectation she couldn't express. The feeling inside her core growing.

"Oh. God!" Karina squeals. She's seeing white spots explode in her vision. A flash of colourful patterns swirl in her head. The white heat rises higher and hotter, so high and so bright it consumes her. She's gone in it. Next comes a sound following a deafening gasp that stops the air dead in her lungs, the release as an equally loud scream.

You hear it, and the heat burns inside your ears, as if sound could cauterize. Every cell of your skin sizzles. It's electric, this passion.

Her cunt turns to water and floods. Your cock is saturated. That's all the reason you need to lose yourself. To slip back and slide yourself deeper into her, pumping. Her eyes squeeze shut and a loud, sonorous gasp is swallowed by her lips. She's never seemed sexier. She is utterly engorged with desire.

"Ah! Ah!" 

You know Karina's at her limit. A dire need for respite, for air to fill her lungs—for relief.

You know what you're going to do. Natty is oblivious, so when you pull out of Karina, and slide over Natty—who's lying on her side facing Karina—it catches her by surprise. One that brings a look of elated shock to her face. You push up one leg and mount her from the side, driving your cock into her.

Karina's drowning in air as she opens her mouth to take all she can. Her vision clears. It focuses on Natty.

The young woman is caught, once again, and in the best way possible; she's lost and helpless beneath you, she has to clutch and clasp whatever's available—the cushions, her own arms—and take it. She's face down to the couch; her body twisted. Her tit's pressed underneath her but her waist rotating, one knee pointing at Karina and one leg straight between your own.

And Natty has taken this all in stride. She's dug her nails into her own scalp, grabbing at her hair. And there is no uncertainty or indecision within her body, nor in her mind. She revels in her vulnerability. She loves the feel of you inside her. Loves the thrill that floods through her entire being as you dominate and ravish her.

Karina makes her move. To join Natty, she slides in on her side, lifting Natty's leg over her own hip, turning Natty fully onto her side to face her. You relent for a moment and Karina does what she needs to. She pulls her own leg up under Natty's and hooks it around her ass. The girls pull each other close. Pull each other into a kiss. Their mouths together. Their breath shared.

Karina whispers, but loud enough you can hear her, and says, "Told you," and her words are all wrapped up in a smirk, the smile of satisfaction.

You slap the length of your cock against Karina's ass; teasing her but not sliding into her. And only when Karina has worked herself up even higher do you lower yourself and slide in, penetrating, filling and stretching.

You're fucking in and out of her. This might be a new favourite of yours. The girls tangled together, sharing kisses and bites and tongue. Both their holes are there for you—each available whenever you want it, and each is only a hair width apart.

It's hard for you to keep a focus on everything like this. But you fight through, burying your shaft inside Karina. Once, and twice, and a final time again. And it's ever so easy to just drag yourself out, driving it between their cunts for a few short pumps and then slip it up into Natty.

"Fuck. I wish we'd done this sooner," Karina is mumbling more, but her words are rolling together and coiling into nonsensical verbal splashes of pure want and need.

Natty strains a response, "I'd... love... to... join you. Often."

"Perfect." Karina is happy as she shifts, arching her body to make a point, to tell you who to fuck now.

And you slip, and then you're inside Karina. As easy as that. Buried as deep and hard as you can, she's mouthing a silent cry and her hair falls over her face.

Natty's got a handful of Karina's tit now, caressing her nipples. It's hard not to envy the beauty that's in her hands. Soft, round, pert, perfectly curved, her breasts are works of art, beautiful beyond anything you could ever put into words.

And all of a sudden, Natty has shifted from Karina's mouth, planting her lips on Karina's soft pillows. Natty is suckling at them and Karina's mouth is twisted open in a soundless gasp, then she speaks, "I could do this forever."

Her arms draw along Natty's body until she finds her ass, slipping down and around, and then her fingertip sinks between her cheeks. It makes Natty lurch as it caresses her taint, presses lower, and touches her tight rear entrance.

Then she does it, a manoeuvre only the confident would have considered, a twist and she's pushing a slender finger into Natty's ass and causing the girl to nip at Karina's breast. "Fuck," Natty hisses, giving a breathy shudder. And her reaction draws a grin onto Karina.

And they keep going like that, they are perfectly attuned to each other. And you swap again, seeing the opportunity to really punish Natty. You're angling towards her again, sliding into her soaked cunt.

You push up inside her. With no time or inclination to start gentle, you're instantly fucking her fast. In and out, hard and deep, over and over, you hammer her cunt. She's muffled with a mouth full of Karina.

"How's that Natty? Both your holes are ours." It's Karina, whispering her dirty words again, "tell us you're going to join us again. Tell us."

Natty nods her head against Karina's chest. It's not a verbal answer. But it's an affirmation that, fuck, yes, she'd like that—as would you all. You could have this again, and maybe soon, a replay with a fresh twist.

Maybe next time you can be the one inside Natty's ass. For now, it's Karina's finger working her, and it looks fucking amazing as it drives into her and withdraws in the exact same rhythm that you're giving her.

You both keep the pace, driving Natty into nirvana, and at some point, it's clear when the climax hits. But it's an awfully hard thing to gauge the passage of time while being wrapped and caught and tangled with these two vixens. All you know is that all too soon, your balls are beginning to churn.

And that's when you switch back again, driving into your girlfriend's cunt with no time for a rest.You're going for broke. Slamming yourself fully inside and Karina knows the instant you do what your fate has become. She laughs and squeezes Natty, pulling the girl tighter.

It's only natural that the rising tide, the bubble of the climactic force, grows and grows and grows. Your ears pound in the beat of the blood racing and your breaths come in fits and starts. The noises escaping your three mouths become louder than before, more frenetic, more unchecked. More lustful.

"Karina— I— Natty—" You're losing the fight against your own body. The rush, the pressure, all the sounds, sights, and smells have put the signal in the green. There is no stopping it. No controlling it. It's all building, coalescing, into one pinpoint of space and time, right there between their legs.

Karina's pulling Natty into position as you're pulling out of her cunt. They both turn to face you, their cheeks pressed together, tits too, and their legs in a knot. They're lying in such a manner that they feel to you like an oasis in a hot desert, inviting, like a promised paradise, and it's calling you, tempting, and you can't hold yourself any longer.

You're rubbing yourself over the edge, and they're calling out to you in a desperate tones, still riding some faint traces of orgasms, "On us."

"Go on."

"Please cum on me, on us."

"Cum for us."

You barely hear their calls, and there's no fucking way you know who is saying what. It's just words of need spilling from two filthy mouths.

It takes only a handful of seconds, and then it happens. 

With a harsh spasm from head to toe, you feel it shoot forward, ripping free from your body, and pulsing as you paint their flesh. Spurts and ropes and slivers shoot up and over the girls. A little on a thigh, on their bodies, over their tits and all the way to their pretty little faces.

They're smiling like idiots as you cum. They're proud of it. They relish it. Natty's tongue moves around inside her lips, just getting another taste—a droplet or two. Karina's teasing as always, "Is that all?"

You're still forcing every drop out you can, the final bits dropping to their thighs.

"There's no way that's all of it, huh," Karina continues to tease. And then it ends, and your body lets go and you fall beside them. You simply can't stand any longer.

"I think that's all of it, Karina," Natty's giggling to herself. She's twirling her fingers over Karina's nipple, playing with the rope of cum that landed there. And Karina is humming out an almost silent cry, twisting under the touch. "Here, taste," and the offer is clear, and again Natty is surprising you.

She offers her own tit to Karina, willing her to lick your cum from it. And the act brings a gleam to Karina's eyes as she cups it, bringing it to her mouth to taste. She's sucking and licking and Natty's gasping at the sensation, and at the way Karina nibbles just a little—just a little too much for it to be painless.

You're laying and watching in awe at the debauchery of the scene and wishing you could watch it forever, or at least capture it. The girls are just lapping at each other now, filling their mouths with your seed and swallowing. Laughing. Panting. Moaning. Sighing. Gasping.

Their limbs tangle. Their tongues too. And it's then you realise, no matter how drained you are—completely fucking bone-dry—these two aren't even close to finishing. There's still a show to be enjoyed yet.

You shift just a little to find the most comfortable view, and Karina's taking control now. Slowly she rolls Natty onto her back, their legs still tied, in such a way that Karina can mount her. Natty's got a playful smile across her lips, looking up, seeing the glistening of cum and sweat shining against Karina's neck and cheeks and mouth, her entire gorgeous face soaked in the stuff.

Karina's getting rougher, her nails cutting into Natty's skin. A hungry bite here, a nip there, another scratch here. She's threatening to draw blood as red as the wine she drank. Right on the edge of true pain, but Natty's relishing it. Her eyes roll back, and she lets out a small squeal. And you watch her buck and writhe. 

Karina grows ever more forceful—pinning her and keeping Natty in place. She's starting to drive her hips against her. The desire is clear; she wants Natty to a delirium.

You can do nothing but marvel at the sight. You may be raw, you may be sensitive, but you're here to enjoy the show that may yet last a whole night.

"Me and you now, Natty. Are you ready to cum for me?"

"Yes," the whimper slips out of Natty. "Yes, anything for you."

#karina smut #kpop smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #m reader #natty smut #kiss of life smut #aespa smut #karina x natty #girlfriend!karina #kpop fanfiction #karina x reader #natty x reader

[neopuppy]

Angel Baby (M)

pairing. alpha Jaemin x pregnant female omega reader

genre. *gasp* and they were neighbors AU, non-traditional ABO, single & pregnant y/n, fluff, smut, M/F

warnings. profanity, alpha/omega dynamics, ‘pup’ instead of ‘baby’, possible inaccuracies(writer has absolutely never been pregnant), pregnancy aches & cravings, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 8000

now playing. angel baby//Troye Sivan

smut warnings. unprotected sex, pregnant sex, lactation, use of ‘mama’ and ‘mommy’, breast fondling, fingering, oral, slick, painful orgasm(for Jaemin), etc

a/n. wanted to title this fic Orgasm Donor sooooooo bad, but tumblr whack these days

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

“You know even though this is my first pregnancy, it’s not that bad.” You proudly nod, dipping another blue cheese filled olive into a cup of hazelnut spread. “I haven’t even been having those weird cravings everyones always going on about.”

Jaemin stops working on setting up his old coffee machine, shifting his gaze to watch you pop another olive coated with sweet cream in your mouth before you struggle to open a jar of pickles. “No weird cravings?”

“Nope.” You shrug, smiling triumphantly only to quickly fall into a frown as you squeeze around the jar more without budge. 

He hums, twisting around to grab the jar from your hands and open it himself, nodding and smiling as he passes it back to you. You thank him, whispering that you could have opened it before continuing to munch and dunk a pickle into the spread and proceed to pour coconut shavings on it. “That’s a good thing. What about that uh, morning sickness?”

“Haven’t really had that either.” You murmur between bites, lifting your hand to cover your mouth, your other reaching to rub your stomach. “Means I’m going to have a very sweet and calm pup.”

“How’s your back feeling today?” He asks, thinking about how you’d hissed and made a pained face yesterday while trying to pick up a basket of laundry. 

“Oh it’s..” putting on a smile, you wave him off. “—It’s fine, the doctor said my last trimester would be the hardest on my body.”

Jaemin turns back around to set the water cartridge in place for the coffee machine. He wants to add that your doctor also recommended staying off your feet, massages since you need to avoid hot water, and while it may be uncomfortable- try to stay off your back while sleeping. You always managed to change the subject whenever he attempted to mention a spa day to pamper yourself, or even offered his own hands to knead your tired feet.

“Offer still stands.” He reminds you, running the machine to clean it out. It’s only fair he sets it up anyway. It’s for him, since he’s been staying at your apartment longer than his own these days. “What about your Gochujang cravings?”

You instantly shy away, hiding your face to your shoulder demurely. The reminder of why and how Jaemin’s become such an integral part of your daily life always makes you feel embarrassed. “The tub I stole from you is nearly empty.”

“I’ll have to get you more next time I go to the store.”

Jaemin, while fond of the memory, also recalls it with embarrassment. It was 3 in the morning when he heard repeated light knocks that quickly escalated to heavier more determined knocks. He stumbled out of bed reaching for a hoodie to throw on and cover up his bare chest, slowly trudging down the hallway from his bedroom to the front door. “Yeah yeah, hold on.”

With half asleep swollen eyes he opened the door to find you frantic, eyes blown wide and your hands clasped together under your stomach smiling at him nervously. “I’m so so so sorry about this.”

He quickly snapped awake upon seeing your panicked expression, standing up straight and rubbing his sleep tired eyes. “It’s fine, seriously. Is it the pup?? Are you okay??”

“No no, pups fine..” you trail off, laughing anxiously. “My grocery order was missing a few items and you see.. I’m eating some apples, a little late night snack..”

Jaemin nods confused, relieved that your water didn’t break early or something. “My delivery person refunded the Gochujang I ordered. I guess they were out at the store.” You explain, feeling silly and terrible at the same time for waking your neighbor over this. You hardly even know him beyond the first run-in you had the day you moved in. “I was just wondering if maybe you have any to spare? If not it’s okay. I’m seriously sorry, I thought about texting you, but I don’t have your number.” 

He perks up at the mention of Gochujang, squinting at the idea of needing chili pepper paste for your apples. “I do have some actually. I just went to the market a few days ago. Here, why don’t you come in for a minute while I grab it.”

“Are you sure? I can just be on my way, and bring you back the container tomorrow..”

“No no, it’s fine.” He yawns, motioning for you to follow him to the kitchen. “So, apples and Gochujang?”

“It’s sooo good, the hint of spice really pairs well with the crunch.” 

“Should you be eating something this spicy, uh, right now?” He questions, wondering if that’s good for a baby, mentally noting to look that up online later.

“Oh, I love a little spice.” You nod, looking him over now under the kitchen light. “Nice sweater..”

Jaemin makes a confused sound, shutting the fridge to look down at himself with a container of Gochujang in hand. “Oh..” he tries to smile when you snort, rubbing his free hand down the large bold black letters reading ‘Orgasm Donor’ on the white hoodie. “It was a joke gift from my friends.. I didn’t uh..”

“Is it true?” You ask coyly, glancing away when he looks at you surprised.

“Is what true?” He retorts, not awake enough to catch the way you grin and shyly bite your thumb nail.

“Are you charitable?”

He’s struck for a minute, blinking slowly in disbelief that the cutest pregnant Omega he’s ever seen is currently standing in his kitchen at 3 in the morning desperate for chili paste to eat with her apples flirting with him? The same Omega he watches waddle through the halls after picking up her mail leaving behind the softest traces of fresh whipped creamy milk? The same one he couldn’t help but notice had no mating mark adorning her long beautiful much too bare neck? 

Peering bewildered from the front of his hood back to you more than a few times, he gapes like a fish, lifting up the tub of Gojuchang. “Yeah, anything you need, I’m always an apartment away. I work from home now too so don’t worry about showing up whenever you want, I’ll give you anything you want.” He says too eagerly, stepping forward with a smile. “Like this chili paste.”

What are the chances you show up at his door like a glowing dream, leaving your warm milky scent behind that softly carries him back to his dreams. Dreams full of you, your smile when he passes by, the cute way you struggle to bend over and frown because your belly has just gotten too big.

He could tell after that you needed more help than you were willing to let on, especially by the number of packages showing up at your doorstep varying from small to way too large for you to be handling on your own.

“Hey, remember when I said you can come to me for anything?” He said approaching you attempting to push a new extra large package through your door. “I meant anything, consider me your new delivery man, alright?”

“Ah, you really don’t have to. I still owe you for the Gojuchang..” the same paste you shamelessly never returned- that Jaemin would never ask you to bring back anyway. 

“You don’t owe me anything.” He always made sure to reassure you with a large smile, removing his shoes as he entered your apartment and asked for directions.

“It’s a new drawer for the baby.” You said, motioning toward the spare bedroom you’d begun to decorate. From that day he refused to let you handle any furniture building on your own, to the point that he felt invasive for barging into your life this way. 

The few comments you made here and there gave him enough hint that you’re on your own. No Omega soon to give birth should be alone, this is one of the most vulnerable times you will ever experience in your life. Besides, he likes helping you. He loves to hear you gasp when he effortlessly picks up the new crib you ordered, loves to hear your comments about how strong he is. Loves to still have your scent swarming around his head when he returns back to his apartment, and he really really loves being around you.

That’s why a coffee machine in your apartment has become necessary. After a quick shower and brushing his teeth, he’s already on the way out, taking a few short steps to your place.

“Good morning.”

It’s become your normal day, sitting around on the couch watching lamaze videos as you practice your breathing. Jaemin’s changed his schedule around to fit your lifestyle. You have no idea how you got lucky enough to move in next door to a not only ridiculously handsome and helpful Alpha, but an extremely polite and giving one at that. 

The nurses at your clinic always blush and giggle while he waits for you, drooling over the good looking built Alpha without a trace of mating mark on his skin. They’ve made a few comments to you, curious about him, curious about your relationship with him.

He’s not your Alpha, even if your Omega has started to believe so. How can you not with his constant concern for your wellbeing? The random gifts he brings to you, trying to pass them off as something he saw on his way home even though you saw the packages waiting at his door. He’s really been there for you, more caring than any Alpha you’ve been with before; including the absent one-night stand you had that wanted nothing to do with you when you contacted him to let him know. 

Sure, the predicament you’ve ended up in isn’t the best, but as you fold new onesies and put away matching pacifiers you can’t find the will to be upset with your decision, even if this isn’t the way you imagined your future to unfold.

“How are you feeling today?”

He’s been repositioning the furniture that’s already set-up in the pups future room, finding where you’d like the crib to be placed before working on building your new items. “Still having trouble sleeping?”

Yes, sleeping has been rather difficult. It’s been months now since your last heat. 9 months to be exact, landing yourself where you are now after the wild excursions your last put you through. Throwing up, swollen feet, random cravings, and an aching back can’t nearly compare to how insanely frustrating it is to lose sleep. The push and pull happening between your thighs to your brain always hits at night. It started after the month you first moved in, the dreams that had you waking up soaked with slick.

Your physician had explained that they would only get worse, seeing as Omegas typically have an Alpha to handle those issues. The pregnancy suppressing your heat in turn makes your hormones 100 times worse. 

And that is where Jaemin comes in, you tried to avoid him and keep your distance, but he’s just too damn nice. Making it impossible to turn down the Alphas unwarranted help, never asking anything of you in return, he simply wants to help.

After that night of craving chili paste, you solemnly patted your way back to your apartment, pathetically frowning at the tub of Gochujang you’d been craving.

Orgasm Donor?!? You could scream! The sexiest Alpha you’ve ever seen right next door in nothing but his boxers and a ridiculous sweater, it took all of the strength you could muster up from the moon Goddess herself to clamp your thighs shut and strain your muscles to not drip slick right there in his kitchen. 

The Alpha had to know by now how dizzy his presence alone makes you. Having to sit down whenever he steps foot inside of your place, you sigh, biting down on your lip to not drool over how tight his shirt is today. Each movement flexing the strong muscles lining his broad back too visible. Even after being bred enough to get pupped you can’t control how crazy your hormones have made you feel these last couple of months. No amount of balancing tea or vitamin in the world can quell the need to get absolutely fucked by the strong Alpha taking up space in your future nursing room.

“Still bad I take it?” He says before you can respond, too lost in your thoughts to realize how long you’ve been staring off fantasizing about all the ways he could take you.

“Does it show?” You ask self consciously, rubbing your stomach to comfort yourself. 

“Huh?” He turns, noticing that you’re playing with your hair, bringing it closer to your face. “Oh no no, you look as cute as ever.” He smiles that same charming toothy smile he always has specifically for you. “I just meant, y’know I worry about you getting enough sleep. I was reading and it’s important you get at least 10 hours minimum.”

“10 hours is wayyy too much..” you laugh, rubbing under your eyes trying to remember how bad your dark circles looked this morning. 

“I can definitely help you fall asleep.” He says casually, not understanding how feral your Omega is. The little voice inside of you growling and lunging forward to escape with a ‘bet you can’. How much longer can you really endure having this Alpha around before you make headlines.

PREGNANT WOMAN CHOMPS THROUGH HER NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR ALPHAS BICEPS, CLAIMS HER HORMONES GOT THE BEST OF HER!

How humiliating. If only he understood your true despair stems from him and how rabidly horny he’s gotten you.

“How does this work? You’ll be sleeping in your bedroom while the pup stays in here, or will you be ruining your back on this chair?”

Jaemin asks nonchalantly, carrying on the conversation you’ve been checking in and out of. Quietly humming to himself as he positions a cushion on the seat of the rocking chair he’s been working on assembling for the last hour. He definitely took longer than what he’d estimated in his mind when you mentioned your new crib and chair arriving today. Not that he’d ever admit that he wanted to scream after 10 minutes of searching for one screw that the instructions called for. He’s sure the crib will take another two hours to set up after this(if he’s lucky), biting back a sigh to not catch your attention the more he thinks about it.

“I think for nap time it’d be best to get the pup used to this room, I’m sure I’ll struggle to not sleep by his side every night at first..” you admit shyly, cupping under your stomach and rubbing over the round exterior. He wants to agree that there’s no way a newborn pup would want to leave your side; not with the way your face lights up whenever kicks beat against your stomach or when he brings you back from your doctor visits listening to all the exciting future plans you have lined up.

“It’s probably not my place to say, but you shouldn’t fall asleep in here much. This chairs not that comfortable..” he frowns, testing out the rocking motion. “I’m sure we can find another crib that could fit in your bedroom..”

“Another crib is a bit out of my budget right now.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He grins, standing up to tap the large cardboard box you’re perched on. “Isn’t that what baby showers are for? I’m sure your family has already stocked up on things to gift you.”

Ah, a baby shower. Of course, how could you fail to mention that neither of your parents have spoken to you since the day you showed up at their doorstep 3 months pregnant, unmated and out of wedlock. “Ah, you—you have a point.” You mumble nervously. “You’ve been at this for a bit, I’ll get the coffee brewing.”

“Coffee sounds great right now.” Jaemin says, helping you stand up without releasing your hands until he deems your ankles steady enough to walk on your own. “You know how I like it.”

“Four shots of espresso over ice?” 

“Exactly.” He winks your way, beginning to unbox the crib you’d shown him a few weeks ago. Some fancy overpriced one imported from Italy, a dream according to what you had said while he sat with you as you browsed through various baby decor online shops.

He really wanted to ask what the hell ever happened to Babies ‘R Us, recalling his days working across the street from one, but you looked too happy smiling wide as you showed him the different canopy designs and various woods used to customize each one.

“It’s perfect for a boy, don’t you think?”

Ah, these are really questions you should be asking your Alpha.. if you had one. His lips draw down, peeling open the cribs manual to divide and separate each piece into small sections to start working out. 

It’s hard to believe an Alpha, any Alpha period could just up and leave their Omega to raise a child alone. Jaemin can’t forget the first day you moved in and struggled to drag your belongings down the hallway corridor creating an unnecessarily noisy ruckus outside of his apartment. He stormed out ready to curse you to hell for waking him up, having come home from the gym late the night prior and hoping to catch a few more Z’s that morning. The shout ready to exit his lips hung in the air upon seeing you nearly tip over and let a bag full of clothes spill onto the floor instead of risking the chance to fall and land on your stomach.

You had to have been only a few months along at the time, barely showing a small bump. You hadn’t spotted him yet as you stood there looking over your neatly folded clothes falling apart and making a big mess to clean up. Stress and exhaustion pulled at your soft glowing face, slowly sliding down to your knees to throw everything back in the bag you’d been carrying.

He contemplated speaking up, opening and shutting his mouth as he watched a tear slip down your cheek, swallowed past the seam of your lips. Anyone with half a brain would be able to read the room and assume you weren’t in the best situation given your state at the time. Still he couldn’t help but take in your pretty skin, glossy eyes batting away more tears from pouring, and the small pout permanently etched on your lips as you gathered your things.

“Here, let me help.” He said, deciding to bend over and grab your bag as you shoved in the last of your clothes. To your surprise, you glanced up, jaw hanging as you started to shake your head. “New neighbor?”

Everything progressed slowly from that moment. Sure, at first it was all a coincidence how often he’d find you having a hard time carrying packages from the mail, out of breath lugging your groceries from your car, cursing loudly whenever you’d burnt dinner and set off your fire alarms. He can’t deny making an effort after your first month next door to check in on you, whether you asked for help or not. Especially after the night you showed up begging for chili paste. Without being too intrusive he picked up on hints, figuring out that the Alpha that got you pregnant was clearly no longer a part of your life.

Instinctively he had to do what any respectable Alpha would willingly want to do. Helping you through these past 5 months has been entertaining to say the least. There’s a bit of charm to your silly nature, to how often you whine and complain about your feet getting wider, your back hurting, the odd cravings that hit in the middle of the night. The ones you still deny are cravings, he snorts thinking about that.

Jaemin’s had more fun getting to know you than he has had with some of his long term relationships, even turning down potential Omegas to spend weekends with you. Someone has to be here to make sure you don’t burn your spaghetti again..

And there’s a possible chance he’s developed some feelings, feelings beyond friendship. Could just be his Alpha viewing you as his mate, watching your stomach grow and expand every week does drive him a little crazy, just a tad. 

“Hmm,” realizing he’s been reading the same paragraph over and over again without registering any instructions, he looks around and sits up. You’ve definitely been gone for longer than 10 minutes by now..

“How’s that coffee coming along?” He asks, jogging down the hall, feet hitting the brakes as soon as he makes it to the end. “Shit.”

“I—I don’t know what happened.” You cry, hands shaking above a broken mug and spilled dark liquid.

“Are you hurt?!” He rushes forward, falling to a squat to reach for your arms, hands pausing mid-air. “Oh my God..”

“I’m—I’m sorry, please don’t look..” you whine, hunching in to hide your breasts. It’s useless to try, completely leaked through your shirt leaving your pert nipples completely visible through the thin soaked material clinging to your ample chest. 

“You’re—“ Jaemin stutters, swallowing a thick wad of saliva, mouth going dry at once as the sweet creamy scent of breast milk swirls around his tonsils. “I need t-to help you.”

“S’ok, I got it..” 

“No no, come on.” He gulps, gently grabbing a firm hold on your waist to bring you back up with him. Against his insane willpower, he has to look. He has to lower his gaze and focus on how your breasts bounce as you find your balance. They’re so full, look painful and ready to burst. He’d read about this.. how Omegas can begin to lactate months prior to giving birth depending on how often they typically go into heat. He thought informing himself of all the possibilities would make everything much less daunting, but there’s no way to deny how fucking good the scent rolling off your warm flesh tastes as it seeps through his senses. 

And when you regain your balance, reaching behind yourself to grab at the kitchen counter ledge, your chest shoves out even more, inadvertently spurting milky liquid from your nipples. He tries to keep his scent calm, tries to look away, tries to stop his fingers from itching to cup and squeeze out more. But fuck everythings hitting at once, spiking his scent, thrumming through his cock until it twitches against the inside of his sweats.

He should be ashamed, ashamed for objectifying this vulnerable moment, for imagining his lips sucking around your leaking buds, dragging the material of your shirt past his mouth to suck it clean.

“Alpha..” you moan, shattering any ounce of guilt he felt. Snapping his gaze to your face he nearly crumbles at your wet parted lips, the tears clinging to your lower lashes. 

“I know Mama.” He agonizes, tightly gripping your waist as he works to take deep breaths through his mouth and blow out slowly, averting his gaze away from your body. “L-let me help you change.”

The last time he can recall feeling this feral had to have been the day before he woke up in his first rut. He’d been at the gym working up a sweat, arms on fire by the time he exited the weight training room and decided to end with cardio. Plans went astray when he neared a treadmill to hop on and looked around only to realize the gym had to have been full of Omegas. Omegas perspiring a damn storm judging by the way the aroma of sweet honey caramel skin and lush petals of Jasmine slapped him across the face. He had to leave after a minute to calm himself, head dizzy and feet off balance as he made his way to the lockers to melt away his perverse thoughts.

Even the hard-on he suffered to jerk off that night could not compare to how painfully his cock aches right now. Throbbing faster than a rapid heartbeat, he even fears his dick could burst if he has to swallow anymore of your scent, if he can’t rip his gaze away from your perky delectable nipples.

“Alpha, I’m hot.”

Fuck. You are. You’re so hot. He nods, unrealizing that he’s agreeing, not even noticing how scorching hot your skin feels through the material of your shirt. “T-think I should l-leave.” He says begrudgingly, feeling like a failure, a coward.

“Please.”

That’s it. That’s all it takes to strip away the last bit of self control he could come up with. It wasn’t much anyway, the mixture of your breast milk and delicious pregnant scent combined could send him straight into an impromptu rut. “A-are you sure?” 

He licks at his plump lips, leaving a film of saliva over his naturally pink pout that makes your thighs squeeze together. Even with shards of broken mug too close to your feet and the pungent smell of coffee wafting between you, all you can think about is how big the Alpha is. He’s so big in front of you right now, bringing your need to feel small and taken care of to light. The independence you’ve convinced yourself of all dissipating with his large hands rubbing up and down your sides, arms flexing from the tense struggle running through his body.

“What should I do mama? Hmm? I need to clean you up.” The fear he had of taking the next giant leap of a step with you quickly exits, furrowing his eyebrows as he takes in your sobbing pretty face. He’s used that nickname a few times before, always sending shivers up your spine, but it’s worse now. The sugary tone he speaks to you in, so cute, striking each nerve as he moves you to the counter to get your bare feet away from the mess.

“Please Alpha, I feel..” thick arms wrap around your waist, laying his forehead gently on yours. 

“Tell me where it hurts.”

It’s too hard to say anything with the tremors his question releases throughout your body, searching for his hand to slide it down past your stomach between your legs where slick has already started to seep through your leggings. “Here.”

“Fuck.” He hisses, biting down on his teeth. “You’re making me crazy, you know that?”

“S-sorry,” you hiccup, squeezing around his hand cupping your middle. “That’s w-where—hurts..”

He tsks, shoving inside your bottoms to drag his fingers through the wad of slick gathered between your folds. It’s so much, leaking out profusely, covering his palm and wrists as he slides in deeper to tease your hole. “Messy, so damn messy mama.”

“Ah, d-don’t!” You croon, eyes welling up with tears from the relief of finally having your pussy touched by someone other than yourself. Harder and harder to reach past your stomach most nights, you succumb to whimpering into your pillow frustrated, fantasizing that your neighbor would hear your distress and gallop in on a horse like your knight in shining armor. “Don’t call me t-that.”

“No?” He frowns, nose brushing yours. “But your pussy tightens up around my fingers so good when I do, mommy.”

“Alpha! Ugh!” Dropping your neck, you let out a long winded cry. Panting short of breath from his thumb working furiously to harden your clit. “S’too—too dirty, p-please!”

“You’re right,” his tongue clicks, echoing around the kitchen. “You are still so so dirty mommy.”

With one arm he manages to lift your butt onto the counter, nodding for you to scoot on with a pat on your hip. He settles between your parted thighs, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Wait!” You panic, gripping around his wrists. “Don’t..don’t want you to see..”

“What??” Gasping surprised, he blinks confused, rubbing the fabric of your shirt between his fingers.

“My body right now—“ you flush, darting your gaze away ashamed. “Don’t want you to see..

“Nonsense.” He snaps, using a firmer tone with you that you’re not accustomed to hearing. “You think this,” touching your stomach, he glides upward to cup and squeeze your breasts. “And this? Doesn’t make me feel rabid out of my damn mind to fuck you right here, break the laws of humanity and wolf alike, get you pregnant with my pup somehow?”

It’s the angriest he’s ever looked, wrinkled between his nose and eyebrows, glaring at his heavy palms kneading your breasts to make more milk trickle. “Fuck, I’ve tried so hard to know my place, to show you nothing but respect..”

“S-stop,” you gulp, letting go of his wrists to smooth up and squeeze his biceps, clawing your short nails into the muscles. “Disrespect me, please Alpha..”

Big round eyes stare at you full of shock, taking in how you bite on your lip shyly. The trickles of milk so creamy and thick, spilling down his hands to his flexed forearms. “One thing I’ll never do—“ pressing in, he licks at your Cupid’s bow, long eyelashes blinking against your cheek. “Is disrespect you.”

The sound of your shirt ripping open has you gasping, sinking your nails deeper into his muscles. “But since you asked so fucking nicely.”

He gets the message quickly as you reach for the collar of his shirt and pull hard enough to stretch the fabric, quickly stepping back to strip it off and fully display his well built shoulders and chest. The gurgle from your throat that follows pleases him, returning your hands to feel every inch of new muscle you weren’t familiar with. His mouth is too thirsty, salivating as he takes your full breasts again without anything to hide your swollen nipples and admires them for less than a minute. Lapping at his wet lips as he shoves between your cleavage, licking up the remnants of dried and fresh milk with a deep groan.

Fuck. It’s incredible, nothing he’s ever tasted before. Sweet nectar that can only pour from a fertile breedable Omega built to birth healthy pups. Every sense and nerve in his system lights on fire, digging his face between your ample chest despite your cried moans. It’s bliss, more intense and real than anything, shoving his tongue between your tits to fuck the small gap. 

“Alpha!” 

Breast milk won’t stop running down his arms, opening his mouth wide to capture one of your hard nipples. The nub digs against the roof of his mouth, slurping down the cream as your other tit leaks akin to a broken faucet. “So fucking good mommy.” Jaemin says roughly, pulling away to look over your pleasured face. 

His lips swollen pink with a sheen milky layer, completely debauched as he goes in for more and attends to your other nipple. They swell up after many nibbles, gently digging his teeth into your firm buds. Each suck tastes sweeter than the last as your scent spikes and Omegan arousal swirls around him. The strong tones of milk mixing in with yours has his Alpha fanatic, jerking his hips against the kitchen counter for some type of friction on his cock.

“Alpha please, my pussy, please.” You ask too innocently, as if the activity that expanded your stomach out in the first place didn’t prove otherwise. He grunts for you to wait, shoving his face back in-between your bosom, jiggling the fleshy meat against his cheeks. If not for your hips jumping up he’d continue to assault your tits, spend hours playing with them until you have nothing else left to quench his insatiable thirst.

“Bet your pussy tastes just as sweet.” He grumbles, moving down onto his knees to pull off your leggings and panties in one go. “Fucking hell.” 

The amount of slick painted across your thighs and ass could compete with the local community pool, maybe even replenish a tiny village. His cock jump’s fiercely at the sight before him, lavving the residue of breast milk on his lips for a clean taste as he dives in. 

“Jaemin!” You shout, scrambling to grab onto something at the first stroke of the Alphas tongue prodding between your chubbed folds. The sounds he makes only add fuel to the fire, releasing more slick with each deep growl and bated panting breath.  

“Taste so damn good Omega,” he hums, enamored by how syrupy and powerful your scent slaps him across the face from between your thighs. Shuffling forward on his knees, he holds your thighs open to stretch his jaw wide and roll his tongue from your entrance to your clit, jolting your legs to kick the kitchen drawers with his skills.

Everything feels so good, spinning your mind around. The only frustration as you peer down is the sight of your round stomach completely hiding the Alphas lustful gaze and sloppy tongue. “Alpha, pleasepleaseplease!” sobbing, you kick at the drawers again. “Can’t see your face! C-can’t see!”

Jaemin shoots up at the sound of your affliction, eyes blown wide with concern as he reaches for your shoulders to sit you up. “Shh shh, I’m here.” He smiles, a disaster of slick covering his nose, lips and chin. “Look at me pretty mama.”

“Mmm..” reaching for his face, you smear the slick on his lips. “Messy.”

“Messy for you.” He kisses at your thumbs, sucking on the tip of one he captures. “Such a bad mommy, wants to watch her pussy get ate?”

Nodding feebly you move to stroke his neck, squeezing around. “Can’t see you down there..”

“Stay like this okay?” He instructs, pecking you, leaving slick on your chin. “Sit just like that, you’re doing so good for me mama.”

Setting your palms on the counter, he opens your thighs up a little wider, getting down into a squat to keep his head at level with your knees. “Keep your pretty eyes on me. Gonna make you feel good.”

His eyes stay on yours, one palm splayed on your thigh as his other reaches just under your navel. Stretching his neck back into an uncomfortable angle, his tongue hangs out, blinking up at you before diving back in to lap at your clit. Wide firm licks catch your sensitive folds, face rocking back and forth to really let you feel his tongue stroking between each crevice.

Big watery doll eyes stay facing up to watch you fall apart, scratching at the counter desperately to not reach for his hair to slam his face in deeper. Slippery hot stiff pressure teases under your clit, he keeps it there twitching the muscle until your hips start to rock forward and tears erupt from the corners of your eyes. The heat inside of your stomach pools, coiling up to your chest making it harder to breathe. He keeps at it for another minute until your eyebrows scrunch together. 

The lick he delivere to your clit sparks raging nerves up your spine, arching forward and nearly losing your balance on the counter to fuck his face. 

Dipping lower he finally plunges as much of his tongue as he can inside of you, slapping your inner thigh when you shout out in pleasure. The thick fat muscle rubs at your inner walls, sucking down the slick that tries to choke him out. Much like your breasts, he could spend hours just like this between your supple thighs, memorizing the way you fall apart and shake from every lap and stroke of his tongue.

Finally caving, you grip onto his hair, crying out brokenly. “I’m c-cum—“ his tongue disappears before you can complain, moving to stand and shove three fingers inside your cunt. “Ahhh!”

“Look at me mama, be good for Alpha.” He orders throatily, vocals thick and corded with slick. “Squeeze that pretty pussy around my fingers, give it to me.”

“Jaem—Alpha!” The heels of your feet slam against the drawers painfully, reaching for his wrist as he jerks the three digits stretching you open. Bicep rippling from the strength being used to shoot your release out around his relentless working fingers. “S’too—good.”

“God you cum so fucking pretty.” He sighs, gently drawing free to rub your clit while you twitch against him. Lips finding yours to calm your high with tender kisses.

“Come here pretty.” Jaemin says huskily, daring to scoop you up without a hitch, bare round stomach pressed to his smooth abs just enough to not apply pressure. He turns toward your living room, setting you down on the couch to grab a few pillows. “Here baby, let me make it comfortable for you.”

“Alpha..” you whine, still conscious of how big you must look on your back like this. He only smiles, bending in close to kiss your lips. 

“I can’t knot you, don’t want you to stay in this position too long.” He says, sweating through excruciating horny pangs shooting through his dick. 

“Please Jaemin, want you i-inside.” You beg much too prettily, pulling his lips back to bare his teeth. He wants to be gentle with you so badly, wants to focus on you and make you cum to your heart’s content. But God you aren’t making it easy.

“Only for a little, okay?” He says raggedly, hoisting you to sit leaned against the pillows to take pressure off your lower back and still make it easy to get between your legs. “If it’s too much I’ll stop.”

“Won’t be too much Alpha, need you so bad.” You say drowsily, still drunk from the orgasm his fingers and mouth ripped out of you. He nods, tugging on the string holding his sweats up, blushing when he sees the giant wet stain of pre-cum that’s leaked through the cotton fabric. “I should put a condom on.”

“I’m already knocked up.” You giggle, covering your face. “Don’t want anything between us.” 

Fuck. You’ll be the death of him talking like that. Pushing down his sweats, he gasps at how red the tip of his cock is, looking painful to the touch. There’s no way he’ll be able to last long enough to not pop a knot inside of you. 

“Alpha.” You whisper, angled perfectly in a half seated position to see how enraged his dick looks flush against his stomach. He doesn’t even have to stroke it, doesn’t want to out of fear of cumming before he even enters you.

“You sure about this?” He asks once more through gritted teeth, already lining the tip up to your entrance.

“Pl-lease.. haven’t gotten fucked in s-so long.” You hiccup, too excited, bending your neck in to watch his throbbing red cockead nudge against your hole.  

“Fuck! Ahh,” hissing, he gingerly grabs the base of his size, slowly pushing in until your cunt snaps around him. So tight, tight like you haven’t been fucked in months exactly as you just admitted. He’d fuck you so hard, make you take every inch until his dicks coming out of your nose. But now’s not the time, this isn’t about him no matter how hard the veins lining his length throb in disagreement. “Feel g-good?” He asks, licking at the sweat beading on his upper lip.

“M-more, please!”

He can’t do it, can’t push more than the tip in because it’d be too greedy. Even if he gets you off first it’d be too fucking greedy. As painful as it is to ignore the begging cries you let out, he opts to press down on your clit. Thumbing the stiff nub back and forth with short thrusts drawing the fat tip of his cock in and out enough to have a perfect view of your hole stretching around him. “So good, you’re doing so good for me mommy.”

“Alpha!” You twitch, lower back arching up starving for more. “P-please! Deeper!”

He wants to cave, give you everything you want, make you cum on his cock and bloat your stomach out even further with rivers of cum deep inside of you. “C-can’t.” He grits, grabbing onto your hips firmly to stop himself from thrusting in further. “D-don’t make me..”

“Need it! I need it!” You keep pleading, head tossed back with your wet spit slick lips parted open panting. “Fuck me! F-fuck me please! Put another baby in me!”

“Ahh, you c-can’t say that!” He growls in pain, digging the tips of his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave marks. You can’t say that, anything but that. “Mommy wants Alphas cum.” 

“Y-yes,” you whine, stroking down your stomach to direct his gaze beneath your navel. “Wanna feel you h-here, mommy wants it.”

“Shitshit,” that’s it, that’s enough to jerk his hips and push in another inch. How could you ask this of him? How could you act like such a sweet pilant breedable bitch, begging to get fucked and fucked until all you know how to do is get pupped. “Yeah, mommy wants it deep.”

His sack feels heavy as he plunges in the rest of his length inch by inch, slapping against your rim balls deep. “Get you pregnant again, keep you pupped up with my baby.” He rambles, focusing on not slamming his cock in like a wild animal. Having to squeeze his eyes shut to not cum when he sees your milk filled breasts bouncing up high enough to hit under your chin. “Fuckfuckfuck, you’re too much.”

He sounds so desperate, dying to ram into you faster with each rough grip on your hips. Pushing up off his knees, he squats to angle his cock in even deeper, making your lips fall open with a loud shouted moan. “Right t-there mama? Is that it? You want it there?” He asks, raspy and throaty, deep voice coming out from a deep torned place. 

“Alpha!” You stammer, spluttering the same words over and over again mindlessly. 

“Look at me,” he groans, bending in closer to cup your cheek and grind his hips. “W-wanna feel you cum on my cock. Gonna cum for me mama?”

“Fuck, ahh!” His thumb presses against your bottom lip, nodding with you as his other hand slips between your conjoined lower halves. Expert figure eights work more slick out making his cock slide in even easier if possible, wet and messy rivering down his inner thighs. 

“Cum for me, come on.” He growls, thrusting a little faster to chase your release. His balls slapping against the dip of your ass with each push in. The entirety of his length penetrates in and out, skyrocketing your pleasure by pinching your clit. Each flick and rub rushes heat through your stomach and chest, toes curling as you find his wide blown out eyes.

“F-fuck me, breed me full of cum.” You plead between gritted teeth, reaching to hold around his neck, suffocating the scream that rips from your chest. It’s been so long since you last had a release this strong, unable to even arch up with the weight of your stomach holding you down. You kick out and cry against his pouty lips, eyes rolling back.

“That’s it mommy,” he cries, eyes watering up as your walls squeeze the life from this dick and he has to do everything in his power to stop himself. His Alpha screaming at the top of its lungs to knot knot knot! Especially with the way you beg for it, the way your pussy swallows his dick whole and grovels to be knotted.

“Don’t p-pull out, please Alpha.” You sob, opening your hands in search of his. “Inside me, s-stay inside.”

“Ughh!” Jaemin can’t stop himself anymore, shoving his cock in to fill up to the brim with a few more sloppy thrusts. Reaching for your hands, he bends over bridging his upper half above yours. The muscles lining his stomach twitch and clench, sucking in at his navel as he draws his length out to the tip and the base of his cock expands. It’s more painful than he’d expected, his Alpha howling like a beast inside, gnawing through his facade of strength as tears pour down his cheeks. “Fuck. Fuck!”

He sniffles, cockhead still lodged inside your tight hole spurting out sticky cum that seems to satiate you judging by the long sigh you let out.

“Alpha..” you say drowsily, eyes half-lidded with the most serene smile looking back at him. “Sleepy.”

Nodding furiously, he kisses your hands before releasing your hold, quickly wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Pulling out okay? Need to clean you up.”

Jaemin hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to not bend at your will, having to tune out the way you whine for him to stay inside of you. His Alpha shouts and snarls, berating him for not listening to their Omega. 

He’s so fucked, already recognizing you as his mate without considering what you must feel right now, driven by your out of whack hormones and lust.

“Don’t leave me.” You pout, whining so pretty.

“I’m not going anywhere mama.” He reassures, leaning in to kiss your stomach. “But I need to get you cleaned off before you fall asleep, alright?”

He tries to make it quick, scrambling to fill up a bowl of warm water and grab a few washcloths. Can’t be fast enough when he jogs back to the living room to find your eyes fluttering open and shut. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll take you to bed.”

“Nooo,” you continue to whine, huffing petulantly. “Too heavy..”

“I bench 280, don’t doubt me.” He chuckles, shaking his head. Sitting by your side, he slowly cleans the mess of slick and cum that’s dripped down to your thighs and ass, patting the area dry. “How are you feeling?”

“Eepy.” 

He’d squeeze you if he wasn’t so happy to hear that you’re relaxed enough to possibly get a full night of sleep. Proudly smiling to himself as he finishes cleaning you off and bends closer to your face. “Time for bed.”

“Don’t leave me..”

He scoffs playfully, getting up to position you on top of his arms, squatting down to ensure he picks you up properly. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Mmm..” true to his word he carries you to your room without much struggle, softly laying you down on your bed and stumbling when you grab onto his arm and pull. “Stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Stop asking.”

He sighs, moving to the empty side of your bed, shoulders instantaneously losing the tense concern and worry he’d been holding onto. You can talk about this in the morning, or the afternoon, or at night, or never.

Maybe he can just accept that you both wanted this and more than anything he wants this. He wants to help you with your pup, take care of you after you give birth, help cook and clean, make sure you’re well fed after hours of trying to put your pup to sleep.

It can really be this easy, living here in this moment. In the safe comforting space of your small apartment that’s started to feel more like home than his own. Playing house with you has brought him more relief than hours at the gym.. long nights out partying.

He watches you get comfortable on your side, beginning to breathe in and out more shallowly.

“Jaem..”

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring.” You murmur, trying to hide a smile.

“I am.” Scooting in closer, he lightly rests a hand on your stomach. “I’m scared to ask, but this is okay, right?”

A cute growl emits from your chest, laying a hand over his. “I’ll let it slide, you do a real good job around here.”

“It’s okay, you can finally admit that you like me.” Letting out a long sigh, he nestles in closer, cheek resting on your chest. “I like you too.”

“Do you?”

“Is it standard for Alphas to cancel their plans every week to hang out with their pregnant Omega neighbor?” He hums, following your hand to rub your stomach. “Ah, what am I saying? I was all happy to get you to fall asleep and now I’m talking your ear off.”

He’s met with the light sound of breath, lifting his gaze to find you well past counting sheep. Adjusting to cradle your head better, he kisses your forehead. “Night night angel baby.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

#jaemin smut #na jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #neopuppy fics #na jaemin fanfiction #jaemin fanfiction #nct dream fanfiction #nct fanfiction #nct x reader #jaemin x you #jaemin x reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction

[writerpeach]

Studious Seduction

Oh My Girl Arin x m! reader

10k words

Thanks to @i-am-lifeform24 for help with editing

Part One | Part Two

---

Read on AO3

"This seems like a bad idea, Miss Choi."

"It's a terrible idea, professor. Which is why we're doing it." 

Without a doubt, there’s very little chance that you won’t be spotted here. Heading up a stairwell that leads up to who knows where is hardly ideal, especially with the sudden rain shower that's started to pour above, foreshadowing this bad decision made in tandem. 

Yet, you’ve never been one to make the best choices. An inappropriate relationship with one of your students has to be ranked at the top of the list, wrong for a myriad of reasons—all that could get you fired. Still, it somehow continues unimpeded, knowing the risks, both of you doubling down even. 

At this point, you’re not sure if you’re a bad influence on Arin, or if she’s a bad influence on you. 

To make matters worse, today’s outfit of choice is this poor excuse for a school uniform that draws all your attention. A risky little ensemble that consists of a white shirt and black tie combo that only pretends to be proper, covering very little of her midriff, as well as this dark little pleated miniskirt so short it might as well not exist for how little of her thighs it hides. It leaves more of her creamy skin uncovered, and being her professor, you know it's not appropriate to look—yet you can’t stop yourself from doing so anyways. 

And then there’s those dark frames on her face, the cherry on top that puts this whole thing together, that takes her from an innocent, responsible student more than invested in class, to this devilish vixen who struts into your office, demanding to be ruined, never taking no for an answer. 

There’s almost no room for imagination, offering you such an obscene view when Arin heads up the stairs, purposefully walking in front of you with slow, deliberate steps. You can see the shape of her perfectly round butt cheeks exposed, her tight fitting thong doing anything but covering up delicious pale flesh. Of course, she knows exactly where your line of sight goes when you walk behind her, making an effort to shake her wide hips a little more with each step, giving you a shameless view of her tight, succulent ass.

This outfit is every dress code violation she could possibly make rolled into one. 

But who's going to admonish her? You? Who can't even think logically at the moment when all your thoughts have turned to mush? Not a chance when all you want to do is slip your hand between her thighs too delicious to resist until she makes a mess on your fingers, the floor, and anywhere else that becomes collateral damage.

Right now, you have the perfect opportunity for exactly that. You’ve lost track of how many steps you’ve walked, but eventually, the stairwell comes to an end, with a set of metal double doors that leads up to the rooftop. As good a place as any other, you think, especially when there's little reason anyone else would want to venture towards the top level during this never-ending rainstorm.

“Here?” you question, when Arin presses your back against the cold wall just underneath the final level of the stairwell. A solitary gaze into her eyes is all you get before she wraps her hands around your neck and plants a heated, sloppy kiss on your lips. She nods in affirmation, but doesn’t give you the time to catch your breath, slipping her tongue into your mouth to make an attempt to taste all of you.

“It's really open here. Pretty easy to get caught," you tell her when she moves from your lips, placing wet kisses across your jawline, moving lower down to your neck. 

"That's the point, professor." Arin places your hands firmly around her waist, leading you exactly where she wants your touch. Her legs spread a little further apart so you can push her skirt up, revealing just how tiny of a thong she's wearing. "I don't care if we get caught. Make a mess of me—" 

She sighs when your fingertips press against her clothed core, so aroused you can already feel her slick leaking through the flimsy fabric. You add more pressure in response, rewarded with Arin's soft gasps against the sensitive skin of your neck.

"We could get in a lot of trouble, Yewon," you breathe out, barely paying attention to anything beyond this. In fact, you hardly care about what could go wrong either, so consumed with lust, one singular desire that Arin shares, and your fingertips ache to slip underneath these panties and sink right in. 

"When has that ever stopped us before?" 

She has a point. 

This is risky as it gets. And that’s what makes it all more exciting. 

Without wasting any more time, you slip a finger underneath the fabric of her panties, into her ridiculously warm cunt. A second one slides in right after, and soaked as she already is, barely puts up any resistance, the entrance of her tight little hole eagerly swallowing you up.

“Professor—“

A few strokes is all you manage before Arin throws her head back in delight, rolling her hips, moaning from nothing more but your fingers slowly pumping in and out of her needy cunt. 

Arin clings to your shoulder as the tempo picks up, her other hand quickly traveling down your torso until it reaches your pants. She finds the button to your slacks right away, unzipping them to slip a hand inside your boxers. You let out a groan when she runs a gentle hand along the length of your shaft, slow and teasing—until she wraps her entire hand around it and grips you tight.

“Yewon..." A wave of pleasure rushes through your whole body. She's stroking your cock with such a perfect grip, slender fingers reaching down to fondle your balls, eager for what they’ve stored up just for her. Meanwhile, the sounds that come from her own throat as she rides your fingers become a necessary distraction, urging you to thrust into her a little faster, a little rougher— 

"How many loads are you going to give me today, professor? I hope they're all as thick as they were yesterday—"

It's rather ridiculous, the things you hear come out of Arin's mouth. The demure looking girl in the front row, raising her hand up high, blushing just at the sight of you, now says the filthiest things when she's got her mouth on your earlobe and her pussy filled with your fingers. She's every bit the opposite of an exemplary student, but you suppose that's your fault, given you're the one who's trading straight A's for the roughest, raunchiest sex that almost always ends up with you finishing inside her. 

But the way Arin sounds when she moans directly in your ear, riding your fingers so selfishly while they stay buried inside her cunt, it makes you forget all that. None of that matters. All that does is satisfying her needs and yours, and you won't stop until she's absolutely drenched your fingers, even if it ruins that pathetic pair of panties. 

"Don't stop, professor. I'm so close…"

She's lost all inhibitions in her frantic desire to keep rocking her hips hard against your fingers. You can feel the tension about to snap, her walls squeezing the life out of your slick digits—all while she tries to keep a steady rhythm in her own pumping, giving your cock a good squeeze each time your fingers plunge to the hilt.

"Professor, please, don’t stop, don’t stop—" Arin’s breathing grows unsteady, heavy, and she gasps for air between every syllable that escapes her lips. You’ll do everything to oblige her, steadily thrusting, curling your fingers to find that sweet spot that gets her to moan the loudest until she lets go of your cock, clinging her entire weight onto you.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum—"

Nothing gets said in response, obeying Arin’s pleas, an uninterrupted stream of juices beginning to coat your fingers while she lets out one continuous moan, unable to speak coherently upon climax. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she nearly draws blood before the wetness gushes down your fingers, rendering her panties useless, completely ruined with all this sticky arousal.

Her walls flutter around you, this explosive orgasm lasting far longer than you expect—but you don’t let up, pumping away as she spills more, riding this out until it turns into a second one shortly after. And when you press your thumb firmly against her clit, right as she starts to come down from her high, the violent trembles in her body repeat, sending her over the edge a third time, forcing her body to shake against yours, another loud, shameless moan spilling out of her in overstimulation. 

It's a wonder how the rest of campus hasn’t heard the screams echoing all the way down the staircase. Were it not for the rain pouring overhead drowning out her cries of pleasure, it would be near impossible for anyone passing by to not hear a thing. So you’re blessed by the rains, both above, and between Arin’s sticky thighs. 

After it’s all said and done, she can hardly support her own weight when the sensation of your fingers inside her becomes too much for her oversensitive cunt, Arin’s sweaty frame nearly toppling over as she breathes heavily. Good thing you're right here to do what she temporarily can’t, clinging to your body, your hard cock still poking against her as you keep her upright amidst these intense aftershocks. 

"That was, fuck—you've really outdone yourself, professor. I can hardly stand."

When you pull your fingers out, you can’t hide the smirk that spreads across your face with all this slick clinging to your fingertips as she leans on your body to take a breath. The praise washes over you while Arin unexpectedly grabs your wrist, bringing your soaked fingers, all the way up to her lips to fervently suck the delicious liquid off. 

You intently watch her lick herself off you, tongue lewdly swirling around the length of each wet digit, making an effort to swallow all of her mess. Her lips glisten with spit and wetness, a ravenous look in her bespectacled eyes as she cleans whatever she can, tasting every drop of her delicious essence, staring at you seductively until nothing is left. 

"Guess I don't need these anymore," Arin says after a pause, gradually recovering as she peels her drenched thong down her legs, letting it drop to her ankles before she slips it off, stuffing it into your front pocket. A cute little smile later, and she looks more than eager for what's next, unable to tear her gaze away from how hard you’ve been left thanks to her. 

"I should finish what I started, don't you think, professor?" 

You don't even get to answer when Arin drops to her knees on the cold floor, tugging your pants and boxers further down, freeing your cock that so desperately needs it—so desperately needs her. With a cute, light giggle, she spits onto your swollen shaft, pumping the entire length with her delicate fingers, a low moan rising in your throat as she pays extra attention to the underside where she knows you're the most sensitive.

Her slender fingers work up the length of your cock, coming back down with a grip so wonderfully tight. She’s so ready, so eager to have her soft lips around it already. You can practically see her salivating when she leans in a little closer to lap her tongue around your cock in one long, lazy lick, pressing her lips into a light kiss on the tip of your shaft. 

“Yewon—“

You can’t hold in a grunt when Arin rubs your tip against her mouth, not opening up enough to take you whole yet, instead tracing her full, soft lips over your needy cockhead. 

“Don’t you worry, professor. Gonna make you feel so good. I promise.” 

The anticipation explodes all at once as she parts her lips, slipping the entire head of your cock inside. The moment her wet mouth makes contact with your shaft, you groan at the sudden warmth, a sharp contrast from her icy cold hands. She takes more of your length down, hollowing her cheeks, keeping an intense, erotic gaze while slowly bobbing her head up and down. 

"Mhmph—" Her warm breath sends shivers down your spine as her lips slip further and further down, the tip of her tongue flicking against what hasn’t disappeared into her mouth. You can’t help but let out all types of unabashed moans while she guides more of you inside, spit dripping down to your balls as she slides deeper, until nothing of you is left to swallow up, the head of your cock hitting the back of her tight throat with ease. 

"Yewon, fuck,” you say, nearly breathless, and the way Arin looks up at you with her mouth so proudly sealed around every inch—there’s nothing better. “I'll never get enough of your pretty fucking mouth.” 

Arin hums against the length of your shaft at your praise, working more of her magic on you, lips getting down so devastatingly deep against your base. She’s oh so eager, so unwaveringly committed to covering every single inch in saliva. Her hot little mouth slides down effortlessly, bobbing her head back, each stroke just a bit sloppier, a little wetter than the one before, with zero intention of giving you a chance to gather yourself.

“Nobody gives a blowjob like I do, right, professor? Nobody can make you cum as hard as I can. I love being on my knees for you so much, being a good little slut for my professor. That’s what I am, aren't I?"

Nodding your head is all you can do, breath heavy in disbelief of how good this oral assault is, the enthusiasm on display really proving how much Arin enjoys having your cock shoved down her wet, inviting throat. 

You’d sacrifice your entire livelihood for a blowjob like this. 

It’s quite simple to lose track of how many times her talented mouth takes your entire length down, so good at pleasuring you it's impossible to find words. The way her wet tongue flicks against your slit when she slides off, only to have you plunging all the way back into the heat of her throat—it's far, far too good.

"I want you to cum on my face, professor," Arin tells you, so casually as she pulls away for a brief second before going right back to licking up the length of your hard cock, spitting all the excess saliva over the rest of you. Then she’s back to placing hungry wet kisses against each inch, her tongue making a slick path before she gives the leaking slit of your cock another teasing, torturous swirl. "I want all of it."

At this rate, you think you could blow a load anywhere she wanted you to, already so close to bursting just at her tongue lavishing your cock with these feverish licks. She has this way of making you feel so special, like worshiping your cock is all that matters to her, your pleasure the most important aspect in her life. Her greedy mouth proves just that, making you groan so easily, especially when she dips down to pay attention to your balls and slurps so messily on them like she wants your load at any cost. 

A few lazy licks down your sack and you’re back down her throat—just trapped there helplessly as she holds you, her pretty mouth so goddamn overwhelming when she swallows as much of your length as she possibly can, not showing even the slightest hint of strain. Her full lips stay motionless when they slide right down to your base, gaze locked tight, making your cock throb within her tight, wet throat. 

“Stay there, Yewon, shit,” you groan, hands clutching her head against your crotch to speed up the path to climax. Each second she remains there feels like absolute heaven, fostering all this unbearable bliss, all while those doe eyes speak for her when her mouth can’t—impatiently waiting, desperately wanting to empty your balls. 

When she releases her lips from your length, there’s a sexy little gasp that comes with the messy string of saliva pulling her back down. Repeating the act, she plunges right back down, nose nestling comfortably against your abdomen, lips wrapped entirely around the base of your length. “Yewon, god, you know what’s gonna happen if you keep doing that.“ 

"Oh, you’re gonna cum? Want you to paint my pretty face. Don’t you, professor?” 

There’s no answer to offer other than what she wants, all thoughts drowned by another wet slurp when Arin once again takes every inch of you down her throat, the overwhelming warmth of her mouth suffocating your length. Then she rises, exposing your shaft to the cool air for only a moment until her throat tightens when you’re back down, fully sheathed. 

Arin’s so dedicated to hearing you moan that these steadfast strokes show no relent, slurping from base to tip, hair all a mess as she bobs faster and faster, maintaining never-ending eye contact that’ll be the death of you.

“Need it. Need it so bad, your hot cum dripping down my face when I walk back down these stairs. Can’t wait to feel how thick and heavy a load you’ll give me.” 

Her pace only begins to go into overdrive, picking up rampantly when Arin places her hands on your thighs for better stability, the hot slickness of her mouth far too much to handle. She takes every inch, all of you disappearing down, without needing to stop to take a breath, like she’s proving a point at how good she can get you off. There's no restraint as she bobs her head without inhibitions, sloppily, noisily, not even gagging when her throat delivers an unimaginable level of pleasure. 

"Oh my god, Yewon, fuck—"

With each desperate stroke, you're so close to that edge, quickly approaching the inevitable. The tightness in your balls grows beyond your control, and there’s no time to think straight when her mouth feels this fucking good, almost there, absolutely about to—

"I'm gonna fucking cum, Yewon," you groan out just in time, with no qualms about how needy you sound. One last slow descent down to your base, then Arin pops your needy shaft from her mouth right when it seems you’re about to burst any second. 

And looking as salacious as possible, she simply tilts her head slightly backwards, jerking you off while directing the tip of your cock straight at her face, eagerly anticipating the release that's about to cover her.

“Cum all over me, professor.” 

You let out a strained, guttural moan the moment your first pearlescent stream shoots out, streaking across the bridge of her nose. These frantic strokes don’t let up, guiding your milky seed that unloads onto the perfect target—her glasses, coating the lenses in white and getting it all over her rosy cheeks. Another strand fires off as she shifts your cock downwards, a thick stream blasting across her parted lips that deserve so much of this load for helping you reach an explosive release. 

She pumps, and pumps, until there’s nothing left, and by the time your orgasm winds down, Arin is a total mess, one you’ll never get tired of seeing your load plastered all over her. Her stunning features wear you like a proud smile, drenched in her handiwork, thick streaks that cling to her cheeks, those soft lips, and anywhere else it happens to land as she strokes your length to ensure not a drop goes to waste. 

That look is all too familiar when the weight of your load starts to drip down, an orgasmic feeling that brings a grin onto her cum-stained face.

“That’s a big load, professor. Just what I wanted," she says as she removes her stained glasses, taking a nice, long lick right over the lens and making a show of the entire thing. "I think I'm obsessed. With your cum. It tastes so good, but looks better on my face."

"Yewon—you're ridiculous, you know that?" you tell her as she carefully slips the glasses back on, and wipes up whatever has run off to the corners of her lips, bringing her sticky fingers into her own mouth to slurp them clean.

"It's not my fault my professor's cum tastes so good."

But before she can even begin to clean off your cock, or savor what an absolute mess she’s covered in, the sound of footsteps nearby force her to stop mid-stroke, causing both your heads to turn with a shared look of panic. There's only enough time to tuck yourself back into your pants, but there's nothing to do at all about this massive load that's dripping all over Arin, nor what’s done a number on the stairwell. 

"Get behind me, Yewon. Quick."

Arin nods and does as you say, scrambling to her feet, also making sure her thong is still tucked away into your pocket as you zip your pants up. The sounds of footsteps echo louder, yet there's only one real way to escape this stairwell, because you're not going out that door when the rain hasn't let up one bit. 

When the moment those footsteps approach the stairwell entrance, they slow to a halt, making your heart beat faster. Arin moves fast enough to get behind you just in time, out of sight and behind your broad frame. And the two of you wait there, her body pressed against yours, trying to hold her breath, dreading to explain yourself to whoever just made this abrupt end to your fun. 

"Professor? Is that you?" The voice sounds so familiar, but you can't quite pick it out, too muffled by the rain. But there's no doubt you've heard this voice before. It's certainly one of your students, so at least you won’t have to explain this to a faculty member. "What a surprise, seeing you here!"

Normally, you'd have all the time in the world for pleasantries and small talk, but this is the last place where you can do anything of the sort as you try to shield Arin. From who exactly, you have no idea as they walk into frame. Their name escapes you, not that you really care when all you want is to get out of this situation. 

"Is something the matter, professor? Why are you standing there?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. I had some time between classes and came up here to check out the rain. It's not letting up is it?" You put on the best smile possible, knowing Arin can't be spotted right behind you. Luckily, your taller frame can block her body completely, and given how the area is poorly lit, there isn't much worry about the mess that's on her face at the very least.

"No, it isn't. We don't usually get so much rain this time of year, huh?" The unnamed student asks as she glances out the window, and for a brief second you fear the worst—but she doesn't seem to notice anything at all that shouldn't be there. "I didn't even bring an umbrella today either..."

"You might check the library, they'll have them."

"The library?"

"They used to offer some a few months back, but I guess everyone forgot. I'm sure they still have a few left."

"I might give that a try then, thanks. It's good to see you, professor." 

When your student smiles and waves goodbye, heading back the stairs without another word, you're able to finally breathe a huge sigh of relief, knowing the ordeal is finally over, despite taking years off your life. "Jesus, Yewon."

"That was close.” Her own breath stays ragged and heavy, almost completely forgetful to the mess you've left on her face that still glistens. "Good save. Really pulled that umbrella story out of thin air, didn’t you?” 

“Whatever it takes. Hey, they might have umbrellas. I’ve never gone there except to rail you.” 

Arin laughs, then suddenly remembers she still has your filth all over her. “Better go clean up I guess..."

"This was a really terrible idea."

"Hey, this was my terrible idea," Arin corrects with a grin that manages to shine through all the mess. "And I don’t hear you complaining about me giving you a nice, sloppy blowjob, professor.” 

“I could never complain about seeing my favorite student on her knees.” 

“I'll go on ahead. Maybe I'll see you later? For office hours?"

You say nothing more as you let her pass you to head down the stairs first, standing here a bit longer for your heart rate to calm before you too make your exit. You've got a class in under an hour that you haven't prepared for, and now how could you, coming so close from potentially losing your job. But yet, somehow, through all that, Arin was right—the rush of getting caught is exhilarating, but that was far too close for comfort. 

✦ ✦

So after all that, logic would dictate that you should be a little more careful, that maybe you should stop having sex with your student in places you're bound to get caught—but logic went out the window the moment you bent Arin over your desk for the very first time. What else are you going to do though, take her home to your apartment where there's actual privacy, where you don't have to keep quiet?

That sounds so very drab and mundane, and you'd rather spend another ten hours grading papers than go the proper route. You don't even know what you would do if you wound up in Arin's bedsheets, having all the freedom to rail her for hours instead of the thrill of being in public where you have to be quick and quiet.

There's nothing wrong or unhealthy with this relationship. Not one bit. 

You've told yourself on multiple occasions that you should dial it down a notch, not meet quite so often, or at least not in places that will put your career at risk. After all, your luck is going to run out one of these days, and the day could very well come when more than just a student catches the two of you, maybe one of the other professors, or god forbid the university staff. 

And then it's all over for both of you. 

Yet, there isn't a day when you don't seek each other out, find some empty closet, a vacant faculty office, or that spot near the back of the library that's so dusty that no one frequents. 

The risk is almost as good as being balls deep inside Arin itself. 

You can't exactly help yourself when she wears these slutty little outfits that practically beg you to rip them off her, nothing but the shortest skirts imaginable to class, where you have to stop your eyes from wandering throughout the entirety of the lecture. 

Arin sits in the front row for a reason, and that's not to get a better view of the whiteboard. No, it's so she can spread her legs open when no one's paying attention, flash whatever sexy pair of panties she has underneath (or the lack thereof on occasion), and sometimes even play with herself so she can show off how wet she is. 

Somehow, no one's really noticed how often you have her in your office, where there's less talk about class going on, and more your head buried between her thighs, or having her bent over your desk in some obscene position with her mouth stuffed by her ruined underwear and screaming through it.

With everything that’s transpired today, one would think you’d call it early and pack up. Not you though. Not even an hour has gone by since your close call, and Arin is in your office again, sucking you off underneath your desk while you work on grading papers—at least you should be, if only you could focus for more than a few seconds without this warm mouth slobbering on your cock. 

"I bet none of your other students can deepthroat you as good as I can."

"You said you were going to be quiet."

"And you said you were going to fuck me, professor."

You haven't exactly broken that promise, it's more like Arin decided she wasn't going to wait until you finished, always finding an excuse to get in her favorite position whenever she wants to suck you off. 

Luckily, for your students, you're going to be in such a tremendous mood after finishing in this girl's hungry mouth. These papers are downright horrendous—so fucking awful and unreadable it makes you wonder if you should intentionally pound Arin in your office with the door wide open, just so you’ll get caught, lose your job, and never have to deal with some of these students ever again.

Not even a few papers in and you’ve lost every ounce of focus, groaning while Arin empties your balls, her mouth right at your base when your spills right down her throat. With your fingers gripping the back of her head, it's impossible to not avoid bucking your hips into her pretty, sloppy mouth as she drains each thick shot from your pulsing cock, swallowing it all with pride to make sure there's not a single trace of your creamy release that hasn't gone directly into her stomach. 

"All those students probably failed anyways," she tells you, letting the saliva fall from her lips as she shows off her empty mouth with a pleased smile, planting a nice, loud wet kiss on your tip before getting back up to her feet.

"Yeah? Including you?"

"Of course not, professor. We both know before you even look at my paper that I've got a perfect grade." 

"Is that so? And what have you done to deserve that, Yewon?" 

Before you've even gotten your pants back on properly, Arin is already claiming a spot on the edge of your desk, undoing her tie so that it hangs loosely around her neck, and then spreads those luscious thighs as wide apart as they can go, her gorgeous, dripping pussy on display without any underwear in the way. "I can think of a few things. Doesn't emptying you down my throat count for something?"

"Hm, I dunno,” you ponder, shamelessly staring between those delectable thighs at what’s all yours. “Maybe a few points. That'll get you a passing grade at best."

"Just a few? What about all the times I've ridden your cock this week alone, professor? And how many times did you cum inside me?"

"I've completely lost track, Yewon. I guess that'll get you at least ten percent higher."

"How generous of you," she retorts, tone all full with playful sarcasm, unbuttoning her white shirt enough so you can see the color of her bra. It's purple, just like the thong in your pocket that serves as a nice trophy. "Are you forgetting how many times I took your thick cock in my ass until you blew your load inside?"

"Does that really count if you beg me to do so every time you step in my office?"

"Oh no, you can't blame me for how much you love my ass, professor. That's at least twenty points."

"That's a little greedy, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not. If anything, I deserve extra for all those times I let you fuck my face," Arin suggests, spreading her legs further apart to give a clearer view of her bare cunt that’s glistening so beautifully, accompanied with a set of fingers teasing herself for your benefit. 

"Again, you're forgetting the part where you keep dropping down to your knees and begging for it."

Arin can't help but smile, both at knowing you're right—and also how you can't take your eyes off the show her fingers put on when she rubs at her clit, getting wet so easily from playing with herself while staring into your eyes. It's the look on your face that drives her crazy and gives her the urge to show off even more, sliding two digits past her swollen lips into her tight hole, so eager to get herself off in front of you. 

"What about now, profess—" she asks before a moan interrupts her words, leaning backwards to prop herself up so you can watch every bit as she fingers herself. "Does this count for anything?"

"It depends. If you can make yourself cum without my help, then maybe, that'll bump up your grade, Yewon."

"Twenty-five. For making myself cum right in your office," she manages between hitched breaths, pumping her fingers deep in and out, almost bucking her hips off the table at her own touch.

"Twenty. You're not there yet, Yewon," you correct, watching Arin roll her head back with her eyes shut, so beautiful when she's in bliss, achingly sexy how her slender fingers disappear knuckle deep into her own cunt. You've barely had any time to recover since emptying your load down her throat just a minute ago, but the mere sight is more than enough to have you as hard as the wooden desk she’s writhing on. 

Arin reaches down to further unbutton her shirt, giving the full glimpse of her breasts covered up in that pretty lace as her tight frame falls back against the cold surface all splayed out. While this shameless girl continues fingering her pussy, you simply enjoy the view, stroking your cock every few seconds to spur her on. Every desperate moan and gasp from her lips gets louder, all that nectar trickling down between her spread thighs you’re dying to lick clean—but you won’t, because she has to do this on her own. 

You let the lack of words exchanged linger in the air while Arin fingers herself a bit rougher, moving a bit more frantic, knowing all the signs from experience that she isn't too far from that much craved release. 

“Professor," Arin breathes out, the quiver in her voice an obvious indication. Her fingers get so drenched, pulling them out from her heat for a moment to reveal how sticky wet they are as she groans, not bothering to hide how she slides them back in to curl right into herself. "Oh god, professor—“ 

When the pleasure becomes too much, when her back arches off the desk with breathless cries, there's no missing the split second Arin's entire body tenses up—thighs quivering, fingers buried so deep you can hear the wetness while she shakes on the desk from the intensity of her orgasm. It's a moment of euphoria that's only reached because you're watching so attentively, eyes glued the entire time as she rides her fingers long past completion, toes curling, moans echoing through your small office.

Even when Arin is finished, she's unable to regain her composure for more than a few ragged breaths, eyes still closed while the bliss hits hard, long after her high. And you savor every second of her looking so beautiful in this post-climax haze, an absolute mess on your desk that you’re thankful hasn't soaked into your papers.

"Fuck, that was too good, professor," Arin murmurs, slowly pulling her fingers out from herself, just to rub her oversensitive clit, borderline crying from the overstimulation. “It’s too bad it wasn’t your cock I came on.” 

"Then maybe I should deduct points for that?"

"Hey, that's not fair… you just told me—I’d get points for making myself cum."

"I did, but—you would have earned extra for waiting for me to do it. Guess you'll just have to earn back those points another way."

"How exactly should I do that, professor?" Arin asks with the best faux ignorance possible, sitting herself up to scoot off the desk, then leaning down to wrap her slick fingers around your shaft. "If you bend me over and pound me with this cock until your cum is leaking inside me, would that be enough?"

"Perhaps. That would certainly help raise your grade some points.” 

"Give it all to me then," she pleads, giving your cock a handful of languid strokes, just enough to leave a nice trail of her slick along the entire length. "Fuck a load into me, professor. Fuck your top student all over this office."

"Top student? Really?" You can't help but laugh at that, knowing full well Arin is certainly anything but. Far from it actually, not even top ten. "Then I better go find her then."

"Hey! Just shut up and give it to me already," Arin says with that pout still intact, keeping these strokes going on your cock that make you throb so easily, and you’re not sure who needs it more at this point. 

"Fine, but not here. I'm tired of this place. Let's go somewhere else."

It's rather late into the afternoon, with the majority of classes for the day having ended already. That leaves enough of the campus vacant, lowering the risk of getting caught wherever you decide to take Arin—but the risk still isn't zero. Wandering around the university after hours isn't the best idea, especially when there are plenty of places for students to hang out, and worse, faculty offices open late.

So you keep it simple. 

You keep several feet ahead of each other, heading up a couple floors to that really small bathroom by the science department that no one ever uses because it doesn't lock properly. There are much bigger and better bathrooms scattered about, so everyone usually forgets this tiny, shabby thing exists, especially late into the day. Not the most romantic spot, but it’s suitable, and keeps you from scouring the halls without having to dodge other faculty and students. 

You enter first, flicking on the light, and do a quick scan around the room while Arin slips in, pulling the door shut as quickly as possible. There's nothing but a toilet, a sink, and a mirror, but most importantly it looks clean, which is the most important thing. It's not that surprising given that nobody really uses it to begin with.

It’s as perfect a place as ever. 

Double checking the lock still doesn't work, nothing has changed on that front. Arin quickly moves to lean against the wall, and she’s already unbuttoning her shirt, all the way this time, to give the full view of those perky breasts without any bra to ruin the view. You're on her in a flash, claiming those lips with a kiss full of nothing but aggression to match just how badly you want to ruin this girl right now.

"Fuck me," Arin urges as she palms your bulge through your pants, impatient to get your cock inside of her. Her fingers fumble with the button to your pants, thoughts clouded with desire, and she’s so eager to release your aching shaft, to give it all the attention it so desperately craves.

You’ve got just a modicum of patience left to not let that happen quite yet.

Instead, with your lips still attached, you pick Arin’s slender frame off the ground, and guide her over to the sink, placing her there as gently as you can. When she settles down on the edge of the counter, there's no hesitation to shove that tiny skirt up past her waist, revealing her absolutely beautiful cunt still left glistening in the aftermath of her orgasm from a moment earlier, and you're just dying to fill her all up. 

Still, somehow you hold back for a moment, to let it all sink in. The sight is divine enough, this privileged student of yours in this rather pathetic excuse for a school uniform, half naked, shirt wide open with her tits fully out, that barely-there skirt, and those sexy thigh highs that bring all the attention to her immaculate thighs that make you want to ruin her even faster. She knows that’s your biggest weakness, knows how weak in the knees they leave you whenever you get to slide them off with your teeth—but now they make her look like pure sin. 

"I know you wanna get that dick in me," she says, voice so sultry, and her thighs spread obscenely wide apart, so that every inch of her mouthwatering cunt is put on display with not a drop of modesty—not like Arin even knows what that word is. 

"Not yet. Haven't gotten to taste you today." As per usual, Arin’s been more than a little greedy, and it feels like she’s had her lips on your cock all day and this is the first opportunity to return the favor. 

Any protest in those pretty eyes doesn't last when her hands wrap around your skull, drawing your face straight between her thighs that you have no trouble diving into. With your lips feasting on her cunt right off the bat, you give Arin all the attention she craves so badly, licking along the length of her slit, all the way up until your tongue starts flicking at her engorged clit. 

"God, so fucking good," Arin breathes out, the silence in the empty bathroom getting cut with all her beautiful moans that ring out. For your efforts, you’re rewarded by her thighs locking around your head, as your lips get a tight seal around her swollen clit that has her grinding that delicious cunt all over your mouth. 

"Professor!" she chokes out, while continuing this harsh grip on the back of your head while you slurp on her clit so mercilessly, every bit hungry to taste all those delicious juices that spill out. "Oh my god, professor, oh fuck!"

Your mouth doesn't quit, because nobody tastes better than Arin. You're an addict, every bit obsessed with this girl's cunt since the first time that you slid between these thighs. There's nothing you love more than this, her taste lingering on your tongue, all while these delicious thighs squeeze around your head, suffocating you perfectly as you eat her out with so much fervor she almost can't handle how good you make her feel.

"My god, Yewon—you taste so fucking delicious," you tell her between long licks, slurping on her clit without restraint to savor every last bit of her soaking cunt. "I can eat your pretty pussy all day. For hours and hours."

"I won't say no to that, professor.” Her desperate hands dig into your scalp to hold your face right there, exactly where she wants, where she needs, gasping when her hips grind down against you. "Fuck, your tongue is so, so good."

This is your favorite part about going down on her, being trapped between those perfect thighs that squeeze and tremble while you sloppily eat her out, drowning in her heavenly aroma and all this nectar, her delicious pussy that tastes even better the longer you indulge. 

It's never enough though, no matter how much time you get to spend with your tongue buried inside her cunt, or how many times she cums all over your face—the taste of her is heaven, and you love turning this girl into nothing more than a whimpering, quivering mess who can’t even think straight. 

"Just like that, professor, fuck, don't stop, oh my god, don't fucking stop, please—“

She whines so freely while grinding down hard against your hungry lips you can hardly breathe. Not that you have any problem about that, because you know exactly where Arin is, can feel those thighs vibrate all around you to know those limits are about to be surpassed, and you don't plan to let up for even a moment.

You ramp up your efforts in devouring her cunt without a moment to rest, your tongue all over her clit, sucking so harshly, so relentlessly, drowning in these delicious juices. It’s obvious how Arin's hips can't stay steady for a second longer, seconds from losing herself entirely. "Professor! Fuck, I'm so fucking close. Keep going, keep—oh fuck, right there, I'm gonna cum so fucking hard, fuck—"

Arin bucks her hips into your face with wild abandon, her juices smearing across your lips when you bring her to the verge of release, until she finally topples over completely. 

Everything goes muffled while she keeps her thighs squeezed tightly around your head, violently trembling throughout her orgasm as you lick her through the entire thing. Like every other time you've brought her over that blissful edge, it's beautiful, turning your face into a mess, and you greedily lap up everything that freely spills into your mouth from her overflowing cunt. 

When those thighs let off and relax, you look up at Arin's blissed out visage, completely enamored in the pleasure, shivering and trembling with a high-pitched squeal as you give her clit one more loud slurp for good measure. Your focus then shifts back to her messy folds, delving deep into them to clean up those juices she's gushing so profusely, a never ending stream of wet, sticky deliciousness. 

"Fuck, your cunt always tastes so amazing," you mutter, lapping at the girl's slick covered thighs, getting out every drop that leaks out with a few soft licks. Arin stays motionless on the counter, looking straight up to the ceiling while her chest heaves, still seeing stars.

After indulging a little while longer, and spending all the time necessary getting those warm thighs mostly clean, there's only one thing left to do. Your mouth pulls away, but only so you can yank your pants down to your ankles, your stiff cock aching to get inside of her. 

"Gonna fucking ruin you, Yewon. Hope you’re ready for me to wreck that tight little cunt."

"When am I not? Please, give it to me already," Arin desperately pleads, pulling herself from her haze to look at the throbbing length you're stroking as her eyes beg you to sink in and fill her up. 

Sitting herself up on the sink, she keeps herself propped up with her hands planted behind her body, spreading her thighs apart as far as possible, with her wet cunt presented so lewdly and invitingly. "Shove that dick right in me, professor. Give it to me as hard as you can."

Without another thought wasted, you slowly guide the swollen tip of your cock past those drenched lower lips, groaning unabashedly when all this slippery warmth welcomes you deep inside. It's far too easy, how you slide into her, walls so dripping with arousal that allow this ache to dissipate when you effortlessly impale Arin all the way, right to the hilt.

"My god, Yewon, fucking love this tight pussy," you groan as her walls clamp down, holding you right inside that delicious grip with no plans to release you. 

She's so soaking wet when you start pounding away inside, each thrust coated in all those messy juices as your cock bottoms out every time. Your deep strokes make full use of her open shirt, causing her modest breasts to bounce as her back hits the mirror with each hard slam. Arin clenches around you with such an unyielding grip as you pump in and out, loving how rough you are, how forceful your hips are, moaning louder and louder, still sensitive from the previous release. 

“And I love being stretched on your huge fucking cock.”

There's not an ounce of mercy in your thrusts, just pure carnal lust taking hold. Her wet folds remain parted, taking the full length of your pounding shaft, every last inch driving into that slick little cunt without restraint. You take advantage of how her legs drape over the sink, grabbing her thighs, spreading them to give you more leverage to angle your thrusts deeper, and she kicks her heels off to give you even more control, allowing you to use her body however you please.

"It feels so good, professor," she says, while each thrust stays rough and deliberate, buried to the hilt in her wetness. "This cock of yours—is so perfect."

"That's because your cunt is made for it," you groan, sweat forming on her skin under your grip as your hips slam against her. It's absolute bliss, watching the way her entire body responds each time you sink in, hearing her soft whines that she’s unable to hold any back while getting fucked so mercilessly over this counter top. "You take my cock so well."

"Of course I do," she insists, the biggest grin on her face that gets interrupted with more moans. "I'm the professor's favorite student, after all."

"But definitely the worst one," you fire back, fingertips digging hard into her bare thighs all wrapped up in these sexy thigh high stockings as they jiggle with every relentless thrust.

"So—how many points is this?" Arin asks, bracing herself against the mirror when you pound into her even harder, every inch of your cock covered in her sweet essence.

"As many as you fucking want, Yewon."

"Then make it a thousand. I can use them on the next assignment, right?"

"Use them on whatever you want, the final exam even. So long as I get to cum inside you."

"Of course, professor. Fill me all the way up. Cum inside me as much as you fucking want," she says, and those tits bounce more hypnotically every time you pick up the pace, slamming deeper with more force each time. After every plunge balls deep, that tightness becomes more overwhelming, urging you to give your all, as if the sight of her all sprawled out and creaming on your cock isn't enough already. 

It's merciless. And your hips start to reach their limit, but Arin's desperate cries of pleasure become so loud, that she has no choice but to muffle herself with her hand, almost forgetting that this seldom used bathroom is still right by the science lab—and anyone could be lingering around. 

"Fucking fill me, professor. Empty your balls. Just keep—oh god, fuck, fuck," Arin whimpers, the limits of her body creeping up fast as your cock pistons so harshly in and out of her hot cunt. "Wanna milk every last drop right out of you, make you cum so fucking hard."

"Only if you’re good and cum on this cock, Yewon. Cum all over me, and I'll fucking fill this cunt up."

"Yes, god, yes," she says, practically falling back against the mirror while you brutally hammer into her at full force. She barely keeps the coherence when it all peaks, when you feel those impossibly tight walls clenching around your cock, borderline painful, forcing you to use every ounce of strength to not burst inside her just yet. 

"Fuck, professor, this dick is so amazing—I'm gonna cum all over it, all over your fucking huge cock," Arin says as her pussy squeezes the life out of your cock with every impale in that wet, intoxicating heat. A flood of her fluids almost forces you out, an absolute mess that drowns your shaft in slick rips through her body without any care, and all you can do is fuck her through it. 

Even when her orgasm subsides, and she somehow becomes tighter, wetter, easier to sink into, you don't show any remorse while fucking her tight pussy until you can't possibly hold on any further. 

"You're close, aren't you, professor?" Arin gasps between collecting her breath as the pleasure begins to fade, watching the struggle you're going through to hold it back. "I know you are. Please, let me have all that cum. Blow your fucking load in me, let it all out." 

That's all you need to be shoved straight over the edge, taking a few final strokes before that pressure builds up to a boiling point, and nothing’s going to stop you when you’re about to burst. “Yewon—“ 

Her name barely escapes before you’re throbbing, letting out all types of lustful grunts while her pussy smothers you in  warmth, offering the best place for such a messy release of seed that shoots out, coating her insides the way she begs for. 

Your cock violently pulsates until you’re left with nothing but orgasmic relief, unloading shot after shot deep inside Arin with the thickest spurts imaginable that empty into her warm little pussy. These tight, tight walls take every drop, welcoming such a huge load that’s even somehow stronger than what her mouth did to you earlier.  

There’s no way you could do anything else with how delicious she looks on this bathroom counter. With whatever remnants of energy are left, you use all the power in your hips until they lose steam, remaining inside her euphoric cunt that refuses to relinquish you. You ride out wave after wave, each spasm pumping more cum into her, all this intoxicating bliss that feels like it’ll never end. 

And truly, both of you wish it never would. 

“Professor…” Arin can barely speak between breaths, riding this collective high that fills the room with heavy panting, and sweat glistens on whatever bare skin her revealing outfit offers. You’re right there with her, caressing her thighs, her messy cunt wringing out as much out of you as possible, like it doesn’t want your cock to escape, even after your entire load is buried inside that delicious warmth. 

“Came so hard on you, professor, fuck... I love the way your cum feels when you push it deeper, all the way into my womb. Wanna keep it all here until you’re ready for round two.” 

"You're fucking insatiable, Yewon," you sigh, dropping Arin's legs back onto the counter, which relinquishes the intense grip you’ve held, allowing her body a chance to relax. When your breathing returns to something somewhat stable, you lean over to give her a tired kiss, one that’s easily returned with whatever remaining energy she has. 

“Can you blame me when your dick is this good? It’s only your fault I turned into such a greedy little cumslut.” 

“Or maybe you were already like that before I even met you…"

"Yeah. Maybe."

Arin looks away as she starts to giggle, giving you a perfect chance to kiss that exposed cheek. When she glances back, you share an impossibly long stare, one that goes on far too long without words until you lean in for another kiss—

One that gets interrupted by a knock at the door. 

"Hello? Is anyone there? Custodial services, I'm here to clean up." 

You must have angered some kind of god for this to happen two times in one day. Even worse, there’s no easy way out of this while you're still buried inside Arin, the least of your concerns as this creamy mess threatens to spill out. 

"I, uh—need a moment. Spilled something on my shirt that won't come out. Be out in a bit," you blurt out, barely thinking while you look around at the poor bathroom that's been defiled. Arin can't help herself, covering her mouth to help from not immediately bursting into laughter as she fumbles to button back up her shirt. 

“You’re such a bad liar,” Arin whispers, but you just roll your eyes at her, glancing over the sweat on her body that you’d no doubt be licking clean were the two of you not nervously waiting to see if this unfamiliar man outside will buy your story.

"No problem, sir. Take your time, I'll be back after.” The janitor shuffles his feet, and you listen carefully, wondering just how obvious the two of you were being. When you can no longer hear footsteps, you release the longest sigh, and slowly pull out of Arin, along with an utterly unreal amount of hot semen that spills out. 

"Can't believe he bought that," Arin sighs while hopping off the counter, where more of your cum gushes out as soon as she stands up. "Can't believe you came so much inside me, either."

"If I recall, you were quite literally begging me not to stop."

"No need to be smug about it, professor."

Arin does her best to look presentable in the mirror and fix her disheveled hair, shirt only half buttoned, and skirt a complete mess, but it all seems so futile. There's no real way to hide how she looks after getting railed over the sink relentlessly, or the cum still dripping all over her thighs that she doesn't even bother to clean up. 

"We should get out of here before he comes back," Arin says after giving her appearance a once-over, making any minor adjustment to try and fix how ruined she looks. "Shall I leave first, professor?"

The question has only one obvious answer, but you still can't form your lips properly to speak it. "Not so fast, Miss Choi."

"Oh? Am I forgetting something?" Arin asks while running fingers through her hair again. You step towards her, pressing into her back to wrap your arms around her tiny frame before planting a kiss on the side of her neck.

"Yeah—me. You're not leaving this room without me."

You notice her grin in the mirror as your lips graze her skin again, nipping right on that sensitive spot that makes her gasp. 

"Don't tell me you're wanting to go again. After we almost got caught. Again—"

"No, not yet," you say between kisses, drawing closer and closer up her neck. "Need a little bit more rest for that."

"You poor thing. Did my pussy wear you out that much, professor?"

"You can barely stand upright as it is," you retort, taking your mouth away from her neck for a moment. Arin stifles a laugh that turns into a moan when your hand creeps up her skirt to touch her dripping folds still leaking your cum. "You need this a lot more than I do."

"Is that so? Well—fuck," Arin moans, unable to hide her body betraying her words as she grips the edge of the counter when two of your fingers slide into her without warning, pushing a mixture of her nectar and the load you pumped inside deep into her messy cunt. 

"It's too bad I can't continue this," you say, and withdraw those fingers from Arin's clenching pussy that so desperately tries to keep them in to no avail. "Let's get out of here. But you're not leaving my side."

"If you insist, professor." Arin has no further words, fixing up her skirt while so much thick seed oozes beneath. "But isn't it a little risky to leave together?"

"Probably. But besides, even if somebody does see us, so what? There's not much they can do about it even if they can already tell what just happened. And what are you always saying—how much you love the risk?"

"Guess I'm rubbing off on you, hmm?"

"Not a chance, Miss Choi," you correct, causing that grin across her face to grow wider. "I'm just tired of sneaking around so much."

"Me too, professor." 

You turn to leave, opening the bathroom door to poke your head around the corner. Luckily, there doesn't seem to be anyone around, only a couple of students you don't recognize standing nearby chatting, paying no mind as you and Arin sneak out successfully together.

“Where are we headed?” asks Arin as she settles in right next to you, something that's going to take getting used to. 

"Dunno. Cafeteria is still open. Guess we can head there first."

"Not if it's still raining. It's a bit of a trek, isn't it?" 

"My car's right out front. And if we so happen to take a little detour..." 

"Now who's being insatiable, professor?" she asks, with this little teasing giggle in her voice. 

“What? Who said I planned on doing anything with you other than grabbing some dinner? You know, I don't think you've had anything in your mouth today but my—"

"Professor!" Arin's not used to your conversation being this open, or being on the opposite side of being so flustered. "Save it for when we're not outside! Or better, the back seat. With the doors locked, preferably."

"As you wish, Miss Choi. Besides, but there's nothing I rather eat than your—"

She desperately covers your mouth to stop any further words from escaping as you head to the parking lot, surprised to see there's nothing but abundant sunshine now. Even more surprising is the fact nobody looks twice as the two of you walk together. Maybe it's luck, or maybe everybody here knows damn well what happens on campus between you two. 

And maybe you'll stop sneaking around campus every day, finding just enough time to spend the last half of your lunch hour buried between Arin’s thighs while she tries to hold her moans. 

But maybe you won't. 

#kpop smut #reader insert #arin smut #oh my girl smut #girl group smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #kpop fanfiction

[dearly-somber]

hyunga’s sleeping | l.mh

-> pairing. idol!minho x non-idol!reader (f)

-> genre. Established relationship, domestic fluff.

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1101

-> warnings. None!

-> a/n. This was fueled by pure, unadulterated Minho & Soon-Doong-Dori (SDD) brainrot.

-> skz drabble, oneshot & series m.list

-> started. Feb. 23rd, 2024 @ 16:51

-> fin. Fri., Mar. 1st, 2024 @ 19:40

-> edited. Sat. Mar. 2nd, 2024 @ 15:40

-> divider credit. @plum98

“Eomoni!”

“Y/N, darling, come in!”

Minho’s mom wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling you inside with a big smile on her face. She waves you off as you slip out of your shoes and into a pair of bright pink Hello Kitty slippers Minho bought for you as a joke years ago, forcefully prying the bag of goodies you bought on your way here from your fingers.

“I hope I’m not intruding—?”

“Hush!” Mrs. Lee chides with a smile, “Stop worrying so much.” Her hand hovers by the small of your back, guiding you up the last step into the living room.

“Is Minho here? He said he was coming home today…”

“Yes, he’s here. He’s in his room.” Minho’s mom sets the plastic bag on the counter, and you naturally go to help her unpack what you bought, shelving things like you live here.

“I—hello, abeonim.” You bow at Mr. Lee, closing your eyes contentedly when he comes around the counter to give you a fatherly side-hug that squishes you against him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, ruffling your hair as he lets you go in favor of helping his wife unpack.

You shrug, walking around to the other side of the counter. “Thought I’d pop in to say hi. I missed the kittens very much.”

Mr. Lee laughs, shaking his head at you. “Of course, the kittens.” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

You can’t help the grin tugging at your mouth, clearing your throat to speak. “Speaking of, where are the babies? I haven’t seen any of them since I got here.”

“Last time I checked they were all with Minho in his room,” his mom says, putting away the bottle of red wine you bought for dinner later tonight.

“Great! I can kill two birds with one stone.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

She snickers at you, shooing you away with a fond smile. “Go say hi and then come sit with us—we found a documentary we thought you’d like.”

“Okay, eomoni.” You smile at her and hope your pure love and adoration for her isn’t written too clearly on your face, afraid she might tease you. You walk with light steps in the direction of Minho’s room, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

“Minho-ssi,” you sing-song, rounding the corner with a light and airy step-a-step you’re pretty sure you saw somewhere in Thunderous’s choreography.

Mreow?

“Doong-Doong-ah?” Your lips jut out in a surprised pout, looking down at the talkative orange tabby with a tiny furrow in your brow. Following the lump of white sheets behind him, you finally make out Minho’s all-black clad body hidden under all the fluff.

You smile.

“Is hyunga sleeping?” you whisper, walking over on the tips of your toes before crouching in front of Doongie, scratching behind his ears with a soft smile. He mrews, his eyes fluttering closed as he leans his head into your hand. To your right, Dori hugs what you think is a bottle of lotion between his white socked-paws, his tail flicking with each nibble he delivers to the hard plastic.

You let your hand wander over Dori’s side and chide him with a half-hearted hiss when he clamps his teeth around your knuckles, shaking it off with a smile when he pauses a second before giving your hand a couple of licks.

You give his side one last pat before walking around Minho’s feet, only noticing Soonie as he’s cuddling into your boyfriend’s duveted stomach.

You can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips, crouching next to the sleeping cats to card your fingers through Soonie’s fur, feeling a familiar sense of pride swell in your chest at his appreciative purr.

And then you’re looking up at Lee Minho, your body tingling all over at the serenity on your sleeping beauty’s face, unable to help but reach out and let your hand run over his hair; a little frizzy at the ends but otherwise straight; he must not have been sleeping for very long.

You drag your hand over Minho’s head with an inexplicable softness constricting your throat, wishing you could lean down and kiss him without running the risk of waking him up.

You jump a little when Minho lets out an adorable grunt as he slowly pries his eyes open.

“Jagi?” he mumbles.

“Did I wake you?” you coo, combing your fingers through his fringe.

“Mmm.”

You chuckle, letting the pads of your fingers brush over his forehead, over his eyelids. “Ever the truthman.”

“Truthman?” he grumbles, bringing a hand up to loosely hold your wrist between his fingers.

“When did you get home?” You let your hand wander over his cheek.

“A few hours ago…”

“From practice?”

He guides the palm of your hand against his lips. “Mmm...”

He kisses your hand, turning onto his back (much to Soonie’s dismay) and throwing the duvet around his hips before tugging on your arm with surprising strength.

You yelp, practically falling on top of him. He lets out a back-of-the-throat kind of giggle that sends tingles down your arms, using his hands on your hips to shift you higher up his abdomen.

Minho lets out a satisfied hum-sigh against the top of your head, his fingers massaging the skin at your waist before hooking his fingers under the waistband of your trousers, letting the elastic keep his hands in place.

“Baby,” you say, softly—knowing his parents are waiting for you downstairs but feeling so tempted to sink into his warmth and stay there until the end of days.

“No,” he huffs, nuzzling your temple. “Lay with me for a bit.”

You can’t help but laugh, subtly shaking your head. Of course he knows. “Okay, but only for a minute. Your mom invited me downstairs to watch a—“

“Shh, jagi, I’m trying to sleep.”

———

“Y/N, sweetheart, we’re—“

Mrs. Lee stops in her tracks, right outside Minho’s room. The sight she comes across brings an immediate smile to her face, and she can’t help but take her phone out and snap a picture to give to her son later:

Minho, his arms wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, legs intertwined. And surrounding you, Soonie, Doongie and Dori; the youngest of the trio laying by his hyung’s head. Doongie lays by your feet, and Soonie sleeps just off to the side, his legs stretched out in front of him.

As she sits back down with her husband, Mrs. Lee can’t help but think: she can’t wait for the day Minho asks for her mother’s ring.

#skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fic #skz scenarios #skz fluff #lee minho x reader #lee minho fluff #lee minho scenarios #lee minho fic #lee minho imagines #lee know x reader #lee know scenarios #lee know fluff #lee know imagines #ao3 #archive of our own #kpop fic #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #skz smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut

[majorblinks]

DOWNRIGHT ICONIC (aespa karina)

(smut, male reader, screenwriter you, stranger karina, public sex, rough sex [choking/slapping/biting/spanking/hair-pulling etc], oral, anal, facefucking, titfucking, facial, bondage, degradation, name-calling, other weird stuff, 26k words, it's been 1 million years..., BUT WE'RE SO BACK BABY <3)

Hey, turns out the critics really are onto something:

You’re going to win an Oscar for this.

You aren’t surprised when the nominations are announced. It’s all anyone’s been talking about. You’re this up-and-coming screenwriter, this newly-minted visionary, and - cue the applause - you’ve just made the movie of the year. Clips go viral everywhere; the reviews are calling it extraordinary. They all want to know how you - a relative nobody - managed to pull it off. What’s your secret? What’s your inspiration? Where’d you get this billion-dollar box office idea? 

And here’s one version of the truth:

“Well,” you’re quoted saying in every single interview: “honestly, it’s about a girl.”

Everyone eats this up, of course. It’s so fucking romantic.

You’ll tell an abridged version of this story for the rest of your life. A blip in time in early January - a certified slow-motion movie moment. You’ll say things like she was the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You’ll say things like, I know it sounds lame, but that’s how it went. She took my breath away. She fascinated me. I saw her and I don’t think my life has ever been the same. 

You’ll never once say her name. 

“It’s weird, actually,” you’ll say in an interview after the news of the nominations drops. “Making this movie about her. She’ll last forever there, you know? She’ll always exist in this film, in this one moment in time. She’s in all of it, basically - every scene, every line. It’s all her.”

“You make it sound like she’s dead,” the interviewer will say, all open-mouthed melodrama.

You’ll laugh. “Oh, God, no,” you’ll say. “She’s alive and well.” As if it hasn’t been years since you last saw her face, watching you from down the corridor, looking lost and torn apart and very, very small. “She’s okay. I mean - I think - yeah, she’s okay.”

As if you’d know. 

Because here’s another version of the truth:

You’re going to win an Oscar for this. You’re going to stand up on that stage and thank your family and your friends. You’re going to stare at all those faces until they swim together into one golden, glittering blur, and then all you’ll see is her - her dark eyes, her glossy hair, her wrist in your grip, her throat between your fingers - her in your sheets, her smiling in your doorway, her shivering in your shower, her sobbing into her hands, her bleeding in your bed, her walking away. Her, her, her. Immortalized forever in this perfect thing you made, winning awards off the reconstruction of a memory. Art imitating life; reality warped into something magnificent, and beautiful, and better. 

And the only thing you’ll feel like doing is throwing up. 

Sure, you’ll bask for decades in the thrill of it: the fame, the fortune, the glory; the adoration, the worship, the attention; the eternal, endless love. You’ll be able to look back on your life when you’re decrepit on your deathbed and know that you - brilliant you, utterly superior you - were divinely blessed with earth-shattering success, and no one will ever be able to take that away from you. You made your mark. You meant something. You were the best, for fuck’s sake, and you have the accolades to prove it - you really, really were. 

So here’s the full truth - the final bottom line:

You’re going to win an Oscar for this. You’ll live the kind of life people beg God for. You’ll get everything you ever wanted. 

It won’t be worth it at all. 

-

First, though, there’s this. 

-

Disturbingly enough, you’re in the romance section of a bookstore when everything starts. 

This is really not your genre - that’s the funniest part. Historically, you’re bored to death by the cartoonish pastel covers; you don’t get your kicks from seeing the same delightfully quirky heroines fall for brooding bad boys, or whatever the fuck goes on in those books. You have your standards. You prefer your art a little gritty, a little fucked up, a little more interesting - the kind of thing that can leave you shellshocked in a movie theater, overcome with the sort of full-body, lightning-struck epiphany only truly good work can manage. It’s not a judgment call - you’re not trying to be pretentious. It’s just that you prefer something with some fucking bite.

The second funniest part is this: 

You’re pressed against the shelves, surrounded by the cutest, chastest love stories ever told-

“Are you serious?” 

-and Karina’s on her knees, about to take your cock down her throat. 

Maybe this is what your contemporaries call cinematic irony.

That’s gotta be the only phrase for it, really. The scene itself dripping with classless, crude, erotic filth - the way she ducks her chin to spit on her hand, the slow pump of her fist around you, the rough hum in her mouth at how achingly hard you are - nasty and irredeemable, too fast and too loud. The gross lack of subtlety in her sex appeal: all pale thighs and porn-star tits, the wet pink flash of tongue. Seductive in a way that screams at you. It’d be so easy to write this off as some deliberately controversial opening scene, gory shock value, horror-film suspense - starring you and the slut you’re about to ravage and ruin and potentially leave for dead. 

“Baby - are you sure?” 

It’d be so easy, if Karina didn’t look like an angel incarnate.

“I mean, you-” You’re stammering. You’ve got both hands in her hair, fingers sliding through the glossy black in petting, soothing motions - your clumsy attempt at reassurance. “You don’t have to, if you don’t - we’re in public - I’m not expecting you to - I don’t need it-” 

Karina’s fine, sculpted eyebrows twitch upwards. Her lips are a twist of scarlet, distinct and amused. She doesn’t quite smirk, doesn’t give a voice to the sarcasm, but the sentiment is the same - yeah, right. 

And then she lowers her mouth to lick. 

“Jesus fucking Christ-” 

Scratch that, then. This is the funniest part. The most inhumanly beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, debasing herself in public like some sort of desperate common whore - come on, bring in the laugh track. 

Not that anyone’s laughing now. 

You’re no poet - they’re a few sections over, Plath and Yeats and Dickinson - but Karina’s the kind of thing that makes you understand the motivation completely: only capable of being captured in metaphor, without context, painstakingly interpreted hundreds of years from now by people who will never get this right. All carved-out cheekbones, fluttering lashes; tight fuckable body clad in a little low-cut dress, feet tucked neatly behind her like she’s simulating worship. Dirty and religiously devoted in how she stretches her full glossed lips around your cock and lets your grip tangle in her hair and- 

“Karina,” you get out, but her only response is to blink sweetly up at you and suck. 

Well, who gives a shit about the poets, anyway? You doubt any of them ever got to fuck a mouth like this. 

There’s an unfamiliar caution to the rut of your hips, a wincing fascination every time she gags - and she gags loud, choking and heaving, saliva dripping slick around you and down her chin - that seems to both entertain and confuse Karina. A skeptical crease in her forehead, saying everything she can’t: you don’t wanna fuck me up? Ruin me? Cloudy spit falling in strands to her tits, seeping into the crimson fabric of her dress; she’s wearing a worn black sweatshirt that’s slipping off one shoulder, exposing the clean line of her collarbone. The hollow of her cheeks, the obscene painful sound of your cock clogging her throat - it’s subtext, explicit suggestion. A preternatural understanding. I know what this is. I know what you want from me. 

Which - she couldn’t possibly. 

“Baby.” You sound so wretched that it’s humiliating. Karina’s sharply lined eyes seem to flash with humor, smug and lazily self-satisfied. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum.” 

The thick, sloppy, choked noise she makes is the closest she’s gonna get to a laugh. 

Oh, sure, whatever, it’s not like you’re not thinking about it: digging your fingertips into her scalp and really fucking her face, relishing in the way those eyes would go wide and glassy with unshed tears; refusing to let her have control, to let her lick and lap and breathe. You’re scripting it in your head already. You’d strip her bare and make her sob. You’d wreck her throat and cum all over her face and force her to walk out like that: coated in the sticky, filthy evidence of everything you’ve made her - look at this, you’d say, look at what I have. Look at what I did - all this, all me. 

“God.” Your thumb braces against Karina’s temple, like the gentle stroke of a brush, like you’re painting her right into existence. “You’re just-” A harsh gag; a fall of dirty, drooling spit. “You’re really enjoying this, huh? Getting on your knees in public for a fucking stranger?” 

That’s why the fantasy of fucking her into brutal submission is actually so understandable. You don’t know her. You don’t owe her shit. You could destroy her and it’s not like she could do anything to fight back - not when she’s already below you, looking up. When she asked for this. 

Except-

“Karina.” You can’t stop saying her name. “You’re - fucking perfect.” 

And it’s true.

So you cum. 

Karina swallows it all with the same amount of sultry grace she seems to do everything - how she laughs and walks and talks and takes your cock like a fucking professional - languishing in the practiced bob of her throat, the preening flicker of her eyelids, her face shiny and pale. It tugs the same feeling out of you as a flawless shot in a film, a well-timed bit of dialogue: watching an expert at work, pulling out all their stops. One hand through her hair. Her nails the same rich color as her mouth and her dress. Nasty, slutty, impressive attention to detail - Christ, get this girl in front of a camera, get the moon to be her limelight - you’re breathless, you’re enthralled, you’re so fucking far gone. 

Then: the sticky retreating glide of her pouty mouth, lipstick smeared badly down her chin, stark and arresting as blood. 

“In my experience,” Karina says, finally, “being perfect’s never gotten me anywhere good.” 

She pulls the sleeve of her sweatshirt up and wipes her face with her wrist. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, dizzy.

“Thank you,” Karina says, sweet like she means it, and sits back on her heels. 

You can’t help yourself; you’re petting back her hair again, cupping her face softly in your hand, caught on the dark glint of her irises. Angel was an understatement. She looks more than that - looks like something holy and all-powerful, something omniscient and blindingly beautiful, something who knows exactly what you need and knows exactly how to follow through. Something worthy of mythology. Something like a god.

And any sort of rough, ruthless, fucked-up fantasy - it’s never going to happen. 

You just can’t ruin a girl like her. 

“So?” Karina’s voice is a smoky bombshell lilt, like she’s just stepped out of some film noir from the 1950s. Hands folded primly in her lap, fingers interlocked like a lady. She could be a pop culture icon, an eternal sex symbol - a Marilyn, a Bond girl, a timeless universal beauty. “What now?” 

You think your brain actually short-circuits. “Sorry?” 

Head tilted, lids dropped low. Smirk still sharp and scarlet. “Are you gonna take me home?” 

You open your mouth to respond, but then a customer walks by the aisle. 

You’re a panicked flurry of motion - zipping up your pants, turning away, frantically patting down your clothes - but Karina just stays kneeling on the floor, little chin on an incline, utterly incriminating. It doesn’t matter. The customer passes you by. The world returns to the way it should be: just the two of you.

“Karina,” you say, flabbergasted by her composure. 

Karina’s lips quirk. “What?” 

You shake your head and offer your hand to help her up, but Karina laughs instead - actually laughs. It’s peculiar, beautiful: raspy like a chronic chainsmoker, as though there’s something foreign she’s trying to dislodge. The raw, gravelly aftermath of a skinned knee, a grisly scrape over skin. 

“Wow,” she says, and stands all on her own, tugs the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her fingers. “That’s a yes to taking me home, then?” 

“What are you doing?” You’re laughing too - you can’t help it - reaching for Karina’s tiny waist to pull her in. “What are you - what do you want?” 

When Karina smiles, it seems to set her eyes aflame. Bright and dancing, lashes like a shroud of smoke. “What do you mean?” 

“You just met me.” It sounds feeble, somehow: a thin, useless excuse. Nothing against the way her body slots between your hands, a smooth effortless fit; nothing compared to how she kisses you between sentences, so quick and easy it already feels like a habit. “You don’t - you don’t know me.” 

Karina’s mouth puckers, coy. “No?” 

“No,” you shoot back, grinning, but it doesn’t sound convincing at all. “Come on, baby, seriously. What do you want?” 

There’s gotta be some motive, you’re thinking. There’s gotta be a reason. Karina is so still, so soft and pliant under your hands, all the carved porcelain perfection of a marble sculpture but with none of the cold stiffness. Spine curving under your fingertips, jaw tilting into your touch. 

A complete stranger, maybe - but every part of her body is begging to be known. 

“Don’t you get it?” Karina says. “I want whatever you want.” 

It’s so simple and earnest it takes your breath away. 

“I - Jesus.” You’re biting on the inside of your cheek, drinking her in. “What if I told you I don’t know what I want?”

Another rasp of a laugh, sound like the serrated edge of a blade. “I’d say fine, okay.” Karina’s voice is low, conspiratorial. “But I’d think you’re lying.” 

And here’s the thing you know for sure:

The very second you saw Karina you swear you saw the next hundred pages of a manuscript unfurling in front of you, lines and themes and gorgeous dark-eyed heroines, tragically beautiful endings and stunning cinematography - infinite narratives in the glossy sweep of her hair, in the seductive stretch of her legs, in the way she looked at you in a crowded room and smiled a lovely, secret smile and told you she’d follow you anywhere. She’s worth making art about. She’s worth devoting lifetimes to. The most honest thing you could say to her right now is baby, I’m writing a movie about this one day, and I think you’re really gonna like it.

Karina couldn’t possibly know any of this, but it still feels like she does - impractical knowledge in how she loops one arm around your neck and kisses you again, no hesitation. Like she actually knows you. 

“I want to fuck you,” you murmur against her mouth, because it’s the next most honest thing. “Is that enough for you?”

You’re a screenwriter. You know your horror movies. A small part of you recognizes that this is precisely how they start: fanged vampires, wicked succubi, femme fatales out for blood. Karina’s so gorgeous she can’t be human - teeth so sharp there’s no way her intentions are pure.

“Sure,” Karina says, smirk glimmering like starlight. “Then I want that, too.” 

It’s a murder plot waiting to happen. 

You take her home anyway. 

-

(Oh, and about your Oscar-winning script-

In theory, this is how it begins.

It’s classic. There’s a stranger and there’s a beautiful girl and they’re both sitting at a bar, talking for the very first time. The girl has a rose tucked behind her ear; it matches the crimson color of her lipstick perfectly. The stranger had asked her what the deal with it was, but she’d said something vague and nonsensical about it being a gift, so now they’re talking about normal, average things. Jobs, names, flirtatious pickup lines. It’s obvious because it’s meant to be, like a set-up to some predictable porn - everyone watching knows they’re going to fuck. 

She keeps getting closer to him. At one point he thinks she’s going in for a kiss.

Instead, all she does is pluck the rose from behind her ear, and hand it to him. 

It’s okay, she says. No thorns. 

He stares at the rich furled petals and the whittled-down stem. 

Thanks, he says, amused, charmed. He thinks there’s something odd about her. He likes it, though; if she were as beautiful as she is - which is very beautiful, exquisitely fucking beautiful - and she behaved like most people do, he’d find her terribly boring. 

He takes it from her. Turns over the rose in his hands absentmindedly as she keeps talking. She’s got all this hair: wild and glossy black, pouring over her thin shoulders, her ribs, her tiny waist. After a moment he feels the sharp prick of a thorn against his fingertip and releases the rose in surprise. 

You said there weren’t thorns, he tells her, laughing. Ow. 

Whoops, she says. Then: Did it get me too? 

She turns her head, pulls her hair out of the way. There’s a scarlet bead of blood trickling down the side of her perfect pale neck. He can’t quite tell where the point of entry was, where the thorn had dug in and broken skin. It’s bleeding a bit too heavily. Covering its tracks. 

She swivels, slightly. She sees the look on his face. Is it bad? she asks.

No, he says, though he can’t really tell. But - couldn’t you feel it, though? The thorn? 

The girl presses her hand to the side of her throat. It comes back bloodstained, a neat smear of red along the lifeline of her palm. 

No, she echoes, though this can’t possibly be true. Hey, you wanna get out of here or something? 

Alright, he says, smiling. They both stand. They leave the rose where it is. Let’s go. 

He cups her cheek instead of her neck when he kisses her for the first time, so he doesn’t have her blood on his hands.

It starts simple like that.) 

-

Karina’s so out of place in your apartment that it’s almost laughable - or it would be, if you were capable of thinking about anything but her mouth and her hands and her tits crushed up against your chest as you pin her to the doorframe. She keeps making these little sounds into your mouth: low and throaty, almost agonized. You swallow all her moans off her lips - oh, baby, you’re okay - and you only kiss her harder. She doesn’t belong, among your carpet worn-down from pacing and your laptop still open and idling and the mess of incoherent colorful post-it notes pasted to your fridge. She doesn’t fit here. Here kissing your mouth, here in your arms, here on fucking earth with the rest of you heathens-

“You wanna fuck me so bad,” murmurs Karina, chin on an incline, staring up at you, “then do it already.” 

She doesn’t squirm or fidget; she doesn’t get needy or start begging. She stays pinned down by your body, lips parted, and stands completely still. 

It’s like she’s telling you to make your move. Waiting for something inevitable. 

“What happened to patience?” you say, anyway. 

Karina’s mouth curls. She palms your cock through your pants. “What the fuck is that?”

You try to laugh, breathless and turned on, but all she does is kiss you again.

You’re a creative - you’re ready to attribute meaning to every movement - but there’s nothing so profound about it when you get Karina on your bed, all that thick black hair fanned out on your sheets, her hands grasping to get your shirt off - off, she murmurs, off. Even that comes out measured. She never shakes. She’s so sure. You kiss her everywhere you can reach, her face and her neck and her collarbone and her tits, drunk on the soft, humming sounds she makes when you do. You’re so fucking gorgeous, you can’t stop saying, and Karina keeps laughing that same raspy laugh, like it’s the most hilarious thing she’s ever heard. 

“You told me you already know that, right?” You’ve got her face cupped in one of your hands and your other one at the neckline of her scarlet dress. “So what’s so funny?” 

“Everything.” Her teeth glint the way fangs would, a deliberate trick of the light. She’d be villainous if she weren’t so content to be trapped underneath you. “All of it.” She presses her palm to the side of your neck. “You’re too nice.” 

“Fuck.” Your thumb accidentally digs too hard into her cheek. She doesn’t wince, but you feel it - the stomach-turning thrill, the possibility of leaving a bruise. Your hand drops low - lower, down her throat and her tits and her flat midriff - and slips between her thighs, up her dress. It feels safer, somehow. “How do you manage to make the word nice sound like an insult?” 

“It’s not,” she says, simply, and spreads her legs. 

And it must not be - because Karina’s so wet. 

She makes another low velvety sound when you first touch her, seems to melt into the stretch of your finger in her cunt - just one finger, and her back arches faintly, prettily, hips lifting to take more. “Jesus,” you mutter, but Karina’s not looking at you: her eyes are shut tight, lashes fluttering black, tits heaving in her dress with each draw of breath. You’ve fucked girls who’ve seemed unsure of themselves - embarrassed by their own wantonness, how wet they are, how bad they want it - but all Karina does is wrap her hand around your wrist and tug, once: a clear soundless plea for more.

For a second you’re actually, positively certain that you’ve lost it. 

It’s abject fantasy. It can’t be real. You in your apartment with the dream girl - the personal Aphrodite - the muse; God, if anyone was ever made to be a fucking muse, it’s her - underneath you with her ridiculous tits and her tight little pussy, face like a Hollywood dream. Ludicrous. Impossible. Bucking as she tries to fuck herself deeper on your fingers, all the way to the knuckle - slowing down only to say you wanna fuck my cunt open with your big fat cock or what? 

“I,” you try to say, strangled - her mouth’s so fucking filthy. “I was - I mean - we could take it slow-”

“How romantic,” says Karina - and this, too, sounds like a heinous insult coming from her - but she drags your wrist to her lips and sucks her own slick off your hand anyway. 

You choke on your next breath. “Karina-” 

She looks up at you, unflinching, tits half out of her dress and cunt dripping down her thighs. Lipstick worn-down, kissed-off. All over your mouth, or your throat, or your shirt. Mouth chapped from the cold and stained marvelously pink. There’s something in the way her smile forms slight and crooked every time you say her name, as if there’s some private joke you’re not in on. 

“You’re such a gentleman,” Karina purrs, all syrupy-sweet condescension. Then: “You really don’t have to be.” 

She licks the pad of your finger. She’s so completely shameless. You feel monstrous on top of her, in this sick, superior way, like she’s just too small to be so sopping wet and slutty and fuckable - too beautiful to be anything but treated just right. 

“If you want me to fuck you like a whore, baby,” you tell her, half-joking, “then just say that.” 

It’s a mistake the moment it leaves your mouth - a line crossed. Because all Karina does is cock her head, your wrist gripped delicately in her hand, her legs parted underneath you, and stares. Almost droll, bemused. Like you’re so goddamn predictable.  

“Didn’t you hear me?” That perfect face sears right through you. You’d nearly fucked that face. Not quite. Not yet. “I want whatever you want.” 

She’s even tinier than you originally thought she was. You only realize this now, tracing her stomach under your fingertips, feeling the sharp relief of each rib straining beneath her skin. You don’t know it until you touch her, but you can span the width of her thigh under one hand. It sends a strange shiver through you: mapping every jut of bone, every startling edge. She’s tiny. Breakable, practically. Men meaner than you have probably thrown her around, fucked her up against walls, used her like a toy. 

“So,” says Karina. “What do you want?” 

Your fist clenches tight in her grasp, right in front of her face, knuckles going horrifically white.

Like you - like you’re going to-

An accident. A primal sort of gesture, like you’re less than human, turned under her touch into some feral hot-blooded animal who can’t control itself: carnivorous, predatory. You stare at your own hand and then the sharp scythelike curve of her mouth and feel revolted embarrassment crawl straight up your spine. 

It’s abhorrent. 

It also doesn’t even seem to matter.

Karina doesn’t go wide-eyed and nervous; she doesn’t look at your wound fist like she’s scared of what it could do to her. She clicks her tongue, once. Like this, too, is something she already saw coming.

“I thought so,” she says, anyway. Maybe this is it, what does it for her; looking the devil full in the face and begging to be burned. “Then do it.” 

“I can’t do that to you,” you mutter, but you tug her dress up, and you fuck her anyway. 

-

She’s a stranger. This is the point of fucking strangers. To do things to them that you’d never do to anyone else - to take out your worst impulses and tell your best lies and know that none of it matters, in the end. Because they’re nobody, and because you’ll never see them again. 

But you just can’t. 

She’s too indulgent and stunning and soft, with her low moans and the addicting drenched heat of her cunt, hand gentle and careful on the nape of your neck so she can keep pulling you into a kiss. She’s made up of curves, delicate edges - those hips and those tits you can’t keep your hands off of and her lips in a dreamy smile - and you find yourself stroking her hair back from her face so you can drink it all in: the blush in her cheeks, the almost serene way she lets her eyes slip shut and her mouth drop open, slack and enticingly wet. So good, baby, you keep telling her, because she is, her entire body warm and wanting and so easily fucked open, little pussy swallowing your cock right up. She doesn’t fidget or plead. She’s so sweet, such a perfect fit, humming into your mouth as your cock eases her open; so wet you can hear it, the sloppy squelch of her cunt when you bottom out. Your voice comes out coaxing. You like that? That feel good? Taking my cock so nicely, huh?

“Mmm,” Karina breathes, in an exhilarating moan, right into your mouth, against your tongue. “Mm, mm-”

She never quite manages full sentences. Never finds it in herself to make any more obscene demands. Just gets all small and soaking underneath you, licks messily at your bottom lip, and lets you do all the talking - lets you draw a careful hand through her hair and drop your other one between her thighs, clenches tight around your cock when you rub at her clit, keens low in her throat and listens. To the good girl, to the I got you, baby, to the that’s it, there you go, this is what you wanted - I know, honey, I know, you just needed to get this cunt fucked right, you just needed to cum real bad. I know what this is. I know what you need. 

“Fuck.” She’s flushed pink to her chest, delightfully ineloquent. “Yes-” 

Well - good thing you’re decent with your words, when it counts. Let Karina blush and drool and slick up your cock with every stroke. That’ll work just fine with you.

It’s the kind of juxtaposition you’d really lean into - the kind of thing you’d write just to get so self-indulgent with, a personalized note to the director, a wink and a nudge to every audience member. Look at that. Look at her eyes like something straight out of poetry. Look at her body like a pornographic fantasy. Look at how she gets so tamed and docile and compliant when she gets her tiny pussy stuffed full, creaming all over that cock, huge tits bouncing - look, that’s art, isn’t it? What else would you call it? What else could it be?

“You gonna cum, baby?” She’s so fragile underneath you. Color staining her cheeks apple-red; lips swollen and begging to be kissed. Fictive little fairy tale. “You gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah.” It’s breathy and barely-there. Her chin trembles, jerks in a weak nod. “I’m - I - fuck-” 

See: you just can’t rough her up. It’d be blasphemous. Sacrilege. Taking one single look at the stained-glass windows of a church and tearing it all to the ground.

Still, you’re mesmerized by how utterly vulnerable she looks: the glossy shine to her irises; the way she inhales all slow and shaky, body slipping from some sort of precipice. Not just like she’s near-tears, but like she’s stunned - struck dumb from a violent blow, mouth wide open in the aftermath. And it’s just sex - and, fuck, you’ve said it, you see things the way every obsessive artist does; sex is never just sex. Every one thing means something more. A metaphor. An allegory. You get nasty and debauched and dirty because you know exactly what you can spin it into. Put the entire scene in a silent film and everyone can swoon about the things you might be saying to her, this impossibly captivating stranger in your bed with her graceful name, her dizzying moans, her shuddering frame in her orgasm. Don’t you get it? you could be telling her, hand brushing gently over her sweat-damp hairline. Don’t you feel that? You’re a stranger to me, baby, but you don’t have to be. There’s a reason we met. There’s a meant-to-be here, somewhere. I’m not a believer, sweetheart, but you could make one out of me - I swear you could, I promise-

But that’s the reason why these things are best left to the imagination, anyway. 

A million scripted sweet nothings - and none of them manage to make it out of your mouth. 

“Karina.” Your hips jerk hard. You sound half-possessed. “So pretty, cumming all over my cock like that. Such a perfect little cunt, baby - so fucking good-”

Her eyes suddenly shut tight; her body arcs into your touch, lips parted in a silent gasp. And for a second it seems like such a snapshot of innocence, like she’s brand-new to getting fucked quick and rough and dirty - though you know this can’t possibly be the truth, not with the way she flirts and whines and drips for more like she’s made for it - but she’s trembling under your fingertips, and you can dream. She’s your beautiful stranger, your pristine muse; you can pretend she’s whatever the fuck you want. 

“God,” Karina murmurs, so soft and weak it makes your head spin. 

Before you know what you’re doing - before you can even think twice about it - you’re pulling out, and cumming all over her stomach. 

You can’t help it. You shouldn’t have had that thought about innocence. Jesus. This is what you mean, about you and your own painful humanity; you’ve got all the same vile desires. When you see a pure thing - all that porcelain skin, all that thick glossy black hair, all those gleaming white teeth in her open mouth - your very first instinct is to fuck it up bad.

You’d do worse, if you were worse - you’d make a real fucking disaster out of her. 

“Baby,” you say, breathlessly. “Are you…”

And Karina, then, does something truly evil: 

Sighs luxuriously, stretches her arms above her head, eases those gorgeous eyes open, and smiles. 

As if she’s reveling in it. The scent of sex - the defiled tautness of her tummy - the way you’re not sure where her little red dress or her shoes or her panties are, how her cunt’s dripping wet onto your sheets, her hair a glorious mess. Grinning in the face of utter filth. 

“You,” you exhale, running your palm down her side. “You’re so…” 

Karina’s mouth pulls up at a corner, like she’s daring you to finish the sentence, but you never do. 

You can’t stop staring at the stretch of cum-covered skin before you. Coating her belly, pooling into her navel. You realize with a start that there’s a new bruise blooming on her chest, a vicious sort of bite mark. You can’t remember when you did that. You’d been kissing her - of course you kissed her - her mouth and her neck and her tits, but you’d been so gentle, sucking light and soothing her skin with your tongue after-

“You didn’t want to cum inside me?” Karina asks, hoarsely. 

You blink so hard your vision blurs. “What?” 

“Right.” Her eyeshadow’s smudged dark underneath her eyes, making her look deliciously used up. “You did want to cum inside me.” 

“Karina,” you warn - or, at least, you mean to make it sound like a warning - but her name comes out too faint. It’s horrific. Your hand traces her hipbone so reverently. You’re no match for her. 

Karina arches a brow in unhurried challenge, ghosts her hand across her tummy. Takes two fingers and drags them through the cum you spilled, pulls back with it clinging thickly to her skin. Drifts down, down, down. 

“Karina,” you try to say again, even more pathetic than last time. “Jesus-” 

But you saying her name holds no weight here; she’s made that more than obvious. Nothing to stop her as she smears her cum-slick fingers across her glistening pussy, gaze locked amusedly on your face, tracking your reaction. She’s still so fucking wet - she rubs your cum in circles across her clit - tossing her head back a little, chest heaving and falling, fingertips just barely dipping inside her cunt-

“I can’t.” Karina lifts her hand to pop her fingers in her mouth, sucks them clean. Pointedly flashes her too-sharp nails at you like she’s unsheathing claws. “If you want it, you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

“You,” you say, though your hand’s already pressing hard into her ribs, “are fucking cruel, baby.” 

“And you,” replies Karina, head tilting, “just want to see my cunt all filled up and leaking your cum.” 

Oh, she hasn’t been wrong about you all night. She certainly won’t start now. 

“What?” A sly, languid smirk tugs at her lips. “Afraid you’re gonna knock me up or something?” 

Your breath halts right in your lungs.

You’d been right about her too, it seems. Succubus. Vampire. She must be; she’s bloodthirsty. Tits gleaming with sweat, the scarlet stain of that bite mark you can’t remember leaving, cunt all dripping wet and desperately empty - body like a fatal fucking blow. 

Karina’s eyes glint. I want what you want, she’d said. 

With the way she spreads her legs, she’s gotta be ready to prove it.

So you never stood a chance. You give in and scoop up cum with one finger and sink it deep inside her aching cunt, feeling as she clenches down, as she takes it so well; like a good girl, you tell her, letting me do whatever I want with this needy little cunt; that’s my good girl. Karina lifts her hips - goes so still and so obedient - and lets you repeat it over and over again, fucking into her with your fingers until the plane of her stomach is bare and sticky and her cunt’s dribbling your cum onto your sheets. It’s completely nasty. It’s hot. It’s Karina craning her neck back and shutting her eyes as you bury three fingers inside of her and fill her with your cum, every part of her in utter surrender, entirely at your mercy, breathing out hard through her nose until your thumb rubs at her clit and she’s cumming again, all over your hand. She gets this look on her face, afterwards - exhausted, every line of her face gentle and lax - staring up at you like you’re the only person still left on this planet. Adoring, almost. As if you’re something out of another world. 

It’s an expression too sweet for a scene like this - and it’s exactly what men like you make art about. 

“There,” you say, soft and mesmerized, wiping your hand across her chest. “Satisfied?” 

Karina laughs her strange, gravelly, gorgeous laugh. 

“No,” she says, shamelessly. “But that’s not your fault.” 

Your fingers curl around the curve of her jaw. “No?”

She barely looks like she belongs in your bed - she must be something divine, lit from within, god-blessedly gorgeous. She’s a fucking fever dream: stunning eyes and the bob of her throat and her tits and her curves and all that hair. Stay, you think of telling her. Let me see what I can make of you. I don’t know you yet but I could, baby, I really could. 

“Nope.” Karina smiles, and somewhere, soliloquies are writing themselves. “I always want more.”

“Okay,” you say, mouth hovering over hers. “Then stay.” 

-

So she stays.

-

(An update on your script:

The stranger and the girl are back at his place. They’re sitting on his couch. Nobody has cleaned off her neck. He’s been too busy pawing at her: at her face, between her legs, at her tits in her tight dress. I need you, he’s been murmuring to her, and it feels like he really means it: like he’ll die if he doesn’t get her desperate and whining underneath him, his cock stretching her tight little cunt wide open. He doesn’t feel too bad about it. She’s a dirty slut. She’s said as much. She’s got her own needs, too. 

What happened to your window? she asks, suddenly.

He pulls back from her chest, his spit clinging shiny to her skin. 

She isn’t looking at him. He has the sudden, unnerving feeling that she hasn’t been looking at him the whole time. Not like she’s had her eyes closed in blinding, overwhelming pleasure - but like she’s deliberately been trying to look at anything else. 

But his hand falls between her thighs, and he realizes she’s already wet. 

A bird flew into it, probably, he says. That happens, sometimes. 

They’re talking about the stain on the once-clean glass of his window. The backdrop of the night sky behind means it’s barely visible, but the suggestion of it is enough. Implicit gore. Tiny little black feathers, caked in blood from the impact, dark and dried. It’ll be scrubbed off soon enough, he knows. It’ll be all gone eventually. 

Oh, she says. She doesn’t apologize for potentially killing the mood. She hasn’t, anyway, not really. She’s still wet and small underneath him, begging for it. Poor thing. 

Yeah, he says. 

She turns back to him. Her hair’s everywhere, all over the arm of his couch, wayward strands beneath his fingers. She’s clearly expecting something - to be kissed, to be fucked hard, to be called baby and angel and good girl. It doesn’t really matter either way. Those are the only things he can give her. 

He stares at the blood on her neck. 

Let me clean that off for you, actually, he says, and goes to the kitchen to get a washcloth.)

-

Much, much later:

“I admire you,” Karina says, all tucked up in your bed, underneath your sheets, half-buried into your side. Moonlight bleeds into the room. Her eyes gleam like galaxies. “For showing some self-control.” 

“What?” 

Karina’s hair pours over your pillowcase. She takes your hand and brings it close to her face, working your fingers into a tight fist. 

“Fucking bitch,” you mutter, and then regret it immediately. It lands too harshly, too strange and serious. “Sorry. I didn’t - that came out weird. I don’t think you’re a bitch.” 

Karina’s lips brush your knuckles. “Not the meanest thing I’ve been called.” Her voice twists with humor. She shouldn’t be so comfortable curled up with a man she doesn’t know in the middle of the night. You think of kissing her hard, of scraping her neck with your teeth, of warning her about self-preservation - sweetheart, you could tell her, this is how people end up dead. “Not the meanest thing I’ll be called, either.” 

You shift. Your fist, unconsciously, goes tense in her hand. “What’s your deal?” 

Her mouth tilts. “What’s yours?” 

You huff out a laugh. “You’re unbearable,” you say softly, which feels much kinder than calling her a bitch. “What are you - what do you mean?” 

I’m not hard to figure out, you want to tell her. I’ll let you in if you ask me to. But you - you, you imagine saying, cupping Karina’s face in your hands and saying her name like you’re praying to her, drafting scenes in your head with each whispered syllable - you. Look at you. I’d fill a thousand pages trying to find a way to understand you. 

“If you want to hurt me,” Karina says, “then hurt me.” 

Your throat dries up. Your fist falls open. “What?” 

“I wouldn’t blame you.” Her voice is matter-of-fact. You see her tongue dart over her bottom lip, the slick glimmer of spit. “If that’s what you wanted.” 

You stare at her, hard. 

It’s not difficult to make out her silhouette in the dark; she’s illuminated so distinctly by the moon, like it’s her own on-set spotlight, professionally arranged - she’s got the cosmos calling her shots. You think about how careful you’d been with her: doing what she wanted and making her cum and kissing her like you have history and maybe fucking her like you love her, just a little.

You think about that bruise you left on her chest, her skin between your teeth, the feeling of biting down. 

“It’s not,” you say, and the lie tastes acrid in your mouth. “It’s - it’s not, Karina.” 

“You fucked my face in public within like an hour of meeting me. And fucked me and came on my stomach. And fingered your cum inside of me.” It’s far past midnight. She sounds more alert than she should. “You’re gonna start being polite now?”

It sends an odd knot to your gut, the way she puts it. Equating all of that to hurting her. Laughing in the face of your clenched fist - not because she thinks you won’t do it, but because she knows how bad you want it. 

Hurt me. She says it like it’s so easy. Fuck me. Let me stay the night. Hurt me; you’ve earned it. 

“I’m not polite.” The truth doesn’t taste much better. “I just have, you know, common fucking decency.” 

“Hm,” Karina says, a nonchalant little noise, and nothing else.

You brush her hair off her neck and your fingertips graze the hollow of her throat. You feel her swallow under your touch. You open your mouth, though you’re not sure what you’re about to say - Karina, like a chant, like she’s consumed you in a matter of moments, Karina - but she shuts her eyes delicately, and curls close to you, and just like that the moment is over. 

I have common decency, you’d said. I won’t hurt you. I promise. I can control myself.

So maybe you weren’t right about everything. You’re not the devil. That’d be a delusion of grandeur - the idea that you’d ever have that kind of power over a girl like her. 

Not for long, she’d replied, in the knowing tilt of her smile. Not if I can help it.

-

In the morning, it’s a picture of crime-scene proportions. It takes a little work to piece it all together.

Karina’s not in bed when you wake up, but there are traces of her everywhere - telltale, incriminating bits of evidence. Strands of her hair on the pillow. Blood-red lipstick stains on the fabric. Her crimson dress crumpled on your bedroom floor, sporting a tiny tear in the hem that you don’t remember leaving; you can still smell her perfume all over your sheets, like a calling card. If this was a TV drama - a clichéd police procedural - she’d probably be dead in your living room right now, blank-eyed and beyond saving, rigor mortis deforming her perfect body into something grotesque. 

This is also probably not a thought you should ever relay to Karina, but you do anyway.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she replies. She’s perched on your kitchen counter, dressed in one of your t-shirts, bare legs swinging. “I’m very much alive.”

“I was being dramatic,” you try to say, gesturing with your hands to set the scene - the lighting, the fake blood and the special effects, the potential pallor of her face. “I’m - I’m a screenwriter. It’s in my nature. I didn’t mean I wanted to find your fucking corpse out here-”

“It’s okay if you did.”

You choke. “What?”

“I’m right with you, babe.” Karina leans forward conspiratorially. There’s a sharpness to the dark glint in her eyes that kind of makes you think she really does understand: that she has the same tendency to jump to the worst possible conclusions. A kindred, morbid spirit. “I get it. I’m pretty devastated that I’m still breathing, too.”

She says this all in a scratchy, sultry voice, hoarse as though she’s been sleeping for years instead of hours. Lashes fluttering like she’s just told you something very adorable and sweet.

“God,” you say, desperately charmed, and laugh until you feel light-headed. “You’re sick.”

Karina’s mouth curls. “Right.”

“I’m serious.” It’s surreal: her wearing your clothes and sitting on your counter like this is an everyday occurrence, indulging every fucked-up thing you say to her. Maybe you’re still caught somewhere in a dream, just waiting to wake up. “You’re, like - not normal.” 

“Hey.” A light, careless shrug; her palm rests over the back of her neck. “No arguments here.”

You rub a hand over your eyes, smiling like an idiot, and take a breath. 

It’s late January, and cool sunlight drips into the room, over your furniture and your floors and the angel right in the middle of your kitchen. It should wash her out, blur her at the edges; it doesn’t even come close. Turns her to a freeze frame instead, carefully color-graded, every hue just a bit too intense: skin ghost-pale, lips pouty and pink, hair jet-black and tangled to her waist. Your shirt hangs off of her slender frame like it aims to swallow her up. You thought you’d been stunned by Karina before, lulled by the late night, the electric rush of touching her - you’d assumed you could blame it on the alcohol, the slutty dress and the sultry makeup and the long-held habit of artistic romanticization-

But it’s nothing compared to seeing her now. 

Karina crosses one leg over the other, and waits as though expecting a rating: to be starred out of five like a film. 

Face scrubbed clean. Bone structure a study of faultless symmetry, delicate in a way that feels both inhuman and invulnerable. She’s so classically breathtaking - a miraculous second coming of a tragic, iconic movie star, a phenomenon back from the grave; jaw and nose and mouth all clean lines, aesthetically precise art - but God, those eyes. Enormous without the thick liner, suggestive only of impossible innocence. Like some darling baby animal, some long-lashed lamb to the slaughter - something pristine and completely untouched. 

The morning after, the direct light, the exposed behind-the-scenes - she’s still beyond beautiful. 

And somehow she’s still here with you. 

“That’s insane, by the way,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “That you stayed.” 

There’s a loud cracking sound. 

You squint, disoriented. “What-” 

Karina blinks at you, wide-eyed; her jaw shifts. The sound echoes again, startling and sudden. “What?” 

“Are-” You step closer. “Are you chewing on fucking glass or something?” 

“Or something,” Karina replies, smile’s tiny and closed-off. She gestures to the cup next to her. “It’s just ice.” 

She’s so calm watching you approach her. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the freakout, for the breakdown - or, at the very least, the scrambling excuses before the walk of shame. Here’s the truth: she doesn’t know you. Here’s an even worse truth: judging by her hickey that looks like you might’ve tried to rip her throat out earlier, she’d have every right to take one look at you and run. 

Karina doesn’t do any of it. Just raises her cup to her lips and tips it back, the arc of her neck so inviting. 

“That’s so fucking bad for your enamel.” You’re laughing again. You’re in front of her now, settled between her legs. “You’re gonna break a tooth.” 

Karina sets her glass down. Wipes the corner of her mouth with her wrist, eyes locked amusedly on yours - heavy-lidded enough to seem lazy, but pupils blown enough to be a siren call, a deliberate suggestion.

“Oh, no,” she says, all smoky sarcasm. “Who’d ever want me then?” 

She parts her thighs the second you touch them; her body’s so obedient under your fingertips, like a doll’s, something to be dressed up and posed and played with. Daring you to do everything you’re already thinking about doing. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, and give in completely.

So:

Look, you know exactly how the movies would frame this. Pandering to the wide-eyed teenagers and hopeless romantics; adding the swell of strings every time your eyes or hands or lips meet, each motion accompanied with unsubtle cues - there’s the meet-cute, there’s the moment, there’s the love-at-first-sight. It’s ridiculous to drag any of that into your real life, of course. It’d be like believing in God. Giving up logic to put your faith in something silly and mythic and implausible - to follow true love like a religion, expecting it to save your soul; to pray to the one like a healing property, a benevolent higher power. 

You can’t believe in that. You can’t. 

But-

Karina pulls back the barest amount, eyelids fluttering open like a new day dawning, and smiles when she sees the look on your face. So sweet and gorgeous; so struck and adoring. So comfortable wrapped up in your arms.

“Hi,” she murmurs. 

And - as though it’s some bone-deep instinct, saturating your bloodstream - you just have to kiss her again. 

Don’t you feel that? you think of telling her again, your hand slipping to cup her cheek - the sentiment always seems to come back around. You swear you can see scenes flashing behind your eyelids, the beginnings of a creative epiphany; it must be seeping through your fingers, staining her skin with ink, every possible action depicted neatly between brackets. A laugh, a look, a touch. A version of Karina projected across the silver screen to a wild, wanting audience. Don’t you see what you could do for me? What you’re capable of becoming? 

You can’t believe in any of this, but it’s gotta be something close. 

The feeling doesn’t end when the kiss does: only intensifies, made tangible somehow. Sculpted into the spit-slick curve of her lips, the flinty gleam in her eye. Like she feels it too. Like she knows. 

“And it’s not insane that I stayed,” Karina says, belatedly. “You asked me to.” 

For a moment you just stare at her, seconds from her mouth and speechless. 

It’s the truth without difficulty. It’s a confession with no strings attached. It’s the fucking dangerous way she says it - as if whatever you want extends to a lot more than sex. 

“And you don’t-” Your throat closes over a swallow; you find your eyes darting between hers, searching for anything but honesty. “You don’t think that’s insane? Doing whatever a stranger tells you to?”

Karina only laughs her strange laugh, gritty the way good music is, demanding to be heard.

“Nope,” she says, like this is all so simple. “That’s just what I do.”

It’s unbearably filthy in its implication - and it’s exactly what you need. 

The room seems to fill with potential, fantasies pouring in from the ceiling, enough to bloat any manuscript to its breaking point. You let out a breathless laugh, loud and unabashed. You think of pushing for even more, pressing your nails in and digging deeper - why me, why this, why now - but Karina leans in close before you can and slots her mouth to yours, and you’re no fool: there’s no line of questioning worth giving that up. 

Seems like you’ll have to come up with this character motivation all on your own. 

-

“Look at us,” she murmurs against your lips - meaning this very minute, the chemistry, how every glittering star must’ve conspired to get you here. “Kinda feels like this was meant to be, huh?” 

She’s clearly kidding, because it’s too soon and too fucking crazy, but-

Well, the way you kiss her then is absolutely your version of a yes. 

-

Here’s something people should probably know about artists like you:

You’re rather enamored with the idea of a magnum opus. 

It’s a natural thing to reach for, to visualize - the concept of your one great masterpiece. Something you can pour years and years into, water into roaring reckless oceans; time transforming the things you make into something worth remembering forever. Everyone you know - your sculptors, your songwriters - has their own version of this, somewhere. When I finally create this one perfect thing I’ll be - go on, fill in the blank. Fulfilled. Gratified. Happy. When I finally do this, I’ll feel whole. 

It’s strangely fantastical. A lifelong dream a kid would have - a childlike, storybook aspiration. 

Yours - as far as you’ve figured out - looks a little like this:

“It’s not as romantic as it should be,” you admit, now. “I’m not really into that as a theme. True love, I mean. Or optimism. Or hope. I want something more…” Something rougher, you mean. Something with pain. Something with blood and bruises. “Nuanced, you know? Complicated, messy.” 

“I get it,” replies Karina. She has her hands twisted in her lap, watching you very closely. You’re obsessed with the way she looks at you - like she’s drinking every word in with those smoldering dark eyes, greedy for more. For you. “All the best art is about pain, huh?” 

You snap your fingers, pleased to be understood. “Exactly.” 

Karina smiles, small and knowing, and gestures you on. 

In your vision, your magnum opus is always about a girl. Like you said, it’s the way it goes with all the best films ever made: not about love, but the futility of it lasting. Think of all the famed examples - think of the filmmakers and their obsessions, sneaking the great loves of their lives between each line: there’s something she said, there’s a dress she wore, there’s a conversation they had in the middle of the night, tangled up in sheets and whispering against skin. Your future muse will be just like that. A reincarnation of the infamous women who haunt all the greatest artists - an amalgamation of their bodies contorted into narratives and replicated in loving, graphic detail. Someone with skin like marble, a statue you could take a sledgehammer to. Someone who looks unfathomably pretty when she cries. 

Someone like-

“Uh-huh,” says Karina. She must’ve just gotten out of the shower before you found her, because her hair’s damp enough to have left wet patches on your t-shirt. She licks her bottom lip, once. “Sure.” 

Someone to be what you’ve always wanted: a flawless girl to fall from the sky into your lap. To fulfill your promise to yourself: when I meet her, I’ll know. I’ll be able to make this movie. When I meet her, everything will slip exactly into place. 

Karina cracks another ice cube between her teeth.

“So,” she says, low with insinuation. “When you told me last night that you found me inspiring…”

She doesn’t need to finish the question. She knows exactly what you want.

“You’re…” You shake your head. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I saw you and I just - I felt like I knew. I knew. I wanted you.” You shrug helplessly, smiling. “Do you think I’m nuts?” 

She should, probably. You’re a total stranger, a practical lunatic, an artist talking of your visions like you’re possessed. You don’t know her - that’s the reality of the situation. You don’t know her. 

But then there’s everything else.

The unbelievable sex, the staying the night; the way she lets you touch her, blinking slow and subservient, like you already have a claim to her body. You think muse and you think in abstract concepts, glittering stars, guiding lights; you think of skin cut up and sewn together, of creators and their finest monsters, of the implicit poetry in the undoing. You think muse and you think of the way Karina smiles at you now, full lips and frail bones, a painter’s portrait reference. Unmoving, unafraid. Too otherworldly for your day-to-day but just right when she’s in your arms, like a trial-run demonstration: this is what we’re capable of. You could make it happen. You could make me fit.

You swear you’ve been dreaming of someone like her your whole fucking life. 

You think muse, and now you can only think of her. 

It’s a sign. It must be. And this, the next one:

“No,” Karina says, easily. “I think you’re just like everyone else.” But she raises an eyebrow, so you know it’s a joke. “I think you’re all the same.” 

You laugh, delighted; Karina’s smile widens, shows her teeth. “Shut up.” 

Karina acquiesces immediately - claps a hand over her mouth like it’ll keep any other words from escaping. It’s so adorable that you can’t keep yourself from pouncing, suddenly all over her like an animal: wrenching her thin wrist down, fingers threading through her hair, tugging her lips to yours as if you’ve been starved and she’s something to devour. She’s so cold, ice still melting on her tongue; even her body feels glacial, more porcelain than real. It drives you wild - the stunning impossibility of her. The desire to see it all reworked, unwound, shattered. 

“So,” you breathe over her mouth. “I can write about you?” 

“Babe.” Karina’s dark eyes sparkle, frozen-over streets in the mid-winter sun. “You can do anything you want with me.” 

That’s the whole point of having a muse, after all. Everything they are becomes yours. 

-

“But,” you can’t help saying right after: “you don’t have to be, like - concerned. About what I said. About art and pain. I mean…” You falter. You’re standing in between her spread legs now, thumbing the sharp curve of her jaw. “It’s fiction. I’m not that kind of guy in real life - I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Karina just stares at you, sentiment clear and unspoken. 

“Not like - not seriously.” You roll your eyes, laughing it off. “Not like that.” 

“Not like that,” Karina echoes. The hickey on her neck seems to flush redder every time you look at it - a photograph in a darkroom, developing. “But in other ways.”

Your mouth opens, but whatever defense you might’ve had gets traitorously stuck in your throat.

Karina laughs hoarsely, lets you trace her bottom lip with a finger. She seems to get the picture - that you’d love to see it bitten and bloody, but only ever in the name of art. There’s a kind of sick, sadistic beauty in destruction, battles waged and lost. She leans into your touch like she’s seen all the war films and knows precisely why they’re so well-loved. 

“For the record,” she tells you, arms looped loosely around your neck: “I look very pretty when I cry.” 

“Jesus Christ.” You’re smiling. She couldn’t be more perfect if you’d dreamt her up yourself. “Then I guess I’ll have to make it happen.” 

-

It’s like fate, probably. 

-

(Up next in your script:

The girl is standing in the stranger’s bathroom. She’s turning a little glass perfume bottle over in her hands when he stops in the doorway. He’s perfectly content to watch her; she’s the kind of beautiful that deserves to be observed, like some exotic wild animal caged between four walls in an elaborate exhibit, mildly unaware of all the attention. Her hair is messy; her head is tilted down. Unseeing. 

Oh, he says. That was my-

Except he doesn’t even get the rest of the sentence out before the girl whirls around, and the bottle slips from her hand and shatters on the floor. 

Jesus. The stranger jolts back. Jumpy. He’s not too concerned about the broken bottle; it’s not his, anyway. Why the fuck did you do that? 

Sorry, the girl says. She’s leaning rather casually against the counter, observing the glass covering the ground, the sickly-sweet smell of the perfume sticking to the tile. Honeysuckle and the sharp note of alcohol, rendered unrecognizable. You scared me. 

He looks down. A crystalline stretch of tiny little shards - if she tried to move she’d slice her foot open. 

No worries, he says. Hold on. 

He ducks into the kitchen to get a broom and when he comes back he stops in his tracks. There’s something slightly off about the picture in front of him. She’s small against the background counter, frozen, barely blinking. Everything about her looks suddenly frail, fair skin ghostly underneath shitty bathroom lighting, cheekbones gaunt and sunken-in, hair pouring ink-black in endless waves. A vengeful spirit. An incorporeal haunting. 

Did you…? he starts to say, thrown. 

She blinks, finally. Did I what? 

He pauses, reassesses. She’s gorgeous. She’s art. She’s vibrantly alive. 

Never mind, he says. 

It seems kind of like she’d moved, but he can’t tell. He forgets about it. She’s still beautiful and she seems okay and so he steps forward and clears the worst of the glass out of the way. 

It’s silly, she says, watching him. I used to know someone who wore that perfume. 

It was my ex-girlfriend’s, he says. She left it here a while back. I think it’s a common brand or whatever. Hey, let me help you. 

He’s very chivalrous about it, sweeping her off her feet, cradling her bridal-style across the possible remnants of glass. She laughs all the while, playing into it - a princess out of a fairy tale, being carried to safety by some gallant knight. But then he sets her down and cups her ass and says, You gonna pay me back for the property damage or what? and she laughs harder, because there’s nothing funnier than that: sweet moments turned filthy, a startling hairpin turn in intention. 

Or - conversely - a revelation of the absolute truth. Because what else could he ever want from her?

So she says, Yeah, sure, take everything, and leans in to kiss him.

It’s a normal kiss, mostly. It’s just that it begins pointedly erotic but seems to turn strange after a second, like he might be gripping her hair too hard, like she might be corpse-limp in his arms, like at any moment he could unhinge his jaw and sprout fangs and swallow her whole, cannibalistic, viperous. There’s too much spit and sound. There’s too much teeth and selfishness. It stretches on too long and lingers where it shouldn’t and overstays its welcome terribly - the score seems to fall off-beat, the lighting seems to shift dark and discolored-

But then the kiss breaks, and it’s over. 

When he pulls off of her she looks like the perfect picture of flushed contentment. Eyes half-lidded and lashes fluttering, her pouty lips swollen and rosy. Smiling like she wants more, like she wants it so, so bad. 

It didn’t get you? he asks finally, looking at her neck, thinking of thorns and pinprick pain and the rivulet of crimson that’d decorated her throat. The glass? 

No, she says. Don’t you wanna fuck me now? 

Oh, God, he says, grinning, and every other thought melts away into nothing. He likes how she doesn’t play coy. He likes how she’s smaller and has to tilt her chin up to look at him. He wants to fuck her, so he does. 

It’s excellent sex. The blood on the tile doesn’t really matter.)

-

Before you really start writing, there’s just one singular problem: you don’t know anything about her. 

“That’s not true,” Karina replies, right away. 

You open your mouth, then close it, because - okay, she’s not completely wrong. 

For about an hour now you just haven’t been able to stop talking to her. About anything, everything: your start into screenwriting, your favorite novels, your greatest inspirations, your neverending passion for eerie, erotic art. You can’t seem to shut up. And it would be bad - would be making you feel self-conscious right now, if it were anyone else - but it’s just not. Because it’s, well-

It’s you, you told her, thoughtfully, watching as the sun climbed higher into the sky, golden light grazing each scalpel-sharp edge of Karina’s body. You’re easy to talk to. Has anyone ever told you that?

Karina blinked at you. Tucked a strand of silky hair behind her ear and looked away, considering it. 

She has this way about her: this serene openness to her big eyes, her body language. Leaning back on her hands, humming and nodding and saying I get it, I feel that way too, I understand with such sweet sincerity that you can’t help but believe her. Like a Catholic confessional, a pristinely blank page - something you could pour hours and hours of words into that would never, ever complain. 

Yeah, Karina said, finally. She pulled one leg up to her chest; you could see the lacy black of her panties. I get that all the time. 

Just one of those people, huh? Her character was taking shape already. A vault for everyone else’s thoughts and ideas, cradling them between her fingers like something infinitely precious. A listener. Such a lovely trait; a perfect protagonist characteristic. An observer. 

Yeah. Her cheek rested gently against a knobby knee. Exactly. 

It’s something of an art study. You’ve been filing away these details about Karina since the moment you met her, unraveling her bit by bit.

She always seems to think deeply before she speaks, a sort of charming self-scripting, like she wants to make sure she gets every sentence just right. She makes silence seem like the most natural thing in the world. She doesn’t laugh nervously or blush or get embarrassed, ever. She’d mentioned offhand during one of your tangents about your most beloved movies that she tends to like films about gorgeous, dangerous, scarily self-possessed girls: Thirteen and Black Swan and Girl, Interrupted. She seems both intensely present and consistently lost in thought, there one moment and gone the next, her long-lashed gaze falling in and out of focus like a camera lens. A contradiction, you think to yourself. An enigma, even. Profoundly complicated. Not just a girl but something more. 

Art in and of itself, displayed deliberately on your kitchen counter, waiting to be understood. 

“No, you’re right.” Your fingers have strayed to your open laptop; you’re seconds from typing Karina’s name like a title, something you’ve created all on your own. “I know…”

You’re trying to think of something nonchalant to say and failing. I know you - the first instinct, somehow. I know you’re something brilliant and remarkable and new. I know I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. I know there’s something here, I know what I feel, I know what I want - you, you, you. 

Karina stares at the ice melting in her glass. 

Then she says, mouth tripping up at a corner: “You know I’m a world-class fuck.” 

“Jesus.” You laugh out loud, surprised. “Okay, yeah. That.” A pause. “And, obviously-” 

“Obviously,” Karina echoes, like she knows where this is going. 

“I know that you’re, like - outrageously fucking beautiful.” 

Karina hums once, letting the compliment wash over her, and turns to look out the window. 

You bite down on your lip - bite back all the other too-soon things you could say about her, threatening to claw their way out of your mouth - and go in on your script instead. 

It’s shockingly easy to write with her in the room. The details seem to stitch themselves together on-page, the restorative aftermath of an autopsy: sealing the slit chest cavity back up, prepping a corpse for an open casket, making something disconnected whole and beautiful again. You’d pulled these specifics from her like pulsing, throbbing organs - her tits, her tone, her tiny waist - and now all you’re doing is repurposing them. You know her body now. You turn stretches of pale, bruised-pink skin into prose, the curl of her little fingers around her thigh into dialogue. You imagine taking that perfect frame and picking it apart again, bit by bit; not just undressing her but peeling back layers of flesh, familiarizing yourself with the stark scarlet of her bloodstream. Until there’s nothing to hide and you can finally say it - I know you - and it’ll feel earned, and real, and honest. 

All very melodramatic, of course. It’s just the process: the natural consequence of being a writer. 

Your eyes trace the jutting protrusion of muscle in Karina’s throat, and you think about fucking her again. 

“Also,” you say, as though your earlier conversation isn’t long over. “I want to know-”

Karina makes a huffy, half-impatient noise.

You grin, gaze flicking back to her face. “What?” 

“You want to know more?” Her brows furrow in exaggerated confusion; her smile is absurdly self-deprecating. As if there’s anything she could possibly be insecure about. “You already got the two most interesting things about me, babe.” 

“Stop.” Your mouth twitches. “No way.” 

Karina’s smile stills in place, expectant. “No?”

“Come on.” Your hand slips from the keyboard to trace her knee. “I’m sure there’s all kinds of interesting things about you I haven’t learned yet.” 

The laugh she lets out is quiet and nearly secretive, legs parting to let you touch her. You’re already half in some faraway daydream, wondering if you can bottle the color of her eyes and turn it loose on the page.

“Okay,” Karina says, easily. She nudges your laptop away, scoots closer to you, her sharp chin pointed down at you. “Come and learn them, then.” 

“God.” As if that’s what you’re doing. Memorizing her body as some private education; taking her apart in a classroom dissection. “Can I - I’m trying to write, Karina. I’m being productive. I…” You’re shaking your head as though you’re not already giving in, fingers slipping up her thighs - she’s smirking at you like she knows it. “You’re fucking insatiable, you know that?”

“Then satiate me.” Karina’s head tilts, lids heavy. “Fuck me. Use me.” She leans down like she’s telling you a filthy, sordid secret. “Cum in me like I know you want to.” 

There’s something surreal about how certain she is: never tripping over her words or waffling over intentions, the most practiced actress you’ve ever seen. Every move - her tongue wetting her bottom lip, her hand sliding gracefully through her hair, her mouth forming a sweet little pout - all clean, choreographed precision. 

I know you, she says - like it’s earned, real, honest. Inexplicable, but there anyway. I know you want to. 

“Karina.” Her name comes out embarrassingly strangled. You’re pulling her thighs further apart, toying with the edge of her underwear. “You’re such a fucking - you’re so needy.” 

Her smirk sharpens even as you tug her panties roughly to the side. “I’m what?” 

“Needy.” 

“No.” She’s so wet - she’s probably seconds from dissolving into a whimpering breathless thing, begging to be underneath you, begging for more. That damn smirk is probably seconds from shattering completely. “What were you going to call me?” 

“Nothing.” You drag a finger down the slick drenched heat of her cunt.

“A slut.” Her voice is a purr, gravelly and sensual. “You think I’m just this fucking slut who needs your cock all the time, huh?” 

But it’s the kind of question that you already both know the answer to. Karina takes your finger-fucking so well, hips raised and rutting, hair cutting across her cheekbones - seems to give herself over to desire so fucking easily, with her whole body, back arching and neck craned and hot little cunt a sloppy mess. Never puts up a fight, never demures or acts shy; never says wait or don’t or stop. Only spreads her legs, and drips down your hand, and waits to be fucked good and hard.

And - hey, there’s one dirty word for a girl like that. 

“Well.” You raise your eyebrows at her: a challenge. “Are you?”

It’s dangerous. This is all dangerous. Stumbling down a treacherous path, asking a stranger something like this. Are you what I think you are? Do I know you? Do I really? 

Karina makes a low, luxurious noise at the stretch of your fingers in her cunt, buried to the knuckle. 

“Sure,” she says - and the gleam in her eye tells you she knows exactly what she’s getting herself into. “I’m whatever you want me to be.” 

-

So, it’s possible this is really the most interesting thing about her: she’s the kind of girl who never says no. 

-

That scene goes down how all scenes should:

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

Karina’s choking out curses like she can’t recall any other words, head lolling back to expose the pretty bob of her throat. You thrust deep right then and she lets out a sound like an aching gasp, like you’ve doubled down with a fist to her gut, like you’re knocking the the air right out of her; you might as well be - oh, she moans, like she could be in shock or awe or pain - with the way you’ve got one of her thighs pulled up so you can fuck deep into her tight dripping cunt. It’s not nice, not really. Her back keeps hitting your counter. You keep staring at her neck and her hair and her face: the faint flush of her cheeks, the flawless construction of her bones underneath - there’s so much unmarked skin - God, she’s so clean, it’s like she’s never been fucking touched-

“You gonna cum for me?” you murmur, voice coming out thick and half-animalistic. 

She has one hand curled around the back of your neck. She’s got those ridiculous clawed nails on her but she never presses down. Her pussy can’t stop clenching around your cock but she takes it so well, lets you make room inside her little cunt, shuts her eyes and trips over her own breath as you force her spine hard against your counter over and over again. 

“Karina.” 

“Yeah,” she exhales, raspy and strained, as your cock stretches her out. “Fuck, yeah-” 

“Cum for me, honey. Cum all over my cock - oh, there you go, good girl-” 

It’s hypnotic. The tiny bitten-off sounds spilling from her ice-cold mouth - that small pristine face and all that hair tangled to her waist, just available to be knotted and tugged and fucked all the way up - Karina clings to you when she cums, and you feel so much bigger than her when she does, like you’ve got her sloppy and open around your cock and you could do anything to her, that’s what she told you, and even if she hadn’t, it’s not like she could stop you - she’s gorgeous but she doesn’t have it in her - she’s just too fucking delicate-

It happens too fast to process. 

One minute you’re buried inside her pussy and the next Karina’s on her knees, on the ground, and you’re jerking your cock until you’re cumming all over her. 

It’s obscene. It’s fucking inevitable. Thick ropes of creamy cum coating her forehead, her cheekbone, her nose and mouth and getting all in that hair-

Her hair. You don’t realize how hard you’re gripping her hair with one hand - balled in a brutal fist at the back of her head - until you disentangle your fingers from it and Karina sinks to the floor like she’s just been cut loose from marionette strings, breathing fast and hard. She doesn’t even say anything: doesn’t comment on the fact that you’d just shoved her straight to the ground or complain when the head of your cock smears cum across her jaw. Doesn’t even flinch when your cock slaps heavy across her cheek, at the indecent sound of the impact. 

You’re staring at her, open-mouthed. At her gorgeous, breathtaking, defiled face. 

Karina’s not looking at you. Instead, she’s preening in the most lewd, pornographic way possible: swiping her thumb through the cum streaking across her forehead, popping it into her mouth to suck. Halfway through she seems to remember you’re still in the room - seems to recall the value of a performance - and she redirects her gaze up at you, lids heavy, and smirks. 

“Did I…” you start, without knowing how the sentence will end. “Did I - was I-”

Karina lifts a cum-covered eyebrow. Her mouth’s an arresting pink, puckering around her thumb like it puckered around the cubes of ice, how her lips formed a ring around your cock back in the bookstore yesterday. She lets it slip free, shiny with spit. 

“No,” she says. “You’re good.” 

You can’t stop looking at the cum caught in her hairline. She’d been so fucking clean. 

You glance down and realize there are strands of black hair broken off in your clenched fist. 

Karina’s looking at her hair in your hand too, now, but with a sort of amused detachment. She stands shakily, using the counter for support. There’s cum all over her. Her knees are red from how hard she’d been pushed down.

“You’re so cute,” she tells you, grazing the side of your neck with her fingertips. “There’s no shame in being rough with me, babe.” 

“Right.” There’s an unnamed pressure coiling in your chest. “But - but you-” 

“Hey.” The word comes out in a rasp, and then Karina laughs, pushing the low hoarse lilt of her voice to its limits. She steps closer, angles her little cum-stained chin up at you. “Are you really gonna tell me you don’t like seeing me covered in your cum?” She’s tonguing the corner of her mouth. “Turning me into a-” her smirk pulls wicked; your next breath hitches so badly- “messy fucking whore for your cock?” 

“God,” you get out, because she’s winding an arm around your neck, and her pretty face is still sticky with your cum. “I-” 

“It’s what you wanted.” Karina blinks, in a show of such doe-eyed naïveté that saliva begins pooling hot in your mouth - like you’re feral, like you’re rabid. “Isn’t it?” 

You’re looking down again. Her knees are going to bruise. Black and blue, as if someone’s bullied her in the schoolyard, pulled her pigtails and knocked her to the asphalt. An echo of something teachers could’ve told her years ago: oh, look, he’s mean to you because he’s got a crush. It’s okay, really - he only hurts you because he likes you.  

“You like me like this,” Karina murmurs, dangerously low. “All sloppy and slutty for you.” Her gaze is trained on your mouth. “Marking me up.” Her hair slips from your hand. “Owning me.” 

Her name clogs your throat, cloying and candy-sweet. “Karina-”

Karina’s head tilts. “Yes or no?” 

She’s too close to you. She’s so filthily beautiful she seems somewhat alien, some kind of foreign invention. Her jaw is smeared with your cum and her flawless teeth shine like jewels and she’s like every creative vision you’ve ever had cut in clips and playing back in a movie theater, made to be scrutinized. 

“Yes,” you tell her, winded. “You’re fucking - you’re unreal, you know that?”

You’re smiling like it’s flattery, like it’s an exaggeration. Like she’s not living, breathing, visionary art. 

She smiles back, like she knows just how much you really mean it.

“So I’ve been told,” Karina says, and taps your neck, lightly. “Go make breakfast.” She shakes her hair out; some of it gets stuck to the cum on her cheekbone. “I’m taking another shower.” 

“Right.” You bite into your bottom lip, hand skimming down her side. “Go get clean.” 

“Clean?” She steps back and flashes a disbelieving grin, gestures pointedly at herself - her creamy thighs, her porn star tits in your t-shirt, her body like sex itself. Dirty by design. “Never happening.”

Some cynical part of you keeps waiting for a slip-up, some mistake in a masterfully crafted script - no one can be that gorgeous and still be here with you. But Karina moves and your eyes are hopelessly drawn to the disheveled curtain of her hair spiraling down her back, the sharp distinct lines of her calves, the flex of muscle in her thighs. Her hands, balled into little fists. She’s alluring as if manufactured that way: engineered to be perfectly bruisable, ruinable. It defies logic. It’s movie magic.

“Well.” You snort with laughter, swat at Karina’s ass as she turns to go. “At least you can try.”

You don’t even think she can help it - that’s the thing. It’s just what she was made for. 

-

“What would you have done if I said no, though?” you ask after a moment, as she wavers in the doorway. “Like - what if I told you I didn’t like you like this?” 

Karina shrugs.

“I would’ve been something else,” she says, and closes the bathroom door behind her. 

-

(Next:

The stranger and the girl fuck and afterwards he promises her breakfast and then he realizes his cabinets are bare, his fridge painfully unstocked. Sorry, he says, as she pokes around his kitchen. I don’t know how that happened. I usually have something to eat here, I swear. 

I don’t mind, she says. Her fingertips sweep his shelves. She seems fascinated by the emptiness, admiring the vacancy. Oh, wait, look. 

She finds a half-eaten jar of honey that she ends up scooping up crudely with her fingers, dripping sticky amber down her hand. He’d tell her that’s disgusting but she makes it - as she seems to make everything - into a pointed seduction, her tongue pink and wetly visible, her skin gleaming as she licks it off. It’s funny. He’d never thought it possible to turn eating into some sort of sexual performance but she manages it anyway: meets his eyes, sucks loud and lewd, smacks her lips and wipes her mouth with her thumb, ill-mannered and stunning. 

I can’t imagine that’s very filling, he says, delighted by her commitment. 

Yeah, well, she says. It’s a good thing I hate feeling full. 

But it seems like a moment of hilarious irony when ten minutes later he’s got her bent over his kitchen counter, tits pressed punishingly to the flat surface, honey stuck to her neck and collarbone as she’s fucked hard again and again, stuffed with his cock, his fingers everywhere, like her own body barely even belongs to her - all mine, he keeps saying, and means it; you’re all mine. All filled up. Overfed. Bursting. 

Sex is a manner of consuming, it seems. He might as well be eating her alive.)

-

“Do you do this a lot?”

Eventually, it turns into one of those lazy Saturdays. An afternoon of sitcom plot points. 

It’s just so easy to fill the time, the space, the page - you tell Karina some inane story from your college years and she reacts in all the right places like your own built-in studio audience; she says something off-handed and enticingly vague and suddenly you have a new thread of dialogue to explore. You’re both sprawled out over your couch, Karina’s got her thighs tucked over your legs, wearing another one of your t-shirts, a fresh hickey bruising over her throat. There’s something delightfully domestic about it - like you’ve been doing it for a lot longer than you have, or like you could do it eternally if given the chance, holding all the silken comfort of an old routine. When you’d mentioned it - I kind of feel like I could do this forever - she’d laughed her scratchy laugh and said forever’s nowhere near as long as you think it is, babe. A perfectly cinematic line. You stared at her, leaned over, and added it immediately to your draft. 

“This whole…” You’re trying to elaborate now, staring at the blinking cursor on your laptop screen. Your knuckles skim her bare, bony knees. “You know.” 

“Eloquent.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I thought you were a writer.” 

“Karina.” You’re charmed by the drawl of her voice, the raspy roll of sarcasm. “I’m just wondering.”

Karina shifts in your lap. You’ve got one hand sneaking up the hem of her shirt - your shirt - skating up her tummy, her ribs. You’re probably about five minutes from snapping your laptop shut and pulling her on top of you and saying something crass about her tits and passing it off as a character study. 

“What do you mean?” She’s as close to clean as she can be. You made sure of it - licked the hollow of her collarbone earlier after she got out of the shower, tasted nothing but soap and skin. “Do I have a lot of sex with strangers? Or do I stay the night a lot after I have sex with strangers?”

“Both.” You think of taking her hair down, sifting your hand through it, wrapping the strands around your fingers. “All of the above.” 

Karina shoots you a look, fluttered lashes, suggestive understanding. You hear it without her having to say it. You want me to tell you that you’re special. 

“I’ve kind of been going through a phase,” she says instead, nonchalantly. 

Your eyebrows fly up. “A phase?” 

“I’ve been, you know.” She gives an airy sigh. “Trying to find myself in the big city. Running wild. Terrified of monogamy but being very brave and quirky about it. Sordid past with love and romance and general human connection. Doing the whole manic pixie dream girl thing.” Her eyes flick to your open laptop, abruptly too wide and innocent. “That sound about right?” 

“Fuck off.” It’s a complete non-answer. You run a hand past her stomach, laughing. “You’re fucking with me.”

“What?” Karina inches closer. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Your textbook rom-com love interest?”

You make a rather disparaging sound in the back of your throat. “Ugh.” 

“Oh, my bad.” Her mouth curls, contradictory. There’s nothing apologetic about her. “I forgot. You don’t believe in art about love. You wanna see broken people and broken people only.” 

“See?” You’re obsessed with her tone; all flirtation, some distorted version of come-hither charm. Talking of suffering like it’s a seduction tactic. “You get it.” 

Karina rakes a hand through her hair; her fingers fall to the back of her neck and linger there. She pulls herself out of your lap and turns, hooks one bare long leg over you until she’s straddling you. Your hands find her hips. You’re disarmed by her strange weightlessness, like she’s seconds from either shattering or taking flight.  

Then she asks, “Is that what you’re doing with me?”

It’s gotta be a very roundabout request to fuck her stupid, because she follows it up torturously: ducks her chin, parts her lips, rocks her hips down until you groan. You watch her throat, the way muscle works over bone, picturing unspeakable things: taking her by that pretty neck and pinning her to the wall, ripping your shirt right off of her with your fingertips leaving bruises - bending her over to fuck her fast and cruel until her cunt’s raw and aching and leaking your cum - until she’s begging pathetically, saying please, God, please - and you’re triumphant, victorious. Telling her you asked for this, didn’t you? You said anything. You said anything I want. 

“Depends,” you reply, when you can breathe again. “Are you a broken person?” 

Karina stops, moments from your mouth. 

“Depends,” she echoes. “Is that what you want from me?”

It actually takes a beat for the question to sink in. Then two, then-

“No,” you say, loudly. “Obviously not, Karina, Jesus. Why would I…”

You falter. 

Karina only looks back at you, patient, tolerant. Like if right now you said that’s exactly it: I want you broken, I want you ruined, I want you decaying and dead and buried, she’d smile and say do your worst. Flashing those white, white teeth, perfect like pearls, ready to be knocked right out and strung together. 

You blink the bloody vision away. “Why would I ever want that?”

Karina studies you for a second longer, expression indecipherable. 

“Okay,” she agrees, breezily. “Then I’m not broken. I’m just going through a phase, like I said. I don’t like being tied down.” Her shirt rides tantalizingly high up her thighs; her hand slips down to palm your cock. There’s a twist to her lips, a dirty sort of smirk. “You understand that, right?”

You stare at her.

“Right?” Karina prods, again, low and sultry. 

“Right,” you say, unable to fight your sudden smile. 

The pout of her mouth’s an inevitability; her little body in your lap’s a seductive form of foreshadowing. You dig your fingers into her protruding ribs, playful, and you don’t quite get the squeal of laughter you were expecting - all Karina does is curl closer, expecting more, expecting harder. She knows what you’re capable of. You’re both just biding your time until you cross the same line you’ve been crossing and you fall back into bed again.

“A phase,” you add, considering. It intrigues you, anyway - the casualness, the connotation. “So - I’m not special, then. That’s the moral of this story.” 

Karina’s fingers sift gently through your hair. “You wanna be special?”

“I mean, yeah.” Your palm falls to her neck, presses down. She doesn’t seem to mind. “Doesn’t everyone?” 

Her eyebrows rise in vague, unconvinced amusement. It makes sense: she’s the most special of all, a cosmic glitch, an angelic fluke. Someone like Karina wouldn’t understand the aching, clawing, consuming desire to be extraordinary. She’s already there. 

Your hand on her throat looks even bigger now, tendons straining from underneath skin.

“I think we all want to feel important,” you mumble, thumb grazing gently across her jaw. “Don’t you?” 

You’re pretty sure the wry, glittering smile that sits at Karina’s mouth is an answer in itself. 

-

Alright, forget your television metaphors - you’re not sure there’s any sitcom out there that goes quite like this.

“By the way,” you say, grinning against her hair as you pull her to the bedroom. “Did you say you don’t like being tied down?” 

Karina turns in your arms and doesn’t even flinch when you force her too hard against the doorframe and its edge smacks into her shoulder blade, digging in hard. You should apologize but you don’t; the possibility of her in pain seems laughable, a distant fantasy. This is how it goes, fucking a girl who looks like a god - your brain is convinced she’s wholly immune to hurt. The universe wouldn’t actually let someone so pretty bleed. 

“Oh, sorry,” she says, voice raspy with insinuation. “Let me rephrase.” 

“Karina,” you say, not really like a warning - more like you’ve got something to prove. This is real. You’re really here. You’re really this perfect, gorgeous, greedy thing. You’re really made for me. 

Karina only lets her lips tilt in a smirk, devilish and knowing.

“I meant that I don’t like commitment,” she says. “I love being tied down.”

She’s still smiling when you shove her through the doorway, across the threshold - across that same old fucking line.

-

Not that it makes a difference now, but one of the reasons you and your most recent ex-girlfriend broke up was because of what you’d both referred to as sexual incompatibility. Actually, there were about fourteen other things, too - she was a trainwreck and a textbook attention whore; you spent all your time writing and she took offense to the fact that you found your scripts more interesting than her - but the crux of the sex problem between the two of you was that she thought you wanted too much power over her. She seemed to assume that was the point of potentially tying her up and shit like that: to exert power. To put you and only you in control. To make her into this helpless little toy - and I hate that, she’d said, working herself into a fit, I hate feeling helpless. 

You hadn’t pushed her. You’d also tried to justify it in a number of ways. It isn’t about that. It’s not about control. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. But it hadn’t made a difference and she hadn’t believed you and you’d come to the reluctant, inevitable conclusion that that particular dream would never actually get fulfilled. 

Until-

“Look at you, baby.” 

Until now, when you’ve got Karina stripped bare and tied to your bed, thighs parted as you kneel over her, pretty little cunt glistening wet and tits heaving with every breath as she waits, and waits, and waits. 

Eyes half-lidded. Utterly fuckable. A curated collection of every salacious desire you’ve ever had. 

“You’ve been looking at me forever,” murmurs Karina, her tone still humorous, like the reason her voice is run so ragged is because she’s holding back a fit of giggles. “You gonna fuck me anytime soon?” 

To Karina’s credit, the idea of tying her up didn’t seem to bother her one bit. She’d let you knot her wrists to your bedframe and only grinned sharply when you asked her if it was too much. She didn’t seem to care about feeling helpless or feeling bad. Actually - judging from the wetness that collects on your fingers as you rub two of them over her cunt - it all seemed to turn her on either way. 

“You’re so fucking mouthy.” You lift your hand only to ghost it over her stomach, leaving a lewd shiny streak across her skin. “It’s like you want to be punished.” 

“Well, you put in all this work.” Karina yanks at the ropes tethering her wrists to the bedframe until they bite so severely into her skin that it turns white. “I’d hate to see it go to waste.” 

“Not a waste.” 

“No?” She’s got that seductive little smirk on, legs spread shamelessly, head back and throat bared. 

“Nope.” Your eyes rove down her body. “It’s a great view, actually.”

You’re shocked by the sound Karina makes, then: harsh and derisive, scratchy and painful, like she’s choking badly around some injury in her throat. You’re half-expecting her to turn her face and spit blood onto your sheets - all murder-scene evidence, horrifically vibrant gore. Coughing up her own vocal chords. 

It’s so awful it actually takes you a minute to realize that she’s laughing. 

“Karina?” you say, perturbed.

“Oh, please.” Karina hacks out one more horrid laugh. “Cut the shit.” 

You draw your hand back uncertainly. “What are you-”

“Come on, man.” There’s a glint to Karina’s gaze as she looks up at you: bored, mocking, infuriating. Irises flashing like the darkest corners of haunted houses, set-ups for a summoning; lashes like cobwebs, self-spun and delicate. “Fuck me or leave me alone.”

For a second you just stare at her, unmoving, something caustic and furious threading up your spine. 

And then-

Look, none of this next part is on you. You can’t blame yourself. It’s her - her tiny hands in tight clenched fists, tummy so flat it seems caved-in, hollowed-out; her own glimmer of slick smeared on her belly, physical proof of how desperately slutty she really is. The bruise on her chest; the one on her throat. Her goddamn eyes. Her lazy, lilting drawl, the exact matter-of-fact casualness she’d had last night when she’d told you to hurt her - fuck me or leave me alone. 

It’s so obvious what she’s trying to do - provoke a reaction out of you. It’s gotta be the only reason she’s talking to you like that. Like, what else are we here for? Like, what else could I possibly want from you? 

So - no, God, it’s not your fault. 

But-

It’s over before you can even think about it. Before you’ve even rationalized doing it, before you recognize the sound ricocheting through the room as the perfect violent land of a blow, the hot whiplash of skin on skin, your palm connecting with its target. Before you blink, and recalibrate, and you take in the rapid reddening of her cheek, and her angled jaw, and her hair falling starkly past her chin - it’s too late. It’s already done. 

Because you’ve just slapped Karina clean across the face - hard. 

“Oh.” You’re babbling as if on autopilot, all your nerves on shutdown. “Oh. Oh, God. Karina-” 

Karina licks the corner of her lip, like she can taste the impact. 

“Jesus Christ,” you’re saying, panicking; you can’t shut up. You don’t know what to do with your hands; you find yourself kneeling carefully in front of her, cupping her face, stroking her temples with your thumbs like it’ll soothe the sting. You can’t believe you hit her. All the things you could do to a girl like that, and you - “I’m sorry. I didn’t - fuck, baby. I’m sorry.”

Karina blinks up at you, expression placid and blank, porcelain-doll cool. 

“For what?” she asks. 

You freeze, her face still between your palms. “For-”

But the serene tilt of her mouth makes the words die in your throat. 

“Seriously.” Karina’s voice is softer now, a kind twist of mirth. “Isn’t that what you wanted to do with me this whole time?” 

Her features seem to fall out of alignment, occurring to you in cut, edited fragments - the baby-animal eyes, the bone-white glint of teeth, the pretty blooming flush of her cheek, blood rising underneath skin but never breaking through. No evidence of a limit breached; she doesn’t wince or wail or cry. She wears the hit so well. She’s smiling. A you-don’t-need-to-be-sorry smile, a you’re-forgiven smile: I’m strong, I’m good, I can take it. Whatever you need. Whatever you have to give. 

You blink and Karina reassembles, stitched up at the seams, beautiful and uninjured and intact.

“You want this,” you exhale, a wondrous revelation.

“Of course.” Karina’s shoulders rise as much as they can with her arms so tightly tied back. “You do, don’t you?” 

The panic recedes, and something else - something electric and brutal, visceral, intoxicating - takes its place instead. 

It’s the way she says it: rhetorical, all-knowing. As if she’s seen exactly what’s in your mind - what repulsive daydreams have settled right behind your ribcage, clawing to be set free - and she’s offering her own body in sacrifice. Saying here, put them here. 

So you do. 

She doesn’t even look surprised when you slap her again. 

“See?” Karina’s chin tips upwards in delicious, submissive invitation: eyes darkly pleased, pale skin a burning wildfire, curled mouth a beckoning. Like it’s been what she’s waiting for, all along. “There you are.” 

And when you’re finally able to catch your breath:

Oh, you think, in some exhilarating epiphany. Here I am. 

Every single reservation falls out the window. Karina’s smirk slants viciously and then you’ve got your hands all over her, on her shoulders and her tits and her hips and her throat and her face, thumb digging hard into her cheekbone. Any sort of gentle caution is gone when you’re getting on top of her and burying your cock deep inside the suffocating vice of her aching little cunt, half-drunk on the high mewling moans you’re forcing out of her, head swimming at the drenched audible sound of her pussy every time you fuck into her - at how tight she clenches down around your cock. Fuck it all, then, it’s not like it means anything - hurt me, she’d said, running through your head on loop; I want it so bad, I need it, hurt me - and so you do, wrapping a hand around her delicate neck and pressing down, slapping hard against her heaving tits, salivating over the marks that you leave. She doesn’t even struggle. Takes it like a good girl, an obedient girl: something meant to be hit and torn up and pulled apart. A hands-on art piece. A disassembling, made purely for audience consumption; a sign hung around her neck that says leave your mark, that’s the point. You’d been so naïve, thinking of being careful with her - like she’d ever even fucking want that-

“You like it like this.” Your voice sounds raw, almost unrecognizable; your fingers press into the base of her throat. “This is all you needed, huh? You just needed to be roughed up real hard.” Your hand trails up to grip a fistful of her hair, merciless. Karina shuts her eyes. “Like you’re just a slutty fucktoy-” 

Karina chokes out a small, wet gasp.

“Oh, baby.” You yank harder at her hair. “It’s okay to admit it.”

But in a way, she already is. Doesn’t fight against the restraints tying her wrists, doesn’t flinch at how rough you’re fucking her, doesn’t whine or blink back tears at the harsh graze of your thumbnail against her nipple. Like she’s a plaything, here in your bed for your pleasure alone. Like-

“Like you were just fucking made for this, yeah?” She comes undone so easily: cunt a wet sticky mess when you reach down to rub her clit, teeth pearly-white where they’re caught on her bottom lip - though nothing can hold back the anguished noise Karina lets out at your pace, the thick stretch of your cock, your palm smacking at her tits over and over. “Look at you. That face, these tits, this little fucking cunt-”

Like it’s her one and only purpose - to have all her fair skin turned searing red and bruised under someone else’s hands. Her cunt just begging to be split open and stuffed full, railed so hard she could break. It’s gotta be what she was created for. She’s more than mortal, so above the concept of imperfection; a nasty little fuckdoll of a girl, meant to be used hard and licked clean. She looks too irresistible all fucked-out and ruined. It has to be in her nature. Made for this, you keep telling her: to be fucked until she can’t walk. To be treated forever how you’re treating her now. 

Your ex-girlfriend couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s not about power or control at all.

“You’d really just let me do anything to you, huh?” you murmur, awed, but you’re holding her throat too hard for her to reply. 

You fuck her, and fuck her, and fuck her. Rub at her clit until she clamps down and cums around you, until you can really get on top of her, force her to hold those huge tits together so you can fuck them. You can’t handle how tiny she is underneath you, her face and her mouth slack with lust, eyes glazed over entirely. She squeezes her tits around your cock. She’s hardly even human. It’s the best thing about her. 

“That’s how I know you’re a fucking whore.” Your grin feels wide and manic on your face. You’re gonna cum all over her - again. “None of this even matters.” 

And it’s only after - after you’ve painted her collarbone and chest creamy white and let up on her throat so she can fight for air; after you’ve groped her tits and grabbed her face after just to see your cum glistening all over her perfect slap-marred cheeks; after you’ve rolled off of her and you finally leave her alone - that Karina gives you a response. 

“No,” she says, hoarsely, staring up at the ceiling. “It really, really doesn’t.” 

-

Power just isn’t the right word for it. It’s something much more beautiful than that. 

Desire. You’re dozing off, halfway in a sleepy fantasy. You imagine rolling the word around in your mouth, using it in speeches, citing it as an obvious central theme. It’s about desire, you’d say, in interviews, at film festivals, patiently explaining your motivations to the masses. That irrational animal instinct. That innate human greediness. You’ll maybe even throw in some fun anecdote about how people in past relationships never agreed with you. It’s never been about power, though, you’d explain: how foolish, how crude. It’s about the ache of truly wanting something. Isn’t that so much more romantic?

So you’ll make a movie about this one day. So you tied Karina to the bed and slapped her hard and fucked her senseless. Actually, you picture yourself explaining, foggy and on verge of falling asleep: actually, it’s about hunger. Irrepressible, all-consuming hunger. That’s why I did this. That’s why I’ll keep doing it. You’re all like me; you get it. That makes sense, doesn’t it? 

And it will, to raucous, riotous applause.

Good. You’ll laugh so hard. You’re dreaming, now; you can’t tell if you’re talking about the sex or the hypothetical future movie. I’m glad you understand. Anyone would’ve done what I did. 

Because - honestly - what’s the point of starving yourself of something that’s right in front of you?

-

(Let’s pull back from your script for a second. Here’s a real story:

A few months back you were visiting a museum with one of your friends when you got into this conversation about performance art. He’d told you about a woman back in the seventies who walked into a gallery and laid out various objects and let the audience do whatever they wanted to her for six whole hours. Her as the artist, in title only; herself as the art. A free, untethered canvas. 

And what happened? you asked, morbidly curious. 

Your friend grimaced. What do you think happened? 

It was a rhetorical question. The performance had been a test of what the general public was capable of - a reflection of their moral compass, of what they’d do if left unchecked. The setup spoke for itself. You didn’t have to get all the gory details in order to understand. 

Seriously, though, your friend said, about the artist: I don’t know what’d compel someone to do something like that to themselves. He’d shaken his head, baffled. Like - I think it takes a deeply fucked up person to just give up their body like that. Like it doesn’t even matter to them. 

It’s strange. It’s an almost universally accepted fact that, at least on some level, artists are inclined to put pieces of themselves into the things they create. A memory; a feeling. Condensing twenty different emotions into a single acrylic painting, or a lyrical reenactment of heartbreak into a song - something personal and unique and lovely. Often inspired, sure, but yours. 

I think that’s what’s funny about it, you told your friend, before you realized that funny was a fucked up word to use here. There’s nothing personal about that. It’s so detached. It’s about the rest of the world, whatever they might make of her - it’s not about her at all. 

You were both quiet, thinking. Visualizing what it might’ve been like. To be there, one of many in the audience, watching this woman who had thrown herself to the wolves and asked to be ripped apart. 

She’s just - material for them to use, I guess, you said, after a moment. A blank page. 

Removing her own identity; becoming nothing, no one. A ghost. An empty vessel. A slab of clay, taking on the impression of everyone who’s ever touched her: the ridges of fingerprints, the half-moon cuts of nails, molding her into something new. Even if it took some force. Even if it hurt. 

Still, it’s what she’d asked for. 

You can’t imagine she’d ever expected anything else.)

-

There’s this fascinating complaint people have about films these days, you’ve found. It’s actually quite the phenomenon. You talk to your colleagues and scroll through social media and read comments on movie trailers trying to get a grasp on it all: market research. This isn’t realistic, people gripe. It’d never sound like that. She’d never look like that. This would never, ever happen - God, are you kidding? Who are they trying to fool? As if they’ve somehow missed the point of fiction - of a sweet, escapist fantasy. As if they’ve convinced themselves that the real world is better. 

Which is moronic, obviously. 

“So what’s the solution?” Karina asks.

Well, you’re no expert; it’s been a while since you’d finished your last movie.

“But you have an idea,” Karina interpets. She’s perched on the edge of your coffee table, nursing a new glass of ice. She’s watching you with her head at an angle, eyes shrewd. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me this.” 

As with most of her guesses about you, she’s right. 

“It’s all about the details,” you say, after a moment. “It humanizes a person. Having little bits and pieces about who they are - it makes them alive. Their likes, their dislikes. Embarrassing stories. Things that make them laugh. Diary entries, favorite foods - first loves, first heartbreaks. So on and so forth.” You’ve got one of Karina’s ankles between your hands; your thumb brushes against the bulbous protrusion of bone. “It’s what makes people real.” 

Karina’s mouth twists, sharp and strange; it takes a second for you to realize that she’s grinning. 

“Oh, right,” she says. “You want me to spill my guts to you.” She pushes her ankle further into your grip. Her legs are just like the rest of her: thin and pale, waifish. Like a nineties catwalk model. “That’s how you’re gonna make me real. In your movie.” 

You pull a face, letting her ankle slip from your hands. Spill her guts; what an ugly figure of speech. As if you’re doing something much more invasive and violent than just writing about her. 

“Basically,” you agree, anyway. “I mean, it helps that you’re already, you know - a real, whole, living person.” 

“Ugh,” says Karina, dry and amused. “Barely.” 

You wonder if she’s also thinking about this morning; you, stunned and staring at her cum-streaked hair, calling her unreal.

She’s got a point, in a way. There’s something slightly uncanny about her sitting in front of you, as if she’s been taken straight out of some wildly different scene - some spotlit stage, some movie set, some glossy high-budget existence - and haphazardly edited into your life. You reach out and press two fingers to the side of her neck, like they do on television if they think someone’s bleeding out. 

Karina tips her head to allow you access. Her pulse throbs hotly under your touch. 

“I don’t know,” you say, smiling at the swanlike line of her throat. “You seem pretty alive to me.” 

“Sure.” Her hair tickles your wrist. “But you want more.”

She says it like it’s this given - as if she’s always faced with people wanting more from her. You wouldn’t doubt it, little tease she is. You can picture her in motion so easily. Always running. Letting people pine and plead for more. 

“Yeah,” you say. It seems pointless to lie to her. “I want more.” 

Karina leans in closer. She reaches up and touches one of your knuckles with the pad of her thumb. Without makeup, you can see the shadows of dark circles underneath her eyes, but even those look painted-on, pre-planned; a study on the aesthetic allure of bruises. She lets her gaze drop to your mouth, then bites down on her bottom lip. Impish.

“Karina,” you say, grinning wider now. 

It’s one of those unspoken things: the translation of body language, the transcription of the tilt of her mouth. Then have me, she’s saying, almost certainly - like a swooning melodramatic heroine, throwing herself into your lap, wanting to be saved. You want more? You want me? I’m right here. I’m yours.

“Fine,” Karina purrs, and kisses you again, like sealing a contract. “Take it all.” 

-

You don’t fuck her again - not at first. There’s more than one way to take someone apart. 

Karina says she’s got a story for you and then she pulls out her phone. 

“This was back in high school,” she explains, scrolling back through her photo gallery. There don’t seem to be a lot of recent additions to it; you’d expected selfies, pictures of her with friends. There are more photos of food than anything: plates of pasta and donuts and burgers and pastries piled with whipped cream. It’s cute. It makes you laugh. “When I won prom queen.” 

You splutter. “When you what?” 

“What?” Karina gives you a bemused, sideways look. “Does that surprise you?” 

It floors you, actually. At first you can’t quite put your finger on why, but then you look at Karina again - at her intense dark eyes and pouty fuckdoll lips and the exaggerated pinup proportions of her body - and you realize you’re making that mistake writers often do: buying into archetypes. It just makes sense that she’d be some kind of brooding bad girl. Mysterious, promiscuous; in your creative vision she’s probably cutting classes and chainsmoking in the girls’ bathroom. A favorite of the rumor mill. A pretty little delinquent.

“Wow.” Karina makes a funny noise in the back of her throat when you tell her this. “No. I was - I did fine in school. Perfect attendance, almost. And I can’t stand the smell of cigarettes.” But she doesn’t look offended, either; you imagine people make these assumptions about her all the time. “The prom queen thing - it wasn’t my idea, though. My best friend did all the campaigning for me.” 

“That’s sweet.” You watch as she reaches the year she’s looking for. Flashes of her in a sparkly dress with her arms thrown around another girl - a tiny doe-eyed brunette - slide by. In one of them, Karina’s got her head tipped back, clearly mid-laugh; in another, she and the girl have their heads bent close together as if they’re trading secrets, unaware that they’re being photographed. “Well - I think it’s sweet.” 

Karina’s fingers stall. “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“I’m just saying-” You shrug. “It’s a nice gesture if it’s something you wanted, I guess. Seems like a lot of attention, otherwise.” 

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “Yeah. It was - I didn’t get to go to junior prom, so it was kind of - this was - senior year. Senior prom.” Another pause. “Yeah. She did it to make me happy.”

“And did it?” She passes by pictures that fill up with more people: friends with big grins who stick close to her side, wrapping her up in an embrace. “Make you happy?” 

“Of course.” Karina’s thumb pauses on a video, the preview dark and unfocused. She says it like she doesn’t even have to think about it. “She was my best friend. She always knew what I wanted. Hey, look at this.” 

The video’s of her in the back of someone’s car, prom queen tiara askew on her head, satiny sash falling off one shoulder. She’s yelling, laughing; the sound isn’t on, but her mouth’s wide open and her dark eyes are crinkled to half-moons, creased underneath heavy false lashes and glittery makeup that’s begun to smudge and fade. It makes her whole face look very soft. Young, too - cheeks full and flushed pink with excitement, hair blown-out and everywhere, glossed black. As if she’s having the time of her life. 

“How old were you here?” you ask, in awe. 

“Eighteen. Just turned, I think.” 

“You look-” Like a baby, you almost want to say. It’s true, though. Big brown eyes, scrunched little nose - grinning like the rest of the world hasn’t quite dug its claws into her yet. Skin unmarred and infant-smooth. “You look pretty.” 

Karina doesn’t look at you, but you can see the slight, entertained upturn of her lips. All the nasty things you’ve called her - all the irredeemable ways you’ve touched her - and now, inexplicably, you’re going for pretty. 

“Thanks,” she says, and clicks the volume up.

“Shut the fuck up,” baby Karina is saying, delightedly. Her voice sounds high, childish and carefree. “You’re so dumb. It wasn’t - it wasn’t even like that, I swear!” She flaps one hand in the air, her nails all short and painted the same rich deep maroon as her dress. “No - you’re just saying that because you’re jealous, you idiot, I know you - you just-”

The person behind the camera says something that you can’t quite make out. 

Baby Karina presses one hand to her sternum, pearl-clutching, and gasps. 

“I would never,” she admonishes - over-the-top like an actress from a movie - before she throws her head back and laughs. 

It’s a startling, wonderful laugh. A little-kid laugh. A mess of wild, unabashed giggles, hiccupy and sweet, so loud and infectious you can hear the other people in the car start cracking up with her; out of frame, someone reaches out to interlace their fingers with Karina’s, waving their joined hands until they smack against the car window and Karina only laughs harder. With her whole body, shoulders shaking and all. Streetlights flashing across her face, making her look sort of blurry and surreal, like something out of a painting. 

“Your laugh,” you find yourself saying, stunned. 

Karina’s touching the back of her neck, completely engrossed in the video. “My what?” 

You don’t laugh like that anymore. That’s what you mean to say. That scratchy, almost painful laugh that she’s been gracing you with since the moment you met her - there’s no trace of that in how baby Karina wriggles with laughter in the backseat of the car until her happy, breathless blush spreads to her neck and her chest. Head tipping back against the seat, like she’s all tuckered out. 

“Um,” you say, voice caught in your throat. 

On the screen, her eyes fall shut, lashes fluttering so delicately. 

You can’t do anything but stare. Brilliant, past-life, prom-queen Karina - grinning at nothing, and sleepy from a perfect night, and laughing as if she’ll exist as this version of herself forever. As if she just doesn’t know any better, yet. 

“You,” you start to say, again-

Karina shuts her phone off, and turns.

And you’re about to say something - something about the gnawing, uncertain feeling you get when you watch this former self of hers. It’s on the tip of your tongue. You don’t laugh like that. Something happened to you. For a moment the whole image just seems off - like the way people make posthumous holograms of pop stars, superimpose faces of long-dead actors on stunt doubles. A kind of intense wrongness. A murmured, uncomfortable: that’s not really you, is it? It can’t be. I barely recognize her. 

“What?” Karina asks. Her smile reveals her teeth. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Then reality hits you, all at once. 

“Sorry.” Your hand finds her thigh. You laugh because you’re being ridiculous - how would you know who she really is, anyway? “I was just thinking - I don’t know. Never mind.”

She seems to take that at face value. You like that about her. How she seems to trust so easily - going home with you, winding up in your bed, staying when you ask her to stay. Giving you whatever you want: her body, her story.

“So,” you say, eventually. “I can put in my movie that you totally peaked in high school, huh?” 

Karina snorts. “Yeah,” she says, playing along, and taps her dark phone screen with a clawed nail. “Say it was the last time I was happy.” She pulls a face, like the thought of it is just unspeakably pathetic. “That’s a tragedy if I’ve ever heard one.” 

“Shakespearean,” you agree, and let her clamber into your lap. “It’s perfect.” 

But you know she’s kidding. You’d like to think that you understand girls like her. They live in a different world than the rest of you - the kind of world where every person on earth looks at them and falls to their feet, falls madly in love. You’ll write about it one day; you’ll feel out the narrative for her, a curious exploration. That rose-tinted life she must flourish in, closed-off and flawless like a snow globe, her spinning and protected in the glass.

“Perfect,” echoes Karina, and kisses you - like she’s proving she really means it. 

That’s the reality, here. That’s it. This is all there is. 

-

Well, almost.

-

Karina lets you scroll through the rest of her photo gallery, front to back. You take the opportunity, because you’re greedy for as much as you can get. 

There’s a lot of photos that are just her, funnily enough - selfies posed in front of the same full-length mirror, over and over again, clad in unholy outfits. Swimsuits, sports bras and little running shorts, lingerie: shit that makes your mouth water, eyes lingering, groaning out loud as she laughs at you. But it’s also her in faded old t-shirts, holding the hem up to expose her stomach. Body angled to the side in girlish sundresses. Hair pulled up, showing off her neck, her gorgeously sharp collarbone - in makeup or out of it, stare intensely focused and sultry. 

“That’s hot,” you comment. “Self-obsessed as fuck, but hot.” 

Karina smiles - her tiny private-joke smile - and doesn’t say anything at all. 

There’s one video in particular that catches your eye. It’s recent, relatively - the date reads late December, last year. Less than a month ago. Christmastime. You click on it, curious. 

Karina’s immediately recognizable in it, black hair winding past her shoulders, drowning in a large black sweatshirt. She’s smiling, but it looks sort of tense and tired - bags under her eyes, like she hasn’t slept in a while. She’s got both hands balled up into fists, held close and protective to her chest; her sharp chin rests on her pale knuckles. There’s a tiny smear of red across her mouth, lower lip bitten bloody. 

“You just got here,” she says. She’s looking at something behind the camera. “The first thing you wanna do is hear me sing?” She laughs once, scratchy and hoarse. “Why are you even filming this?” 

The answering strum of guitar strings, a pretty, perfect chord. An invitation, or a demand.

“You’re kidding.” Karina’s voice is flat.

Another chord - evidently not. 

“Wow,” says Karina. Her smile, out of nowhere, goes very soft at the edges. “You just do this because you know I can’t say no to you.”

“What?” you ask Karina now, laughing. “Is this - what is this? Do you - are you really going to sing?” 

And then - crazily enough - she does. 

“Oh,” you say out loud, adoring, and Karina turns her face into your shoulder. 

Her voice in the video is breathy, sweet. Shyly unpracticed, raspy from disuse, completely and utterly gorgeous; lids slipping shut and open again, laugh leaking into her melody line in lyrics about black eyes and kisses and wanting someone who’s just so, so bad for you. But what surprises you more than anything is the look that dawns on her blurry on-screen face - irises sparkling and smile bashful, hiding her mouth behind the sleeve of her sweatshirt, curled up with her knees to her chest. You see now that she’s wearing pajama pants, fuzzy and patterned with snowflakes. 

She looks radiantly pretty. She looks vulnerable. And not even in a sweaty, satiated, filthy post-fuck kind of way - actually, genuinely vulnerable. Soft and wide-eyed and tender.

Suddenly, you just can’t tear your gaze away. 

“Stop.” 

The song’s over. On-screen Karina’s fully grinning now. Porcelain-fragile, but undeniably happy, too. 

“I hate you,” she says. “Baby, I really do.” 

“You love me,” says the person behind the camera. “You’ll love me for the rest of your life and you know it.” 

And in the video - in vivid, fluid motion - Karina laughs. 

Whole-hearted, lovely. Familiar. For a moment, you swear she’s still that girl sitting in the backseat of a car with her prom queen tiara on, giggling free and uninhibited, unhurt, untouched. A month ago - less than that, even - looking like she’s coming back to life. 

That’s where the clip ends. 

It doesn’t change anything, if you actually think about it. It’s just another version of reality. A Karina from a whole other universe, laughing like a child, and so, so far away from whoever she is now. 

-

(Back between the lines of your script-

The stranger and the girl drink to get drunk and that’s about it. She reads the label of his wine; he makes fun of her for being a snob. She doesn’t really drink, she says at first, but he laughs like this is a challenge, and pours her a glass anyway. She flushes pink and fidgets around. She seems to shed hair like a cat and he thinks this is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen, picking up thin black strands off of the arm of his couch, teasing her about girls and how they really like to leave their mark, huh?

Leave their mark, she repeats. There’s some trick of the lens here, some sort of strategic camera work - he’s in the forefront and she’s in the background, and she looks so much smaller than him. Why do you say that? 

He still had his ex-girlfriend’s perfume in his cabinet. He probably still has some of her clothes in his closet. Not out of any particular emotional attachment, but sometimes this is just the way things are: when you spend years intertwining your whole existence with someone else’s, it’s hard to rid yourself of that connection. You’ve grown into each other’s spaces, tangling limbs and heart lines, putting down roots. It’s gonna take a little force to get them out. 

They’re just so much, he says, gesticulating with his hands. And they affect everything in your life, like a fucking infection. And then it doesn’t work out, and you - he makes a wide, sweeping motion here, attempting to encompass the wreckage. You have to fix everything they broke. Purge them from your system and all that. It’s so fucked up. 

It’s like this, he means to say - you love someone and then they leave you behind and you’re left staring at the blown-up decimated crater that used to be your life together. You love someone and they don’t love you back and all you have now is the debris.

They’re both drunk. There should be music here and there isn’t. It’s only eerie, too-still silence, suffocating the both of them with every passing second. 

Well, she says, laughing, and takes another sip. You and I can agree on that, at least.)

-

It happens like this:

There’s a monologue you want to write. 

You tell Karina this after you’re finally fucking her again, when she’s balanced on the edge of your glass coffee table with her legs spread and your mouth slick with her cum. Well - not after, technically. She’s between orgasms and you have your thumb on her clit, tracking the expression on her face, the split-second moment where she comes apart. It’s then when you realize so badly that you want to write some great speech for your heroine - something about the sweat beading on Karina’s midriff and her tits that you can’t stop touching and the jerky movements of her hips, trying to get your tongue back on her clit, panting and delightfully desperate. Something about desire. 

“Desire,” repeats Karina, voice halfway into a raspy, worked-up moan. 

“Yeah.” You’ve replaced your mouth with your fingers, fucking up into the obscene tight heat of her cunt. She’s trembling, dripping everywhere; she’s the very picture of what it means to want, probably. “But I just can’t figure it out.” 

Karina laughs roughly, and then she cums. 

“Is that funny?” you ask her, after, when you’re wiping your wet mouth with your wrist and she’s sucking on your glistening fingers, licking the taste of her own cunt off your skin. Her eyes big, lips all full and pink - slutty angel on her pedestal, perched above you. “Me writing about desire?” 

Karina lets your fingers free with a loud pop. She’s still clutching your hand close to her mouth, thumb dragging through the sticky gleam of her spit. “No,” she says, eyes distant. “It just reminded me of something. There’s this Anne Carson quote, about men and desire…” She shakes her head. Presses her lips once to your fingertips in a small, startlingly sweet kiss. “It doesn’t matter. Tell me more.” 

There isn’t much to tell, truthfully. Except that you’ve got this love for movie lines that are just so utterly quotable - things that make their way into the pop culture consciousness. That’s the kind of work you want to be doing: creating something that has an impact, something that’ll exist long after you’re gone. Everlasting. If you had to pull for an example, you’d say-

“You ever seen Closer?” 

“Yeah.” Karina drops your elbow into her lap. “Oh, I get it. He tastes like you but sweeter. Lying’s the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off - et cetera.” She hums the melody line. “So you want an early 2000s pop-punk band to make a song about your movie? Ambitious.” 

“More or less,” you say as she shimmies her shirt back down, hem falling back over her midriff. “But like I said, I’m kind of stuck.”

Karina rolls her neck. Her hair is everywhere, sweet-smelling; snapped-off strands decorate your table, looking like cracks in the glass. 

“Any suggestions?” you ask, thumb skimming along the pale bruised inside of her thigh. 

She smiles, mischievous. “Maybe.” 

That’s how you both end up curled on your couch together with your laptop in front of you, Karina’s eyes glued to the movie playing on the screen, watching as the four main characters fuck and flirt and cheat on each other and scream at the top of their lungs. Melodramatic dialogue. How do you feel about him using your life? You’re lying; I’ve been you. This will hurt, which Karina laughs at - as if announcing the pain will make it better, playacting at exoneration. 

It’s also - predictably - how you end up fucking again. You barely make it an hour in, and then-

“Hey.” Karina’s breath tickles your ear. She’s already seconds from climbing in your lap already; her thigh is hooked over yours, bare and inviting. “Are you inspired?” 

You’re swallowing back a grin. “Sure.” 

“Oh. Great.” She’s no actress herself, clearly. She couldn’t be subtle if she tried. “Do you wanna be more inspired?” 

And - whatever. It’s a movie about sex. If anything, at least you’re sticking to the theme. 

The dialogue plays in the background as Karina rocks her hips down on your lap - you can feel how wet she is again, like she never stops wanting to be fucked. You’re telling her something about how she’s the most insatiable girl you’ve ever met; the sound of the film saturates the room, setting the tone like it knows its purpose. How? How does it work? How do you do this to someone? This big, infidelity-ridden confrontation. Did you phone her? Beg her to come back? Asking him why he falls for another girl, getting this ridiculous answer - it’s because she doesn’t need me.

“Huh.” You smile into the curve of Karina’s neck, already palming her ass. “That one’s funny.”

“Is it funny?” Karina’s sharp jaw brushes against your cheekbone. Her eyes are so dark, shadowed by her long lashes. “I think it’s pretty realistic. People don’t like needy girls. It’s a burden to be loved so hard.” Her tongue darts across her teeth; her smile’s somewhat caustic. “Too much to handle, I guess.” 

“What are you talking about?” This strikes you as fairly fucking ridiculous, too. “What men have you met who don’t like needy girls?” 

Karina just laughs and leans in for another kiss. 

It’s easy to let the rest of the film float away in the background, the lines coming disjointed, unconnected. A spoken-word soundtrack, tone perfuming the air: the angst and pain and eroticism seeping into your clothing. Once in a while you’ll pull back from kissing Karina’s neck or tits or mouth and see a thoughtful little quirk to her mouth. Like she’s genuinely listening, even as you’re taking off her shirt, slipping a hand back between her legs. Where will you go? Disappear. I can’t still see you - if I see you, I’ll never leave you. I amuse you, but I bore you. 

“I bet you’ve never felt that,” you say, half into the silk of her hair. 

Karina pauses. Her shirt’s on the floor; she’s gloriously naked on top of you. “Felt what?” 

“I amuse you, but I bore you,” you recite. You already sound sort of fuck-drunk, far gone. “You’re the farthest thing from boring.”

Back in the movie, the female lead sobs into her fists. Karina studies you, fingertips grazing the nape of your neck. You try to imagine it - her as one of those heartsick heroines, crying herself to pieces, begging a man not to leave her - but you draw an utter blank. Some people just aren’t breakable in that way. 

“You’d be surprised,” Karina says, after a moment. “People get bored of me all the time.”

“Oh, please.” Even when she’s the one top of you, you can’t help feeling so completely in control. It’s gotta be the look in her eyes, dying to be obedient. “I bet you have lots of ways of keeping guys interested in you.” You smack her ass hard just to make a mark. “I bet you let them fuck you however they want.” 

“Exactly,” Karina agrees, without missing a beat. She moves in close until your noses bump together. Lets her voice go all smoky and suggestive. “Wherever they want, too.” 

You open your mouth - probably about to say something very rude about what a dirty whore she is and how you should’ve realized it the second you saw her; I knew it, I know you - but then your hands slip lower and Karina presses her lips to yours and licks into your mouth, over your teeth, making you swallow your words. Filling you up until there’s nothing but her and the movie, playing on.

I think I’ll be happier with her. 

You won’t. You’ll miss me. No one will ever love you as much as I do. Why isn’t love enough? 

“Romantic, right?” murmurs Karina, sweet against your tongue. 

“Shut up,” you say, and grab her by the hair, tugging her off your lap as you stand. “Bedroom. Now.” 

Later, you’ll take the time to consider the different ways filmmakers illustrate a power dynamic - it’s playing on your laptop screen right now. The heroine’s sitting on the arm of the couch, clutching desperately at the hero’s jacket. Gorgeously emotional and pleading for another chance, her tiny chin tilted up, eyes so large and watery. Made fragile and fearful by everyone: the protagonist, the narrative, the director, the audience beyond. By herself, even. It’s a stylistic choice - she wants to look that pathetic.

And you-

Well, you’ve got Karina’s long hair wrapped up in your fist, tits bouncing as she stumbles to her feet, ankle knocking hard and horribly loud against the leg of your table. Cute little ass all red from your hand. Thighs shimmering from how drenched she is, cunt dripping from how you’ve treated her. She hasn’t managed to work her mouth into a trademark smirk fast enough: when she looks at you over her shoulder, her eyes are abyss-dark and bottomless, crease between her brows, lips parted in pained surprise. 

The definition of pathetic, too - but that’s exactly the point. She’s just so much more fuckable like that. 

“Ouch,” you say, touching her hurt ankle with the side of your foot. 

“It’s fine.” Karina’s skin feels clammy and cold. Her smirk’s intact now, camera-ready. “I’ve been through worse.” 

Her ankle throbs under the pressure of your touch; you still haven’t let up on her hair. You’ll go through worse, too, you think of telling her: a sly comment about how rough you’re about to fuck her, what vicious marks you’re about to leave. How you’re gonna hurt her exactly like she asked you to. 

You don’t say a thing.

She must already know all of that, anyway.

-

So, Karina’s not breakable like the helpless, weepy, soft-hearted girls in the movies - but that’s alright. She’s breakable in much more enticing ways.

Case in point:

“Oh, get real, baby. Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

Well, breaking someone down doesn’t really get better than this.

It’s all a scene of your own making, a perfect pre-arrangement. You on your bed, Karina limp and bent belly-down over your lap - you in control and Karina as the most impressive toy you’ve ever gotten your hands on, creamy ass and needy cunt and skin that turns bruises to artwork. You’re goading her and failing - trying to get her to just admit to what she is, what a filthy slut, what a nasty eager fuckdoll - but it’s hard to get a response when even breathing seems to be a chore for her right now. Every noise out of her mouth is nothing but a gasping, choked-out whimper. Her face is buried in her forearm, hidden. And through the shine of lube dribbling down your hand and her ass and into the sticky wetness of her cunt, you’ve got two fingers stretching out her little asshole - and you’re just getting started.

“I know you fucking need this.” Your other hand slides up her back, slips to tangle in her hair. “You’re just too good at it.” You pull hard, wrenching her head from the crook of her elbow. “Too good at being an obedient fucking whore for me, huh?”

Karina’s whole body stiffens when you fuck your fingers deeper, as if tugged taut on a string: the flex of her feet in the air, shoulder blades straining, neck craned back almost painfully. You pull harder. It’s a buzz at the base of your skull, live-wire thrilling: the knowledge that you can yank her into whatever position you want - fuck her anywhere, work her ass open with your cock, fill her up with cum - and she’s just going to have to take it. Like she’s this pliant, powerless thing. Like she’s yours. 

Your self-satisfaction seeps right into your voice. “Answer me.” 

You hear Karina gulp down a breath. “I,” Karina mumbles, but she can’t do anything but babble. “I - fuck-” All teeth-clenching nonsense; she shoots a baleful glance over her shoulder, desperation clawing its way into every word. “Please-”

Your fingers pause. “You want more?” 

Her cheeks are splotchy and pink; you swear there are tears wobbling in those big dark eyes. The heavy arousal in your stomach turns to violent hunger, as though your mouth could start watering at any second. You can’t help it. The thought of seeing her cry is fucking exhilirating. “You - oh-” 

“Answer me. You want my cock?” You’re waiting for the breaking point. “You want me to really fuck your ass?” 

“Fuck-” 

But that’s not a proper reply and Karina knows it, so she doesn’t protest when you pull your glistening fingers out of her and smack your palm hard across her ass. Once, then twice, and then you just don’t stop. She yelps like a hurt animal - trembles uncontrollably, her thighs and her shoulders and her quivering bottom lip - and makes a sound in the back of her throat that might be a sob, but she still lets you hit her: gives into the harsh crack of skin on skin, over and over again. Listens as you tell her that she deserves this, that she wanted this, that you’re making her into a good girl and this is what good girls get when they’re too cock-hungry to follow orders or answer a fucking question, you know that - you know I’m this rough for a reason. It should hurt. It’s so much more fun that way.  

“I’ve been too fucking nice to you,” you mutter, teeth gritted in an effort to hide your grin - as if you even need to. It’s obvious how much you enjoy this. It’s the point. “That’s the problem with girls like you - you never learned your fucking place, huh? Never really been punished for anything?”

Karina mumbles out something unintelligible, slurring from her drooling mouth to the sheets.

“Yeah.” Your hand comes down again - she flinches just before her body goes slack. “That’s what I thought.” 

And after you’ve spanked her so hard that her fair skin is ravaged and raised with goosebumps along the slope of her back - her whole body in revolt - you finally, finally stop. 

Karina doesn’t budge except to breathe, and even that releases shallow, unsteady. You read it all in the shaky lift and fall of her thin shoulders, her hands in white-knuckled fists, her face pressed to your sheets and hidden - her hair coats everything, all ink, all words written but left unsaid. She shivers beneath your fingers. Her cunt’s dripping all over your lap. She’s a masterpiece. She’s a wreck. 

You’re filled up with thick, swollen pride. “Karina.” 

Karina. Your own personal creation, transformed under your touch. Might as well have your name carved into her, too. A brand right across her back, slicing through tissue, scarring to seal her fate - this is who you fucking belong to. 

“Poor baby.” You follow the sharp ridges of her spine, tracking notches, keeping a tally: counting how many times you’ll hit her, how many days she’ll stay in your bed. How many movies she’ll let you make out of her, being your brilliant muse for decades. “It’s painful when you don’t listen to me, huh?”

But then - inexplicably - you think of her bruising ankle. Her twist of a smirk, detached and humorless. I’ve been through worse. 

You’re abruptly glad you can’t see the look on her face. 

“Come on, sweet girl.” You dig the heel of your palm into her lower back, half a warning. “Pull it together.” 

Between the strands of glossy hair tumbling over Karina’s skin and your sheets, you spot a reddish mark on the back of her neck. Like the impression of a thumbprint, small and round. Blurry enough in the dim light that your brain starts conjuring up strange theories; an old wound, maybe. A birthmark or a burn, a childhood injury.

You graze her shoulder blades with your fingertips, exploratory. She feels so small draped over you like this, a tiny wet wisp of a girl. A doll. 

She still hasn’t moved.

“Karina.”

Nothing.

“Karina,” you say again, suddenly uneasy. Your hand stops. “Are you-”

For a few terrible seconds, you can’t even hear her breathing. 

But then Karina shifts. Slow, sensual, deliberate. Pushing herself up off your lap, arching her back, the slick pucker of her asshole obscene from where you fucked it open with your fingers. Her bruised knees dig into your mattress as she straightens up, and her gorgeous pale face seems to glow in the midday light - heavy dark eyes, bitten-pink mouth, black hair curtaining her cheeks like a frame to a portrait.

“You,” you start to say, feeling suddenly like you’re looking at her for the first time. 

“I’m really sorry,” Karina murmurs.

She doesn’t look close to tears at all. She’s so unfazed, as if having her ass spanked punishingly raw is something that happens to a girl like her on the daily. A run-of-the-mill occurrence - a consequence of having a body like that, made to be brutalized. She’s already reaching towards the nightstand for the lube. 

“I just wanted it so bad I couldn’t think straight,” Karina tells you, with erotic-film certainty - reciting all the lines that’ll make her seem the most insatiably slutty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Her lips form a pout; she leans down to press them to the tip of your cock, all sweet and demure, like she thinks she needs to convince you. Eyes flicking up at you through her thick lashes, molten-hot. “I should’ve listened.” It’s only a breath, warm and torturous. “I deserved that, I know.” 

Your hand winds tight in her hair. You want to force your cock down her pretty throat, make her gag and choke over her simpering apologies, spitting up your cum until it trickles down her chin, her tits, her tummy. Both a game and a power play: prove how sorry you are. 

Karina pulls back before you can, and holds up the lube. 

“Babe,” she says, the term of endearment almost a singsong - a lilting reminder. “I thought you wanted to really fuck me now.” 

“Uh-huh.” Her tits heave as she moves, crawling closer, offering herself up. “And I always get what I want, right?” 

You feel drunk with power. You forget that this isn’t supposed to be about power. You watch as Karina coats her palm with lube and pumps your cock, her fingers slick and hot, her veins starkly blue at her delicate wrists. Expression delighted at how hard you are, pink little tongue poking out between her teeth - seduction down to an art form, meticulously calculated. 

“With me?” Her smile burns. “Obviously.” 

You pull her in by the neck to kiss the smirk off her mouth. 

It’s interesting. There’s this other thing regular critics and moviegoers have been saying about films these days: sex scenes need to have a purpose. Some sort of coherent motivation. Strip your lead actress down to nothing and get her keening and moaning and you’ve got to explain it away somehow. It forwards the plot, you could insist, pitching it to producers and directors. It does something for the character dynamics. It’ll draw in just the right audience, the ones dying to see their favorite celebrity debauched and getting dirty on-screen - they’ll see it over and over just to get a taste. Isn’t that enough? To satisfy the masses? Isn’t that why we’re all here?

Because otherwise all people are staring at is a play at pornography: useless half-convincing make-believe. The heroine can writhe and whine and arch her back all she wants. Everyone knows she doesn’t feel anything. 

“Tell me the truth.” 

Oh, if you two were a movie - you don’t know how anyone could justify a sex scene quite like this. 

It doesn’t matter what artsy angle you take. It all comes down to the same unforgivable details: Karina face-down ass-up on your bed, the perfect bowed curve of her spine, the depraved wide stretch of her asshole around your cock - the sweat shining along her shoulder blades, the hard smack of your palm against the red raw skin of her ass, your other hand at the crown of her skull with your fingers wrapped entirely in her tangled hair - her cunt fucking ruining your sheets, wet all the way down her thighs, each brutal shift of your hips sending her little body into full-blown shudders-

“Tell me that you fucking love it.” Your hand slips lower until you’ve got her pinned down by the back of the neck, fingers pushing down: a grip she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. “Whoring out your slutty little ass like this for a stranger. Getting on your hands and knees for me just because you’re so fucking needy for cock, baby - don’t even try to deny it, you’re so wet, nasty fucking girl-”

You just can’t stop yourself. It’s so easy. She really is so fucking pathetic. Too fragile to get free - too easily manipulated and manhandled. Trembling and drenched and giving way as you make room inside her, forcing space. She’s just so tight - it’s godless, how you make your cock fit in her lube-slicked asshole, how she moans like a bona fide bitch in heat over it: needing faster, needing harder, needing more. Cheek pink and pressed hard to your mattress, sharp nails digging into the sheets rough enough to tear through the fabric. Giving herself up to be fucked cruelly and stupid and senseless. 

Like she’s a real-

“Natural fucking cockslut, huh?” 

Look, seriously - you can’t be held accountable for the things you say to her here. 

Because when you say shit like you’d just let me do anything - like you’d let me fucking tie you up and keep you here forever, be an eager fucking cumdump for me whenever I want you, I know it, I know you - that’s just the moment talking. The circumstances. The pretty arch of her back and the drooling wetness of her cunt and the indecent tightness of her ass, conspiring to make you lose your mind mid-fuck - that’s the whole reason you even tell her any of it. You think you’re good for anything else? Right at her ear, your body covering hers, your cock buried deep. You’re not. Just made to get this slutty ass fucked open, and your mouth, and your cunt - this is all anyone’s ever gonna want from you and you know it - better get used to it now, baby. This is all you got. This is all you are. 

It’s Karina’s fault, really. She just takes it - all of it. She doesn’t even try to fight it. 

“But that’s okay,” you murmur, as she gasps and squirms and cries out like you’re killing her. “I’m still gonna make you cum.” 

And with your cock filling her ass and your hand between her legs, slapping hard at her sopping cunt until she can’t do anything but collapse - shaking, shattered - her whimpers fucked-out and drool-soaked and bleeding into one big nonsensical mess, everything about her used and ruined-

“You’re mine,” you tell her, laughing as she falls apart. “You get that? You’re mine.” 

-then, you do.

When it’s all over, Karina rolls over to face the wall, breathing hard. She’s slick everywhere, sweat and saliva and lube, your creamy cum dripping out of her well-fucked asshole and trickling down her thigh. You trace her lower back and grin at the way her skin seems to give into you, turning pink with a press of your fingertips. You’ve come to realize you adore her like this, the fugue state after you fuck her: utterly dead to the world. 

Like she could become a permanent fixture in your bed. Too tired to move. Too tired to ever leave. 

“Mine,” you say again, softer.

Karina doesn’t argue. 

It’s basically all the confirmation you need. 

-

So, really, if you two were a movie-

It goes like this: life can imitate art, too. It happens all the time. The line between fiction and reality blurs together until it’s indistinguishable - until you can’t tell where the fantasy ends, or if it ever did at all. 

-

(It goes like this: the heroine smiles sleepily and tells the hero he’s the best she’s ever had. You’ve seen this film before. The movie stars with their fake on-screen fucks might not feel a damn thing, but at least it’s still fun to pretend.)

-

Also, the mark you saw on the back of her neck isn’t actually what you thought it was. 

“It’s a tattoo,” you realize out loud, drowsily awed, brushing her hair away so you can get a better look. You’re both tuckered out, an inevitability when you fuck like you do; you’re seconds from dozing off. Karina’s looking away from you, on her side to escape the soreness of her ass, sheets loose across her chest. She lets you touch her wherever. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that before.” 

“You don’t know me,” mumbles Karina, half into your pillow. “It’s not your job to notice anything about me.” 

The tattoo’s crimson-red, all delicate linework. It really does look like it hurts: like someone painstakingly cut the shape into her skin. It’s of a heart, rendered in anatomical detail - valves and ventricles and arteries. It’s beautiful, you realize belatedly. Bright instead of faded, and obviously cared for. Lovely. 

The only permanent stain on her perfect body. You press your thumb against the ink, fascinated. 

“What does it mean?” you ask, but Karina’s already fallen asleep. 

-

(In your script, the girl and the stranger watch some gory crime show, except they don’t pay very close attention and he tugs her into his lap and makes her ride his thigh. The episode they’ve got on is about a serial killer who murders so-called sinners - liars, adulterers, the like. Slaughters them like sacrifices, cutting their throats with vicious efficiency. Fake blood drenches the screen with every crime scene: a form of fucked-up baptism, a psuedo-religious cleansing. 

The girl’s putting on an equally decent show on top of the stranger: head thrown back, eyelids fluttering, high-pitched little moans. He sinks his teeth into her shoulder and keeps watching the TV.

Hey, he says, a murmur against her skin, a close-up on his mouth. You’re a sinner, right?

She’s got her hands on his shoulders, hips rolling. Sure am. 

How do you think this guy would kill you? 

He thinks this’ll shock her, but she doesn’t even pause. Like he kills all the rest, she says. Like an animal.

I think he’d be more careful with you, the stranger muses. You’re too gorgeous. He’d have to use, like - a scalpel, or something. Something cleaner. Something that’d keep you intact. 

It’s no use. Nothing he says seems to scare her. Her eyes are far-off, almost glazed in recollection. Like she’s thought about it too - her own untimely end. Her own vivisection, skin flayed and organs visible, viscera and bone. There, hold the shot: now the audience can consider it with her, ponder all the ways she could be torn apart, all the repulsive things they could do with her desiccated body. All the ways flesh can warp under a human touch: the blue-black yellow-green purpling of bruises, a whole palette on one tiny girl. There’s value in that, isn’t there? There’s something intimately, incomparably beautiful in suffering. There’s art. 

Isn’t that why everyone’s watching? 

I get it, the girl says, still soaking his thigh, smiling as if it’s an inside joke between them. You want me dead. That’s been obvious since the moment you met me. 

I don’t want you dead, he says, and grabs her by the jaw. I just want to fuck you. 

Okay, she says, uncaring, like there’s barely a difference. Fine. Whatever you want. 

They don’t turn the TV off. They let the characters scream and bleed out in the background; he fucks her like she’s got a death wish. It’s funny - he expects her to get louder the harder he fucks her, ruthlessly working over the tight clench of her cunt - but she keeps getting less and less responsive, as if he’s pushing her little body into some sort of trance: expression vacant and blank, body limp and lifeless, mouth open and speechless. It makes him angry. Give me something, he’s saying, frustrated, clawing at her hair: baby, it’s not fair, it’s no fun like this. The on-screen shrieks aren’t enough - he wants it from her. Actually, he keeps saying he needs it - as if fulfilling desire is on the same level as food or air, as if he’ll drop dead in seconds if he doesn’t get her sobbing. He gets his overlarge hands on her face and starts contorting it, pushing her mouth open, her eyes wider, his fingers down her throat until she spits and gags and chokes. Oh, the audience will love this one: it’s reminiscent of those filthy exploitation films with their cult followings, so cleverly referential. Look at her pathetic and pinned down. Look at her helpless and struggling. Think of your favorite on-screen murder scenes, and then think of this.

Anything I want, the stranger reminds her, yanking back her hair as she drools down his wrist. You asked for this, didn’t you? You said anything I want. 

Except now the girl can’t say anything at all. 

This moment will start rumors, invite horrified scandal the same way some purposefully marketed horror movies are passed off as snuff films - that really went down, they really died like that. This scene’ll get a similar response. Did he actually fuck her? Did he actually hurt her? Did everyone - the writer, the director, the crew, the captive audience - actually just stand by and let that happen? 

Sure. Or she might just be a really, really good actress.

There. The stranger’s murmuring to her now, watching her manufactured expression, watching the tears fill her eyes. There you go. There’s my girl. And she is his, she really is - transformed into something all beautiful and new under his clumsy fingertips, molded right into art. The camera will zoom in close on her gorgeous, cadaverous face, a perverse little gift for the audience: here, have this, take a look. She’s all yours now. 

There’s something to be said here about the manmade link between sex and violence - inescapable, brutal, primeval; bodies in all shades of red - but he forgets it the second he touches her, and she’s being fucked too hard to remember.

Maybe they’ll get to it next time.) 

-

AND WE'RE BACK!!!!!!!!!!! <33333

all my luv ever to @capslocked @worldsover @passingnotions @braaan for beta reading my dumbass shenanigans and also for being the best ever I LOVE U!!!!!! AND ANYONE WHO IS READING THIS I LOVE YALL TOO.................. PART 2 COMING SOON!!!!!!!!!!!

#kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #idol x reader #idol x male reader #reader insert #karina smut #karina fanfic #aespa karina smut

[skzdarlings]

Chan with ❛ that really does make you hard. i can feel you pulsing inside me. ❜

summary: your husband is a university professor. when you sit in on one of his lectures, it gives both of you an idea...

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: husband!chan, kinky professor/student roleplay, though reader is his wife and not actually a student. dom!chan, sub!reader, degrading language (stupid, dumb, slut). corruption kink, power dynamics kink. explicit sexual content. word count: 2380 words.

part of the valentine's day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

Chan is giving a lecture when you reach the university.   You kill some time and grab a coffee, ambling around campus and idling in corridors until your wandering leads you to his hall.  The main doors are propped open, likely for air circulation with the spring heat, and you smile at his voice spilling into the hallway. 

It is a big lecture hall.  He is teaching a beginner level so the class is substantially large, a couple hundred freshman packed inside.  No one will notice an extra presence.  There are a few empty seats scattered across the back row so you slip inside and quietly take one. 

You like seeing Chan in his element.  Your husband is something of a chameleon, spending his down time in hoodies and baseball caps, listening to music and giggling at his own goofy jokes.  You almost forget his professional side, his prestigious and academic character.  He loves his research and his work and his students and it shows in every remark and gesticulation.  

You adore him.  His passion and intelligence never cease to amaze you.

Though right now your loving attention strays to his appearance.  You must admit: your husband is a hottie.  You suspect the tittering co-eds in the first few rows are not as interested in statistical analysis as their rapt attention might suggest.

Professor Bang Chan stands at the front of the hall, dressed down to his shirtsleeves.  His suit jacket has been tossed over the desk.  His pants are pressed, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but his neat black hair is just this side of dishevelled, like he has been running his fingers through it. 

You slouch in your seat and smile a cheesy smile as you watch him work. 

He looks around the hall as he lectures, attentive to every student.   In his perusal, his eyes skim the back row.  They stop on you.   

“And that’s why we, uh, ah…” He stumbles so noticeably that a few heads turn to see what caught his eye.   He laughs and waves, drawing their attention again.  “Sorry, sorry, as I was saying…”    

Your smile only widens.  There is a little flutter in your heart as your husband looks at you with a glimmer in his eye.  You rest your head on your fist and watch the rest of the lecture without any interruption.  

You stay seated when it ends and the students file out.  Chan lingers by his desk to sort his papers.  You just admire him for a moment, then you make your way down the aisle.  He lifts his head, smiling at you.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, shrugging on his jacket.  “You’re early.” 

“Yeah, I thought traffic would be worse.”  

“Hungry?”

“Definitely, Professor,” you say.  Your original plans were dinner, but you lift an eyebrow while smirking, suggesting a different kind of hunger entirely. 

It makes him laugh, a nervous sort of laugh.  You are charmed by the tips of his ears turning red, a testament to your ability to fluster your man well into your marriage. 

“What’s wrong, Professor?” you ask, reaching up to touch his face.   “Aren’t you hungry too?”

He stares back at you for a moment.  His gaze is resolute despite his faint blush.  You cannot help your delight. 

“Ooh,” you say.  “Do you like it when I call you Professor, Professor?”

He finally takes your hand and lowers it. 

“I’m a professional,” is what he says, which is definitely not an answer to the question you asked.  He kisses your cheek before you can protest his reply, then he winks and grabs his bag.  “Come on,” he says, “I just have to put some stuff in my office.  Then we’ll go grab dinner.” 

You suspend your teasing for the time being, talking about your day as you cross campus in the sunshine.  You take the stairs up to the office floor, winding around the labyrinthine assembly of empty offices.  It is quite late in the afternoon, plenty of people seemingly packed up and gone for the day. 

He unlocks his office and lets you both in.  While he goes to his desk to sort his stuff, you close and lock the door.  He does not notice your deliberate movements, still talking about mundane nothings.  You do love your endless conversations, whether casual or important, but right now you are less preoccupied with Channie than Professor Chan.  There is something about seeing your husband like this, smart, competent, confident, and so in charge of his space. 

“Baby girl?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow at your slow, slinky approach.  “What’s up?” 

You circle the desk and lay a hand on his chest, smoothing your palm down his lapel.  You swear his eyes somehow darken, narrowing in focus, his whole expression coloured differently than before. 

“What are you doing?” he asks. 

“I know you’re married, Professor,” you say, blinking oh-so innocently at him.  “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable… it’s just that I… I need…”

He lets you nudge him back onto the desk chair behind him.  He gazes up as you lean over him. 

“Baby,” he says, warningly, but does not move or push your hands away. 

“We’re all alone, Professor,” you say.  “The door is locked.  No one will ever find out.” 

“Ah. Is that right?” he asks, looking like he is on the verge of giggles.  He sighs instead, dropping his chin and shaking his head, playfully disappointed.  With another breath, he lifts his head, and your sweet husband dons a more predatory air.   

He does not even have to say anything, does not even have to touch you.  He just has to look at you with all that desire in his eyes, turning your insides molten.  Every dirty thought is plain in how he checks you out.

“I saw you looking at me in class today,” you say, breathless already.  “Did you think I looked pretty, Professor?”                                         

“I think,” he says, “I was impressed you were sitting there, actually listening for once.”

You open your mouth to retort, but he touches a shushing finger to your lips.  He shakes his head. 

“Nuh-uh,” he says.  “Tell me what you want before I throw you out of my office.”  He cups your jaw, his gaze so clearly centred on your lips. 

“Oh, please, don’t do that,” you say.  “I need you, Professor.  I mean, I need your help.”

“I think you’re beyond help, baby girl,” he says.  He momentarily breaks character to glance at the wall, then he looks at you with a quirked brow.  “We are at my work, maybe we should—”

“I know you,” you reply.  

Because you do.  You and your husband are no strangers to roleplay or kinky fun, your desires and boundaries and safewords known.  Your backside is still tender from a good spanking the night before, just enough to leave you squirming today.  You were pent-up before you even saw Professor Chan administering his lecture.  But now that you have, now that you are here, you cannot let it go.  And given the way he is looking at you, he feels the same way.

“You’ve been hard since I called you Professor in the lecture hall,” you say. 

“Since I saw you sitting in my classroom, actually,” he corrects.  “I could fill in the rest with my own imagination.  Just… looking at you…”  He takes another breath and looks you over.  His gaze is heady.  “God, you just get me going every time, you know that?” 

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you say with another smirk.  Then you pout, batting your eyelashes, as you sink to your knees in front of him.  “Please, Professor,” you say.  “I’m begging you.  I need a good grade or else.  I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything,” he says.  “That’s, ah… that’s a bold statement.  Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I am,” you say.  You clasp your hands.  “Anything at all.” 

“You know, a man who is not as nice me could do bad things to you, baby.   A pretty girl like you.  It’s like you want someone to take advantage of you, yeah?”  He cups your jaw and tilts your face up, looking at your mouth thoughtfully, smiling as he circles his thumb over your lips.  “They could be really mean to you,” he says.  “Make you do things you don’t like.  Maybe even hurt you, baby.”

“But you wouldn’t do those things,” you say with a watery sniffle.  “You’re a good professor. I can trust you.”

“Of course you can,” he says.  With his thumb, he tugs your bottom lip down.  It flips back up with a bounce.  “I’ll help you then, if you do what I say.”

“Oh yes, of course, Professor, anything,” you say. You start to stand when he puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Naw, naw,” he says.  “You stay there for me.”

“On my knees?”  You blink up at him.  “What for?” 

“Tsk.  Baby.  You know what for.”  He pats your head like he would an especially dumb puppy.  “You’re just a pretty face,” he says, “but you’re not that stupid.  You know what you’re good for at least, don’t you?”   

He cups your chin.  Before you can reply, his thumb is forcing its way into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You wrap your lips around it, staring up at him while sucking diligently. 

“That’s it,” he says, and slides free with a wet little pop.  “Good job.  See?”  He speaks with saccharine sweetness, completely condescending as he pats your cheek.  “You are good at something.”  He unbuttons your shirt with deft swiftness, your breasts already heaving in your low-cut bra when he pushes the material off your shoulders.  He laughs to himself as he says, “It’s just the only thing you’re good at is being a dumb slut, but that’s okay, yeah?” 

“I… I guess…”

“Shh, it’s okay.”  He covers you whole mouth with his hand, tugging you close while he undoes his belt with the other.  “You don’t need to talk,” he says.  “No one needs to hear what you think.  Open your mouth for me.   That’s a good girl.  Come on.  You can take it.” 

With a shuffle, he gets his pants open and partially down, enough to get himself out.  He is already rock hard as he guides you forward, sliding into your waiting mouth.  He grunts with deep, obvious pleasure. 

He lets you take over, sitting back while you suck his cock with expert knowledge of exactly what he likes, when to take him deep, when to lick and suck and swallow.  You stop for a breath and his cock smacks your cheek.  Then suddenly he is standing and taking you with him, wasting no time bending you over his desk. 

“Professor!” you say, pushing your ass out with your theatrically scandalized cry.  “Oh no, sir, I’ve never done this before, please, ahh—”   

He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties to the side, sliding his fingers through all the wet arousal there.  He slides two fingers into you easily, with no resistance at all.  He leans down and laughs against the nape of your neck.

“I find that hard to believe,” he says, fucking you steadily with his hand.  “I think I’m not the only professor you’ve done this for, am I, baby?” 

“Ohh,” is all you manage, out of character and genuinely moaning as he works you towards a quick orgasm.  “Channie, you’re gonna make me come,” you warn, wriggling. 

Your moans turn to pathetic little whimpers when he wraps a strong arm around you, locking you in place as he lines up behind you. 

“What’s that?” he asks, holding you tight.  It stops you from writhing while he pushes his wet dick inside you, inch by slow inch.  “I’m not Channie, am I?” he says.  “What do you call me?  Huh?  Dumb little girl.”  He swats your ass and you yelp, clenching around him.  “Try again,” he says. 

“Oh, Professor,” you say.  Then you cannot help but giggle, recalling his evasion when you teased him in the lecture hall.  The evidence of his desire says it all.  “That really does make you hard,” you laugh, breathlessly, “I can feel you pulsing inside me.”

You squeak when he pushes you down onto the desk, holding your hips as he thrusts into you with more vigour.  Then you are not saying anything, just moaning and riding out every quick snap of his hips.  You are not sure how he manages to find the softest, squishiest, more sensitive place inside you, every time, no matter the place or position, sending you hurtling towards to an orgasm at breakneck speed. 

“Oh, help, Professor, I’m gonna—”

“Me too, baby,” he says.  “All inside you.”

“Ohh, fuck—”  You come with a shuddering convulsion, twitching and clenching, your eyes closed as you pant into the wooden surface of his desk.  Your orgasm ends and he is still fucking you, drawing it out.  Your voice is guttural, low and breathy as you say, “Professor, be careful, we have no protection…”

He lifts you up, arches your back, and covers your mouth.

“I… told… you…”  He punctuates each sound with a hard thrust.  “To… be… quiet…” 

Then he drives into you and stays there, groaning into your neck as he comes and comes.   When his hand drops, you take in a gulp of air, shivering from the aftershocks of pleasure.  You are spilling out of your bra from all the jostling, your skirt in disarray.  You whimper when he pulls out of you, then again when he just covers you back up with your panties.  They are soaked in a second. 

“Maybe, uh,” he says with one of his funny, embarrassed, little giggles.  “Maybe we should stop by home and clean up before we go for dinner.” 

You giggle too, turning around to face him.  You fix your shirt while he tucks himself back into his pants.  He is already blushing and smiling that dimpled smile, looking all sweet and goofy as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out on his desk. 

“Good idea,” you say.  “That’s why you’re the professor.” 

He laughs.  Looking at you fondly, he cups your cheek and pulls you in for a long, tender kiss.    

#bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #chan x reader #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x you #skz x you #kpop fanfiction #valentinesdaystories #stilestotherescue

[stillmonsterz]

you know i'm down

pairing: jay x reader

genre: smut

summary: it's march 2020 and you're stuck in the house with your stepfather during lockdown. can the two of you keep it together?

warnings: stepcest, unprotected sex, swearing, dubcon, panty-sniffing, virus mention, COVID implication (?),

word count: 3.8k

--

“Yeah. Yeah, I know, things are getting crazy, but try to keep your head up, yeah? You’ll be safe,” Jay said into his phone, his forehead creasing as he spoke. His newly wedded wife had taken a trip to visit her mother shortly after their marriage, but now the government was advising that she stay where she was. The news was scaring her, and it scared Jay, too, but he couldn’t let her know that. He was her steadfast protector, her bastion, and so he reassured her that everything would be okay.

“And you’ll take care of her too, yes?” she asked firmly, referring to her daughter.

“Of course, honey. I’ll take care of her like she’s mine,” Jay said, rubbing his forehead. “I promise.”

“You’re so good with her,” his wife said. “You know, she really likes you, right?”

“I really like her, too,” Jay said softly, and it was the truth. His wife and her daughter had moved in with him three short months ago, and neither of them had caused trouble. On the contrary: Jay wished that he could see more of her daughter so they could be closer. He wanted to be a good stepfather, but she was always holed up inside of her room.

They exchanged goodbyes, I love yous, and promises to stay safe, and then Jay was alone on the couch with his own thoughts. If he sat there for too long, stewing in fear, he would lose his mind. Jay turned the television on and checked the news. They were strongly advising people to stay put for at least two weeks, and Jay made a mental note to coordinate with his employees about this in a few hours. No point riling people up and forcing them to worry about work so early in the day.

Jay was sitting on the couch with lips set in a line when you had tentatively crept down the stairs, worry etched on your features. He turned the television off and assessed you carefully. You were so similar to your mother in stature and facial features, but Jay doubted that his wife would ever don the dolphin shorts and hoodie combination you were so fond of wearing. Of course, you made it look cute. You shuffled over to him, wringing your hands. 

“Mom really can’t come back?” you asked, hovering near the other end of the couch.

Jay nodded, setting his phone on the side table. “Yeah, they really want to curb the spread of the virus,” he said, smoothing his hands down his legs. “She’ll be okay, though. There’s a lot of food at her mom’s house, and she won’t be alone. It’ll only be two weeks.”

Your lower lip trembled, and you looked away from Jay as you tried to calm yourself down. You rubbed your hands along your arms, and Jay could see that you had goosebumps. “You don’t think she got it, do you?” you asked in a wavering voice. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jay said quietly. “Look at me.” When you refused, obstinately staring at the ground, his voice became firm. “Look at me.”

You lifted your head, and he spread his arms and gestured for you to come to him. He wrapped you in his embrace, rubbing your back. You leaned on him, kneeling in between his legs as you hugged him tightly. “There’s no way that she caught it,” Jay said soothingly. “She’s been with her family the entire time. She hardly went off their property.”

“I’m just so worried. I’ve never lived through anything like this before,” you said falteringly, pulling away so you could look at his face. Jay knew you were looking at him to check for chinks in his armor, a sign of doubt. He pulled his features into a convincing mask of resoluteness and confidence. 

“It’ll all be okay,” he said, running his thumb along your cheek. “Look on the bright side, you won’t have to commute to school for two weeks.”

You chuckled, looking down as you smiled. “You’re right, Jay.” Jay liked that you didn’t try to call him Dad or Daddy. When he had first met you after a few months of dating your mom, he had been pleased to find that you weren’t the archetypal bratty stepdaughter. Instead, you were sweet and intelligent, and you hardly asked him for a thing. Jay stroked your hair comfortingly and kissed your forehead. 

“You wanna watch a movie together? Would you like that?” You nodded your assent, and Jay reached around for the remote and went on Netflix. He put something lighthearted on for you, and shortly after the movie started you rested your head on his chest. Belatedly, Jay realized that it might be somewhat inappropriate to hold you like this, with you curled up in his arms, kneeling between his legs. But you were so worried, and you needed a guiding figure there, so what else could he do?

Jay continued to rub your back as you watched the movie together. At some point, though, Jay’s attention permanently moved from the film onto you, and he studied your features closely. His wife was a very pretty woman, and started to realize that her daughter was a very pretty girl. 

Maybe this lockdown wouldn't be so bad, if he could get closer to you.

–

The next day, Jay took stock of everything in the kitchen. Thankfully, they tended to bulk-buy, so he didn’t think that they would have to go shopping for two weeks. Yesterday, you hadn’t eaten dinner, blaming your nerves for curbing your appetite. He decided to surprise you with a pancake breakfast. He smiled as he imagined you eating pancakes. You’d look so adorable with full cheeks…

As he started to gather the ingredients, he heard footsteps padding on the tiled floor. 

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly. Jay turned to face you, and his breath caught. You were rubbing your eyes, looking around the kitchen, and you were so cute. Jay swallowed thickly and returned his attention to the array of supplies in front of him. 

“Just making breakfast,” he mumbled. “Pancakes.” 

“Can I help?” He heard you come closer, and he could smell your body wash. It was fruity and playful; something from Victoria’s Secret or Lush, a store like that. It went so well with your natural fragrance, Jay had to resist the urge to sniff the air.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Jay replied, kneeling down to find where the pans were stashed. It was his house, but his wife had reorganized the kitchen to her liking, so he had trouble finding things. 

“I want to help,” you said, and Jay looked up at you. A mistake. How could he refuse those earnest eyes of yours?

“Yeah, sure,” he said, hoping he came off as nonchalant. He gave you some instructions, well-aware that his voice was somewhat strained. Jay watched you bustle around the kitchen, shamelessly checking you out. Guilt nipped at him, but he reasoned that it was just looking. There was nothing wrong with looking. And when you wore little shorts like that, you were asking to be looked at, really. 

Jay snapped himself out of it and returned his attention to cooking. He flipped the pancakes without using a spatula, and you clapped. “I wish I could do that,” you said. 

“Here, I’ll show you.” Jay wrapped your hand around the end of the pan and covered it with his own. “You have to utilize a certain flick of the wrist, but put pressure on your index finger, your middle finger, and your thumb…” When you successfully flipped a pancake with his help, you giggled, and he felt warm. Like a proud father, he thought. Just like a proud father.

As you two ate breakfast together, he could see your happiness returning. You must have been so worried about your mother, and he was glad to see you shoveling pancakes in your mouth and laughing about some video your friend had sent you. 

“You’ve got syrup all over your mouth,” Jay said, smiling. Before you could wipe it yourself, Jay wet his thumb and wiped it off, relishing in the opportunity to touch your lips. “I bet you were such a messy kid,” he murmured.

“I was,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh. “My mom was always running after me with Wet Wipes.” 

Jay chuckled at the thought, retracting his thumb. “I’m sure she didn’t mind. You were probably a cute kid, too.”

You groaned. “I was so cute. I have no clue what happened.”

You got pretty, Jay thought. 

“You think I’m pretty?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips, and Jay realized that he had carelessly complimented you. 

Jay cleared his throat. “Of course you are,” he said, desperately trying to center himself. “You look just like your mother.”

You nodded, still looking pleased with the compliment, and Jay could feel his heart racing out of his shirt. You were going to be the death of him.

–

The next day, after dinner, (another collaboration between the two of you), you had announced that you would do the laundry. Jay shook his head and handed his plate to you. “You do the dishes,” he said, smiling slyly. “I’ll take care of the laundry.”

You begrudgingly took the plate and stacked it on top of yours. “I hate doing the dishes.”

Jay laughed and ruffled your hair as he walked past you. “Doing things you hate builds character,” he called behind his shoulder. 

As soon as he got upstairs, he made a mad dash to your bedroom to retrieve your laundry basket. He didn’t have a lot of time. Jay opened your door and bent down to examine the white hamper. Pawing through your clothes, he shakingly retrieved a pair of your panties. It was painfully conservative. Weren’t girls your age supposed to be wanton little sluts? He held it up, examining it closely. Common sense told him to put it back, morality told him to put it in the hamper, and his own conscience was screaming at him to just drop the fucking panties. But something stronger compelled him to hold the panties to his nose and sniff them deeply. Your scent was intoxicating, and he sighed. Jay took a few more deep sniffs before he dropped the panties back into the hamper and walked down to the laundry room. 

It was lockdown, he concluded as he set the basket down. Lockdown was driving him crazy, turning him into a libidinous beast. Never mind that it had only been three days - three days was enough. Three days of being forced to watch as your stepdaughter pranced around in shorts that just barely hid her tight little ass, of having to smell her, of knowing that there was pussy that he couldn’t get to…that would drive a monk to drink. As long as he didn’t act on it, Jay reasoned, he’d be fine. 

-

Over the next week, you and Jay had fallen into a routine. You ate breakfast together, then you dispersed to your separate rooms- you had to do online school, and Jay had to navigate running a business over Zoom. You would eat lunch together, discussing the virus, your problems, or just comfortably sitting in silence. 

Then you squirrel away back to your room. When that happened, Jay would generally do two things in an interchangeable order. He would either retire to his office and read a business management book or go over his emails, or he would rub his dick raw in his ensuite bathroom to the thought of stepdaughter pussy. Pornography wasn’t necessary; he could just close his eyes and imagine you in those stupid shorts, imagine you taking them off and crawling towards him, imagine his hands groping your forbidden body.

 After that, he would cook dinner for the two of you, and you would watch a movie together. You liked to rest your head on his shoulder, saying that that’s how you and your mother would watch movies. So Jay would wrap his arm around you, his other hand clenching the armrest of the couch so tightly his knuckles turned white as he tried to fight off his basest urges. After that, you would go to your room, and Jay would go to his room and edge himself for half an hour. 

Then, he would text your mother and tell her that he loved her.

–

A week after the lockdown had been announced, Jay checked his appearance in the mirror in the living room and frowned. He had a meeting in an hour, but he noticed that he was developing a unibrow. Normally, his wife would help him pluck the hairs.

You walked downstairs and noticed Jay scowling at himself. “What’s wrong?” you asked, standing next to him. By now, just your scent went straight to his cock, making it stir, and Jay sighed.

“Your mom’s not around, so now I’m turning into a caveman,” he said, pointing at his eyebrows. 

Your face brightened. “I can pluck them for you!”

Jay’s face fell, but he quickly put on a mask of indifference. “Oh, you don’t have to, I can figure it out,” he said, waving his hand.

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Please, Jay? It’ll be so fun. It’ll be therapeutic. Please?”

You were the devil, he decided, the devil cloaked in the vestments of a college student. “Fine,” he relented, and you cheered.

Jay wearily stood next to the mirror as you sprinted up the stairs to get your tweezers. You bounced back down shortly, opening and closing the tweezers with the steeliness of a surgeon. 

“Sit down,” you ordered, pointing at the couch in the living room. Jay obeyed, sitting down on the far end of the couch. You straddled his waist.

“What are you doing?” Jay asked, his voice somewhat panicked.

“I have to get close to you,” you replied. Jay realized that his reaction was unwarranted and he was doing a shit job of acting like he didn’t want to fuck you, so he nodded. 

As you plucked his eyebrow hairs, Jay rested his hand on her waist to stabilize you. He stared at you as you worked; you were so lovely when you focused. Jay decided not to fight it, just for now. He languidly rubbed a circle around your waist as you plucked his eyebrows, and his other hand rested on your knee. If Jay tried, he could almost forget who you were. He could just pretend like there was no relation, that you were a stranger, that it wasn’t wrong to feel like this.

“Done!” You put the tweezers on the side table and examined his brows by tilting his head this way and that. Jay continued looking at you. He leaned back so that he was resting fully on the armrest, and your chest pressed against his due to the slight shift in position.

Jay’s voice was low and rough. “How does it look?” His hand still caressed your waist over your hoodie, and he noted that you made no move to get up.

“Very nice,” you replied, both hands still on his face. “You look very handsome now.”

Jay smiled slightly, looking you up and down. “Yeah?”

You looked in his eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”

Jay wasn’t sure who had leaned in first, but he did know that he was the one who deepened the kiss. You tasted incredible, and you weren’t a bad kisser, either. Your lips were soft and you took your time; your hands still cupped his cheeks. Jay’s hand slipped from your waist and worked its way up your hoodie, resting on your stomach. His other hand crawled up your leg, and he was endlessly grateful that you wore those dolphin shorts all the time. 

You were the one who probed your tongue at the entrance of his mouth, and you were the one who ran it along his teeth. He stroked his tongue along yours, tilting his head even further. Your hands slipped from his cheeks to rest on his shoulders.

Strangely enough, as he made out with his stepdaughter, Jay felt no qualms. All he could focus on was how good it felt, on how warm your little mouth was, on the way your body tensed as he ran his hands over you. Jay brought his hand higher, from your stomach to your ribs, until it was resting just below your breasts. He waited for you to pull away, to tell him to stop, but when you didn’t, he continued. Jay’s hand cupped your breast, and he briefly broke the kiss.

“You didn’t wear a bra?” he asked in an accusatory tone, kneading your breast. 

You shook your head.

“You wicked little minx.”

You shrugged, placing your hands behind his neck. “I normally don’t wear bras around the house. I mean, it’s just you and me in here.”

“No,” Jay whispered. “It’s not ‘just’ me.” Jay leaned in to kiss you with renewed fervor. His other hand slipped up into your shorts, fondling your upper thigh. Gently, Jay began to push you down onto the couch, until he was resting his full body weight on top of you. His hand groped at your chest, and he used both of his hands to pull your hoodie off. Finally, finally, he would get to see your body without a massive piece of fabric hiding it.

Jay moaned as soon as he saw your naked torso. He momentarily stopped kissing you to suck your tits. Both of his hands ran up and down your thighs, and he relished in your little gasps and whimpers. Jay took his mouth off of your breast and looked up at you. “You like that?”

You nodded, your face contorted in pleasure. “I like it, Jay.”

You had all but given him the green light to do whatever he wanted to your body, and almost without his knowing he began grinding his hips against yours. After leaving sloppy kisses all over your breasts, Jay kissed you again, sucking your tongue over and over again. 

He continued to rut against your clothed pussy, the friction assuaging the painful stiffness he felt in his cock. Jay knew he was pathetic. He knew how degenerate, how desperate, how sick he was. Only a freak would dry hump their stepdaughter on the couch. He didn’t even last an entire week. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to fully care, let alone to stop. Jay ground his crotch into yours, pressing you deeper into the couch, and he groaned in your mouth. 

His hands were all over you now, stroking your back, your chest, your stomach, your thighs, and he was dimly aware of your own hands snaking up his shirt. 

Jay broke the kiss again, sweat dripping down his nose. “You can’t tell anyone,” Jay said frantically as he began to unbuckle his belt. “Got that? Not your friends, not your classmates, not your mom. Do you understand me?”

You nodded, but that wasn’t enough. “Do you understand me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you said hoarsely, your lips already swollen. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Jay tossed his belt to the side and tugged his jeans down. “Our little secret, right?”

You shimmied out of your shorts. “Our little secret.”

Jay slid your panties down your legs and parted your legs, pushing one up the couch and leaving the other to hang off of the side. He glanced at you as he worked his cock a few times. “Are you a virgin?”

You shook your head. 

“Good.”

“Why?”

“I’d never fuck a virgin the way I’m about to fuck you,” Jay said. Your eyes widened in apprehension, and Jay smiled.

He pushed himself inside of you roughly. As soon as he felt your pussy tighten around his cock, its warmth enveloping him, he swore. “Oh, fuck.” Jay kept your legs pushed open as he inches himself into you. At first, he shallowly thrusts into you with about half of his length. You’re already shuddering like a whore, whining and shaking, but you aren’t wet enough for his liking. Jay reached his hand down and stroked at the area above your vagina lips, eventually finding your clitoris. He rubbed it, just enough to get you nice and sopping wet. It didn’t take long, either; you must have been as pent-up as he had been, judging by the way you were gasping. Even just a few inches had you stuttering out some words that would make your mother blush.

He pulled out of you slightly, swirling his hips, before slamming his cock into you again. You moaned, a sound so gorgeous that he had to continue. Jay pounded your pussy mercilessly, his hands keeping your legs split open. His balls slapped against your thighs almost painfully as he kept up his pace. 

“Should have done this at the start,” Jay huffed. “Should have been inside you the second lockdown started.”

You opened your eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

Good question. Why hadn’t he just fucked you like this when you had come running to him for comfort? Why had he bothered waiting? For propriety? For politeness? None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered now was the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock. 

Jay smiled slightly as he imagined how your mother would react to this: her daughter splayed out on the couch, her tits bouncing up and down, her hand covering her mouth so her moans won’t echo all over the house, and her stepfather in between her legs, fucking her ruthlessly. The scary thing was, Jay didn’t think he could stop even if your mother had walked in. Your pussy felt too good, too tight, too warm, too inviting. 

You were so wet that Jay could hear it, his cock making obscene noises as it ravaged your hole. Jay pulled out of you, breathing heavily. He dragged you from the couch and laid you flat on the rug. 

“On all fours,” he said raggedly. “Now.”

You were weak, but you obeyed his instructions, displaying your red, aggravated pussy for him. Jay mounted you and fucked you like a dog, chasing his orgasm. His hands groped around your chest and he grabbed your tits while he pounded you. He leaned his head back and let out a primal moan.

Soon, your arms gave out and you collapsed onto the floor. Jay didn’t pull out of you, couldn’t pull out of you. He braced his arms on either side of you and slammed into you, pressing his entire body weight onto you. 

He felt his orgasm approaching, and he sped up, grunting and groaning. Jay felt like he would die if he didn’t cum, and he fucked into you mindlessly. When his orgasm hit, he let out a strangled scream. He could feel the pleasure from his cock all the way to his fingertips; his hairline tingled as he emptied himself out in your pussy. 

Jay didn’t know what he would do next. He didn’t know how you would act around each other. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had to do this again and again with you.

#jay x reader #jay smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #I don't like the title...

[iznsfw]

Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself. 

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung. 

It’s all because of her. 

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation. 

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it. 

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do. 

hey, it reads, you need to—

-

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it. 

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands. 

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together. 

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth. 

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours. 

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin. 

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look. 

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane. 

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?” 

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to. 

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection. 

Deception can’t lead you away. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?” 

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart. 

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve. 

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for. 

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder. 

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.” 

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin. 

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You. 

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that. 

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger. 

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right. 

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service. 

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already. 

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her. 

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game. 

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.” 

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.” 

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected. 

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too. 

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity. 

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again. 

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction. 

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways. 

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you. 

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you. 

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers. 

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs. 

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care. 

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes. 

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff. 

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent. 

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung. 

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down. 

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open. 

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good. 

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore. 

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both. 

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?” 

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips. 

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had. 

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect. 

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking. 

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker. 

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

-

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some. 

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too. 

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting. 

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #izone smut #ive smut #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung smut #izone wonyoung smut #ive wonyoung smut #male reader #x reader #reader insert #idol x reader #idol x male reader #female idol x reader #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #pov smut #kofimission #commission #iz days of christmas #iz days of christmas day 12 #iz days of christmas 2023

[seokgyuu]

There is nothing worse than wanting what isn't yours. Sunghoon is your roommates boyfriend. He is also the one thing occupying your mind ever since you first laid eyes on him. And never would you have guessed that the feeling is mutual.

Pairing: Sunghoon x Fem!Reader (minor Jake x Fem!Reader)

Contents: Cheating!! I don't condone cheating in real life, but decided to have this be the main theme of this story, work of fiction!! be warned!, jake plays a big part, calls reader pretty girl, roommate is named yeri but pls don't picture rv yeri thats my baby ok? SMUT! MDNI

Smut Warnings: making out, dirty talk, usage of the words "sweetheart, "baby", "princess", "good girl", fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it friends), creampie

wc: 3.7k

a/n: i know i said my first ever enha fic would be the heejayhoon fic but... here we are now. sunghoon has been on my mind too much and he needed to be let out, ok!! pls don't cheat on your partner ok, sunghoon is not doing things correctly here but oh well, what can we do. thanks for reading <3

It’s not fair, you think. How she gets to sit on his lap, how she gets to run her fingers through his hair. How right now his hands are on her hips and how he holds her so close to his body, his eyes following her every word. You wish you could tell him. How she has been seeing this other guy behind his back. Nothing physical, you think, but still. You wish you could go up and tell him she’s not being entirely faithful. But you can’t. It’s not fair. 

She says something and he laughs and you finally turn away to grab the drink Jungwon has poured you ages ago. He is too busy talking to a girl you don’t know to notice you haven’t even taken the cup. You bring it to your lips, letting all of its contents run down your throat in one go. Maybe getting drunk is the only way you’ll survive this stupid ass party you didn’t even want to host in the first place. 

“Slow down, pretty girl,” you suddenly hear a voice next to you and you almost choke. It’s Jake Sim, his best friend. 

“What?” You put the cup back down and look at him with one brow raised. Jake chuckles, pushing a hand through his soft looking black hair.

“There is enough alcohol for everyone, no need to drown it all in one go.”

“Maybe I want to.” You challenge him with your eyes and he takes the hint, smirking as he grabs the bottle of vodka that's standing on the counter. 

“I got you, pretty girl.”

Talking to Jake is fun. He is fun. He is also handsy. After five minutes of talking, he has his hand on your thigh, looking at you attentively as you tell him some story about you in middle school. You’re feeling hot all over, but it’s not because of Jake or his hand or the way he looks at you. It’s because of how he is looking over.

Park Sunghoon. Still with your horrible roommate on his lap, with his hands still on her waist, with her mouth so close to his ear you’re sure she’s saying the dirtiest things to him right now. But he is looking at you. 

“How do you know Yeri?” Jake asks then, bringing you back. 

“She’s my roommate,” you explain and take a sip from the drink Jake mixed for you earlier. His eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh! You are her roommate!” He grins, “I knew you looked familiar.”

“I did?” You wouldn’t have bet on Jake knowing who you are as much as you wouldn’t have bet on Sunghoon visibly being bothered by you talking to his best friend. 

“Yeah. Sunghoon mentioned you before. Showed me your insta.” You can’t hide the surprise on your face.

“He did?” Jake chuckles again, leaning forward, his mouth almost as close to your ear as Yeri’s to Sunghoon’s. 

“He mentioned you’re not that talkative. He also mentioned you like to look at him. And you know what I think? He enjoys it when you do.” 

You hate your treacherous heart for beginning to beat quicker. Why would Jake say that? Wasn’t he hitting on you? Mentioning what Sunghoon liked or didn’t like - wasn’t this… counterproductive? 

“Why- why would you tell me this?” You finally ask back, looking at Jake with wide eyes. 

“Because,” he begins to explain, his hand wandering further up your thigh, making you gasp, “because I know that he likes looking at you, too. And I never liked Yeri. You seem much nicer than her.”

His breath is still hitting your neck. His touch is soft and while it should probably feel more sensual, it doesn’t. You realize his plan, realize that he is doing this because he knows Sunghoon is watching and you feel your cheeks heat up. 

“If you let me kiss you now, he will for sure come find you later.”

In retrospect - maybe it was a bit naive of you to just let him kiss you. Or well, for you to kiss him as a response. He could have played with you, could have used the knowledge that you wanted Sunghoon to his benefit. Something about him, though, made you feel like you could trust him.

Jake is a good kisser. He knows where to put his hands and how to suck on your tongue in a way that doesn't feel like too much. He knows how to turn his head and how to make you crave more, knows exactly how to make it look believable - so believable, Sunghoon can’t concentrate on Yeri on his lap anymore, on how she kisses his neck and whispers things into his ear he’d normally eat up, things he would normally be excited to hear. 

It’s not fair, he thinks. He’s not being fair. This has been going on for way too long. At this point he should just break up with Yeri as he had planned months ago. But he’s just a weak man and Yeri knows him too well. She’s not a good girlfriend and he’s not a good boyfriend, but never would he ever cheat on her. Or so he would like to think. Because right now? Looking at you on the other side of the room, your hands buried in Jake’s hair and his hand on your thigh, so far up it’s almost underneath your god forsaken skirt - he wants nothing more than to drag you into your bedroom and show you he’s better than Jake. 

The thought scares him enough to stop Yeri in her motion and excuse himself to go to the bathroom. 

“Wanna meet me in my room in five?” Yeri giggles in his ear when she’s off his lap and Sunghoon tightens his jaw. 

“I think you should entertain your guests a little more before you leave to your bedroom.”

Yeri pouts up at him when he gets up.

“But Hoonie…,” he knows her antics, he knows them well enough, probably better than anyone. What normally would have worked right away, doesn’t this time. He shakes his head and just walks off, making a pit-stop in the kitchen to get some more alcohol in his system to survive the night. 

-

Sunghoon knew it was bad, he was bad, when he walked into you in nothing but a short towel wrapped around your body two months ago. It had been totally out of his control - the way his body reacted to see you in your almost naked form, water dripping from your hair onto your shoulder, over your collarbone and down your chest. You suddenly became so much more than before. He had found you cute before. Cute and funny and nice. Never had he seen you as anything but his girlfriend’s roommate. You and Yeri weren’t even really friends, more like in need of each other. Yeri’s old roommate had moved in with her girlfriend and so the room became vacant. You were the first one to apply and stayed. This had been six months ago.

And now? Now Sunghoon feels more drawn to you than he had ever felt to Yeri and it drives him crazy. That is why he is drowning two shots of tequila in the kitchen with Jay and Jungwon and that is why he practically hides behind the door frame to watch you and Jake make out. He knows it’s not fair to be jealous. He also knows he probably shouldn’t watch the way Jake is kissing you, the way you are kissing Jake, because all it does is make his body burn. 

He finds himself wondering what you taste like. If you like the way Jake tastes. He’s pathetic. Pathetic and a horrible boyfriend. Sighing, he finally moves to the bathroom, glad to see there is only a small line he has to wait in. Crossing his arms, he leans against the wall, trying to forget the visual of you and Jake but failing miserably. Maybe he should have told Yeri to meet him in her bedroom after all. He could have taken his pathetic jealousy out on her. Just fuck her until he forgot. Imagine it was you instead. 

“Jesus, look at those two,” a voice rips Sunghoon out of his thoughts and he turns his head - immediately regretting his decision. 

It’s Jake and you and he has you pushed against the wall right next to the kitchen, kissing you hard and you kiss him back, hands on his nape and Sunghoon feels like the universe is out to get him tonight. Why the fuck would you follow him outside? Why couldn’t you have stayed in the living room, why-

He stands up straight again. 

You followed him outside. You are making sure he sees you. 

Sunghoon doesn’t have a coherent thought left in his brain. His legs carry him to you and Jake, squeezing through people he doesn’t know and then he is right there, his hand landing on Jake’s shoulder, squeezing hard.

“Heeseung is looking for you.” He says with a blank face and Jake parts from you, needing a few seconds to realize what’s going on. The moment he recognizes Sunghoon, he has to try really hard to suppress a smug smile.

“And that can’t wait? Kinda busy here, mate,” Jake raises his brows. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens once more.

“No. Said it was urgent. Better look for him.”

The apartment isn’t that big. There is a kitchen that’s separate from the living room that does house a good number of people. Jake has just seen Heeseung there. Talking to some red-head and most definitely not looking for him. Grinning after all, Jake nods and turns his head to wink at you quickly before finally taking off. 

“So,” Sunghoon starts, eyes traveling from the back of Jake’s head to you, “Jake, huh?” 

There is no chance in hell you can respond to him. In all honesty, you hadn’t really believed Jake’s plan would work out. Sunghoon getting jealous and stopping you from making out? When Yeri is right there? It seemed absurd. Apparently, though, it wasn’t. 

The surprise on your face is clear as day and Sunghoon scoffs, shaking his head.

“Is this how you want to get my attention, sweetheart? By making out with my best friend?”

Sweetheart. 

“I- I didn’t-,” it’s no use. Both of you know exactly why you had kissed Jake, why you had followed him into the hallway. 

“You didn’t, hm? Didn’t mean to kiss Jake? Didn’t kiss him just to make me jealous? Or what?” 

He’s so close to you now. Too close, if you think about it. What if someone sees you? Sees your roommate's boyfriend this close to you at her own party? 

“Sunghoon, I really don’t-,” you try again, but this time Sunghoon’s hands grab your waist as he pushes himself closer to you, your breath hatching in your throat.

“Don’t lie to me, princess. I can see it in your eyes. Fuck, I can see it in your eyes everytime I’m around. You want me, just admit it.”

Your skin is burning where he is touching you. His eyes are staring into yours and you wish with all of your being he wasn’t who he was. 

“I can’t. I- I don’t want you, Sunghoon, you’re not mine to want.”

Your words reach his ears but they don’t make sense even though they should. Looking around, Sunghoon grabs your wrist and drags you to your bedroom, holding out his hand.

“Keys, I know you locked it.”

You stare up at him, lips trembling, knowing better than to give in. 

“Sunghoon-,”

“Give me the keys, Y/N.”

The way he says your name has your knees growing weak. Swallowing, you let your hand slip into the pocket of your sweater, handing the waiting man what he had asked for. 

Without a word Sunghoon unlocks and opens the door, pulling you inside behind him, hoping to god no one paid you any mind. Once the door behind you shuts, you feel your back hit it, feel Sunghoon’s breath on your face, his hands back on your hips, the look in his eyes wild and angry and so full of want it almost causes you to whimper. 

“Do you want me to be yours to want?” He asks with a raspy voice and his fingers dig into your flesh. 

“Does it matter?” You reply quietly. 

“If it didn’t I wouldn’t ask you, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that.” You immediately say, your thighs pressing together traitorously. Sunghoon catches your movement and he lets out a breath.

“Why? You like it?” 

He is so close to you. So fucking close. You could count every single mole and freckle on his face if only you had the strength to look at him for longer than two seconds.

“Sunghoon, please. Y-You’re Yeri’s boyfriend.”

“That doesn’t stop you from staring at me whenever I’m here, does it?” It’s wrong. He knows it and so do you, but it just feels too good. His hand moves from your waist down, sliding in between your thighs to part them. You gasp, eyes widening when you feel his fingers trailing up your thigh.

“I- I am not- I would never, Sunghoon!” 

It’s a light touch, but it’s right there on that one sensitive spot on your inner thigh. Sunghoon bathes in the way you look, the way your breath hitches when he touches you.

“Yeah? What was that, baby?”

“‘Am not staring at you!” You try to shoot daggers at him through your eyes, but all that reaches him are silent pleas to touch you more. 

“Is that right?” Sunghoon leans forward, his free hand now cupping your cheek, thumb softly caressing your face.

“Not staring at me, hm? Not wishing it was you on my lap instead of Yeri, no?”

“No! Of course not, I-,” you gasp again when he moves his hand further up.

“Stop lying to me, baby. Please, I need you to be honest, need you to tell me how much you want me.”

His voice is deep and his begging almost brings you to your knees. While the rational part of you tells you to push him away, the irrational part tells you to stay right where you are.

“I- what about Yeri, Sunghoon?” Your hands find place on his chest and he bites down on his lip, softly shaking his head.

“I’ll break up with her. I promise, princess. I just need you to tell me exactly what’s on your mind, please?”

I’ll break up with her, the words echo in your head over and over. You should think about this more, you know you should. And yet… 

“You- You are, Hoon, you are always on my mind.”

“Fuck, princess, tell me more. What am I doing in your mind?” His nose touches yours and the hand that was on your cheek moves down to your neck, a shiver running down your spine.

“Doing everything you do to her… to me.”

“Keep going.” His instructions are clear, but with the way his hand has now reached your throbbing core, with how his fingers glide over your soaked panties, feeling just how fucking wet you are for him, you don’t even know how to say your own name. 

“You kiss me, not her. You… touch me, not her.” The words stumble out of your mouth and Sunghoon breathes them in, his cock hard against his jeans as he lets his fingers push your panties to the side, feeling your warm and soft folds right then against his skin. He groans, head falling onto your shoulder.

“Shit, you’re so wet, baby, fuck.”

You whimper when he finds your clit with his thumb and you would have landed on the floor, if his arm hadn’t wrapped around you just then.

“Sunghoon…,” you breathe out, but he just shakes his head, kissing the side of your neck.

“Am I touching you like this in your mind, baby? Am I making you this wet?”

As if to accompany his words, he pushes one finger into you and you cry out, hands fisting the material of his shirt. 

“G-god, yes, just- just like this, Hoon.”

He’s dizzy, you are making him dizzy. Your smell and the way you feel around his finger, your voice dripping in pure lust, it’s about to drive him fucking insane.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles before finally kissing you, his lips devouring you like starved man, a moan escaping and landing in your mouth. Every bit of composure that might have been there a second ago is now gone. Your arms wrap around his neck as he continues pushing his finger in and out of you, your small whimpers getting caught by his busy lips. 

Sunghoon thinks you’re like a drug. Now that he’s got a taste, he can’t stop, he can’t get enough. He licks into your mouth to taste more of you, pushes another finger into your sopping pussy to prep you for his cock that is aching behind his pants. There isn’t much time, he knows someone will notice if he’s gone too long. 

“Been dreaming of this, Hoon, need you so, so bad.”

Your whispered words are like a prayer to Sunghoon. He moans against your lips and wraps both of his arms around you now, your cunt feeling so empty without him all of a sudden. You cry out when he puts you down on your bed and kisses you again, his hands busy getting your panties off your body, leaving your pussy bare for him to dive back into with his fingers. 

He kisses you again, his tongue circling around yours, his lips hot and red and perfect against your own. Nimble fingers slip underneath his shirt, caressing his soft skin as your hips move against him, his fingers even deeper inside of you at this angle. You whine into his mouth and Sunghoon bites down on your bottom lip.

“Gotta have you, baby, gotta fuck you, yeah?”

“Yes, please.” 

He rids himself of his jeans and boxers, pushing them down enough for his cock to spring free, his eyes taking in your body, your face, the way you look wanting him. How many nights had he wished it was you underneath him? Cursing under his breath, he pushes you further up the bed, your head landing on the pillow behind you, gaze wide as you watch him lean forward, his soft brown hair falling into his face. He doesn’t waste any time, pumping his cock a few times before lining himself up with you, easily slipping into your wet heat. 

“Kiss me.” You whisper and Sunghoon’s eyes fly open, sinking into your further as he leans forward, his lips catching yours in a sensual kiss. Your legs almost automatically wrap around his waist, helping him to completely sink into you. Moans are exchanged between the two of you and your fingers grab Sunghoon’s hair, pulling his head back so you can kiss his neck. He hisses, hips beginning to thrust into you, your tongue lapping at his skin. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect around me, sweetheart. Never had a pussy better than this.”

He grabs your hand and pins it over your head, eyes wild as he stares down at you, his hips beginning to move mercilessly, cock hitting you right where you need him to. It takes everything in you not to scream for him, your eyes rolling back and your back arching, wanting more of him, wanting all of him. 

“Hoon, am already close,” you admit with your face hot and Sunghoon moans once again, letting his head fall down, back between your shoulder and neck, kissing your skin.

“Yes, baby, want you to cum on my cock.”

It’s true. He doesn’t think he has ever wanted something as much as this. His words are like a spell, your pussy clenching over and over again as your orgasm erupts you, making you cry out in pleasure, your hands flying to the his back, hips moving rapidly against him, basically fucking yourself on his cock through your orgasm and Sunghoon feels like he is about to pass out. 

“Good girl, such a good girl for me, fuck.”

He kisses you again, lust and want mixed with desperation as he continues to chase his high, twitching inside of you, your walls tight and warm around his hard cock. If he could, he would fuck you for another six hours, but he knows tonight is not the night for that. Fuck, he’s gonna need to get you a new apartment, he needs to get you as far away from Yeri as he possibly can. 

“Want you to cum in me, Sunghoon, please, make me yours, fill me up, please.”

Black and white dots appear in front of his eyes when you whisper these words in his ear and he can’t do anything but have your wish be his command. He curses your name once, twice - then he cums, thick stripes of white filling your awaiting pussy, the feeling of being filled by him getting you over the edge a second time. You can’t help the loud moan this time, can’t help clawing your fingers into his skin underneath his shirt. He rides out his orgasm and your legs fall off his waist, overstimulation hitting you and making you whine, Hoon kissing your neck and your cheek and finally your lips as he pulls out, quick to part from you again to look at how pretty your pussy looks filled with his release. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I could look at this forever,” he mumbles, sinking down to push two fingers inside you, stuffing his cum back in. You gasp in surprise.

“Park Sunghoon!” 

He laughs, looking up at you with his bangs hanging in his face.

“Need to make sure it stays where it belongs, princess.”

Sunghoon breaks up with Yeri the next day. He takes you apartment hunting an hour later. Safe to say Jake’s plan worked out. And he won’t ever let you hear the end of it. 

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enha fanfiction #enha smut #sunghoon fanfiction #ksmutsociety #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #sunghoon au #sunghoon imagine #enhypen au #enhypen imagine #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut

[sinswithpleasure]

The After School “Student Entertainment” Club 

---------------- Also available on AO3! ----------------

Yu Jimin’s favorite part of the day is when school ends. Of course, it’s not just her—it’s also every other student. All of Jimin’s classmates prepare to leave, and the chatter in the classroom grows louder and louder while the teacher attempts to call out something about the homework due at the end of the week. Only a few students give the teacher some form of a reply—most of them are buzzing about the new game release, their holiday plans, and for some, their after-school club activities over the upcoming holidays. Bit by bit, the classroom begins to clear, and Jimin waves bye to a few of her classmates as they leave, a wide grin across her face. She packs up at a leisurely pace, enjoying the afternoon breeze that blows through the open windows.

“What’s up, my fellow Sex Ed bud—ow!” Uchinaga Aeri tackles Jimin with a huge back hug, her arms wrapped around the Korean girl’s body in a tight embrace. Before Aeri can finish her sentence, Jimin elbows her friend in the tummy, panic all over her features.

“Shhh!—Shut up, Aeri! Don’t say that so loud!” 

“What? There’s no one else here now, and you and I both know that ‘Student Entertainment’ is just a front to cover up that we’re having se—Ow! Stop it! Stop!” True enough—the classroom is empty now, but Aeri still has to let go of Jimin to defend against her strikes. Both girls begin to giggle after, and then they wrap each other in a tight embrace before Jimin takes her bag to leave for the clubroom with Aeri.

—---—

The “Student Entertainment” clubroom is nothing short of lavish—private school budgets and rich members, all two of them actually, will do that. It’s a big room, complete with gaming consoles, a large wall-mounted TV, a big couch that folds out into a bed, bookshelves, and tables and chairs to study. There’s even a bathroom and shower attached. Not many know of what goes on between the four walls, and the lesser anyone knows, the better. Between Jimin and Aeri, this “Student Entertainment Club” is nothing but an excuse to have sex in school whenever they want. It’s kept on the down-low, of course, with only a select few knowing the actual purpose, but for all intents and purposes, it’s the school’s official Gaming Club with a fancy name.

When the door to the club room closes, the girls’ habits take over. Aeri flips the switch for the lights, and Jimin switches on the air conditioning. Both girls drop their bags onto the chairs at the study table, and instantly, Jimin’s pulling off her blazer. Aeri has her hands busy with undoing her tie and unbuttoning her blouse, Jimin following suit after she lays the blazer on top of her bag. Button by button, their blouses fall open to reveal their bras, and those are the next to go. Jimin folds her clothes nicely in a pile on the desk, while Aeri just shoves them into a pile haphazardly. Both girls undo their skirts and push them off their hips, and Aeri is the first to be fully naked after pulling her underwear off as well. Jimin takes her time folding her skirt and panties, and she unties her hair too, letting it cascade down her back and shoulders. Jimin and Aeri now only have their knee-high socks and shoes on.

“We’re done for the term, babe!” Aeri runs and wraps Jimin in a tight hug that Jimin returns. They’re pressed intimately close to each other, just the way they love it—physical affection, clothed or unclothed, is nothing new to them. However, Aeri’s not one to resist her mischievous impulses—she reaches down and gives Jimin’s ass a squeeze, which draws a groan of exasperation from her friend, knowing Aeri’s penchant for mischievous teasing and touching. However, Jimin’s smiling when she pulls back. 

“Wanna celebrate?” 

“Oh, of course, babe.” 

Without wasting a second, Aeri leans in to press her lips against Jimin’s. Both girls share soft pecks before Jimin deepens the kisses—she begins to nip at Aeri’s bottom lip, her hand reaching up to cup Aeri’s head, pushing her into the kiss. Her other free hand glides between their bodies, and she palms the Japanese girl’s left breast, giving it soft squeezes. Aeri doesn’t just let Jimin have her way too—she’s reaching around to softly fondle Jimin’s ass once more, which draws soft moans from her partner. Both girls enjoy the pleasure of the other’s sensual touch, and their kiss only gets hotter—Jimin’s tongue glides across Aeri’s in a show of deep lust and affection, and when they separate for air, strings of spit bridge the gap between their tongues before dripping to their cleavages below. Jimin looks at Aeri with a lustful grin as both girls pant softly to catch their breath, and she whispers softly, “Get on the table for me, Aeri?”

“Anything for you, baby~.”

“Shut up.” Jimin laughs, and Aeri giggles. The Japanese girl walks over to the table, and she lifts herself onto it, her chest jiggling as she makes herself comfortable. Jimin watches, pure want dripping from her gaze as she steps closer, and she bites her lip when Aeri spreads her legs wide open for her as she gets closer. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot, Aeri.” Jimin’s pussy throbs when her eyes land on the sight of Aeri’s creamy pussy. It’s her hottest feature, Jimin thinks—that Aeri gets all creamy and messy when she’s turned on. Her pussy throbs at the thought, a rush of slick flowing to stain the skin of her thighs as she feasts her eyes on her partner’s body. “You’re so wet.”

“All because of you.” Aeri winks, and she pulls Jimin closer, arms wrapping around the Korean girl’s body. “I bet you’re absolutely dripping for me too. Can’t wait to taste you.”

“Who says you have to wait?” 

Jimin reaches between their bodies, her shaky breath brushing against Aeri’s lips as she runs a hand all over her core. With a grin, she raises it to Aeri’s lips, her fingers glistening with her slick. 

“Taste me, Aeri.”

Aeri makes a show of it—she dives in and licks Jimin’s wet palm from bottom to top. However, her gaze doesn’t leave Jimin—she stares deep into the other girl’s eyes as she collects her juices on her tongue before making a show of swallowing it. She licks Jimin’s palm and fingers clean, swiping her tongue over and between each finger as if they were delicacies, before softly moaning in satisfaction at the taste. At this point, Jimin is almost feral for her partner—her cunt drips fresh slick as she thinks about what she wants to do to Aeri. 

“All clean, babe. You always taste so good.” Aeri smirks at Jimin’s lustful gaze, her hungry eyes raking over her nude body as if it was fresh meat. The Japanese girl spreads her legs even wider, shifting back onto the desk as she plants her feet firmly on the surface. “Eat me?”

Aeri watches with bated breath as Jimin bends over the desk, head between her legs, her hands palming the Japanese girl’s meaty thighs. Jimin looks up at Aeri, her eyes burning with lust as she plants a soft kiss on her right thigh, then another, then another. She takes her time leaving a trail down her thigh, her lips drawing closer and closer to Aeri’s creamy sex. Every soft breath Jimin releases brushes against Aeri’s skin and leaves her wanting more. Jimin’s hungry eyes don’t help either—Aeri adores eye contact during sex, and Jimin always abuses it during their sessions. A fresh wave of creamy slick flows from Aeri’s pussy, down her skin, and Jimin giggles. 

“So needy already?”

“Shut up, babe. You know what happens when you look at me like that,” Aeri whines, “It makes me so fucking wet and you’re still teasing me!”

Jimin doesn’t offer a verbal response—she smirks, and she deliberately plants more kisses down Aeri’s thigh. However, when her lips land right next to the Japanese girl’s labia, Jimin deliberately leaves kisses right around Aeri’s core, just shy of where Aeri wants her to be. Aeri squirms under Jimin’s touch, and she attempts to buck her hips, to brush her core over Jimin’s mouth. However, Jimin pulls back, a soft “No, no, no” stopping Aeri’s efforts. Jimin takes her time with her partner—she starts leaving a second trail of kisses down Aeri’s left thigh now, and the girl beneath her groans in both arousal and frustration. 

“I swear to God, Jimin, if you tease me one more time…”

“Should I, Aeri?” Jimin’s smirk only annoys Aeri further—she’s in the palm of Jimin’s hand, so to speak, and she can’t do anything about it. 

“If you fucking do it, I’m going to—oh, Jimin, FUCK!”

Aeri never finishes her sentence. In the midst of her distraction, Jimin’s hands glide over Aeri’s thighs down to her core, and she spreads her partner’s labia wide open. She then forcefully licks up the entire length of Aeri’s slit, from the base all the way up, ending at her clit, and she wraps her lips around it to suck on it softly before she begins to tongue Aeri’s hole, lapping at the fresh, creamy slick that leaks from her cunt. Jimin moans as she tastes Aeri’s juices, and she stimulates the girl beneath her even more—her tongue glides over Aeri’s folds, right over her entrance, again and again, all while she thumbs her clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub, drawing broken moans from the girl beneath her. 

Aeri writhes and squirms atop the table as she plays with her breasts, kneading and palming the flesh between her fingers for more pleasure. She can’t stop staring at Jimin between her legs, eating her out so fervently, and she moans when Jimin begins to penetrate her with her tongue, the slick muscle slowly gliding deeper and deeper into her. 

“Fuck, eat me, eat me, Jimin!”

And eat Aeri she does—Jimin’s tongue laps at Aeri’s walls as more and more slick flows from deep within her cunt, and she continues to rub circles on Aeri’s hard clit. Aeri’s pleasured moans fill the room as she watches Jimin wreak havoc on her body, their eyes meeting once more. It drives her crazy—Jimin looks so hot between her legs, her tongue deep inside her cunt, rubbing against her walls, and the wet slurps that emanate from below only serve to arouse her further. The constant pressure on her clit has Aeri moaning even louder—Jimin is relentless in pleasuring her. She continues writhing and twisting on the table, her legs wrapped around her partner’s head now, over her shoulders, hips bucking and thighs flexing on hard swipes across her clit. 

“Fuck—fingers, Jimin—mmph, please—”

Without missing a beat, Jimin’s lips wrap around Aeri’s clit while her middle and ring fingers slide into her hole. The sudden penetration has the Japanese girl squealing in surprise, and she thrashes about as Jimin begins to softly suck on her clit while she thrusts her fingers in and out of her partner. A sheen of cream coats her digits, and Jimin grins when she sees how messy Aeri is. White slick drips down all over the tabletop beneath her, and it stains her thighs as well. Jimin loves how messy Aeri gets during sex, and it only turns her on more as well. She wipes her lips and face clean with the back of her other hand and licks it off her skin, smirking at the taste.

“Fuck, you’re such a messy girl, Aeri.”

Aeri whines at the loss of pleasure—a talking Jimin is a Jimin that isn’t pleasuring her with her mouth. A much louder whine leaves her lips when Jimin pulls out of her, thick strings of Aeri’s cream clinging to them. 

“What the fuck, Jimin?”

“Shh…” Jimin raises her wet hand—Aeri’s juices drip down her skin, and she laps up the excess flowing droplets with her tongue. The Korean girl steps between her partner’s legs, and she raises her slick fingers to Aeri’s lips. 

“Suck.”

On Jimin’s command, Aeri wraps her lips around Jimin’s fingers. She sucks on them, tongue sliding over the digits to collect her arousal, clean them of her juices. She moans at the taste of herself, and Jimin grins lustfully as she watches. When Aeri releases her fingers, Jimin immediately replaces it with her lips, and she penetrates Aeri with them again, fingering her while they make out. 

“God, Aeri, do you know how much you turn me on?” Jimin’s hot breaths brush right against Aeri’s lips, and the Japanese girl gasps in pleasure as Jimin expertly finds her G-spot, gently rubbing her fingers against the patch of flesh. “I love how wet you get for me, all that cream leaking from that messy little cunt when I finger you, when I eat you out. Shit, you get me so wet when you cream like that for me, fuck!”

Aeri almost complains when Jimin pulls away from her, but it’s cut off by a long moan when Jimin presses down on the flesh of her abdomen, right over where her fingers are inside her. She traps Aeri’s G-spot between her fingers, and she thumbs the Japanese girl’s clit once more while rubbing and poking against the patch of flesh inside her, and Aeri thrashes and writhes once more, the combined assault too much for her. 

“No—Haah, Jimin—Mmgh, Jimin, I—please, Jimin, you’re—Haah!—No, stop!—I’ll cum, I’ll cum!”

Aeri’s broken moans only make Jimin wetter. Copious amounts of slick leak from Aeri’s hole, and Jimin takes the chance to add an extra finger into the mix, stretching her partner out just a little bit. 

“No, Jimin, fuck—you—FUCK!”

With a loud scream, Aeri’s hips buck, and a deluge of her juices gush out of her, all over Jimin’s wrist and arm, flowing beneath her. The table is a mess now—puddles of slick rest between her legs on the polished wood, and the overflow splattering all over the floor. Jimin continues fingerfucking her convulsing partner as spray after spray of her squirt drenches her arm, the table, and the floor. Some of it even lands on Jimin’s breasts, and she sighs in arousal—Aeri cumming so hard for her only makes her drip down her thighs even more.

When Aeri comes down from her high, falling limp on the table, Jimin takes the chance to climb atop it to straddle her partner. She kneels right above Aeri’s head, putting herself on full display for the girl beneath her. 

“Oh my God, Jimin… You’re so wet…” Aeri breathes.

“All because of you,” Jimin echoes, mirroring Aeri’s words from earlier. “Eat me.”

“With pleasure.”

Aeri isn’t like Jimin—she doesn’t tease at all. When Jimin lowers herself down, Aeri’s tongue is already lapping at her partner’s thighs, cleaning it of the excess slick. Both of her hands reach to knead the soft flesh of Jimin’s ass, just like earlier, and she takes her time pleasuring the Korean girl now, her tongue gliding over wet folds, teasing the dripping entrance. Jimin moans loudly above her, her hands reaching to play with her breasts, kneading her own flesh between the gaps of her fingers and pinching her nipples for more pleasure. Aeri’s tongue continuously teases Jimin’s clit and hole, occasionally penetrating deep into her to taste her dripping slick. Both girls are moaning now: Aeri in satisfaction, Jimin in pleasure, and the Korean girl grinds down on the girl beneath her, making a mess of her mouth and chin as more and more slick flows from deep within. 

“Oh fuck, Aeri, god, your mouth, fuck, you always eat me so well, fuck!”

Jimin rests her hands on the tabletop behind Aeri’s head now, and she begins to use the Japanese girl’s mouth like a toy. She grinds down harder, chasing her own high with her partner’s mouth and nose, messily rubbing her core on any part of Aeri that she could. Aeri eats it all up—she tongues what she can of Jimin while one free hand of hers shifts between her legs now, two fingers plunging deep into herself. Both girls masturbate together, with Jimin using Aeri’s face and Aeri with her own fingers. Louder moans fill the room now, both of pleasure and satisfaction, mixed with the wet sounds of oral sex and masturbation.

“God, Aeri, I’m gonna cum soon, I’m gonna cum all over your face, I’m gonna squirt all over you, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Mmlph, mmgh, hngh!”

Two sets of broken cries ring out in the clubroom. Both girls reach their peaks together—Jimin convulses atop Aeri, one hand of hers reaching below to rub her clit as gush after gush of squirt spills over the Japanese girl’s face, hair, and breasts. Every brush of her clit and pinch of her nipple only adds to the pleasure, and every spray only serves to drive Aeri crazier. She drinks what she can of Jimin, and at the same time, Aeri’s hips buck again beneath Jimin, spray after spray of squirt and cream exploding out of her as she orgasms once more. Both girls make a mess of the room and of each other at their peaks, gasps and moans of pleasure filling the air as they ride out their highs, the satisfaction washing over them throughout the experience. 

When both girls come down from their highs, they climb off the table, Aeri helping Jimin down. Immediately, they’re kissing again, but this time, it’s soft and chaste. When Aeri breaks the kiss, she grins. “God, that felt so good.” 

“Mhm,” Jimin nods, grin mirrored on her face. “Thanks Aeri, you’re the best.” 

“Aww, getting soft on me, buddy?” Aeri doesn’t pass up the chance to tease Jimin, as usual.

“God, fuck off, Aeri. Let’s clean our mess up and shower.”

Aeri pouts in jest, but she’s immediately grabbing Jimin’s hand as they leave for the bathroom to grab the cleaning supplies. 

“Let’s stay back and order in! There’s this Netflix show I’ve been meaning to watch…”

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #aespa smut #aespa giselle smut #aespa karina smut #karina smut #giselle smut

[gyutopia]

overpass graffiti | sim jaeyun

ꕤ DESCRIPTION: “they say we fall in love three times in our lifetime: our first love is the one that breaks us, leaves us hopeless and lost, this then brings us to our second love, the one which picks up the broken pieces of our heart and mends it back together; heals us from the heartache the first left and lastly, our third and final love⏤the love that’s supposed to last. for you, your best friend sim jaeyun happens to be two out of three.”

ꕤPAIRING: best friend!jake x f!reade & second lead!jungwon

ꕤGENRE(S): slice of life!au, soulmate(?)!au

ꕤWORD COUNT: 23.9k

ꕤWARNING(S): loss of virginity, soft dom!jake, sub!reader, oral (f!receiving), p in v intercourse, no protection, drugging (not the reader), underaged drinking, swearing, dry humping, mentions of plan b, mentions of hospitals, possessive!jungwon, mentions of sobriety, heartbreak, allusions to depression, mentions of drinking and smoking, mentions of passing out.

ꕤA/N: i think i have a thing for sim jaeyun and angst.

“Jaeyunie, meet ____. You and her are gonna be best friends.” 

Jake’s mother smiles, a hand lightly on his back, and pushes him forward with a gentle pat.

The moment she steps away from his side however, he panics, looking back at her desperately. He’s met with a smile of encouragement - caring but unsympathetic. Jake swallows harshly, shyness heavy in his throat, and uses all the willpower in his 9 year old body to force himself to look at the small female.

Standing across from him, a girl of roughly the same stature is grinning toothily - or at least she could've been, if she’d had enough teeth. ____, was dressed neatly, her hair laid down with lots of gel and two ponytails with bows holding it all together. Her light purple dress swayed as the gentle breeze blew. In one chubby fist she clutched tightly onto her fathers hand. Jake blushed, if he didn’t firmly believe that girls had cooties he would have sworn her to be the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on so instead he scrunches his nose and says the first thing that comes to his mind and knows will hurt her feelings.

“You’re dirty,” he proclaimes, crossing his arms. “Very dirty.”

At his words, ____’s smile quickly falters and an almost angry look overtakes her face. “Am not!” Sensing his daughter's growing fury, her father steps in.

“____ah, calm down. I’m sure Jaeyun didn’t mean it, why don’t you two spend some time together? Hm? I’m sure you’ll be best friends.”

Not giving his daughter any time to argue, he excuses himself and leaves to go join the other adults by the varanda.

____ crosses her arms and stares up at Jake intimidatingly, “apologize.”

Jake gulps, although he’s a whole head taller than the girl and probably even older, he can’t help but be slightly scared of the icy glare she’s sending his way so he meekly mumbles, “I’m sorry”

However, it doesn’t seem as if ____ is pleased with the half assed apology. She raises an eyebrow and impatiently taps her foot on the grass, “for what?”

He gulps, “for calling you dirty, I didn’t mean it.”

Satisfied with the apology, a wide smile breaks out on ____’s face before she doubles over from laughing so hard. “Y-you should have seen your face!” She abruptly stands and quivers her bottom lip as she stares at Jake, “I-I’m s-s-sorry.” She breaks out into laughter once again, unable to hide her amusement. Jake only frowns and crosses his arms.

“It’s not funny.”

Ignoring his embarrassment, ____ walks right up to him and slings an arm around his neck,  “Let’s be best friends forever, yah, Jaeyunie?”

Usually Jake would have scolded anyone who called him Jaeyunie, his mother and hyung being the only exceptions, but for some reason hearing the name slip out so easily from your mouth seemed comforting. “Okay,” he agreed, slightly hesitant. “You seem kinda stupid, so I can still be number one with you as my best friend.”

You only smiled in response, delighted, before spinning on your heel and running back to your mother and father, who were talking animatedly with his own parents.

What a strange girl, Jake thought. At least she wouldn't be competition.

___

Later that night, both of Jake’s parents and your mother and father were sitting at the table discussing grown-up things while you were in the bathroom and Jake was sitting beside his brother when his name filtered through to his ears. He had been in the process of stabbing the greens off his plate and slowly feeding them to his precious dog Layla when his parents weren’t looking, but at the mention of his name he perks up instantly. 

“...Jake has already been offered scholarships to private middle schools once he finishes elementary but he’ll be attending the private international school his elder brother goes to,” she was bragging again.

Your mother perks up as well, “Wow, that’s so incredible, Suyeon. I think being friends with Jaeyun will really help ____ find some initiative. She’s already so used to being good at things, a little healthy competition is just what she needs.”

Jake’s father nods, gesturing for the maid in the corner to bring over the bottle of wine. “It’s certainly going to help with that. While we’re on this topic, I’d like to invite you to join our study group. We have the best tutors come in and teach the kids after school but only the best of the best are allowed to join, ____ shows a lot of promise.”

Jake listens nervously, watching his father as the maid filled his glass and stepped back.

you’re….smart?

His mother notices him staring, and reaches over to tousle his hair affectionately. “Don’t worry, Jaeyunie,” she croons. “You’ll still be number one. Being friends with kids that are as smart as you is a good thing! You and ____ will have lots more to talk about than you would with anyone else.”

He frowns. He knew sometimes parents lied to kids to stop them from being sad, but his mother would never lie to him. Jake was too clever, he’d figure out the lie before she finished telling it.

“Alright.” He found himself cautious for the second time that day. “As long as I can still be number one.”

Jake in fact did not stay number one for long.

Once you had fully settled into your new life in Australia your grades skyrocketed causing your teachers to bump you up a grade, placing you into Jake’s class, the two of you always went head to head vying for the first rank and each time Jake always fell a point behind.

It aggravated him to no end that you came out of nowhere and completely upended his whole life and identity, Jake had always been the smart one and never had any solid competition so having you seemingly pop out of nowhere and take away the very thing that made him, well him agitated him beyond belief.

But of course this made for a great friendship, while Jake claimed he hated your very existence he soon found himself looking forward to your after school study sessions. You never took them seriously, you always goofed off and made it your life's mission to teach Jake the meaning of fun. It took a while for the boy to warm up to you but you managed to get on his good side with a little bribing of fried chicken and grape soda.

The two of you would wait until your break to sneak out to the fried chicken place down the street to pick up the order you had placed during your tutoring session before heading back to hide in one of the various rooms inside Jake’s spacious home. The two of you would use this time to talk about the annoyances in your life, you would mostly complain about the girls who kept coming up to you to confess their love for Jake and how you were growing quite annoyed with having to turn them down on his behalf. He would only grimace and quickly change the topic to how annoyed he was with you for yet again topping the class rank.

Slowly but surely though, as the two of you began to age, the conversations began to change as he warmed up to you, what used to be pointless bickering and complaining turned into meaningful deep conversations about his fear of attachment, rooted in his father constantly leaving him and his family to go back to Korea for his job overseas. You had slowly become the only constant in Sim Jaeyun’s life and he truly had no intentions of letting you go. You really had become his best friend just like his mother predicted all those years ago.

While it might have taken Jake some time to love you, you loved him from the start. While everyone saw him as the perfect all rounder student you knew he was more than that. You knew he wasn’t perfect, wasn’t some ace who was just naturally talented. No, he worked just as hard- if not harder than his peers to keep up the image he was born to fit. He pulled all-nighters to bring home grades suitable for the assemblyman's son, immersed himself in after school clubs to fill up his resume because God forbid he wasn’t preparing for college at the ripe age of 9, learned multiple languages to become an ambassador for the school and threw himself into learning different instruments and playing different sports to really bring home the title of being an all-rounder.

In everything he pursued, he aced and came out on top. Which is why it irked him to his very core when you came around and knocked him down a peg. You knew right away just how much it bothered him, of course he complained about it every day during your group tutoring sessions but you didn’t really care. If anything it was motivation for you to work even harder to maintain the top spot.

You weren’t doing it out of spite or to intentionally anger him, no you were doing it to show him it’s okay to not always be perfect. It’s okay to rank second, it’s okay to goof off during tutoring sessions when studying is all you ever do, it’s okay to eat junk food when you feel like it and most importantly it’s okay to talk through your emotions with someone. You like to think you ranked first for his own good, to help him realize life is more than just school.

When the two of you reached high school you eased up with working so hard for the top rank but Jake didn’t, he studied all of your summer break before freshman year and placed into a year above you. It annoyed you that you were no longer graduating together but Jake became more lax and carefree knowing he would be graduating a year early, it was refreshing to see a new side of your best friend. Somewhere along the grades of 11 and 12 though, something shifted.

Jake was never unattractive but you never really took note of just how attractive he could be until your junior year.

___

“He’s gonna say no, Sarah.”

“We’re just looking out for you. He’s always hanging out with ____. They’re probably secretly dating, why don’t you just ask someone else?”

“I don’t know why you’re so set on him. I heard he’s already turned down six girls this month. six.”

Jake was just trying to get his calc homework done, bent over in the back of the library with his textbook open in front of him, eyes glued to the page. He spares you a frantic look, desperate to get your attention and convey that it was time to leave before it happened again. 

You, of course, were not paying attention. You were splayed out haphazardly on the chair across from him, headphones in and scribbling in your notebook. You had a smudge of graphite on your nose from scratching it in the middle of your doodling session.

You hum peacefully, completely unaware of your friend's turmoil.

It was everywhere. Prom. It was one stupid night, and he was fully planning on spending it wrapped up in blankets in his living room with you watching romcoms. It was the senior prom and he refused to attend a social event he knew you wouldn’t be at.

Unfortunately, Jake was alone in that feeling, the girls whispering from the table behind the two of you were right. He’d been asked six times. Six excruciating experiences of being cornered by a near stranger who smiled too sweetly and asked him to be their date, six separate occasions on which he’d stuttered a “sorry” and bowed deeply, ducking out before they could say any more.

And by this point, he just really, really didn’t want to have to turn down another girl. He felt like absolute crap.

Jake reaches out, tugging at your school uniform. “____” he whisper-yells.

You shrug him off and pout, “you’ll mess me up. Stop.”

He persists however, this time more aggressive and even goes the extra mile and pulls out one of your airpods. “I’ll buy you dinner please can we just go?”

You finally look up from your work slightly agitated and a full on pout graces your lips, if it were any other time Jake would take a moment to admire how adorable you look but it wasn’t.

“Why do you wanna leave so badly?” you huff out.

Before Jake can answer though he’s cut off by Sarah, one of the girls who has made her way over to your table.

“Jake?”

At the mention of his name his eyes squeeze shut and it hits you like a truck on why he was so adamant to leave. This time it’s the girl from his IB Latin class who he tutored on occasion.

She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, you wonder what Jake’s response is going to be this time. She’s very pretty.

“Yes?” He croaks out. Behind him, you sit up in your seat, ready to step in if needed.

She looks down, hands twisting together and fidgets and steps side to side, but when she sucks in a sharp inhale and looks up her eyes are filled with determination. Jake feels queasy, almost as if he’s about to vomit.

“Do you maybe want to go to prom with me?”

Jake swallows the lump in his throat, guilt twisting everything into a knot. You see his knuckles turn white as he makes a fist and you resume your drawing, knowing what his answer will be.

“I’m sorry,” he manages. “But I don’t plan on going.”

Your brow shoots up in shock, you never figured he was rejecting all these girls because he simply didn’t want to go, you thought he was just waiting for the right moment to ask the girl he truly wanted to go with. You never asked why he was so closed off about prom, you figured he would tell you in his own time when he was ready.

“Can I ask why?” She lets her hands fall to her side. “Even if you don’t wanna go with me, I think you’d have a lot of fun.” She retreats back to her friends before he can respond. Jake tries not to notice the way they shake their heads sympathetically and pat her back in comfort.

“She’s right you know, prom would be fun.” you say as you shut your sketchbook. “Plus, she seems really sweet.”

Jake rolls his eyes “you sound like my mom.”

“Ha ha,” you drawl, stretching and arching off the chair like a cat. “I really don’t understand why you don’t want to go. It’s your last chance to enjoy a high school dance.”

The previous year, while you were in your sophomore year and Jake in his junior year he skipped out on prom, choosing to attend his model UN conference instead as his dad had put an emphasis on how much more important the meeting was compared to prom.

Jake shrugs and reaches for your backpack to pull out some snacks you packed for him, “it makes it real.”

“Makes what real?” you tilt your head to the side and patiently wait for him to collect his thoughts to elaborate on what was bugging him.

Jake sighs. “That this is the end.” he mummers, “after prom it’s graduation, and after grad I’m off to the states for uni…away from you.”

Your heart skips a beat and your hands start to get clammy at his words. You try to subtly rub your hands on your skirt and sit up straighter, confused as to why his words have such a strong effect on you.

“We’ve never spent more than a week apart from each other and now we’re going to be thousands of miles apart for a year. I can’t go to prom knowing you won’t be there and that it brings me one step closer to leaving.” he continues, he doesn’t look at you as he lays his emotions bare for you, rather he focuses on organizing his snack options.

Your heart twinges at the reminder that he was leaving for Yale in the fall, this would be the last summer spent together for who knows how long. As much as the reminder upsets you, you still plaster a smile on your face and playfully roll your eyes.

“Did you forget our promise? You and me, forever and always. We have all of summer to make as many memories as we went and even after you leave we can facetime, technology has come a long way y’know.” You reach out to take the bag of chips he had settled on eating to open for him before handing it back. “Distance means nothing. I’ll always have time for my best friend, plus when I go to Harvard I’ll only be two hours away. Enjoy the time you have left in Australia. You'll probably miss it more than me when you actually leave.”

Jake shakes his head, “doubt it but you do make a valid point.”

You smirk and shrug, “when do I not?” You clear your throat. “Does this mean you’ll go to prom?”

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and tilts his head side to side before asking, “go to prom with me?”

This time you can’t hide your shock, it’s not odd for you and Jake to be pairs for most social events but for some reason him asking you to be his date for his first and only prom causes heat to rise to your cheeks.

“W-what?”

“What? I can’t see myself going with anyone else, I’m most comfortable around you. Plus when I think back to my senior prom I want to remember how much fun I had and when I’m with you all the stress I’m under suddenly doesn’t matter anymore.” He states.

“Stop being corny,” you hiss weakly, fumbling with the straps on your bag. “It’s not a good look.”

Jake giggles, “what? Do you want me to get down on my knees instead? Do a promposal?”

Your eyes widen, mortified at the idea of him putting together a grandiose promposal. “You’re such a little shit, I swear—“

“Hold on, siri play stand by me by be—“

You pick up your sketchbook and hurl it at his head causing him to duck out of the way and fall out of his chair onto the floor with the force of his laughter. Hearing his laugh causes a pinch in your heart.

When he finally manages to pull himself together and off the ground, he wipes at his eyes and sighs. “Seriously, though.” He hums. “Will you go to prom with me?”

You swallow thickly, averting your eyes to the floor. “Sure.” you say quietly. “I guess so.”

You're uncharacteristically nervous for prom. Your mom insisted on taking the day off from work to help you get ready when you told her Jake had asked you to go with him.

You thought she was being dramatic but she swore up and down, left and right- that this was the beginning to your ‘blooming love story’.

She brought you to a salon to have your hair and makeup done and even splurged on a $900 dress. You’re beyond grateful to have a mother as understanding and loving as she is. Your father is away on business and unable to make it to take pictures so your mom has been documenting the whole day to share with him, the two of you are currently in your bedroom as she paints your toes.

“Mom?”

She hums in reply and puts down a new coat of nail polish on your big toe. “How’d you know dad was the one?”

Your heart is quiet in your chest, a calm thumping rather than the stutter it had been at all week as you wait for her response. She softly smiles before responding.

“He showed up to my dorm room with pedialyte and carpet cleaner.” She caps the nail polish and cleans around the edges of your toes. “We had been dating for some time and I was supposed to attend a business summit with him but I had a stomach bug and threw up all over my dorm. Your dad didn’t hesitate to drop his plans for the day and showed up to take care of me. He was the first person to ever put me before anything else and I just knew I loved him when he showed up with no clue on what to do but willing. He didn’t care about what his dad had to say about skipping the event or anything else, just me.”

You hum and fiddle with your hands as you think back to moments you’ve shared with Jake. The first one your brain recalls is the first time you got your period. Unfortunately it happened during your school's nature classroom trip. You were up in the woods for the week learning about nature and science through different activities and during your first night there you got your period. You walked around the whole day with blood stains on your shorts and cramps you couldn’t account for. You were beyond embarrassed come dinner time. You had no girl friends in the grade to ask for help and the boys made it a show of embarrassing you at dinner by pouring ketchup all over your seat. Jake was having none of it though, he came up to you at your table and wrapped his hoodie around your waist before grabbing your arm and leading you out of the canteen to the nurse on site.

He stayed by your side that night watching stand by me on your phone outside the cabins getting bit by mosquitoes. He didn’t complain or make any jokes of his own, rather stayed silent and let you have the quiet time you needed. When the two of you finally retreated back to your separate rooms you found a little gift basket on your bed filled with different types of pads, tampons, a heating pack and some chocolates. Apparently while you were walking around with stained shorts Jake was going around collecting different menstrual items from the girls in your grade to give to you, his way of helping.

It did make your heart flutter at the time but you chalked it up to your period hormones and never spoke on how it made you feel to anyone…Was that when you started to fall in love with your best friend?

Your doorbell goes off and you feel anxiety seep into your bones. Your mom senses this and holds your hand to give it a firm squeeze. “don’t stress about something you’re not sure about, okay? I want you to have fun tonight - both of you.”

You nod at her, loving how she knows exactly what was plaguing your mind, you let her lead you out your room and out to the living room. She lets go of your hand and walks over to the door, opening it wide.

“Wow.” You and Jake exclaim simultaneously as soon as you see each other. The butterflies in your stomach erupt once again at the sight of him; dressed in an sleek black suit with the first three buttons of his black undershirt undone, his hair has been bleached blonde and styled down with a part in the middle.

“You look…amazing.” Jake breathlessly lets out, staring at you in complete awe.

You blush and flatten out invisible wrinkles in your dress. “Thank you so do you, I love your hair.”

He smiles and shakes his fringe out of his eyes, “thanks. Figured why not try something new. Ready to go?”

“Woah woah woah, hold on, you two aren’t going anywhere without taking pictures!” His mom appears from behind him, “Let me go get my phone real quick!”

Your mom claps her hands as scurries off to retrieve her phone, “Oh, yes! I have to take pictures for your dad.”

Jake walks up next to you and you’re sure your heart is about to beat out of your chest. “You look really great, ____.”

“You’re not so bad yourself. Blonde was a great idea.” You bring your hand up to fix his parting a bit more. “It’s a nice contrast with the all black suit.”

“Yeah.” He swallows, looking down at his shoes.

“Okay! I have my phone!” Your mom says as she returns, instructing both of you to move out to her garden in the backyard and stand by the peonies for the photo.

“This might take a while.” You whisper to him and he chuckles, gently placing a hand on your lower exposed back.

“Won’t you get cold later?”

You shrug, “probably. Good thing your mother raised you to be a gentleman.” It takes him a second to register your words, scoffing in disbelief once he realizes what you were hinting towards but he doesn’t argue knowing he really will give you his jacket the second he sees you shiver.

“Smile!”

___

After a long process of taking pictures the two of you finally head out with Jake driving you guys to prom. Upon arriving you’re amazed at how extravagant the venue looks. Just another perk of attending a private school you think to yourself.

After finding parking the two of you head inside to find your table, you’re sharing it with your two friends Kairo and Mei and a random couple who snagged their tickets at the last minute (Jun and Luna).

“Jake! ____!” Kairo and Mei are in the entryway to the ballroom, waiting for the two of you where they texted they would be standing.

Mei walks forward, a greeting never making it past her lips, as she reaches out to brush Jake’s fringe out of his eyes. “Sorry, it was bothering me.” She mumbles as she steps back.

You know her intentions are innocent but with the way Jake’s cheeks flush red and he can barely meet her gaze you feel a twinge of jealousy and sadness. Since when was he flustered by Mei? The four of you met during SAT Prep and formed your own study group to help each other out during midterms and finals your freshman year (Jake’s sophomore) the dynamic between you all was pretty formal. The four of you didn’t make plans to go to the movies or the mall like other kids your age, it was strictly studying and neither of you minded it. Kairo and Mei fulfilled you and Jake in an academic sense while you and Jake met all your social and more emotional needs together.

So why the hell was he all blushy at Mei fixing his hair? Why didn’t he react the same when you fixed his parting?

“Should we go in?” Kairo asks.

“That sounds great,” you grit out, your grip tightening on your clutch.

Mei slides up next to Kairo and slips her arm back through his. The four of you walk in and find your table. Kairo pulls out Mei’s seat and Jake follows, doing the same for you.

“So Jake, are you excited for commencement?” Mei asks once you’ve all taken your seats.

Jake clears his throat, “more nervous than excited. Can’t believe it’s all finally over.”

The three of them go back and forth in idle talk before Jake slowly eases his way out of the conversation, mindlessly nodding at what your friends are saying and leaving you to your thoughts.

He’s uncharacteristically silent though as he bobs his head to the music. Seeing as you know him better than yourself, you know he’s nervous - but why?

Was he thinking of Mei? The thought makes you feel sick; you have no reason to be jealous because you’re just his best friend and your feelings are a jumbled mess you can’t navigate through- you don’t even know what you want from him. He can’t fix what he doesn’t know is broken.

Your mind is absolutely blank as you stare down at your hands on your lap. You only snap out of it when a large hand engulfs yours, but you don’t dare to look at him. You can’t.

“Are you okay?”

There they are again; the stupid butterflies winding up in the confines of your stomach. “Yeah,” You remove his hands from yours, “I’m fine.”

Jake reluctantly lets you pull his hand away, knowing something’s wrong but he doesn’t want to push. You compose yourself and remind yourself about your words to Jake; this is his last school dance. It needs to be memorable.

So you’ll make it memorable.

As the night goes on with the food served and multiple performances happening, you’re able to loosen up and forget your worries.

“Do you want to join the dance floor?” Kairo asks as he eyes the growing dance floor.

“No.” You frantically respond, earning a look of judgment from Mei.

“Yes!” She exclaims, grabbing both you and Kairo before dragging you out of your seats with a gleeful giggle.

You try to grab on to Jake for help, but your hand merely grazes his as you’re pushed to the dance floor. On the dance floor, other people have jumped into the idea of dancing and in no time, it’s filled with dancing students.

A little while later, Jake joins the three of you and your little dance circle moves around each other for a few songs; you’re all laughing and you’re genuinely starting to enjoy yourself. Eventually, Kairo and Mei leave to go take a breather leaving you alone with Jake.

“Are you feeling any better?” He leans down to your ear and tries to speak over the loud music.

You nod, “Ye-”

You’re cut off by the loud upbeat music dying out and picking back up but this time a soft violin intro fills the room, you recognize the song instantly. The live orchestra begins playing the chorus of nobody gets me by Sza, you watch as everyone around you pairs up and when you turn around, Jake is already looking at you with a small smile tugging on his lips.

His ears are tinged pink as he offers you a shrug, “Do you wanna dance?” He holds out his hand to you.

You take it with baited breath and immediately at the touch, the butterflies are at it again. You step closer to him and place your other hand on his shoulder while his other goes to your back, where your skin is exposed.

He’s gone back to being unusually quiet again; he’s just leading you to the slow beat of the song and looking away, only meeting your eyes when he catches your lingering gaze.

“____, you’ve been out of it all night. Are you really okay?” He quietly asks, his brows furrowing.

“I…” For a moment, you consider confessing what’s weighing on your heart but you panic. How would he react if he knew?

“____?”

“I think I’m in love with you.” You blurt out, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as soon as the words come out. You feel a little lighter knowing you’ve said your peace but your heart races in panic as you wait for his response.

“Oh,”  Jake whispers. It could have been your imagination but you swear his eyes look just as dizzy and unfocused as your own. His lips part maybe to say something more, but close as quickly as they opened and his gaze flickers down to your lips.

“I-” You choke on your words, shame and regret instantly flooding your body. You want to curl up and hide in a hole but you can’t. Jake is holding on to you too tightly and you’ve already let the cat out of the bag. Might as well get it all off your chest. “I-I don’t know when it happened but I know my feelings aren’t platonic anymore. You’re all I can ever seem to think about, when you touch me it feels like butterflies are swimming in my stomach and the thought of you even being interested in someone else makes me sick to my stomach.”

You take a deep breath, “I think I’m in love with you Jake. I love the little things that make you Jake, your obsession with math and physics, your ability to make anyone you speak to feel truly seen, how you rely on God to get you through hardships you face.” You continue to drone on and on about the quirks you love about your best friend, not noticing the way his lips tip upward in a wide grin.

“I love you.” You confess.

“____?” He asks, voice even.

“Yeah?”

“Stay still.”

Jake steps forward and wraps his hand delicately around the back of your neck, he doesn’t miss the way your hooded eyes follow his movement. He stands up straighter, he’s so close that your noses brush against each other ever so slightly. 

The flush on Jake’s cheekbones is clear as day, a lovely rose pink.

He takes one final deep breath and leans in to plant a kiss on your awaiting lips. The moment your lips touch, you feel a spark of electricity jolt through your body but as quick as it comes, however, and before you can react, he’s already swiftly pulling away.

When the two of you pull back, your eyes are wide open, gaze fixed on Jake’s face, his lips left slightly parted. His entire body is vibrating with warmth and anxiety, hardly able to keep still.

Jake stares at you, still feeling the desire pooling in his stomach, and wonders if he had made a mistake.

“____,” Jake calls, quietly. “____.”

He begins to hold his breath. Did he overstep?

“Did you…” You begin, eyes wide, flickering rapidly across his face. “Did you…just…”

“Yeah,” Jake replies, his voice cracking a tad. “Yeah, I did.”

There’s a silence between the two of your for a long second before you collect your bearings and clear your throat and say,

“Do it again.”

Jake feels numb, unable to be shaken or moved by the world around him, so he steps back in and tilts his head to the side, kissing you once again like you asked. 

You can barely hear the crowd around you over the sound of your own heartbeat.  Jake kisses you softly, almost shyly. A gentle hand slides down to your hip, anchoring you in place, a solid touch while the rest of the world slowly fades away. 

You can’t think about anything other than the feeling of Jake’s lips finally on your own. You continue to kiss Jake until you feel his hand leave your hip and he gently pulls his lips away.

You keep your eyes shut for a second longer, body thrumming with warmth and energy, you feel Jake’s forehead knock against yours after a beat. When you finally open your eyes, like always, Jake was staring right back at you.

“I love you too.”

Following prom you feel as though you’re on cloud nine. After your shared confessions and heated kisses Jake took you outside of the venue to discuss where things would go from here. He only had three more months left in Australia before he had to leave for Yale but he knew he would be a fool if he let you go.

The two of you came to the conclusion that you would take things slow and enjoy the little time you had together working towards being a couple and pick things back up once you graduated and made your way to the states to join Jake.

Things truly felt perfect, Jake would come by your home every now and then to take you on impromptu dates with a new bouquet everytime and an explanation on why he chose those specific flowers. On days where he was too busy getting ready for his upcoming semester to take you out, you would pack him little lunches and drive the two of you down to the park you would often visit in your childhood and have little picnics while listening to him go on about how excited he was for the physics program at Yale.

The people who had been in your lives and watched you grow up together were thrilled at the direction in which your relationship was going. Both your parents were delighted when Jake broke the news that you were officially seeing each other on a romantic level working towards eventually dating. You would often have Sunday brunch together after going to church with his family and yours before sneaking off to his room to cuddle on his bed for an afternoon nap.

Had you known this is what would come with confessing, you would have told Jake way sooner but sadly, time had passed and the date of Jake’s departure from Australia was fastly approaching. He has a week left and he’s determined to make it the best one yet.

“Let's road trip to Sydney.”

You stop fiddling with Jake's fingers and turn your head to look up at him from your position on his chest. “What?”

He smiles down at you before placing a quick kiss to your forehead. “You heard me, let’s take a road trip to Sydney.”

You playfully roll your eyes. “Yeah I heard you dummy but why?”

He shrugs and entwines your hands once more. “Why not? It’s my last week and we talked about road tripping down there for spring break but someone,” he pauses to poke at your side with his free hand drawing out some giggles form you his heart warming at the sound, “-just had to get sick the night before we were supposed to leave.”

You let out a groan, “you’re never going to let that go are you?” Jake hums, “absolutely not.”

You huff in thought, “it’s a nine hour drive Jake…”

He sits up forcing you to do the same as well, turning to face him. “We can take turns. Plus my flights’ leaving from Sydney, we could go to the airport together and have a proper goodbye without my parents bugging us.”

You bite down on your lip seriously considering Jake’s impromptu idea. Within the past three months you’ve had to share Jake with so many people- his soccer team, his orchestra friends, his family. Everyone. Alone time was scarce and the thought of a getaway to Sydney where it would be just the two of you and no distractions sounded lovely.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that?”

You hum and move to sit on his lap and throw your hands over his shoulders. “Why not?”

A huge smile breaks out on Jake's face causing you to smile as well, something about seeing him happy always managed to bring you happiness. It should be scary, just how willing you are to sacrifice for Jake but for some reason you always throw caution to the wind the second he comes around. You’d give him the world if you could.

You feel Jake wrap his arms around your waist and slowly slide his hands under your shirt to caress your back. “What's going on in that pretty head of yours, love?”

You begin playing with the hair on the nape of his neck and whisper out, “thinking bout’ how I'd give you the world.” Jake’s hands pause at the base of your back, clearly caught off guard, you look down at his eyes and see how dark they’ve gotten. Desire and love pooling in the hues of his brown eyes. “You are my world.”

He leans in as he finishes his sentence and places his lips on yours. The feeling of his lips is incredibly warm as he pushes them against yours, slightly chapped but otherwise still soft. The amount of emotion he puts into kissing you isn’t like anything you felt before, there’s more desire in this kiss compared to all the others you’ve shared. The feeling of his tongue sweeping against the plumpness of your lower lip and the heat from his body sends butterflies to your stomach.

His hands fall down to your hips, pushing up your t-shirt to feel the softness of your stomach beneath his palms with battered breaths before pushing you back. He makes quick work of flipping you so your back is now on the mattress and it’s him straddling you. You gasp at the feeling of the soft mattress beneath you, his body pinning you deeper back as he continues exploring your mouth with his own.

You pull back slightly, breathing heavily and your lips red and plump with saliva. Jake smirks at the sight, his thumb coming up to pull down your bottom lip with the tip of his finger before moving his mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck.

The strands of his hair are silky beneath your fingertips, gasping and tugging at the roots as he bites down on a certain area of your neck that makes your core clench.

“Jaeyun,” you whisper, whimpering at the feeling of his palm applying pressure lightly against your navel. “Are we-?”

He slowly pulls away from you and adamantly shakes his head. “No.” you whine in protest as he pulls away and lays beside you once more. He pulls you close to his chest before confessing to you. “I want our first time to be romantic, not some quick fuck in my bedroom.” He kisses your temple. “You deserve more than that.”

The Following Day - 1:36PM

“Ready to head out?” 

You whirl around to find Jake standing in front of you and your parents, having just finished packing your suitcases in the trunk of his car and is now looking over at you with a tilt in his head. 

You nod and smile brightly. “Of course,” You say, turning to your mom and dad to bid them one fast farewell. “I was just saying bye.” 

He nods in understanding, waving to your parents, “I promise we’ll be safe and if anything happens you’ll be the first we call.” He says to reassure your parents, more so your dad who was a bit more hesitant to the last minute idea.

Your dad nods stiffly at Jake, “take good care of her. No drinking or scandalous activities, I’m not ready for any grandchildren.”

You gasp at your dads words and swat at his chest. “Dad! Stop embarrassing me!” He only tisks in your direction.

“You know what's more embarrassing? Having to finish your senior year pregn-”

“-Ahhh. Dad, stop it! I promise we’ll make smart choices!”

He chortles at your flushed expression and leans in for a hug. “I’m only messing with you.” You hug him back before pulling away to give your mother a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.

“See you in a week!”

After pulling away Jake steps forward to hug your parents goodbye as well.

“Be safe Jake, we’ll miss seeing you so often! Make sure to call us if you ever need anything once in the states, okay?” Your mom softly says to him as she holds his face in her hands, tears slowly filling her eyes. Over the years Jake has slowly become like a son to her, she was used to cooking extra knowing he’d come over for dinner after your tutoring sessions. She had even turned one of the spare bedrooms into a personal room for Jake, allowing him to sleepover when his parents were out of town for business.

You can only imagine how much she's going to miss him, maybe as much as you know you’ll be missing him.

He nods and sniffs, is he crying too? “Of course auntie, I’m really going to miss our Friday night movie marathons.”

You smile bitterly beginning to fight back tears of your own. Your father was always away for weekend meetings in Melbourne starting Friday night into Saturday evening and as captain of the varsity volleyball team you had late night practices every Friday meaning you wouldn’t be back home until the dead of night and your mother was left all alone. Jake, having nothing to do once classes were done would often go over to your home to keep her company so she wouldn’t be all alone in your home. It was a little tradition the two kept up over the years.

You hadn't given yourself time to really mourn the idea of being separated from Jake for an entire year but watching him say his tearful goodbyes to your parents is really putting into perspective just how entwined your lives are. He’s your everything and how he’s leaving, how are you going to manage your senior year without your best friend?

 “We should get going.” 

“Mhmm.” You look over at Jake and reach a hand out to wipe away his fallen tears. “It’s okay.” 

The two of you say one last goodbye before getting into Jake’s range rover, you look out the window to see your parents waving you off. You slide back into the passenger seat of his car and put on your seatbelt now processing the fact that this is the last week you have with Jake.

There is a silence as Jake is starting the car, and a part of you wants to die. On one hand you want to cry and beg him to stay but on the other you know if you do, Jake will differ his offer and take a year off to be with you. That’s the last thing you want, he deserves happiness. That’s all you’ve ever wanted for him. If that means braving a smile for now while your heart is in turmoil so be it.

Jake is the first to break the silence.

“That was a lot harder than I thought it would be.” He drives down your driveway before making a right to pull into the neighborhood.

“Goodbyes are never easy.”

“Yeah but…I didn't cry when saying bye to my parents but something about your parents made leaving seem all the more ...real?”

“It’s only natural, you spent more time with us. You’re like their second child.”

Jake hums in thought, “I don’t think I’lll survive having to say goodbye to you.”

You purse your lips thinking about what your goodbye would be like. Would there be tears? Unspoken words? “I think you’ll be just fine.” You reach out for his right hand that lays on the gear shift and hold it tightly. “It’s only temporary.”

The next nine hours are spent singing old 90’s love songs and making pit stops every now and then to stock up on some new snacks and to switch off so Jake isn’t so tired. During your third stop is when Jake pulls out a camera and begins vlogging the remainder of the trip claiming it would be nice to look back at it once the trip is over.

Once you finally make it to your destination, you pull into the driveway and place the car in park before looking around at your surroundings. The home is modern with nothing but natural light, it’s surrounded by trees to still give you enough privacy but it’s secluded from the other homes on the lane.

“Oh my gosh it’s so pretty.”

You open the door and immediately extend your legs out onto the solid ground beneath you. You let out a sigh of satisfaction and Jake laughs from next to you. 

He’s opening his own car door soon after, but he straightens up into a standing position pretty quickly and stretches upwards. He closes the car door behind him, watching as you eventually pull yourself together to do the same. 

You turn to face him. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.” You gesture towards the airbnb and earn a nod from Jake, who mentions something about doing the same thing. You meet back at the car a few minutes later. 

Jake gestures to the trees surrounding the home. “Want to take a walk around the area? I think I saw a park when we pulled into the neighborhood.” 

You nod. “That sounds like a good idea.” 

“Why don’t you get started? I’ll catch up.” Jake watches you leave, before opening the trunk of his car and rummaging around. 

He does catch up with you, quickly enough that you hardly notice that he had sent you out first. You hear his footsteps, and the call of your name, causing you to turn around. “Jake!” 

The sight before you makes you smile brightly. Standing before you is Jake, with his polaroid in hand. The lens is pointed right at you. As soon as you’re staring straight into the camera, Jake grins. “Say cheese” 

You giggle and close your eyes before making a little peace sign. You hear the little click and the flash illuminates your face. You open your eyes to find Jake smiling down at the little printed picture waiting for it to develop. “I can’t believe you brought that.”

“I’m a photographer at heart, what did you expect?” Jake teases back. “Besides, it’s really pretty around here. I need some pictures for my dorm.” 

You blush at the thought of him putting up a picture of you on his dorm wall. The pair of you begin to make your way to the park, taking in the view from different angles. The stroll is mostly just to get rid of the pent up energy, but it’s still a nice view to admire. As soon as you arrive at the park you ditch Jake to run to the swing set.

“Push me?”

Jake rolls his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief but still walks behind you to push you forward.

“Did you know my brother and I got in trouble with our mom because of how high we would swing you?” Jake giggles, “she was worried we’d push you too high and you’d go flying.”

“I blame your brother. He turns everything into a competition.”

“So do you!” Jake exclaims. You quickly stop the swing with your feet to turn back at him with a judgmental look on your face. “When we were a little older and Jaehyun left us to push each other you would get annoyed that I didn't push you as hard as you did for me.”

“It's true though.”

You scoffed, “at least I didn’t actually push you off your seat.”

He laughs at the memory, “we’re stronger now, do you wanna see who can go higher?”

“knowing exactly how strong you are… uh, not really? but whatever, let’s do it!” you brace yourself on the swing and start pulling yourself back to get momentum.

“Okay, wait! Wait!” he rushes to the seat beside yours and pushes it as far as his hips can go, already giving him an advantage. “Okay, go!”

Childish laughter escapes both of you as you let yourselves swing back and forth, trying to put your weight in properly to reach higher than each other. it really felt like you were kids again, you felt at peace, a part of you never wanted this night to end.

The next few days fly by and just like that it’s the night before Jake’s flight. You had spent your time in Sydney visiting the opera house, late night dinner dates and excursions all over the bustling city. There truly never was a dull moment within this week that’s come to pass. Getting to make new memories with Jake is exactly what you needed.

The two of you have just gotten back from dinner at Altitude, a restaurant overlooking the opera house. You’re now in your shared bathroom dressed in one of Jake’s old tee’s and a thong doing your nightly skin care routine as Jake undresses in the bedroom, getting ready for his nightly shower. You look at his reflection through the mirror as he takes off his shirt. Your eyes skim down his toned chest, desire pooling in the pits of your stomach. Throughout your time here it’s been nothing but makeouts and little pecks throughout the day. You wonder if he’ll finally make a move tonight.

“I can feel you staring, love.”

“That’s the point.”

Jake doesn’t say anything in response but rather slides up behind you and peppers your neck with gentle kisses. He cages you between his body and sink and presses his hips into your back. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his fully hard cock pressing against your lower back.

Jake’s eyes rake your body through the mirror, desire burning in his irises. he shifts his eyes to stare at your lips before moving back to turn you around and face him and press himself directly to your front before leaning down and in. He takes his time, giving you the opportunity to pull away but you don’t. You want this.

He leans forward and allows his lips to graze yours, the faintest of touches. “Are you sure you want to do this darling? We don't have to.” Jake asks softly.

You shyly nod your head and lean in to close the gap but he pulls ways and shakes his head, “no love. I need to hear you say yes.”

“Yes, I want to do this, Jaeyun.” You push forward allowing your lips to touch. He groans once your lips make contact. You’re unable to focus on anything other than the feeling of his lips on yours.

You can faintly taste the shirley temple he had at dinner on his tongue. He sucks harder on your lip and brings one hand down in between your things to prod at your pulsing heat.

He pulls away to let his eyes drink in the sight of you before leaning down to pick you up. you let out a yelp and grasp onto his biceps for protection, “w-what are you doing?” You sputter.

“I can’t make love to you properly on the sink, darling.”

You blush at his words and bury your face into his chest, after a few strides Jake is gingerly placing you on the bed.

He gets onto his knees and straddles your hips before reaching out to help you out of your shirt. You breathe in deeply savoring the way he feels pressed against you. the feeling of his warm fingers moving under the hem of your shirt across your stomach. He lifts it off of your body and tosses it across the room.

“Thank you for trusting me with your body.” Jake says before leaning back in and places his lips on yours yet again.

You moan into the kiss before he trails kisses down your jaw to your neck, his teeth brushing over your skin and making you shiver regardless of the heat being provided by Jake’s skin pushed up against yours. You close your eyes and relish the feeling.

With his lips still pressed against your neck, he whispers, “what do you want love?”

Your eyes flutter open as he slowly pulls away to look at you.

“I won’t do anything until you tell me what you want.” He reiterates before placing his lips back onto your neck, biting down making it harder for you to form a coherent sentence.

“I-i don’t know.” You say breathily but he chuckles in your ear, “yes you do love, tell me what you want so I can make you feel good.” He says as he gently tugs at your underwear, you whine and raise your hips off the bed to allow him to take it off faster. He tisks, “I need to hear you say it.” You look up at him to meet his gaze, “I want you to touch me.”

His gaze hardens, “spread your legs doll.” He orders.

He shifts his position and allows you to spread your legs before slotting himself in between them. He taps his fingers against your hips silently asking you to raise them. You shyly lift them to the best of your ability and let him pull them off of you, your arousal clinging to your underwear and clit.

Once you’re completely naked, he brings his lips to your chest and roughly kisses your skin, his tongue probing at your nipple. You whimper when he bites your left nipple, the feeling overwhelming. He pulls back and looks at your bare body.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful.” He mumbles before leaning down to toy with your pussy.

“You’re so wet too. Did our kissing turn you on so much, love?” Jake asks, smirking down at you. your face heats up at his words but you don’t respond. He looks back down at your pussy and shifts his position so he’s laying down in front of your pussy. He lets his pointer finger circle your clit for a little before running it along the slit of your folds. You let out a mewl at the feeling wanting more. “P-please Ja..” You moan.

“Patience, love.”

He dips one finger into you and you hiss at the feeling. It’s been a while since you’ve been touched down there and you’re extremely sensitive. “You’re so tight,” he says, pushing his finger deeper until the entire digit is buried snuggly inside you. You close your eyes and tug at the bedsheets, loving the feeling of him fingering you.

You’re a moaning mess by the time he manages to slide his whole finger into you. You clench around his fingers as he slides them in and out of your snatch and grasp onto your bedsheets. “Does it feel nice to be stuffed with my fingers?” Jake asks.

You know your voice will fail you so you adamantly nod your head. Jake picks up the pace and your hips move to his strokes. Jake licks his lips when he feels your walls clenching tightly around his digits.

“I-i think I’m close.”

His fingers curl inside of you which causes your hips to jerk upwards. “Are you cunning?” He asks cheekily.

You nod eagerly, “yes!” your eyes snap shut as you enjoy the feeling, “o-oh my gosh” you cry as you feel him kiss the inside of your thighs. He trails the kisses upwards until he’s face to face with your pussy and places a soft kiss on the nub before sucking on it, his tongue flicking around. He pulls his pointer and middle finger out so he can eat you out freely.

He licks the slit of your folds and firmly grips the flesh of your thighs most likely leaving marks.  Marks that would remind you of this moment later on.

Jake picks up the pace, he’s going so fast that you let out a quiet scream. You fist and unfist your sheets as you rock your hips against his face and come.

Your orgasm hits you so hard that tears fill your vision.

Jake allows you to ride out your high before coming up from your private parts and leans back down to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Are you feeling alright love?” He asks as he strokes your hair. You’re heaving, trying to catch your breath.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to continue?”

You nod but then remember Jake wants verbal responses, “I do.”

Jake wastes no time in removing his shorts and boxers and gently moves up your body. you wrap your arms around his neck. “C-can you be gentle?” You sheepishly ask.

Your question sends an immediate reaction to Jake’s dick, he swears he could have busted a nut right then and there. “Of course doll, I'll be gentle.”

He tentatively strokes your folds with two fingers, eyes darting back up to yours to check your response. You hiss, still a bit sensitive. “Is this okay? Are you sensitive?”

“I’m fine,” you assure, “go ahead, I’m okay.”

He nods, gathering some of your wetness and smears it on his cock, a moan of relief leaving his swollen lips. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be buried inside of you,” he says, angling himself better and positioning his cock near your entrance.

“Please,” you whimper, biting back a cry once his length breaches your entrance. Jake lets out a guttural growl, slowly sinking into you and bottoming out letting you adjust to his length.

“You’re so beautiful.” Jake says, rolling his hips torturously slow. “You were made for me, love. Just for me.”

You open your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m ready, you can move now.”

Jake leans forward to place a kiss on your cheek, then on your jaw, and then on your neck. As Jake busies himself there he slowly begins to thrusts in and out of you.

Your hands are all over him; clawing his back, gripping his biceps. “Love,” he whispers, “you feel so good.”

The sound of your bodies slapping against each other plus your loud wanton moans and the creaking from the bed is all that can be heard reverberating around in the home. He thrusts two more times, his hips stuttering before he chokes out, “mm gonna cum.”

You scratch at his sides and bite your lip to suppress your moan, “m-me too.”

“You can cum love,” Jake coos. He wraps his arms around you and hugs you closer to his body, the feeling of your chest pressed against him and his dick pounding into you is enough to send you over the edge.

“I’m cumming!” You mumble into his skin. Jake groans at the feeling of you cumming on his dick before his hips still and he comes inside you painting your walls white.

His lips are on your shoulders and neck, softly sucking on patches of your skin and murmuring sweet nothings as you calm down.

“Fuck.”

Jake pulls out and looks down at the mess of the sheets, now that he’s no longer caught up in his lustful haze it dawns on him that the two of you didn’t use protection. So much for smart choices.

As if now remembering yourself you shrug, “I’ll just grab a plan b tomorrow.”

Jake nods, “I’ll send you the money for it.”

His body then drops to lay beside you and he pulls you in close with the promise of a hot shower after a few minutes of decompressing. You roll over and sit up, swatting Jake’s hands away as he reaches for your arm. “Wait, I have something for you.”

He hums, interest piqued. “Huh?”

You open the bedside drawer where you had hidden the card you had written for Jake before the two of you left Brisbane. It was a love letter, all the things you’ve ever wanted to tell him but kept to yourself out of fear. It holds all the words your heart so desperately wants to tell him before he leaves.

“It’s not anything extravagant but I know you care more for sentimental things anyway.” You hand him the card, “don’t read it until you’re on the plane.”

He looks at the light pink envelope decorated in stickers and his name written in neat calligraphy in the center, the faintest smile on his face but a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“I love you.”

The way he says it sounds different from all the other times he’s ever told you. Almost as if he needs to convince you that he loves you but you know. He places one last kiss to your lips before pulling you back down to cuddle.

“I’m going to miss you.”

Jake hums, “me too.”

The room slips into a comforting silence and eventually you drift off.

8:41am

You wake up feeling cold. You whine and feel around for Jake’s body but when you feel nothing you open your eyes and softly call out for him. “Jake?”

When you’re met with no response you sit up and look around the still dark room. You stand from the bed and reach for your shirt that was still on the ground. You hadn’t intended to fall asleep, it was only meant to be a quick nap before the two of you took a shower together and watched movies until it was time for you to head to the airport.

“Jake? If you’re trying to scare me, give up.”

You’re still met with silence and you begin to feel uneasy. “Jake?”

You search the living room and your heart drops. His things are gone, his shoes, his suitcases. Everything. You run back to the room to see if it’s really true, if Jake left without saying goodbye. What you find breaks your heart even more. All his toiletries are gone, all that's left are your belongings. You let out a sob when you find the love letter you had written for him laying atop his pillow, opened and crumpled at the sides, proof he had read it but didn’t care enough to take it with him.

You drop on to the bed in shock and disbelief, tears sitting in your waterline. You turn to look beside you, staring at the letter as if it had burned you, the only trace that Jake was ever here is his scent in the sheets. You look at the alarm clock to see if you’ll be able to make it to the airport on time and bid him a proper farewell, your heart sinks once again when you realize you’re far too late. It’s 8:50 and his flight leaves in ten minutes. You sniff and decide to not dwell on it, Jake probably had his reasons and you have to get ready to go home.

You strip out of your shirt and discard it on the floor before walking into the bathroom to start your shower. You step into the shower, toes flinching as they touch the chilled ceramic floor. Your mind is in shreds; how could Jake leave without a goodbye? You turn the dial, releasing thousands of frigid drops, wetting your hair and trickling down your back. Your eyes fall closed and images of last night cross your mind.

You want to scream. Did last night not mean as much to him as it did to you? Was this all so he could fuck and just leave? You wrap up your shower and step out to brush your teeth. When finished, you dry off and head for your suitcase to pick out an outfit. You settle on sweatpants and an old graphic tee with slides. Once dressed and ready for your journey back, you finish your packing and look around the house one last time to see if maybe Jake left anything for you, maybe even an explanation. All you find is a plan b box on the kitchen counter next to a water bottle. You pick up the pill box and exit promptly and throw your things in the back of Jake’s car. You look down at the passenger seat where the letter you had written for him sits. You pick it up and examine it one last time before shoving it deep into your backpack.

Maybe this was less painful than having to say goodbye.

It in fact was not less painful. A day passed, then two, then a week, then a month. You stared at your phone at all hours of the day, calling and texting waiting for confirmation that he had arrived safely and an explanation on why he went ghost but it never came.

You started your senior year alone. That was the first time you ever realized just how dependent you were on Jake, you had no other friends to go to the movies with, you spent your senior appreciation week alone, you had no one to make plans with when the weekend would roll around. Maybe you should have made deeper connections. You slowly started to lose sight of the end goal, Harvard had always been your dream but your mind was in too much turmoil to see it meaning anything without Jake, your heart can’t stand to be near him but not have a connection to him. You had heard from his mother that he had settled in at Yale and was enjoying his time abroad. You never told your parents what happened down in Sydney, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it without crying.

Eventually you began to decline, your grades took a hit and your GPA dropped from the perfect 4.5 it had been sitting at for the past four years to a 3.2. You started failing your core classes and you were kicked off of the varsity volleyball team. Your parents couldn’t understand the sudden change in you. You stopped talking to them, stopped going to your tutoring sessions and stopped caring about life itself. You would only go to school when you felt like it and come straight home before locking yourself in your bedroom. When time came to send in your college applications you didn’t know what to do. You knew Harvard wouldn’t want you and you never considered any other options. You sat down with your guidance counselor and she gave you some options. The majority consisted of staying in Australia, letting you know it didn’t seem possible to go abroad. You limited your application process to four schools, two in Australia and two in Massachusetts. If Harvard didn’t want you, maybe a private school would grant you admission and you could transfer in your sophomore year.

As much as you wanted to be far away from him, Massachusetts happened to have all the top schools that were realistic for you. You applied to Northeastern and Boston college. Neither were the ivy leagues you were hoping to attend but private institutions nonetheless. You sent in your applications for early action, praying you would get in and get to leave Australia behind. You were suffocating here.

Luckily for you, your acceptance letter came from Northeastern and you were quick to accept. You were waitlisted for Boston College and accepted to both Australian unis but you had decided where you were going. You toured Northeastern in the spring with your mom, you both absolutely fell in love with the campus. It was right in the middle of the city, across from the train system making getting around easy. You got to meet the girl you would be dorming with, Avianca; Avi for short. She was very bubbly and sweet, and very opinionated. She had grown up in Boston with her mother and two brothers. Her mother was unable to join the two of you so you went out to brunch with her and your mother. After that your mother left the two of you to go shopping for some things for your dorm.

“Are you excited to start in the fall?” Avi asked as the two of you browsed targets room decor.

You shrug and hug yourself, “I guess.”

Avi stops to look at a large beige throw pillow, “that's all? Aren’t you excited for the new experiences?” She looks up at you, “the boys?”

You play with the tag of the pillow in her hand. “I-” you hesitate and she picks up on it.

“Unless…” she smirks up at you, “you have a boyfriend?”

You pause. Could you even consider Jake a boyfriend? He never officially asked you to be his girlfriend but the two of you did way more than what other couples do in a lifetime. As if reading your mind Avi hums.

“Ahh, I see. It’s complicated?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

She tosses the pillow into the cart, “is it over?”

You continue walking down the aisle as you think back to Jake, this would be your first time ever saying what went down outloud. You were hesitant to tell your parents because of how close they were with Jake, you didn't want this affecting their perspective of him but Avi doesn’t know him, she’s unbiased. And that’s how you found yourself crying inside a target finally opening up about just how hurt you were by Jake’s actions.

Once you finish telling her your story from start to finish, Avi is embracing you. “Jake is a dick. You did not deserve that. I’m so sorry.”

Avi spends the rest of your time together comforting you. She lets you rant about Jake and gives you her two cents every now and then. You felt a little embarrassed at how much you were crying but Avi was quick to reassure you letting you know it was actually time you let it all out. The two of you exchanged numbers before parting ways again and she made you promise to keep in touch with her while you were back home in Australia until your move-in day and that's exactly what you did.

After flying back home you slowly started to rebuild. Jake isn’t a part of your life anymore and you can’t continue to wallow in your self pity. It was time to let go and move on, you would be starting your freshman year of college in four months. You don’t want to be stuck up on someone who wasn’t even thinking of you.

You took the time to learn new hobbies as you didn’t have volleyball to lean on. You took up baking for a bit before getting bored and moving on to painting. You learned how to knit and made yourself some mittens and a scarf to prepare for the cold Boston weather. You even took up photography, opening up a private instagram account to post your pictures as you traveled around Europe during June. It was a graduation gift from your father, you had stops in France, Wales, Germany and Spain. You spent a month traveling before heading back south.

You flew to New Zealand before officially going home to explore the mountains, it was a nice reset. Jake had promised to visit with you but it never happened and you weren’t putting things on hold for him anymore. You would facetime with Avi every night, brainstorming ideas for your room and your plans for welcome week. She had no intention of staying in your dorm that first week before classes started.

At first you were hesitant, going to raves and frat parties meant the inevitable. The possibility of running into Jake would be significantly higher and if you didn’t run into him there was still the fact that you would be approached by some man before the night was over. You had expressed to Avi how you couldn’t see yourself entering a relationship anytime soon. You had yet to fully heal from Jake and the thought of being that vulnerable again terrified you.

She only listened before reminding you that you didn’t have to date every guy that said hi. Some below the belt touching and harmless flirting never hurt anyone. She went on to ramble about how you’re entering your prime and have an insanely hot aussie accent that could help you secure any guy you wanted. You zoned out once she started asking you if you could moan for her so she could take pointers.

Your parents could see the shift in you and it brought them relief, they felt more at ease to send you abroad now that you were in a better mental headspace. You left two weeks before classes started to move in and get accustomed to the new environment. Your parents came to help you and Avi move in before leaving to go back home.

It’s now nighttime and you’ve just officially finished decorating.

“So, there’s this rave at slackers tonight, wanna go?”

You turn to look at Avi from your bed as she sits at her desk organizing her makeup. You snort, “as if I have a choice.” She looks up at you grinning.

“Glad you’re aware! Now get up and go shower, you’re all sweaty and doors close at 8!”

You roll your eyes but listen to her nonetheless. You stumble out of your bed and walk towards your closet to try and brainstorm what to wear. “Is there a theme?”

Avi hums, “yeah early 2000’s.”

You scan your wardrobe to see what you can find before deciding upon a baby blue butterfly top you had gotten off of amazon and a mini cargo skirt. For shoes you settle on some old Nike air forces knowing they would be demolished by the end of the night. You head over to the bathroom and begin getting ready. You try not to take too long, making sure to properly wash your body but you don’t take the time to exfoliate. Once drying off and exiting you make quick work of getting dressed and sitting beside Avi to start your makeup while she works on styling her hair. You don’t take too long for your makeup, choosing to opt for a more natural look and go for a half up/half down hairstyle with two strands out in the front.

Once you’re both ready, you grab your student ID’s and bags before heading out and start the five minute walk to the T. As you’re waiting for the train to arrive you take pictures with Avi to post and make a new story post of the sun setting. Once the green train arrives the two of you hop on and head towards the party venue.

By the time you arrive, the line is still relatively short and you’re inside in under thirty minutes. You scan your surroundings, the club lights are too bright and strobing too fast, just asking for someone to seize. The dance floor is crowded with people and there are drunks stumbling all around you.

Avi spins on her heels and smirks up at you, “what are the odds you get a stranger to buy us drinks?”

You quickly shake your head. “Zero! I’ve never done this before Avi!”

She shrugs, “so? Have you seen yourself? You look so hot, ____.” She makes it a point to slap your ass. “You have all the right assets on display, you just have to use them to your advantage.”

You gasp and rub your sore bottom, “okay one, never do that again. Two, why don’t you get a guy to buy us drinks? Put those tits to good use.”

She smirks. “I was already planning on it. But seriously, I promised to help you get over Jake and what better way to do that than getting under a new man?”

You groan. “Sleeping around isn’t going to help me get over Jake.”

“What makes you think he hasn’t done the same?” You furrow your brows at her and she scoffs. “Come on ____, he’s been in the city for a year while you were on the other side of the world. Jake is hot and I’m sure he knows it just like other girls in Connecticut probably do too, what would really have stopped him from getting his dick wet?”

You stay silent, deep down you know Avi is just being truthful and realistic. Jake had no obligations to you and no one to get in his way of whoring around if he really wanted to as much as it may hurt you.

“Okay.”

Avi’s brows shoot up in shock. “Okay? That’s really all it took?”

You nod firmly, “I’m done putting my life on pause for him. Besides, a little flirting never hurt anyone, right?”

Avi squeals and claps her hands together. “Perfect! I better see you throwing it back on some guy before the night ends!”

The two of you decide to part ways to find your prey of the night. Avi makes quick work of heading to the bar where the older men are to see if she can score some drinks while you idle around the dance floor, scoping out the faces to see who you wanted to make a move on. Before you can set your sights on someone, you feel the warmth of a body behind you though they’re not quite pressing against you yet. It doesn’t feel bad, and neither do the fingertips ghosting along the curve of your waist. You press into their touch a little more. The tentative fingers at your waist get more firm once they realize you’re open to their touch.

“Wanna dance?,” the body behind you asks, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It makes chills prick at your skin. You bite your lip to keep from smiling at the sensation. Your hand goes to cover the bigger one on your waist. You’ve missed being this close to someone. 

You intentionally keep the touch constant when you turn around in their hold. Their palm slides along your body till it’s settling on your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

When you look up, your reply gets caught in your throat.

The owner of the warm body behind you is handsome, strikingly so. Tall, strong. Smile dreamy with dimples, and eyes dark. He gives you a soft grin accompanied by an encouraging nod, wanting you to say what you can’t seem to get out.

“Uh–” you sputter with a wince, before clearing your throat, “Where’s the fun in asking?”

You can’t hear his laugh over the music, but you can tell he’s amused by the way his chest rumbles, and how his eyes curl. The hand at the base of your spine moves to your hip, squeezing gently.

His other hand is moving, too, and you track it until it’s tucking some hair behind your ear. You go still and flush when he leans down to your ear again. “If you insist,” he tells you. You don’t get to respond before he’s forcefully turning you back around and pressing his body into yours. The song changes to an upbeat caribbean mix and the sexy stranger has you bent over, one hand in your hair as a makeshift ponytail and the other resting at the base of your spine as he sensually moves his hips to the beat of the song, practically humping you. You can feel yourself getting wet as his clothed dick brushes against your vagina, your miniskirt and thong barely hiding anything. You begin whining your waist to meet his thrust giving those around you a show. Soon, a circle forms around the two of you as people turn on their camera to film. When the song finally ends the two of you separate and the crowd disperses. Some guys stick around though, hoping you would part form your dance partner and give them a chance to feel you humping them but you never get the chance. The stranger leans down to your ear, “I’m Jungwon.”

You smirk and respond with your name. “I’m, ____. Clearly you’ve done this before Jungwon.” 

Jungwon briefly looks surprised, eyes widening like a child before he’s laughing. “Ah,” he muses, guiding your arms to drape over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. His hands do the same around your waist as he pulls you a little closer. “Perhaps but clearly the same goes for you.”

There’s a flutter in your tummy that you haven’t felt in months and it’s exciting. Makes you giddy as you blink up at him sultrily.

“Are you complaining?” you ask him.

He adamantly shakes his head, “Of course not, as long as you’re not in a relationship no complaints over here.”

You cock your head to the side. “I don’t do relationships.” You wait a beat before asking, “Is that what you’re looking for?”

He looks up like he’s thinking. Then he’s shrugging. Crowding your space, cheek brushing yours as he talks into your ear again, he answers, “I want what you want.”

Jungwon doesn’t move out of your space like the times he did before, instead pulling you into him a bit more, making your space his space too. Lips brush against the corner of your jaw, just below your ear. Teasing, yet sure. 

“I want to forget–” Your hand twines into the hair at the nape of his neck when he nips softly at your earlobe, making you gasp quietly, interrupting yourself. “–about someone.”

He lets out a smug sound of understanding. “That sounds doable,” you hear him say, before he purrs confidently, “Let me help you.”

Just as the two of you lean in for a kiss you’re interrupted by the calling of your name.

“____!” You pull away to find Avi stumbling towards you. When she’s close enough, she grips onto your shoulders to try and keep herself up. “H-help.”

You look at her in worry and try to balance her but she’s quickly becoming more and more unstable, her words slurring and her body becoming limp. You begin to panic, “Avi? Avi! You’re scaring me, what's wrong!?”

Jungwon steps in to help you hold her up. “Shit, I think she was laced.”

Your eyes dart to his in worry, sensing your panic Jungwon tries to calm you down. “There’s a hospital nearby. I’ll call an uber and we can head over.”

You nod, trying to steady yourself for Avi’s sake. The two of you make quick work of ushering her out of the building and outside to help her get some fresh air while Jungwon orders the uber. It’s there in seven minutes and the three of you rush to the nearest children's hospital.

Once you arrive, Jungwon hands over Avi to the medical staff while you try and give them the information they need to admit her. She’s rushed into the emergency bay while you and Jungwon are told to sit in the waiting area while they pump her stomach.

“It’s going to be okay. We got her here in time, I’m sure the doctors have everything under control.” Jungwon says as he takes a seat beside you. It’s clear you’re distraught and don’t know what to do but it’s also clear that what you need right now is not only reassurance but a friend. Your shoulders slump instantly and you nod despondently. Cautiously Jungwon entwines your hands together, lacing your fingers with his.

He shifts, leaning his body into you allowing you to cuddle into him for some warmth, your lack of proper clothing clearly not helping. You bite your lip to keep in the tears before resting your head against his shoulder. You close your eyes, basking in his comforting presence, letting both his words and presence wash over you and ease your worries.

The both of you sit in silence for long, drawn-out moments before you finally speak up. “I’m sorry, this probably isn’t how you wanted to spend your night.” You pull away and wrap your arms around yourself, “you can go if you’d like.”

Sensing your guilt and apprehension, Jungwon shakes his head softly and removes his bomber jacket to hand to you. You stare at it for a second before taking it and putting it on. “It definitely isn’t how I saw my night going but you clearly need a friend, it wouldn’t be right to leave you alone.”

You twiddle your fingers, “why are you being so nice to me?”

He purses his lips in thought, showcasing his dimples. “Like I said before, it’s clear you need a friend. You’re obviously going through something with a guy you probably really like and your friend is in the hospital after getting laced. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

You blink at him, embarrassed that he read you so easily. “I-” You cut yourself off and look away, feeling the tears start to well up. “I feel so lost and alone.”

Jungwon slowly reaches for you and brings you in for a hug, letting you cry into his chest. “I moved to this stupid city all by myself and now I miss my parents, I miss my home and worst of all I miss him. Avi is the only friend I have and I can’t help but feel like her being in this position is all my fault! She only wanted to go out to help me move on a-and we made this stupid bet about getting guys to buy us drinks and now she’s getting her stomach pumped!” You angrily rant to Jungwon, overwhelmed by the events that have transpired within the last twenty-four hours.

He listens, gently rubbing your back as you let it all out. “It’s normal to miss your life back at home, going to college is hard enough, let alone having to move to a different continent. I understand the guilt you’re feeling but I doubt Avi is mad at you for what happened, you weren’t the one who drugged her.”

You sniffle and wipe at your nose with the sleeve of his jacket, “I guess so.” You pull away from his wet chest to wipe away the remainder of your tears. “I’m scared.” You softly admit.

“Of what?”

“Being alone again.” You whisper, you can’t help but wonder if Jungwon will stay after this, if Avi will be okay enough to stay for the semester. You pray you don’t lose either of them.

“Good thing I don’t plan on leaving.” Jungwon offers with a soft smile, you look up at him gratefully and wrap him in a hug.

“Thank you.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night in the ER, the doctors eventually come to fetch the two of you to join Avi, letting you know that she’ll be just fine and able to return home the following day. Jungwon stays true to his word and doesn’t leave your side until it’s time for Avi to get discharged. The three of you clamber into the back of the Uber Jungwon ordered and drive to your dorms. While sitting at Avi’s bedside the three of you began conversing about anything and everything. You found out that Jungwon was also a freshman at Northeastern majoring in Biochem. On top of that, he was living in the same dorm as you-his room only two doors down.

Once you arrive, you bid farewell to Jungwon with the promise of grabbing breakfast with him and his roommate Beomgyu the following morning before heading into your own room.

“He’s cute.” Avi says as she gently takes a seat on the couch.

“Jungwon?”

She hums, “sweet kid.”

You nod absentmindedly as you gather your bathroom supplies. “I guess so.”

Friday November 15th - present day

Three months have passed since the beginning of the semester and it’s safe to say that you’re beginning to feel at home in the city. Jungwon stayed true to his word and didn’t leave you. In fact, there was never a moment where you were alone. If you weren’t at Snell studying with Jungwon, you were at your dorm watching shows with Avi or at the dining hall grabbing lunch with Beomgyu. 

The four of you have truly become inseparable these past few months and you’re so grateful for the support they provide. It’s nice to finally have other people to rely on rather than having to rawdog life alone. When the four of you aren’t absolutely swamped with homework you grab dinner together at one of the dining halls before going back to your place for a movie night. Tonight happens to be one of those nights.

“Wollastans hands down has the best snack options,” Beomgyu says as he empties the grocery bag onto your living room floor. Avi hums and takes a seat beside him on the floor in front of the TV.

“That they do.” She reaches for the pack of gummy bears and offers some to Jungwon who’s laid on your couch arms wide open as he smiles up at you waiting for you to take your rightful seat in between his legs. He takes a handful of gummies and thanks Avi before patting his chest.

“Hurry up princess, I'm getting cold.”

You scoff and roll your eyes before kicking off your shoes and making your way across the threshold to plop down in between his arms. “What are we watching tonight?” You ask. Jungwon taps your cheek silently asking you to open up, you do and he plops a cherry bear into your mouth.

“Interview with the vampires.” Beomgyu replies as he ques up the show. Once it’s ready to go Avi hands you a blanket to cover yourself with before she cuddles up to Beomgyu, the two of them whispering to each other lost in their own world. You smile softly at them, you and Jungwon have a running bet of how long it was going to take before the two crack and just get together. They’re adamant that they’re just friends but it’s clear as day feelings are there.

You feel Jungwon wrap his arm securely around your waist before he places a soft kiss atop your head.

As touchy and flirty as the two of you are, you’re just friends. Once Jungwon made it clear he was here to stay you found the confidence to open up to him about Jake. You told him about the ghosting, the sex, how much he meant to you and how you don’t think you’ll ever love someone the way you love him or even be ready for a relationship anytime soon. Jungwon understood and made his intentions clear, he just wanted to make you happy. If that meant putting his feelings on the backburner and doing things your way so be it.

It wasn’t a fair deal at all, Jungwon devoted almost all of his time to you, he would walk you home from your late lectures, wake up at five am to run to Tatte to buy you breakfast before your eight ams, turn down girls who approached him in hopes that when you were ready you’d come running to him.

He did it all without complaint, he loves you fully and without restraint. He’s loved you from the start, he loves you the way you wish Jake had.

You can’t help but think about where Jake would fit in your life now. You’ve changed and made sure your new life left no room for him, you tailored your life to make sure Jake could never waltz back in and destroy all the progress you’ve made. You don’t think he’ll fit in with your group of friends anyhow. As this year has come and passed, you replaced Jake with Jungwon. It’s hard to picture Jake falling back into the role of being your only friend in your life.

You have Avi, Beomgyu and Jungwon. They look out for you and make sure to take care of you. It’s a reciprocal friendship, they’re pouring into you just as much as you pour into them if not more.

You snap out of your thoughts when Jungwon softly pinches your side. “You zoned out, are you okay?”

You nod your head and play with his fingers under the blanket. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

You feel him take in a sharp breath before pulling you into him even more. “I’m the lucky one.”

___

As the movie night comes to a close, you sit up from Jungwon’s hold to stretch, your friends following your actions. You reach for your phone to check the time to see if you can squeeze in one more movie.

“It’s only nine, we can start another show or watch a movie.” You offer

Jungwon wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in closer to his side, “I don’t have anything to do tomorrow, I’m down.”

Avi stands up and clears her throat. “Actually can we go out?”

Beomgyu looks up at her questioningly, “wanna ride the blue bikes around campus?”

She shakes her head, “a Harvard frat is hosting to-”

“Absolutely not.” You cut her off. You haven’t been to another college party since the one at slackers, the sight of Avi getting drugged permanently put you off from the party scene.

She huffs, “why not!?”

You give her an incredulous look. “Are you being serious? You were drugged the last time we went to one, I don’t want to see you in the ER again!”

The boys can sense the growing tension, Beomgyu stands and tries to calm Avi and Jungwon soothingly rubs your arms.

“It was one time! I won’t drink this time!”

“I still don’t feel comfortable.” She throws her hands up and turns to pout at Beomgyu knowing it’s a weakness of his.

“Yah! this is between the two of you, stop pouting at me.” He says in response before turning on his heel to head to your kitchen to raid it for some more food. You huff and turn to Jungwon to have him plead your case but he only shakes his head, he knows better than to get in between the two of you.

“Uh-uh, No. You two figure this out.”

He stands from his seat beside you to go join Beomgyu in the kitchen.

Avi takes Jungwon’s seat and grabs your hands. “I promise I won’t drink! I know better now and the guys will be there! You know they won’t let anything happen to either of us! Come on, _____ please!”

You sigh and shift your attention to the boys goofing off in your kitchen, Avi is right. The boys wouldn’t let the two of you out of their sight, especially Jungwon as he was there for the last party the three of you had attended.

“Fine.”

The living room of the frat is completely packed, people are scattered around the home, either dancing in a large group in the middle of the living room, relaxing in the kitchen with drinks in hand or smoking blunts upstairs. Something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you is the hordes of couples pressed up against each other and the walls, making out and grinding against each other for the entirety of the house to see without a single care in the world.

You turn to face your friends, “an hour tops then we’re out of here!”

Avi playfully rolls her eyes, “aye aye captain.”

She grabs Beomgyu’s hand and they walk into the midst of the party leaving you with Jungwon. “Want to grab a drink with me?”

You pull your attention away from a guy who’s completely wasted and forcing another to a dance off to Jungwon who’s standing next to you. You shrug, “sure.”

You both exit from the hallway where your little group had clustered and enter the kitchen to grab a drink. Jungwon hands you a water bottle but you nudge away his hand and reach for a red solo cup to pour yourself a shot of tequila. You knock it back and move down the counter to pour yourself some of the punch.

Jungwon watches you in worry as you pucker your lips at the taste of the punch, “I thought no drinking tonight.”

“No drinking for Avi. Plus it’s for the nerves.”

He nods at you and takes a sip of his water. “What has you on edge?”

You look around the kitchen sadly before confessing what’s weighing on your heart. “It feels so odd being here, it was my dream for so long and now it’s just some other school down the block.”

Jungwon hums before scanning the area himself. “Do you regret choosing Northeastern?”

You sigh, “I..” you trail off to really think through your answer. Northeastern has become more than a safety net. You have a family here because of the school, people who love and care about you without restraint and would be crushed if you up and left them. You also can’t help but feel as though there’s a double meaning to Jungwon’s question. “I don’t think so, more so mourning what could have been here.”

Jungwon nods, “are you still thinking about transferring?”

You shake your head. “No, I think it’s time to close the chapter on this time period in my life.”

Jungwon stills beside you, to him, Harvard = Jake and the life you lived with him back at home in Australia, does this mean this is finally the end of you and that dirtbag?

You smile and place your arms around Jungwon’s neck. “I think it's time to start focusing on what I have here at Northeastern…with you.”

Jungwon swears he feels his heart stop at your words, are you finally going to give him a chance? His eyes suddenly gleam with mischief as he rests his hands on your waist and squeezes you a little tighter and yanks you towards him, bodies just centimeters apart as you crash into his chest, all up in each other’s personal space.

Your eyes widen in complete surprise. 

“Are you saying what I think you are?” He teases with a stupidly lowered tone, a smug grin decorating his face. 

You ignore the electricity shooting through you, rolling your eyes and playfully sneer at him. “Don’t be smug, I can still change my mind, you know.” You force space between you two and try removing his hands from your waist but his grip transforms into an iron lock. 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Try me.”

He pulls you in close and leans in to whisper, “yeah? Then who's gonna do this?” He doesn’t wait for you to question him, leaning in right away to place his lips on yours and cage you between him and the kitchen counter. Your eyes blow out, taken by surprise until you find yourself quickly melting into the kiss, hands gripping his shoulders tighter. Jungwon can’t help himself from opening up his mouth to catch more of yours, lips sensually kissing yours in a slow, unhurried pace. 

You instantly love the way he kisses, completely taken by his pillowy, delicate lips. 

Jungwon doesn’t care if your lipstick smudges onto him or how brash the public display of affection seems; all he cares about is the soft feeling of your lips against his own for the first time and the fact that you’re willing to be his.

He knows it’s going to stay on his mind for weeks. 

You’re beginning to get lost until he disconnected your mouths, only looking at each other with overwhelming feelings and shimmering eyes that depict how nervous you are for this new step.

“Wanna dance with me?” You shyly ask.

Jungwon smirks, his mind recalling the first time he ever met you at that slackers party. “Where’s the fun in asking?” He mocks, you roll your eyes at the familiarity of his words before dragging him out of the kitchen and into the living room to dance away your inhibitions.

The two of you make your way to the center of the room knowing once you start dancing, all eyes will be on you. Jungwon squeezes your hips one last time before turning you around and helping you slowly grind down on him to the beat of the song, once you have a steady rhythm going on he begins to buck his hips to meet your pace.

Just like that night at slackers, you’re bent over whining your waist against Jungwon and catching the attention of those around you. Jungwon sneaks one arm around your front and gently squeezes at your right boob under your crop top, getting turned on by how your butt applies the right amount of pressure to his cock every time you bounce off of it and the lustful gaze of those watching. He could cum in his pants. You have to bite your bottom lip to keep from moaning.

As the song comes to a close Jungwon releases you and places a kiss against the base of your neck, “I’m going to grab us drinks, stay right here baby.”

You nod and let him remove himself from you completely to go get the two of you drinks, you turn around to see if you could potentially find Beomgyu or Avi and spend some time with them until he returns but before you even get the chance to fully scope out the area you feel someone grab onto your wrist and spin you around.

You’re about to tell the stranger off but your words get caught in your throat when you turn around to find a tall blonde man dressed in all black staring you down. You exhale sharply at the way he seemingly undresses you with his eyes.

“You sure know how to put on a show, princess.”

You feel your face heat up a bit at the use of pet name and being called out on the way you were just dry humping Jungwon. Not knowing what to say you wait for him to continue. Picking up on that, the stranger continues, “I’m Jay, what’s your name darling?”

“____” you breathlessly let out.

He hums and pulls you in closer, “sexy name for a sexy girl, who’s that guy? Your boyfriend?”

His hands travel down to grab at your ass over your leggings and you have a feeling that even if you were taken, Jay wouldn’t care.

You bite down a moan at the way he caresses your ass, taking turns between rolling the flesh and pinching it every now and then. He lands a sharp slap to your bottom when you don’t answer, his patience running thin. “Answer me princess.”

You shake your head, “n-no I’m si-”

Before you can finish your statement Jay gets ripped away from you by another male who huffs out in playful annoyance. “C’mon mate, it’s my birthday and you’re ditching me for some action?”

This time, your blood truly runs cold. Standing in front of you in all his glory for the first time in a year and three months is Sim Jaeyun. His eyes sweep over to you and the smile that was just gracing his face begins to slowly fall. Your eyes greedily take him in. You notice he’s dyed his hair back to black and grown it out a bit, parting it in the middle like you used to do for him during your walk to school. His shoulders also seem a bit wider, did he start working out? You even note his style has changed, gone are the tight skinny jeans and random hoodies. He’s dressed in wide legend pants paired with a simple white tee tucked in and Jordans on his feet.

“____.” He breathlessly lets out.

Hearing him call out to you breaks your heart, after all this time you thought you would be angry at him for what he did. Swearing to Avi that if you ever ran into him you were going to rip him a new one, maybe even slap him for having the audacity to hurt you the way he did. But now that you’ve been graced with the opportunity all you feel is a deep sadness, all your anger gone in that instant.

You see Jay’s eyes bug out of his head as he looks between the two of you. “She’s ____?”

Your eyes flicker over to Jay as you make the assumption Jake must have told him all about the two of you. Jake reaches a hand out to grab yours but you instantly jerk away from his touch. He doesn’t deserve it, your mind screams at you.

“Don’t.” You grit out, fighting back the tears.

Jake’s face falls even more at the malice in the simple word, heart breaking at how you avoid his touch but respects it nonetheless.

“Please, let me just ex-”

You don’t let him finish before you’re spinning on your heel and bolting out of the party. You knock into a few partygoers, the alcohol finally taking its effect. You hear muffled shouts of your name as you push past people to make it outside to the lawn. In your daze you don’t see your friends running after you.

You stumble out of the party and onto the lawn. The front of the frat house is nearly empty, save for you and a couple that’s making out on the grass. You stagger towards a bush when the overwhelming feeling of vomiting consumes you. Your stomach contracts violently and all the liquor you had consumed comes back up splattering the bushes.

“____!” You hear Jungwon call out your name before he’s kneeling beside you and holding your hair back.

You heave again and once more the contents of your stomach spray the ground. You sink to your knees and retch until only clear liquid is coming up. Your throat feels sore from the stomach acid that is layering it and your mouth tastes of vomit.

Avi kneels beside you and rubs your back soothingly as Beomgyu stands protectively in front of you, shielding you from Jake’s view as he tries to grab your attention, constantly calling your name.

“It’s alright,” you hear Jungwon whisper as you feel your stomach begin to settle. He slowly ties your hair up for you using a hair tie Avi offers and once he’s sure Avi has a steady grip on you, he’s standing to square up to Jake.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Jungwon asks. Beomgyu’s eyes widen the tiniest fraction at his roommate's question, knowing damn well he can’t fight and Jungown might be alone in this one.

Jake scoffs and steps up to Jungwon, his own annoyance at its peak. “I’m her best friend who the fuck do you think you are?”

Your friends all still at the realization of who exactly the stranger is. Avi is the first to react, scoffing at his audacity from beside you as she looks up at him.

“You know you got a lot of fucking nerve to even call yourself that. You’re the one who ghosted her, you’re the one who left. You don’t get to claim that title anymore.”

Jake falters at the harsh glare he’s receiving from your friends but he’s determined to speak to you.

“You don’t know shit.” Jay spits out from behind Jake knowing the true story as to why Jake did what he did. Albeit shitty, his friend had his reasons and he wasn’t going to let anyone shame him for the decisions he made as a kid fresh out of high school.

Beomgyu swears he sees red. “Watch it.” He says as he shoves at Jay’s chest. Jay, having none of it though, pushes back causing Jungwon and Jake to have to step in and separate their friends before things escalate.

Jake pulls his friend away and harshly whispers in his ear before Jay scoffs and walks away back into the party. Jake clears his throat and turns back to you and your friends who are all still glaring and making a protective front around you.

“Please, ____. I Just need one chance to explain myself.”

Jungwon opens his mouth to respond for you but you're quicker than him.

“No.” Your voice is firm, “you don’t get to hurt me the way you did and expect me to give you the courtesy of explaining why you chose to break my heart.”

From your seated position you can see the tears swimming in his eyes and it almost makes you crack. Almost. But you need to choose you for once. You need to stop throwing caution to the wind when it comes to Sim Jaeyun, he never once did that for you.

“You’re a year too late.”

Still determined and not deterred by your stance, Jake takes a cautious step forward, stopping when Jungwon deems he’s gotten too close and steps up as well to place a hand on Jake’s chest.

“I’m sorry, ____. I know I fucked everything up and-and that I don’t deserve another chance but please-” He chokes back a sob, “please just let me explain!” Avi rolls her eyes and helps you stand. “What good will that do? You’re right, you don’t deserve shit from her. Explaining why you’re a shitty person isn’t going to change anything.”

Although harsh, Avi is right. Hearing him out won’t change the fact that he no longer has a spot in your life, it won’t change the damage he’s caused, it won’t do anything.

“Let’s go guys.” You weekly let out, completely drained and craving the warmth of your bed.

“____!”

You ignore Jake’s call of your name and leave with your friends surrounding you, making it impossible for him to see you anymore. Your heart seizes in your chest at the desperation in his voice as he calls out to you but you keep walking, you leave him behind like he did to you all those months ago.

[November 15th, 12:35 AM]

[jake]: can we please talk?

[jake]: i’m sorry

[jake]: please

[jake]: _____?

[November 16th, 2:48 PM]

[jake]: i know you don’t want to talk to me but please let me explain ____

[jake]: i’ll leave you alone after, i swear

[November 17th, 6:15 PM]

[jake]: i’ll be at caffe nero near newbury tomorrow at 2 until they close

[jake]: please come and let me explain, i’ll leave you alone regardless of what you decide.

Jake stares down at his phone as he hits send, over the past two days he’s been sending you text messages praying you’ll respond but each one has been left on delivered. He doesn’t know if you’ve read them or even blocked him.

He tosses his phone aside and drops down on his hard dorm bed staring up at his ceiling wondering why he let things get so bad. He thought he was making the right decision for the both of you, thought he was doing right by you by leaving you alone.

Falling in love takes courage he doesn't possess at the time. You never stood a chance and it's little wonder why you felt so cheated.

Leading up to his departure from Australia everything was perfect, it was a dream. He had the girl of his dreams, a scholarship to the school of his dreams and for once- a supportive family backing every decision he made. It was new, it was different. It was scary. Jake grew up having to fight for his parents attention and had to work for their love, it was conditional, he had to be perfect. Being given it so freely and easily by you came as a shock.

He knew just how much you loved him, how much you had sacrificed over the years for him, he doesn’t deserve it now and he sure as hell didn’t think he deserved it back then. How could he love you if he barely understood how it worked? He had such a twisted view on love. At the time he thought it came with conditions, that he couldn’t love or be loved without conditions. That it was only a matter of time before the hammer dropped on your changing relationship and you began expecting more from him as a boyfriend, more that he couldn’t give.

Reading the letter was what really did it for him.

Of course he didn’t listen to you when you told him to read it once he was on the plane. He waited until you fell asleep and reached into the drawer to retrieve the letter and began reading it. Jake read it over and over again until he had it memorized, so much so that he still has it memorized to this day. He left you with the original but wrote it down on a napkin on the plane when he realized how big of a mistake it was to leave it. He sits up to walk over to his desk and retrieve his written version of the letter and begins to read it once again.

Dear Jake, my sweet angel boy,

I should have told you this right after prom: that there's this special love that I have deep within my heart. That love is only for you. It is far greater than this world. I wish I could show you how much you really mean to me. If I could only let you feel how much I really do love you in a kiss or a hug, you would begin to feel the love that I have for you.

If I could describe the love that I have for you and use lyrics of love songs or even the sonnets of Shakespeare, it would still be impossible, because the love that I love for you cannot be put into words. You've had my love from the day we met, and you will have it forever. As time goes by, my heart and love for you will keep growing stronger, brighter, and bigger.

Call me your love from this day forward. Although we have two different minds, and souls, we have one and the same beautiful heart. My love for you is unconditional. Please don’t forget that.

I love you with all my heart, body, and soul. I will never stop loving you. You are my life, my world, and everything to me. Distance may keep us apart for a short while but you will always and forever be embedded deep within my heart.

My beautiful love, you are my world and you have been since the first time I saw you. I felt love the first time I looked at you all those years ago in your backyard, and my world became a beautiful place to live in. I often ask myself, what in the world would I do without you now? I hope to never find out the answer to that question.

I’m writing you this letter to tell you how much you mean to me, and to thank you for coming into my life. You are something I never thought could exist for me. You are the best thing that has ever happened in my life, and I don't regret telling you how I feel.

I love you Sim Jaeyun, today, tomorrow, forever.

Tears swim in Jake’s eyes as he places the letter back in the depths of his desk. He wishes so badly that he didn’t run, that he stayed and talked through his fears with you but he was too much of a coward and knew deep down that you deserved better. He never deserved you to begin with and he was a fool for ever thinking a broken boy like him could ever love someone as amazing as you.

After leaving, Jake found it hard to settle into his new routine. He missed your presence every single day, finding it harder and harder to ignore your text messages asking how he was, if he had eaten, if he liked the campus.

By the time Jake had realized how big of a mistake he made and just how much of an ass he looked like, he couldn’t take it back. The damage had quite literally been done and it seemed you were moving on. The text messages stopped coming in, he was removed from your close friends and his mother no longer had any updates for him when he would ask. Apparently, you had stopped going over and it was rare to catch glimpses of you as the school year progressed.

When he had heard from his brother that you were no longer on the volleyball team he wanted to reach out and ask what happened. You loved the sport too much to just quit, especially during your senior year but Jake had a feeling he was the last person you wanted to hear from.

His first semester at Yale was nothing like he expected it to be, everything was dull and lifeless. Every day was the same routine: wake up, shower and brush his teeth, get dressed and head to lectures before studying at the library until midnight because his roommate had a girl over.

He felt like he was slowly losing his sanity. As the end of his first semester came to a close and winter break was fastly approaching Jake decided he had had enough. Yale meant nothing if you weren’t in his life. He knew at that point you had probably sent in your college applications and were practically a shoe-in for Harvard so he did what he thought would bring him peace.

He sent in his transfer application before the end of the semester to be able to start in the spring and got his acceptance right before winter break. He didn’t tell his parents about the sudden decision, knowing they wouldn’t be happy with him but he was done living in his fear. It was what caused him to lose you and he would be damned if he let it happen again.

He eventually told them once everything was set and as expected he received an earful about his decision from his father before he realized how deadset his son was on this before backing down.

Once the spring semester started Jake could slowly feel his world start to mend. Everything seemed brighter at Harvard; the physics program was easier, the people were kinder, he had friends and his new roommate wasn’t an ass.

Jay and Jake clicked the second Jake rolled his suitcases into the new room. Jay took him under his wing and treated him like a little brother. It felt nice to have someone to rely on, sure Jay wasn’t you but he slowly became someone who meant the world to him and he looked up to. Eventually Jay introduced Jake to his friends Heeseung and Sunghoon and the four became an inseparable group. The four of them truly did everything together: they took all their gen ed classes together, they attended each other's sporting events and they would often go to frats together with Jake staying sober to take care of his friends.

The guys never pushed Jake to explore the women that approached him at parties knowing his heart belonged to you. They had heard him go on and on about you on several occasions and knew he only transferred to be close to you. They admired his determination to right his wrongdoings but were truthfully skeptical if it would work. They encouraged him to just text you, arguing the more time he let pass the harder it would be to win you back but Jake argued back that this was something that couldn’t be fixed over text.

The semester flew by and Jake was increasingly getting excited. Once he had submitted his last final exam he was on the first flight back home to Australia in June. He couldn’t wait for you to start school in the fall to talk to you and he was long overdue for a trip back home, two birds with one stone. However, when he made it back home to Brisbane his dreams were once again crushed. His mother informed him about your solo trip to Europe and how your parents had sent you away under the guise of it being a graduation gift but really it was out of fear of your declining mental health.

Jake was lost, he had heard nothing about your mental state as his mother insisted she knew nothing about your life anymore when he would inquire about you over the phone. It came as a shock when his mom sat him down to tell him about you being kicked off the volleyball team rather than you just leaving like he assumed, how you no longer attended study groups and even skip school now. What came as the biggest shock was hearing you didn’t get into Harvard. Jake felt absolutely disgusted with himself.

He had caused this, he was the reason behind your suffering and yet he had the audacity to show up here thinking you would welcome him back. He was right, he really doesn’t deserve you. Look at all the pain he’s caused you and what you’ve lost in the process.

He didn’t stick around much longer after that, He flew back to the states a week before you came back from New Zealand and became hell bent on leaving you alone. He owed you that much, some peace after bringing nothing but chaos into your life.

The rest of his summer was a haze, he spent it getting high or drunk with Heeseung and Jay. He didn’t tell his friends about what he had heard from back home, the guilt eating at him but he made it clear that there would be no Jake and ____. The two of you were officially done.

Heesung and Jay were obviously worried about their friend, they knew of the love the male held for you and to see him so torn up over it that he was drinking all his inhibitions away or smoking until he was numb was alarming but they didn’t stop him.

They did however intervene towards the end of the summer when Sunghoon came back from Korea and Jake insisted the group went to an end of summer kickback. They had never seen Jake so out of it, he got so crossfaded that he passed out at the party and was unresponsive for twenty minutes.

Emergency services had to be called and the party got shut down. It was safe to say his friends were done with his shit and sat him down and forced him to talk about his emotions because they would be damned if they watched him continue down this path and eventually die from it.

That night was an eye opener for Jake and he swore he would get better, promised he would stop holding things in and be more upfront about how he was feeling. Seeing Jay cry over the possibility of his death was what really put things into perspective for him, the thought of you also possibly being torn over him dying got him to take his sobriety seriously.

His friends held him accountable as the new school year began, they cut back on frat parties, made the effort to not drink as much around him and even began being more open with each other due to Jay’s claims of “vulnerability breeds vulnerability.”

It was safe to say that Jake was finally beginning to heal. He knew sooner or later he would have to face the consequences of his actions and he was fully prepared to do so, just not so soon. It was Sunghoon’s idea to go to the frat at Kappa Alpha Theta for his birthday. Jake was fully prepared to say no and spend the day alone. This would be his second birthday spent away from you and he wanted the privacy to read through old birthday paragraphs you’ve sent him over the years and stare at the polaroids he took of you during your getaway to Sydney.

Jay and Heesung were having none of it though and insisted he needed to actually celebrate his birthday like Sunghoon said. Jake eventually caved when the three of them offered to stay sober with him. Seeing you at that party was devastating but seeing you in another man's arms was infuriating. Jake knew he had no right to be upset with you but it irked him that he was no longer the only male in your life. Jay had told him about the dance that took place before everything went to shit and Jake couldn’t help but wonder if you had fully moved on from him. Heeseung had to remind him that if you had, Jake couldn’t be upset with you, he had practically pushed you into Jungwon’s arms the second he decided to leave you behind in Australia.

“How long do you plan on staring at your phone?” Heeseung asks as he enters the younger male's room with Jay and Sunghoon trailing behind him.

Jake sighs and tosses the device to the side, “she still hasn’t responded.”

Sunghoon takes a seat beside Jake on the bed, “give her some space dude I’m sure seeing you at the party was the last thing she expected.”

Jay hums, “you did what you can. Give her space to decide what she wants.”

Jake heeds the advice of his friends. He’s inconvenienced you enough, leaving you alone to decide if you want to meet him is what you need now. He can only hope you do decide to hear him out.

“I don’t think you should go.”

You look up at Avi who’s standing above you on the couch staring down at your phone screen, contempt written all over her face. You gently sigh and lock your phone, letting it fall on the couch with a soft thud.

“I know.”

Ever since the party Jake has constantly been texting you. Avi was beyond annoyed with the male and his inability to- “leave you the fuck alone.” You would read them as they come in, unable to bring yourself to delete the messages like Beomgyu advised when you told him about them.

“Just block his number, ____.” Avi huffs, crossing her arms as she stares down at you. You look away and draw figure eights into the couch cushions as you think.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

It’s silent for a beat, you think for a few seconds before shrugging. “I don’t know.”

Avi sighs and uncrosses her arms. “You’re being selfish.”

You stop drawing imaginary shapes on the couch and fix your eyes on Avi, waiting for her to continue.

“What about Jungwon? Have you stopped to consider what this would do to him if you let Jake just waltz his way back into your life?”

You purse your lips, you haven’t talked to the younger male since the party. He’s been reaching out as well, trying to gauge how you’re feeling with the sudden appearance of Jake but you’ve yet to open them let alone respond.

“I don’t k-”

Avi groans in annoyance, cutting you off. “-I swear if you say I don’t know one more time, ____! Can’t you see how bad Jake is for you? One appearance and a few text messages and look at you! You’re not talking to us anymore, you haven’t left your bed in almost two days! Jake is toxic, this isn’t healthy!”

For some reason you want to defend his name, want to call Avi out on being a bitch but you don’t. You know she’s being logical and Jake doesn’t deserve it so you keep quiet. When she realizes her approach may have been a bit too harsh she softens a bit and takes a seat beside you.

“I’m sorry, I just-.” She cuts herself off with a deep inhale. “Jake will never love you the way Jungwon has. It’s harsh but true. Maybe Jake did have his reasons but that doesn’t change the fact that his approach was wrong. He didn’t stop to consider how hurt you would be and that’s not okay. Do you really want to be with someone who can hurt you so easily?”

She gently pats your back before continuing knowing you won’t answer. “Jake is selfish, he’s only ever cared about himself and Jungwon has only cared about you. Don’t miss out on what could be a great love with Jungwon because you’re infatuated with the idea of being with Jake.”

With that, she gets up and leaves you to stew in your thoughts. She’s right, Jungwon was the one to stay and pick up the pieces. He was the one to show you that love didn’t have to be painful, he’s patient, kind and above all absolutely madly in love with you. He healed you from the pain Jake caused so why are you self sabotaging? Who’s to say Jake won’t hurt you again? That he even has a valid reason for stringing you along?

Your phone buzzes on the couch pulling you out of your reverie. You sigh, expecting to find another text from Jake as you pick it up to look at it only to find it’s not from him but rather the other male you’ve been ignoring.

[November 17th, 7:37 PM]

[jungwon]: do you want to grab lunch with me at tatte tmr at 2?

You want to scream at how fate is playing out, now you really have to choose.

[November 18th, 2:17 PM]

You march up the sidewalk to the sound of the steady patter of rain against the pavement that leads to the little cafe that’s tucked between the huge city buildings and hidden away from view with vines crawling up its side. You come to a stop in front of the door and take a deep breath to calm yourself before entering.

A part of you is scared you’ve made the wrong decision, you want to turn around and run to him but you know you need to see this through. People love to think about the what if’s: what if I chose the wrong major? What if we weren’t meant to ever meet? What if things had just gone the way I had so desperately wanted them to?

For you, it's what could have been that plagues your mind. To you, they’re far worse than what if’s because they were within your reach, the possibility of it coming to fruition so near but never close enough.

Jake has been your biggest what could have been, your almost. You try and reason that it’s okay that you picked him in the end, you need to know why. Why your love wasn’t enough, why the two of you aren’t together, why he was so quick to give up on the two of you.

You head inside and note the cafe isn’t big, it’s small and cozy. You spot Jake easily, he’s sitting near the back by a window facing you. He offers you a hesitant smile and wave of his hand. You exhale and slowly walk towards his booth and slide into the seat across from him. He meekly slides a drink across the table.

“I know you always liked lattes so I ordered one for you, I hope you don’t mind.”

You look down at the drink he had slid over to your side. It sits prettily in a white china cup, a leaf pattern in delicate milky foam among the pale brown. You wrap your fingers around it, enjoying the heat that spreads through your hands, grateful for the little warmth it provides. You take a hesitant sip, it’s bitter, but you recall telling Jake that only babies ask for hot chocolate.

Truth is, you had stopped drinking lattes once your friendship with him ended, the drink brought back too many unwanted memories. Memories of walking to the nearest cafe in Brisbane during finals season to get your coffee fix to stay up and finish studying were too apparent and hurt too much.

You take a bigger sip and this time let the warm liquid sit on your tongue for longer. You can't smell the bitterness of coffee beans in the warm air of the cafe and you feel safe and calm for just a moment. You allow yourself to get enveloped in the smell of baking bread and let your worries slip away for just a split second.

You place the cup back onto the table and slowly come back to reality. “Thank you.”

Jake shoots a shy smile your way and shrugs, “anything for you.”

You clear your throat and sit straighter, back on alert. You fiddle with the handle of your teacup not knowing what to say. Was this a mistake after all?

Jake, sensing your hesitance, decides to speak up first. “I’m sorry.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Jake studies your face for a good minute. He notes all the subtle changes about you, he picks up on your new hairstyle and the change in your clothes. He also picks up on the awkwardness that hangs in the air, things have never been this tense between the two of you and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“I was scared that I wouldn’t be enough.” Jake looks away for a brief moment to collect his emotions and make his apology sound as sincere as it can be. “Ever since we were nine you’ve loved me and I was scared that I would mess things up, that once we made things official you would expect more from me, more that I didn’t know how to give and that ultimately I would be the cause of your unhappiness and all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, ____.”

“I had enough love for the both of us,” you softly confess, your heart breaking at the revelation of how he truly felt at the time. “Why didn’t you just say that? Why didn’t you let me love you?”

Jake gulps, tears stinging his eyes. “Because it didn’t seem like a fair trade. You don’t deserve someone broken. I thought love came with conditions and I didn’t want to drain you.”

You frown, growing annoyed with how he declares how you feel. It irks you how his brain works, how he assumed how you would react, how you would feel rather than giving you the opportunity to brave through the motions together.

“You don’t get to just make decisions on my half.”

Jake stiffly nods. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Your hands ball up into fists, anger beginning to consume your body. “I’m sorry isn’t enough! I was in love with you Jake! I was willing to go to the ends of the earth just to see you smile! Why didn’t you just talk to me? I would have loved you enough until you could love yourself! We could have made it work!”

Jake shakes his head, “no we couldn’t have.”

You glare at him, “why the fuck not!?”

This time Jake stays silent. Your eyes challenge him though, begging him to continue. To give you one good reason as to why he walked away but he gives you nothing, once again making you look like a fool for throwing caution to the wind and picking him.

Angry tears pool in your eyes as you forcefully stand from your seat and stare down at Jake. He looks up at you in surprise and shame. “Don’t you fucking get it? Even after all this time, I’m still in love with you!” You scoff as you see his eyes widening at your confession. “And yet you still can’t be honest with me, I feel so stupid. You make me stupid Sim Jaeyun.”

You don’t wait for him to respond before you’re bolting out of the coffee shop and out into the rain. It’s coming down harder now than it was when you left. You let out a string of curses at how soaked you’re getting and at how embarrassed you feel for confessing your love to Jake.

“____! ____, wait!”

You hear him calling out to you but you don’t stop, if anything it spurs you on to walk faster. The streets of Newbury are astonishingly empty due to the rain making it seemingly easy for a clean escape. What you fail to take into account though is Jake’s ability to sprint due to years of soccer.

He grabs onto your arm and spins you around to face him, determination written all over his face.

“I don’t deserve love, ____ I don’t!” Jake can feel his head spin with hurt, pain and daunting thoughts that have always plagued his self-deprecating mind. “That’s why I walked away. I can’t be loved, not by you, not my dad, not by anyone. I’m not worthy of it… I’m not a lovable person.” 

“Oh my Gosh..” You place a hand over your mouth, emotions reaching a crescendo as you raise your voice. “Yes you are, Jake. Why do you think I’m standing here and telling you I love you? Why do you think I ever did any of the things I’ve done for you? Couldn’t you see it in the way I looked at you? In the way I touched you, the way I trusted you? You’re worth every fucking last bit of love I have.” 

“You are the greatest love I have ever known, ____. It felt selfish to keep you all to myself knowing you could have had more! Knowing I was holding you back-”

You shake your head cutting him off, “I only ever wanted you. You were always more than enough Jake and I wish you had just told me! I would have reassured you each and every time! That’s what you do when you love someone!”

Jake suddenly closes the gap between you, gripping your face intimately as he looks into your frantic eyes. “I didn’t know how to talk through my emotions, ____. I thought it was better to deal with it alone and that caused me the best thing I’ve ever had. I’m still in love with you. My feelings are so strong I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t think straight, I don’t think straight when it comes to you.” Your eyes stare back at his desperate ones, Jake trying so desperately hard to get you to understand. “I want to try again. I want to do it right this time and never let you go.”

Your lips quiver, taken aback by his warm touch and confession. Unable to resist the urge any longer, Jake slowly leans forward, one hand firmly grasping your waist, the other resting at the base of your neck, and presses your lips together. Lightning cracks overhead as the rain continues to pour down on the two of you, soaking through your clothes. But none of it matters. A warmth radiates through you as you continue kissing Jake as the world seems to melt around you. After a few moments, you slowly pull away, taking a small gasp of air. A sheepish smile creeps onto Jake’s face as you sigh against his lips, breaking eye contact for a moment before Jake plants another, shorter kiss on your lips.

“I love you, ____. I’m sorry for not trying hard enough before but please, give me another chance to love you the right way. The way you deserve. I’m not scared anymore.”

You sniffle and nod your head, “”Okay. Let’s try again. No hiding this time. I want all parts of you Jaeyun, even the parts that scare you.”

He smiles and pecks your lip one last time. “You have all of me.”

#time for the tags !!🏷️ #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #jaeyun imagines #jaeyun smut #jake smut #jake imagines #sim jake imagines #sim jake smut #enha smut #jungwon imagines #jungwon #jungwon angst #Jake angst #enha fanfic #enha x reader #jake x reader #jungwon x reader #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop fanfiction #enhypen x reader

[neopuppy]

SOS (M)

pairing. alpha Jeno x female omega reader x alpha Jaemin

genre. haunted escape house AU👻, non traditional ABO, it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to(or bang my older brothers friends), pw-minimal-p, M/F

warnings. profanity, y/n is Mark’s younger sister, pollen induced heat/rut, smut warnings under cut

wc. 10,000+

a/n. I am drunkhazed, no need to message to tell me that I stole my own fic.

smut warnings. f*ck or die, threesome, double penetration(vaginal/backdoor), slick, knotting, loads of cum, overstimulation, unprotected rough sex. mostly pure filth.

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I mіght burn with the flame evеn if it hurts me

I јust endleѕslу over and оvеr again go towаrds you

”Don’t think this rain is going to let up anytime soon.” Your brother calls out to you upon entering the house, followed by the sound of shaking his umbrella dry. “Hopefully it will be over by the weekend so we can still have the party.”

He smiles worriedly, reaching for your shoulder. “You had to be born during hurricane season.”

Not only during a time of temperamental unpredictable weather, but also during the spookiest time of the year. It was Hallow’s Eve when your mother pushed you out, still half-dressed up in a witch costume as she screamed, kicking the air and practically ripped apart the collar of your father’s cheaply made Spirit Halloween vampire costume; rueing the day she ever let him impregnate her, again.

“Should we plan for something else?” Mark scrolls through his phone, sitting down with a furrow between his eyebrows. “Horror nights? Might be sold out by now. Maybe a haunted hayride? We did that a few years ago though, was kind of boring huh...” he hums, snapping his fingers. “Maybe I can beg Jisung to sneak us into that new paranormal escape room. Tickets have been sold out since they opened but I’m sure if I pull some favors he’d be willing to help me out.”

“Is it really scary?”

“Shouldn’t be too bad pup.” Your brother grins, reaching to pet the back of your head. “Besides, I’ll invite the guys. You won’t have anything to be scared of with us around to protect you from all the spooky things that go bump in the night.”

Right. The guys.

The guys being your brother's best friends, the same ones that still treat you like some immature clueless puppy. It’s nice for the most part, the way they all coddle you and insist you stay their baby forever.

It’d be nicer if they didn’t feel the need to make it clear so often just what a baby you are. Acting like you are not only a year apart in age.

“What were you going to dress up as this year anyway?” Mark continues, texting his group-chat about the possible change of plans due to the erratic weather.

“Doesn’t matter I guess, my package still hasn’t made it. Might have to recycle an old costume.” You sigh, bummed that the brewing hurricane hasn’t only ruined your party but also your valid excuse to dress like a slut without a reprimanding lecture from your older brother.

“You should definitely bust out Gollum again.” He laughs, nudging your arm. “My precious.”

“Mark, I was a kid! Let it go!”

“What, a kid?! That was just last year!” He clutches at his chest offended. “That was our best costume! Do you know how hard we worked on those hobbit feet?!”

“You guys looked like idiots.”

“We did not!” He splutters, tugging on your hair. “Take that back! People still talk about how great me and Jaemin acted out Sam and Frodo’s friendship monologue.”

“Can’t believe he agreed to being the fat hobbit.”

“Can’t believe you agreed to being Gollum.” Mark laughs, adding a wink. “Well, I guess I can. That crush you had on Jaeminie back then was unbearable.”

“Shut up!!!!” You shout, nearly tackling your brother from the couch. “I did not have a crush on him!”

“Oh really? Because I believe your diary entry from October 3rd would disagree!” He runs behind the couch dodging your advances, raising his voice in pitch.

‘Jaemin presented as an Alpha today! I always knew he’d be an Alpha! Goddess he’s so handsome! I can’t handle the thought of him getting any bigger and stinking up the house with his pheromones whenever he’s over. What am I going to do, I can barely hide how much I like him already!?!?’

“Shut up!!!” You scream, lunging over the back of the couch to choke your brother out. “Shut up shut up shut up!!”

“You’ll never catch me!” Mark laughs maniacally, charging for the staircase to run and hide in his bedroom.

“You’re dead when I do!”

———————————————

“What the fuck is this?!” Your brother fumes at the bottom of the stairs, head shaking in disapproval as you flounce down toward him.

“What?”

“This costume!” He motions angrily. “What the hell is that!”

“Jennifer Check!” You say dumbfounded, rolling your eyes. “Like, duh! One of my favorite movies, you know! My costume made it on time!”

The front door pushes open right as you spin to show off the purple and yellow cheer costume, mini-skirt twirling around your hips showing off a pair of snug fit panties adorned with the words ‘I KILL BOYS’ across the backside.

“Woah.” Jeno stutters, falling against Jaemin’s side where they both stand, mouth agape and wide-eyed in disbelief.

“The fuck are you pervs looking at!” Mark smacks the two of them across their chests, grabbing one of his jackets from the coat hanger nearby to throw at you. “Go change! You can’t wear that!”

“What?! Don’t be a jerk!” You snap back, throwing the jacket at his face. “It’s my Birthday!”

Jaemin steps forward to grab Mark’s arm and tug him back. “Come on dude, it’s just a costume. Besides, it’s cute..”

“You would say that.” Mark mumbles, shoving his friend off. “When you’re freezing your ass off out there, don’t come running to me for my hoodie.” Your brother grunts again, headed to the kitchen with Haechan and Jaemin in tow.

“You can always borrow my hoodie.” Jeno grins, approaching you with open arms. “Happy Birthday, or well, early Birthday.”

“Thanks Jeno.. Mark can be a real dick sometimes..” you mumble, squeezing around the Alphas waist to tighten the embrace.

“I think he’s just doing his duty of fulfilling your protective older brother role.” Jeno’s palms smooth down your back, cupping your waist. “For what it’s worth, I love the costume.” Taking a step back he gives you a once over, slowly nodding. “Jennifer’s Body, great movie. Not quite a final girl though, but..”

“I thought about that, but since none of my friends want to battle this hurricane and it’s turned into an all boys party again,” you turn around, flipping the back of your skirt up. “I’d say my chances of surviving are pretty high.”

Jeno licks his lips, biting back the urge to smile. “You got me there.” Reaching for the chain on your neck he draws out the crystal Evenstar pendant hidden between your chest. “You’ll spare me, right?”

The Alpha strokes over the design, smiling as he remembers your last Birthday when you cried about dressing up as Gollum. “You should have done Arwen this year.”

“Without Aragorn?”

Jeno’s gaze drifts back to yours, setting the pendant in place to sit on your chest nicely. “Well..”

“Alright, let's start heading out before this rain picks up.” Mark interrupts, barging back out with a backpack full of snacks for the drive. “Jisung texted, they just let in the last group of the night to enter the escape house, by the time we get there it should be ready to go for us.”

Jeno clears his throat, patting away the sweat collecting on his palms. “Yeah, sounds good, let's grab our umbrellas from Haechan’s car just in case.”

“Passenger seat for the Birthday girl!” You squeal, waving at your brother's friends. “The three little pigs in the backseat!”

“Heyyy!” Haechan snickers, swatting the air behind you as you run past.

———————————————

“Stay close to me pup.” Mark pulls on your elbow, shooting a glare over his shoulder at his friends.

“You know escape rooms work better if we all separate and try to find the clues on our own.” Haechan laughs, shaking his head and throwing a thumb in Mark’s direction. ‘This guy.’ He mouths.

“Isn’t rule number 1 to not separate?”

“This isn’t a horror film Jeno, it’s a game.”

“What do you think Saw was?!” Jeno’s arms flail, bumping into Jaemin’s side. “I wanna play a game?!”

“Haechan’s right.” You sigh, tugging yourself free from your brother's grip. “The timers started already, we need to work faster.”

Mark frowns, pulling off his jacket to throw over your shoulders. “You look cold.”

“Oh my God, what happened to not sharing your jacket with me huh! You’re so annoying! It’s Halloween!” You screech, shoving it back at his chest.

Haechan snorts, patting his friend on the back. “You know, we’ve seen her in less than that.”

“I’ll fucking kill you dude.” He growls, lunging at his friend's neck. “Don’t talk about my sister like that!”

Jeno and Jaemin let them grapple, watching with half-amused half-annoyed expressions as their friends fall to the floor tackling each other.

“You guys think this is a hint?” You nod to a pile of photos, all containing different guests that have passed through the rooms caught off guard with mouths wide open screaming. “They haven’t taken our picture yet, maybe it happens in this room.”

“We have 7 minutes left.” Jaemin moves next to you, snapping his fingers to a camera tripod set up in a corner. “Maybe we are the ones who have to take the picture.”

Jeno opts to continue searching for clues, moving down onto his knees to get a look under a couch against one of the walls. “The riddle said something about letting your worst fear consume you.” He crouches lower, coughing at the dust that lifts as he reaches and pats around coming up empty.

“I hate clowns.” Jaemin mumbles, working on figuring out how to set up the old camera.

“Clowns?” You snort, anxiously moving closer to the taller, pretending to care about the camera. “Didn’t think you’d have a fear of clowns of all things..”

“Why not?” Jaemin smiles, avoiding your gaze as he continues to tinker and focus on an area to point the lense toward.

“I don’t know.. clowns aren’t scary..”

Jeno pats off his legs, neither of them wearing much of a costume besides masks they’d pocketed once entering the escape house, claiming it was too hard to see anything. “Remember that movie Cujo? Shit had me terrified to go near a dog for years when I was a kid.”

“Dogs?!” Both you and Jaemin respond abruptly, falling into laughter together. The tension evades your limbs as you lean onto his side and wrap around his arm.

“You can’t be serious!” You say, wiping at the moisture pricking the outside corners of your eyes. “Geeze, clowns and dogs.. here I thought Alphas were supposed to be tough and fearless.”

Jaemin scoffs, flexing the bicep wrapped in your hold. “Hey! A lot of people are scared of clowns!”

“Can’t lie, I’m feeling pretty tough right now, my biggest fear is probably like a demon entity that’s decided it wants my soul specifically.”

Jeno’s mouth opens, shutting and closing again before speaking. “That’s uhm, dark?”

“Understandable.” Jaemin shrugs. “Why don’t the two of you go pose like a demon just appeared out of thin air to suck the soul out of you like some Dementor.”

Jeno moves to stand next to you, pointing past where Jaemin stands behind the camera. “Over there!”

The other Alpha runs into the shot just in time for the flash to go off and capture the three of your fright filled surprised expressions, ejecting the photo onto the floor beginning to develop.

“Guys, the door!” Jeno says loud enough to grab Mark and Haechan’s attention on the other side of the room. The two glancing over confused from the puzzle they’ve been working on for the last few minutes. “It’s opening!”

He rushes forward, motioning for the rest of you to follow after, an impending beep beep beep emitting past the speakers above as you make way into the next room.

“Guys, hurry up!”

“We’re coming! We’re coming!” Haechan shouts, stumbling to stand and grab Mark’s shoulder to pry him up.

“Shit,” Mark misses a step, tumbling back to his knees. “Ah, fuck!”

“Dude!” Haechan shrieks, turning back to watch the door begin to slide shut with three sets of eyes peering back at him full of worry.

“Hurry up!” Jaemin screams, rushing to push against the thick metal sliding down.

“Jaemin!” Jeno draws the younger Alpha back to his chest, using his weight to pull him away from the slam of the door locking into place.

The slam of the door sounds final, more ominous as darkness pours over the room before the slam of bodies bang into the opposite side; power buzzing off with the clink of a lock setting into place.

“Guys?!?” Spinning around you begin to panic, unable to find either of your friends without the help of light.

“What’s happening?!” You fret, slapping the door that's shut behind you. “Mark?!?”

“I’m here!” He calls back, throwing his side against the other side. “Fuck!”

“Was everything supposed to shut down like that?” Jeno asks, patting around the room for a switch.

“Fuck, wish I had my phone.” Jaemin follows his lead, gingerly tapping along the shelves set up against one of the walls and cursing about the ‘no phones allowed’ rule. “Wait, I think I found a flashlight.”

A click illuminates the room, shining around displaying nothing much abnormal. A few chairs, cushions, and boxes stacked together in one corner. The shelf holding a variety of items from DVDs to books to sculptures.

“Is it me or is it kind of..” Jeno tugs on the collar of his shirt, gaze skirting around quickly in search of a vent. “Humid in here? I feel sticky already.”

Jaemin nods, shining the light on the boxes. “Yeah, it’s stuffy in here.. uh..”

Mark continues slamming into the door, calling out for help. A worried murmur following from Haechan. “Did the power seriously just cut out? Like, this isn’t part of the game dude??”

“Hey, Jeno… come here..”

Jeno’s eyebrows perk up, walking over to where Jaemin stands searching through slew of boxes. “What is i— what the fuck..”

“Wh-what room is this?” Jaemin stutters, peering over his shoulder where you still try to pull the door open. “What are we supposed to do with this?”

Jeno swallows, head throbbing hard enough to make his eyes squint shut, blinking away beads of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead. “I don’t feel..”

Jaemin dry swallows, shutting the lid to open up another box. This one at least offers more, a box full of masks, unlabeled pills, cloths and fresh water bottles. “You think this is safe to drink?”

“Mark, I can’t anymore.” You sound breathless behind them, palms slapping down weakly one last time before sinking to your knees before the door. “I feel hot.”

Jeno’s instinct shouts at him to help you, waving off Jaemin to squat down by your side and place a palm across your forehead. “Shit, you’re burning up.”

He cleans the back of his hand off on his pants, grimacing at how soaked his forearm looks, shirt clinging to his chest. “Maybe it’s me actually.”

Jaemin pants, shaking his shirt away from his chest the more it begins to cling to his skin. “The hurricane must have killed the power, I don’t think the air is working.”

The three of you fall silent, quietly listening to the barely there soft blow of air coming from somewhere. Shining the flashlight up to the vent, Jaemin squints, blinking away the sweat clumping his eyelashes together. “It’s not coming from there..”

Jeno shares a look with him, setting a finger on his lips to keep their voices down as he crawls around the room to find the source. Approaching the shelf, he pulls away a pile of books, coughing and falling back as a waft of strong dust flies at his face. “Jeno!” Jaemin runs over, coughing and waving away the air to help his friend. “What the fuck is that?!”

“It’s—“ you sit up on your knees, head heavy, dropping you to hold yourself on all fours.

“It’s pollen!” Jeno shouts, eyes wide and crazed, turning to bury his face in Jaemin’s chest to keep down a growl. “We have to get out of here!”

Jaemin panics, grabbing onto his friend tighter to pull them both away from the now fully uncovered hole pumping out endless waves of dizzying scent, circling them both and instantly weakening his will to move. “I-I can’t.”

Jeno bites down, face drenched in sweat, gathering at his chin in large droplets. “We have to get away from her!”

Jaemin can hardly hear his friends' screams over the overwhelming sound of his racing heart, each breath deeper than the last. Each inhale more crucial to his system, pumping toxic oxygen through his veins and overtaking his mind.

“We’re getting help pup!” Mark calls out again, sounding more pathetic than usual. “I’m going to get you out of there okay?! I promise!”

“Mark..” you cry, falling flat on your side out of breath. Pupils fully blown out covered in gold as heat engulfs your every sense, soaked right through your Halloween costume. “I feel..”

The smell of arousal hits the two Alphas next, punching them across the face both hard enough to snap their necks, awakening feral need to impale an Omega on their cocks.

“The box.” Jaemin gasps, covering his face with one hand and letting the flashlight in his hold fall, rolling around shining light around the room. “The chains.”

Jeno follows after him in a rush, pulling his sweat soaked shirt up to cover his nose and mouth. It’s useless, the pollen already integrated with their biology, shaking its way through their limbs and bones.

“We ne-need to..” Jaemin struggles, teeth chattering as he reaches for the box he shut just minutes ago, pulling it down with the tips of his fingers. The loud clatter of chains, ropes, sex toys and boxes of condoms spills across the floor, now making complete sense. “Jeno, tie me up. I… you have to tie me up.”

Jeno shakily reaches for one of the ropes, dropping it with an anguished moan at the first throb passing between his thighs. The pollen fully absorbed into his lungs from meeting it face on, he falls face first with a loud thud, chest beating wildly. “Jaemin, t-tie me.. me first— I—can’t.”

“Jisung’s here!” Mark calls, knocking the door happily.

Haechan runs back into the other room with their friend, both out of breath from racing their way back through the dark, using the employee route on the way back.

“What the fuck is this Ji?!?” Mark’s enraged tone is hard to miss even between walls, followed by a mumble of panic and worry.

“The power died, news is saying it could be hours..”

“So what?!? There has to be a way to open this door!” Mark shouts back, face full of heat and anger.

Jisung’s mouth falls, reaching to scratch his neck nervously. “I can’t go in that room.”

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t!”

“It’s the..” Jisung swallows, pulling out a map to hand to Mark.

“Sex pollen?!” His eyes widen, nearly popping out of their sockets before turning back to kick at the door. “If either of you assholes fucks my sister, I’ll kill you!!!”

Your brother's threat has Jaemin working faster to tie a knot around his friend's wrists, completely avoiding your existence by the room entrance despite the thick taste of slick filling his mouth. “Come on Jeno, we have to work together.” He says frantically, licking away the bats of sweat trickling from his upper lip.

“Alpha..”

The air stiffens, hard enough to shatter like glass if either of them were to take another breath. The two freeze in place, trembling with their hands gripped around each other deadly tight as the most beautiful helpless moan dances through their ears.

“Alpha, I need you.”

Jeno manages to somehow get Jaemin’s arms chained together behind his back, struggling as he fumbles with a pair of handcuffs to attach on the other and keep them locked together- at least for as long as their bodies will allow.

“Jeno..”

Your voice licks at his ear, back going stiff as his lips twitch and he nearly breaks down into tears. Every demand to control himself grows more distant, fading away past the chants to fuck, claim, breed and mate.

“Jeno!” Jaemin’s raspy shout cuts through him like a blade, falling forward in a daze as his canines burn as if the pollen has seeped into his brain and began to flow with the blood rushing through each of his rapidly pulsating veins. “Don’t! You can’t!”

“Alpha, please.”

The call beckons him to lift his head, lips coated in a thick layer of spit pouring freely the more he falls victim to the crushing need to give in to his primal desires.

“Alpha.” The land of your palms against his chest has him lurching up straight, neck going ramrod with wide-eyes at the realization of your lack of distance, having crawled your way closer to capture him. The loosely tied rope hanging off his wrists uselessly, easy to free himself from. “Need you, it hurts—it hurts Alpha.”

Jeno struggles to swallow, the lining of his throat blanketed with a molasses thick layer of saliva, making it harder to breath and forcing him to wheeze as he meets your blown-out gaze. “C-can’t, we can’t.”

“Jeno! Listen to me!” Jaemin shouts, mostly barricaded away by the fog thats begun to stuff the olders ears. “You have to resist! It’s the pollen, she doesn’t know what she’s asking for!!”

“Alpha..” your voice breaks past the piles of cotton stuffing his ears, managing to squeeze your way past his lack of sense as Jaemin fails to.

Jeno wants to tell you to stop, he wants to push you away as gently as he can, wants to control himself, but as you make the next move forward and settle onto his lap, he can’t find himself anymore; he’s gone. Lost in the delirious magic of your high potent arousal.

“Jeno!” Jaemin audibly struggles behind the two of you, neck twisting to watch you push down onto Jeno’s lap and circle his shoulders, the Alphas neck limp as he leans forward, forehead crashing against yours. “Jeno! Think clearly! Try to think!”

Jaemin cries between his screams, fumbling around with the chains and handcuffs the older had managed to lock shut just a minute ago, his chest aches; screaming with something akin to jealousy that he wishes to ignore and shove aside. He should’ve contained the other Alpha first.. Jeno got hit with the pollen hardest..

“What was I thinking..” he sighs, forcing his eyes shut to look away from the first roll of your hips landing down against his friends. Jaemin bites back a growl, head dizzy the more he tries to work through the jumble of thoughts racing past him.

Mark will kill you.

Mark will kill you.

Fuck his sister.

Fuck his sister.

Fuck her now before Jaemin can claim your Omega.

Jeno can’t tell anything apart in the room anymore, the only clear vision in front of him is you. If not for the incessant need to feel every inch of your flesh he’d move slower, he’d move faster if not from his own exhaustion and resistance still struggling to bring him back.

“Jeno..”

“Omega.”

“Yes.” You gasp out, clawing at his chest for some type of contact. Everything burns, from the blood pumping through your veins to the heat raging through your nerves; screaming through your bones to have your Alpha, to consume every bit of him.

“Want me to fuck you?” Jeno hisses, head spinning as your scent invades his nostrils and takes over any minor hint of sense he possibly had left.

“Jeno, no!” Jaemin fights to unlatch himself, the flesh lining his wrists cut through with each pull and cry he lets out the more he fails to get free. “Don’t!”

The Alphas cock thrums, aching up his chest with a pained howl swarming his mind. The pollen awakening his feral instincts, shouting at him in anger to not let another Alpha have you before he can.

“Is that what you want?” Jeno clutches onto your hips, rutting you down against the stiff lump protruding from his crotch, panting along your lips that part open the faster he works you down.

“Inside,” you breathily gasp, flushed by the heavy want and need to press flesh to flesh. “W-wanna feel you inside.”

“Ah, fuck.” Jeno rocks your hips down urgently, ass lifting up to push harder against the seat of your underwear. Wound up too tight to stop himself, he manages to maneuver you onto your back with quick speed, still humping erratically between your thighs for some type of friction. “Fuck, I can’t.”

The Alpha jerks once, twice, neck strained back in arch leaving the veins lined up his neck on full display for your Omega to salivate over, canines aching to dig in and mark him up. With tight lips he grunts, circling down against the now wet fabric of his boxers, soiling through his jeans as release spurts out and makes a mess between his cock and underwear.

“Alpha?”

Jaemin scoffs loudly, chains rattling with another curse as he shouts to be let free. “You can’t even get your pants off before cumming!”

Jeno grimaces, ducking down to kiss your chin apologetically. “Alpha please, need your cock, need it inside.”

God, your begging can make his head explode, crumbling as he litters searing pecks down your throat and licks over the pendant splayed on your chest. “Wanna be inside you.” He pants heavily, gliding beneath the cheerleader top keeping your breasts hidden, scooting the material just high enough to expose the hardened tips of your nipples for his thumbs to flick and press down on.

“Alpha!” Screeching and arching you, you writhe under his hold, lengthy palms swipe up your sides, cupping your chest to bounce up as he bites down a moan and grinds harder against the soaked material of your panties.

“Unchain me!” Jaemin’s shouts grow lost the more the thick scent of your sweet slick wraps around Jeno, opting to replace a hand on your breasts with his mouth in favor of finally reaching down to unbutton and tug himself free.

The Alphas lips encase your nipple, tongue lapping roughly as if he expects something to trickle out. Already envisioning the sweet nectar of your lactating breasts after he fills you with enough seed to ensure you carry his pups. Without a clear mind to process a thought beyond fucking and breeding, Jeno tugs at his wet cock, shoving your panties to the side with the same cum covered hand before slapping the thick length against your already swollen slit.

“Please please please!”

Jeno growls, gliding the girthy meat between your blood filled cunt, the arousal hot enough to scorch around him, making his chest flutter with fear and hunger. “It’s all for you.” Hauling one of your thighs up, he leans in to lick across your upper lip, puffing wheezed breaths as the tip of his cock prods at your entrance.

“Alpha, Alpha!” The pathetic cries you let out as he works into your tight heat has his eyes rolling back, cock throbbing enough to feel each tremor pass through his limbs.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Jeno groans, eyes clenched shut when he hits obstruction and the weight of his heavy balls slaps against your ass. “Oh fuckkk.”

“Alpha,” you sigh dreamily, mouth hung open covered in drool. “Feel s-so good, feel so big.”

Jeno’s forehead presses to yours, sweat slipping your skin together and pushing his nose to dig against yours. “It’s you, so fucking tight.” He emphasizes with a pointed thrust, inching out to the tip only to feed his cock back inside much faster and pick up the pace until your hole finally gives around him and he can fuck into you with a renewed ease. “That’s it, relax for me baby, you like that? Like how my cocks pounding into you so fucking good.”

“Jeno,” you gasp, lower back arching up with each expert thrusts. The Alpha more experienced than you, evident by the way he takes control and fucks you harder without having to beg for more. “Love it—love your c-cock.”

Jeno fucks into you even harder at that, dripping with sweat as your bodies run together chasing the highest high, mind numb with nothing but the desire to feel his cum shoot out deep inside of you. “Louder.” He smacks your thigh, the clap thunderous throughout the room, forcing Jaemin to twist up from the floor in seek of his own pleasure.

“Asshole.” He cries, tears streaming down his cheeks as he breaks and watches the two of you lost in the animalistic desire that has you fucking like two feral blood thirsty wolves in heat. It’s enough behind his wet vision to tune the other Alpha out and focus on the euphoric pleasure that's taken over your usually innocent angelic face.

“Love your cock!” You whine, face wrenched up as you turn away and your head bounces back from the overwhelming sensations racing through you. “Love it so—so much.”

“Fuck yeah.” Jeno groans, beginning to lose rhythm as his hips stutter and he pulls out completely one more time, quickly punching back through your tight heat in one go just to feel you clamp down around his cock to a suffocating point. The Alphas everywhere, arms encasing your head as he leans in and licks down your cheek to capture your lips, balls tightening up letting him know he’s close. So close to filling your womb with cum, fucking faster and faster even as you pulse around his length and jostle under his punishing thrusts. Pussy milking his cock dry as you hit climax and grip around him mercilessly.

The kiss grows sloppy, weight dropping down as he sucks your bottom lip in and circles his cock deep inside until the last white string shoots out. “You okay?”

Jeno pants loudly, clothes heavy on his back now drenched by sweat. He waits for you to nod before pulling out with a hiss to fall by your side and allow his eyes to fall shut for just a minute, a minute to catch his breath. A minute too long as you already find yourself crawling to Jaemin, ripping at the cheerleader top halfway up your torso.

The Alphas gaze lifts to yours excitedly, licking his lips as he shakes his head awake after seeing white as he fucked up into the air and came inside of his pants. “Alpha.” You say in the most seductive tone he’s ever heard, better than music to his ears in this hedonistic state.

“Pup, help me.” Jaemin sounds shattered, voice raspy as if sandpaper scrubbed his vocal chords. “My hands.”

The scent of his release punches into you, scrabbling up his thighs to remove his pants from hiding him away. “Alpha, need more, need you.”

“Please puppy,” he grits, thighs trembling under your eager hands, hips twitching up. “Please get my hands!”

The tormented whine he lets out steals your focus long enough to show concern, nodding as you scoot in closer and reach around to his back in search of the chains latched together.

“Need to t-touch you.” He whines pitifully, helping you by shaking his forearms weakly with each unravel of the chain. “Need to—“

Jaemin lets out the loudest blood curdling howl, finally able to roll his wrists around, he pounces up to settle on his knees, hoisting you by the waist to be manhandled onto all fours. “Just like that.” His large palm closes around the back of your neck, pinching the skin taut until you mule and whimper, arching back showing off the obscene mess you’ve made.

Jaemin snarls at the sight of another Alphas cum smeared all over your underwear, quickly digging his sharp nails into the material to tear them off, the seams ripping apart nastily loud, pulsing terror through your nerves. “Let him fuck you before me?” He growls, leaning over your back and landing a strike to your ass.

“You’ll let anyone fuck you? Slutty Omega, any cock would satisfy you.”

“N-no Alpha,” you squirm, buttcheek stinging for less than a minute before another whip-like slap lands. “Ahh!”

“Don’t lie to me, Omega.” The Alpha grunts, sparing your ass from another hit to work his pants down and flip your skirt up, sad excuse of underwear(that you paid extra for) left shredded into pieces nearby. “No fucking point, I’ll fuck you the way you deserve.”

Jaemin wraps around his length, swiping through the wetness covering your inner thighs as he works up to your slit and pushes between your swollen soft folds. “Fuck you like I found you out in the wild, pussy leaking everywhere begging to be claimed.”

“Yesyesyes! Alpha, take me!”

“So fucking wet.” Jaemin rasps, wrapping your hair around his fist to pull your neck up and attach his lips to your jugular, softly teething at the vein pumping fiercely against his tongue. “Don’t move, or I’ll really make it hurt.” He says between kisses, licking at the sweat dangling from your jawline.

The Alpha shoves up, keeping the hold on your hair tight as his arm extends to push your chest to the ground, hips ramming against your supple ass. “Present.”

A gurgled sound of agreement leads your hips to push open, ass lifted high as you spread apart, placing your soaked cunt perfectly under the dim streaks of light coming from the scattered flashlights. “Good girl, keep it exactly like that for me.”

Jaemin slaps his length between your thighs a few times, biting down to keep his moans at bay. “Omega with the prettiest pussy, how’d I get so lucky?” He mumbles, head spinning this close to your sugary sweet scent.

“Ah, p-please—ahhh!” Without wasting another second he slams in, finding lack of resistance thanks to the amount of slick spilling out of you, and maybe because someone else was too greedy before he had the chance.

“That’s it, take all of it.” Jaemin says, lapping at the saliva slipping from his plump lips and grabbing a firm hold on your hip with one hand while keeping your head twisted painfully. He begins to pound fervently; turning just in time to catch Jeno’s eyes fluttering open, irises blown out red full of hunger. “This is what you needed, Omega? Feel that pussy nice and stretched around my cock? Tell me.”

“Y-yes!” You sound near death as you shout, fucked into like nothing but a cocksleeve to fuck for his own gain. Jaemin growls, tugging your hair to turn your gaze to Jeno’s.

“Say it.”

“N-needed,” you wail, cock sliding in and out of you easily, copious amounts of slick rammed out with each pump of his length pushing in deep. The wetness claps through the room, drenched thighs shaking form the force of the Alphas weight slamming down. “C-cock, needed!”

“Say you needed my cock.” Jaemin says in a lowered strict tone, scooping around your waist to pull you back onto his cock even faster.

“Yours!” You shriek, the Alpha squatted over your back with his feet flat to the floor to gain power. Jeno’s lip curls, pushing up to sit and throw off his sweat soaked shirt. “Yours Alpha! Ahh fuck!”

He sighs, cock aching already from listening to your pretty sounds, even if he’s not the one receiving them.

“Pussy so fucking good.” Jaemin grins at the other Alpha, drawing his cock out inch by inch to admire the thick gloss of slick stained up to his abdomen. “How am I supposed to stop fucking you now?”

Jeno rolls his eyes, moving closer to slap Jaemin’s hand away from your hair. “Sweet little puppy, you’ll do anything for some dick.”

He snickers a bit, forcing a soft smile when you blink up clearly lost to the feeling of being stuffed full again and again. “You close baby?”

“Pussy’s gripped around me so tight,” Jaemin adds, fucking at a punishing fast and strong pace.

“Y-yes,” you slur, finding comfort in Jeno’s palm gliding over your cheek. “Wa—wanna cum!”

“You cum when I tell you to cum.” Jaemin says despite your consistent whines, slamming down hard enough to have you slip on your knees, pushed belly flat to the floor to be used as nothing more than a fucktoy.

“Alpha! No, please!” You kick, screaming through grinding teeth. Jeno glares at the younger, snaking his free hand under your hips to find your clit and pinch the bud between two fingers.

“Shh shhh, it’s okay puppy.” He says sweetly, watching your eyes roll back leaving nothing but whites behind. “Don’t listen to him, cum for me.”

Jaemin’s hips barrel down even faster, enraged that the other Alpha has the audacity to touch you. “If you cum, I’ll punish you worse than this.” He says in a deep low registered growl, colliding down against your ass hard enough to bloom bruises tomorrow.

“It’s okay baby, cum for me.” Jeno repeats, thumbing away the tears tracking freely down your cheeks, dick throbbing the more his hand gets drenched with slick.

“Alpha—I—I,” your eyes roll up, empty of thought as gold coats across any color, fiery and wide, lips parted in a silent scream. Jaemin curses behind you, struggling for a moment to push through the ruthless clench of your heat, he fucks through your orgasm even with slick shooting out around his length making it harder to fuck you fiercely.

“Shit.” Jeno salivates, licking at his lips repeatedly as his hand draws free from under your collapsed weight and takes in the arousal that slid down his forearm.

Jaemin’s movements turn erratic, slapping sweaty palms down on your upper back for leverage to keep going even as his release approaches; lost in the depths of his own nonsensical pleasure. “O-oh shit!”

The Alpha stutters, letting out a high-pitched sound similar to a wounded puppy, hips hitting with finality as he finally lets go and shoots drop after drop of cum deep inside of you.

Breathing becomes harder with Jaemin’s chest landing against yours, slapped over and over again by the older Alpha to move. “Get off of her.”

“Ah, fuck you.” He mumbles, biting down on his lip as he slips out, half-hard cock landing against his pelvis softly twitching. “Damn.” His head reels for a minute, calmed momentarily. Coherent thoughts pass by, blinking slowly at the ceiling as he takes in deep inhales of pollen filled air and quickly succumbs to the desperation, the need to be inside of you again.

“Jeno,” you whimper, reeling from being fucked back to back.

“More?” He asks, taken aback but also not surprised, his own arousal spiking up at mere glimpse of you.

Nodding, you turn lazily, cupping to cover your mound to hide. “H-hurts..”

“That’s fine.” Jaemin speaks up, moving next to his friend with a grin as he kneads your ass, lifting your buttcheek to get a good look at your hole. He bends forward, swiping two fingers between your pert mounds, circling over the rim. “Jeno got to fuck your first..”

He says, peering over his shoulder at the Alpha with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll make it feel good, puppy. Real good.”

Shivers run up your spine, Jaemin pushing his way closer to hold your ass apart with his lips pursed together, dropping a wad of spit just to watch it dribble down your rim. “Want it?” He asks, digits digging into the meaty flesh of your bottom.

“Alpha..” your hole pulses, winking enticingly, answering for you as he surges in and runs his tongue across the wrinkled entrance.

“No time for all this,” he says between huffed breaths, setting a searing kiss on your rim. “Sorry angel, promise it’ll get better.”

Confusion draws your eyebrows together, manhandled up for your back to lay against the Alphas chest, pushing between your thighs from behind he rubs between to gather up the wads of slick continuously pouring out, cock dripping with the thick cream. “Ready?”

“Unghh..” lifelessly, you shake your head, unsure what he’s even asking. Jeno moves in to take a hold of your waist.

“Slow, give her time to adjust..” he says in a low warning, already imagining the younger to brutally fuck into you as he already did. “Don’t hurt her.”

Jaemin mumbles a curse, stroking the slick up and down his size and smearing the rest over your rim. “She can take it, she’s a good Omega.” He whispers, gaze directed to your lower halves with focus on the tip of his cock nudging at your rim. “Isn’t that right angel?”

Heavy breath fans Jeno’s lips, watching your eyes widen at the first inch pushing past your viscously tight rim. “Shh shh, it’s okay.”

Cupping your chin, he kisses lightly across your upper lip, stealing the pained moans passing through with a firmer press. Jaemin groans gravelly behind you, holding your ass spread apart to ensure the best view of his cock stretching your hole open.

“Fuck, that’s too good..” he whines, teeth grinding together the more his cock disappears. “What a good slut, hmm? Taking Alphas cock anywhere.”

Jeno can’t help but rut against your hip, growing more hazy with the vibrations of your cries tracing past his tongue. “Can I fuck you too?” He asks desperately, nose rubbing against yours sweetly. “Please?”

A light nod gives him enough answer, thanking you with a firm kiss and tongue massaging around yours. “The best Omega for us.”

Jaemin grunts to agree, pushing in balls deep with a shout, neck stiff and rippling. The tight clamp of your ass has his thighs shaking, heavy hands smoothing around your hips to press down on your lower stomach. “Fuck, this is crazy.” He says with a meticulous roll of his hips, ass bouncing against him. “..Won’t last long inside this pretty tight hole puppy.”

Jeno’s fingers pass between your thighs, teasing past your folds to rub circles at your sore stretched entrance. “This okay?”

“Fuck man, hurry the hell up before my dick falls off.” Jaemin growls, biting at your shoulder to stave off the the urge to completely pull out and fuck back into you raw, throw you back onto your knees like a good little breeding bitch.

“Alpha, p-please, put it in—“ you drawl, vaginal opening spasming around the tips of Jeno’s fingers. Kissing at the backs of his teeth, he nods fast, gripping his length to push between your fleshy velvety folds.

“More, more!” You whine, slapping and clawing at his chest. Jeno hisses, guttural and deep, grabbing your flailing arms and clutching your wrists together, shoving them to your chest with one hand to keep you held in place.

“More? Wanna become our pretty little slut? Fucked by two Alphas at the same time?” He asks softly, the words sounding sweeter than they should from his pretty pout.

“Yes yes yes! Jeno, Alpha! Please please,” you gasps, head rolling back, neck dropped against Jaemin’s shoulder. “Wan-wanna be filled so bad, so fucking bad.”

“So God damn pathetic,” Jaemin whimpers, licking the light teeth marks left behind on your shoulder.

Jeno thinks he might pass out if he doesn’t get his dick inside of you in an instant, steadying himself with the hold on your wrists, he strokes at his shaft one more time to spread the slick; slowly pushing the tip in past your opening as he leans in and huffs over your lips. “How bad do you need it?”

“Please!”

Jaemin screams a slew of curses, gripping hard around your waist and slamming you down to fully take Jeno’s length. Choking on your breath, you stiffen up, legs falling apart only held up by the Alphas keeping you full with their thick cocks.

Jeno’s lips twitch, face dropping to catch his breath as he notices a bulge jutting out under your navel, experimentally swirling his hips forward to see the skin protrude from his cockhead pushed that deep inside of you. “Fuck! Oh fuck.”

He gasps, short of breath admiring the skin stretch out, his cock overbearingly hot with Jaemin’s filling you up from the other side. The skin separating their lengths thin enough to feel the younger Alphas girth rest against the underside of his, throbbing together deep inside of you. “That has to hurt baby.”

“That’s it.” Jaemin encourages, struggling to speak with wads of saliva wrapped around his tongue. “You’re doing so well.”

“F-fuck—me.” You beg, eyes clenched shut tightly, growing delirious with need to feel the Alphas move in and out of you.

“Feel stuffed full, huh?” Jaemin grits, punctuating the question with a harsh thrust.

“So—so good!” You sob, reeling as Jeno follows and removes his length leaving only the bulbous tip of his cock inside before pummeling back in, fucking with full force. Pulling out only to bury back into the hilt again and again, pussy skin grasping around his cock better than anything he’s ever felt before.

Jaemin gets lost in the feeling of your taut pulsating ass swallowing his cock, head spinning with each honey-dripping moan you let out by his ear. “Ah—God, your ass is too fucking good.”

The Alphas begin to work their hips faster, simultaneously thrusting in and out, cocks moving in unison unbeknownst to each other. The rhythm they build up feels punishing, pushing you into a state of ecstasy; gasping out short little breaths as your lungs close in.

Jeno reaches down to rub at your clit with his thumb, swollen nub beyond sensitivity, stealing a fast orgasm out of you. It hits harder than any so far, blacking out as your breath is punched out of you. Thighs quivering and cramping as a stream of clear slick rushes free from your convulsing cunt, arching out high enough to land on Jeno’s abdomen and trickle down.

“Oh—shit—ah,” he shouts, cock stilling as Jaemin lets out an ear-shattering growl and his solid biceps squeeze around your waist, lifting you up and down to thrust in and out of your asshole at a relentless pace.

With your pussy continuing to pulse, Jeno buries his cock back in. Biting down on his lip as you keep squirting around his length.

“Alphas—s’too much, ahh! C-can’t!” You whimper, helplessly trying to free your wrists from Jeno’s strong grip.

“You can take it.” Jaemin says with demand, moving in and out with measured strokes, the tip of his cock leaking maddeningly.

“And you will.” Jeno finishes saying for him, firm hold continuing to restrain your wrists as his free hand circles your throat.

Jaemin blinks back tears, half-upset that he can feel his climax approaching. Snapping quick jabs of his length as he chases after the peak of pleasure, he bites down on your shoulder roughly, nipping the skin hard enough to hurt. “G-gonna cum—“

He grunts out, thrusts becoming more harsh and erratic forcing Jeno to halt his movements, allowing you to be fucked down by the harsh thrusts Jaemin pounds into you with.

“P-please Alpha—wan-want it!”

Jaemin yells, pumping his hips up sloppily a few more times, cock pulsing with hot spurts filling your ass. Quietly moaning with his head dropped, not even able to hold himself up anymore.

Jeno gently pushes his shoulders back, scooping you by the waist with one arm, cock slipping out as he shifts away to reposition you.

“Just a little more for me?” He can’t guarantee he’s not lying, under the heavy spell of sex pollen coursing through his veins. Turning you on your back, he adjusts between your thighs to seeth his cock fully back inside, savoring the heat blanketed around him yet again. “How—how are you still so so tight.”

The Alpha would guess you’re a virgin if he didn’t remember last summer when he found you in a jacuzzi alone with some guy nowhere near your league, bikini bottoms floating away with guilt stained across your face.

“Should’ve been me,” he murmurs, quick to capture your lips and thrust fast, but short, cock mostly inside. Too addicted to the feeling of your walls sucking around him.

“K-knot me, please, please please, Alpha please.” Your lips tremble as you plead, making it impossible for him to refuse. Not that he would, reaching between your bodies to rub figure eight’s around your swollen clit, he groans, fucking faster on the brink of orgasm.

“Can you take it?” He asks, only to see you nod maniacally, biting down on the backs of his teeth with a wrinkled skewed forehead the more he exerts himself to pinch your clit in succession with his rapid jerky thrusts. “Take all of it for me pup, it’s all for you.”

Coming to an abrupt stop he twitches harshly, cock beating against your insides with the first shot of cum bursting free, painting a mess of white inside with the tip of his cock pressed up to your cervix. “Ahhh!—“ Jeno’s lips curl in, struggling to breathe properly as the base of his cock swells painfully and he has to push in deeper, push in the feel as much of your hot tight cunt kissing at his knot.

“Ugh!” Slick streams out, splashing against the enlarged base of his length keeping all of his cum trapped inside. The possibilities of being full of pup spiraling through the both of you, pushing another shot of pleasure out of your tired body.

“Fuck.” He sighs, wet hand moving to hold the back of your neck and take in your fucked out face, take in your wide dreamy gaze. Envisioning how perfect a future between the two of you could be.

Even if this whole thing was some freak accident, his Alphas never felt this elated, full of life and love. “Mate.” He says with a grind, knot pushing against your sore tender entrance, having tears sting behind your eyes.

“I’ll take care of you.” He whispers, kissing down from your cheekbone to your chin, gently sucking at your jawline before he makes way to your neck. “And you’ll belong to me, only me.”

Possessiveness burns through his heart, beating faster as he takes in your scent gland and pulls at the thin chain around your neck too roughly, snapping the metal for his nose to graze freely. His teeth itch with need, licking at his canines the more they throb up to his gums and his wolf howls to bite.

Do it.

Bite her.

Our Omega.

“Alpha..” you say weakly, eyes drifting shut from the exhaustion of heat and the overbearing scent of Alpha seeping from your pores.

“Omega.” He hums, licking up the column of your throat only to lick back down again, willing himself to not bury his teeth in. “My perfect Omega.”

Even half-passed out, your body responds, heat sucking around his length earning a deep rumble from his chest, he hisses, grazing higher for his teeth to scratch closer to your nape.

“Please..”

Jeno thinks his minds playing tricks on him, head full of clouds as he bites down just hard enough to leave a mark and not break the skin completely. It seems to be enough, for now, to satiate both of your wolves. The tension leaves his spine as he relaxes against you, nose firmly tucked against your scent gland.

“I’d give you the world if you asked.” He mumbles, eyes drifting shut for no more than a few minutes as his knot finally goes down enough to at least shift onto his side.

Jaemin grumbles, slowly coming back to, no doubt wanting to fuck again. “Move.” He says from behind Jeno, sitting up only to come to a halt as the door slams up streaking light from the other room over your figures.

“Get off of her!” Mark shouts, spit flying from his mouth as he grabs Jeno’s shoulders and rips the larger Alpha away with strength that can only be fueled by rage.

Protective instinct takes over, throwing his jacket down before anyone can get a look at you. “Haechan, give me your hoodie!”

Haechan rushes to unzip himself and quickly hand over the baggy hood, your brother fast to wrap you up safely before lifting your exhausted body and shooting a glare at his friends. “I’ll deal with you two later.”

———————————————

After a long talk involving a ton of yelling and crying, Mark finally decided to let it go; having to accept that maybe you aren’t a baby anymore.

“You’re still my baby sister though and you always will be.” He grumbles, tugging you close to his chest with an arm around your neck.

“Always.”

“And..” he sighs, releasing you to give you a stern look. “I don’t think I can handle you dating one of my friends quite yet.”

“Markkk!” You whine, smacking his arm. “I already told you!”

“Yeah yeah, I know, it’s not like that.” He says sarcastically, throwing up quotations. “But it’s going to be weird now regardless, I mean..”

“You think so?”

“I don’t think any normal person can go through what the three of you went through and..”

“Well they’re coming over in a bit to help set up the new console system so.. I guess we’ll find out.”

Mark sighs, running a hand through his hair repeatedly. “If they make you feel uncomfortable—“

“They won’t.” You cut him off, smacking his shoulder. “Don’t forget they’re still your best friends who have done nothing other than respected me and done their best to take care of me too.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He grumbles. “But if either of them do anything to step out of line!”

“Yes yes, you’ll—“ you deepen your tone, glaring at him venomously. “KICK THEIR ASS!”

“Pft.”

Three knocks rattle against the front door before you and your brother can get into a back and forth mockery of each other, shoving him aside as you yell out that you got it. “Go away!” You add quickly, shooing him to exit the living room area.

“Whatever.” Mark murmurs, flipping you off on his way out.

Taking a deep breath you open the door to greet Jaemin and Jeno, both standing side by side nervously, scratching their necks and shifting from foot to foot. “Hey!”

“H-hey..” Jeno speaks up first, clearing his throat and nodding at you as he steps in.

“Mark’s in the kitchen, I think.” You say, motioning to the 6-pack of Diet Coke tucked under his arm.

“Oh, yeah..” Jeno shifts back on his heels nervously, eyeing Jaemin who makes no effort to move. “I’ll go put this in the fridge real quick.”

His gaze passes between the two of your wearily, wishing that Jaemin had been the one carrying the drinks now. “Be right back.” He says, skillfully darting his eyes to the younger's face in silent warning before you notice.

“Hey pup, come here,” Jaemin draws you back from following after the other Alpha, pointed teeth on display with a large smile. “You feeling okay today? After everything..”

“I’m fine Jaem.” You force a smile, straightening up at the trickle of sweat rolling down your back the more you fail to create space between your bodies.

“You don’t seem fine.” He steps closer, reaching to push loose strands of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry if—“

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, if anything you guys saved me.. pollen, it’s—“

“You saved us too.” Jaemin corrects, adding a small smile. “Not really the circumstance I ever imagined we’d do something like that, but, I wanted to let you know..”

Taking a step back he sighs, scratching down the center of his throat nervously. “I really—“

“Hey, Jaem, can I get a minute?” Jeno returns, jogging over seemingly short of breath as he pats the younger Alphas arm and nods toward the hallway. “Could you go help Mark start to unbox everything? We’ll be there in a bit, I just need to talk to her in private first.”

“Uhm..“ Jaemin’s eyes go wide, lips tightened into a thin line nearly disappearing as he silently fumes and wills the urge to shout away. “I was about to—“

“Great, thanks.” Jeno nods, smiling and striking down heavy pats on his shoulders before proceeding to direct him out of the room. “We’ll be in soon.”

Jaemin sports a hard smile, teeth gritted together as he waves and nods. “Sure.”

Jeno’s palms clasps together, motioning for the two of you to sit once alone. “I really wanted to apologize.”

“Jeno, it’s fine, seriously.” You start, waving off cooly. “Like I was telling Jaemin, everything that happened was out of our control, you know?”

“Not about that.” Jeno reaches into his pocket, drawing free a thin squared box draped with black velvet. “Everything that happened feels like such a blur..”

Leaning in closer he clicks the box open, a beaming crystal Evenstar pendant identical to the one missing from your neck shines, the Alphas fingers lifting the silver chain attached to show you. “I broke your necklace..”

“You did?!” Letting out a surprised gasp you reach to grab the chain from him, only for the Alpha to move away and shake his head.

“Let me.” Jeno shifts to sit behind you, gathering your hair to one side to expose your neck, breath caught upon seeing the light marks his teeth left behind. “I really am sorry about that.”

“The necklace? It’s okay, I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose.”

Jeno hums, pulling the chain around to lock in at your nape. “Yeah..” the tips of his fingers trace over the bite marks, sighing before placing a gentle kiss. “You’ll let me make it up to you, right?”

Twisting around to get a proper look at the Alpha, your eyebrows lift confused, tilting your head to take in the hint of distress pulling his lips into a pout. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel bad about what happened in that room.” He says, gaze lowered. “Like we took advantage of you or—“

“You didn’t.” Boldly, you cup his cheeks to keep his eyes on yours, giving him a gentle smile. “It’s weird but even after that I feel nervous around you.”

“I do too.” Jeno sighs, relaxed under the warmth of your palms pressed to his cheeks. “It’s because I like you.” He blinks rapidly, swallowing as he forces his gaze to return to yours. “I like you in a way that would probably get Mark’s ass locked up for attempted murder.” He laughs to lighten his mood, sensing a bubble of worry beginning to erupt in his gut.

“Really?”

Jaemin clears his throat, entering back through the hallway that Jeno had banished him to exit from earlier. “You two done yet? Mark’s getting tired of waiting and we already opened everything up.”

Hands fall away from Jeno’s face abruptly, shooting up to stand upon spotting the other Alpha. “Oh yeah! Sorry sorry.”

The older grumbles, getting up to stay by your side and glare at his friend pointedly. “You could have started without us.”

Racing ahead, you miss the whispers passing between them, more paranoid that your brother could be suspicious of how long you’ve been alone with one of his friends.

“You really have a death wish huh?” Jaemin snickers, bumping into the older Alphas shoulder as he leans in to whisper. “Or maybe you really wanna see Mark behind bars for that attempted murder.”

The two continue to appraise each other throughout the day, mindful of every move the other makes before Mark warns them when you head to the bathroom to ‘Knock it off before I rip one of your stupid Alpha heads off and punt you into the afterlife.’

“Don’t think I’m just going to allow either of you to fuck my sister now because of this.” He says quietly before you come back in and sit down besides Jaemin, toying with your new pendant.

Jeno smiles, admiring how much you seem to enjoy the new necklace. “Oh, I thought you lost this.”

“Jeno bought me a new one.” You mumble, quickly throwing the Alpha a smile.

Jaemin reaches to hold the pendant, frowning as he steals a glance at Jeno. “Or, maybe you’re more bold than I assumed. A real rule breaker, willing to spend a lot to win..”

“What?” You ask, half paying attention out of fear of your brother’s wrath if he catches you staring at either of his friends too long.

Jeno smirks at the younger Alpha, leaning back against the couch with a cocked eyebrow. “Are you? ‘Cause if you’re not.. you better run..”

Jaemin glowers back at him, whispering quietly. “One way to find out.”

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