#KPop Fanfiction

[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.

[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.

[nctstar]

Can you write a smut w plot on Taeyong x sub!reader x Mark ? I am craving for this pair please bestie...you can take your time, no rush. make them a bit possessive and dom and you can add anything to your liking.

hiii friend! i know this is CRAZY late but i hope you still like it <3 turned out a bit more sad than expected HAHA

dumb conversations, we lose track of time

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He bent over to kiss you, bringing both of his icy hands to your face, but you didn’t care. The kiss was everything, and you brought your bodies over to the wall as you continued, one of his legs now in between yours. “Fuck, I think…I’m gonna miss you so bad.”

pairing: markyong x fem!reader (no markyong ship)

other members: other 127 members mentioned

word count: 3k

genre: romance & smut, angst, fluff, sort of hurt/comfort

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! mild profanity, mentions of being sick from food, kissing, dom!markyong, praise kink, degradation (use of slut/whore), daddy kink, slapping, penetrative sex, riding, oral (male receiving), manhandling/being held down/held in place, missionary sex, praising (sweet girl, good girl), crying (like lots of crying!!), subspace, double penetration (2 in 1), clitoral stimulation, taeyong is leaving for military service and this is upsetting to reader (strong self insert moment LMAO)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: NOW i know i was technically supposed to make this a (freaky) smut only...but i had to add the extra things because i have been sooo emotional lately and i have not really been in a smut mood unless it's emotional and loving :D with the release of the tortured poets department, taeyong's enlistment, renjun's hiatus...ya'll it's just been a lot. so a lot of this is very much just me projecting HAHA but hope it's comforting to some of you. also, i just wanna say that you guys shouldn't feel pressured to engage in sexual activity when you're sad and crying...everything here is consensual of COURSE as always, and this is all fantasy but i just thought I'd add that in. please take care of yourselves when you're vulnerable. love ya'll mwah <3

You stifled your giggles in the droop of your cardigan, but Taeyong still flushed red. Your cheeks puffed out as you fought the urge to snort in his face. “I’m so sorry.”

He rolled his eyes, instinctively going to run his hands through his now non-existent hair, making you double over in laughter. “Alright, miss, that’s enough. Hilarious, I know.”

“Noooo Taeyong, don’t be embarrassed.” You ran over, pinching his cheeks in your hands, feeling his skin hot and elastic under your thumbs. “You’re so cute. Like…Anpanman!”

“I know you love jjingppang, jagi, but that was so uncalled for.” You strung his arm into your body, letting the both of you walk away from the dim lights of the restaurant. “Why? Are you hungry? But didn’t you just eat?”

“There is always space for dessert, hon. Come on, we’ve been together 2 and a half years now, and you still don’t know my philosophies?” You were teasing, having fun, but as you watched another couple walk in front of you, hands gripped tightly together, the shadows in the trees dancing across their bodies, you felt something sharp poke inside you. You gulped the feeling down, forcing a smile, even though you knew he wasn’t watching.

“You’ll get sick if you eat too much bread again.” You shook your head, scoffing. “That was one time, Taeyong. And it was in Japan. I would definitely have eaten that much again.”

“Really? I recall you crying in the bathroom, whining to me about why I didn’t stop you.” You knocked him playfully, feeling his scent permeate your senses and bring you back to those times in Japan. He was here now, a solid body standing right next to you, brushing up against you, but…You felt a sudden rush of emotion, but you could see Mark’s car now, and you decided not to bring up what you had been thinking the entire time.

“So-“

“I’m sorry I’m leaving you.” The words surprised you, even though it was something both of you had been holding back the entire time. “I’m sorry I have to do this.”

“Don’t be silly.” You were standing in front of him now, the white streetlights illuminating every line on his face, too scared to look into his eyes. “You have to do it, right? And, you should be proud of yourself. It’s hard work you are willing to dedicate yourself to for a while. And, I can always take care of myself.”

“You have Mark.”

“No, I can take care of myself.” You nodded as if you were trying to convince yourself instead of just him. Your eyes watered, working against every restraint you had. “Please, just…it will be fine. I will still see you. Just, not as often. But you’ll still be here.” He held both your hands, bringing them to his chest, and you were looking at your shoes, watching them get blurrier, feeling him pull your body towards his.

You couldn’t do it. Not for the last time.

“Bye.” You let go of his hands, turning swiftly around and walking towards the parked car at a pace that seemed closer to running.

The warmth enveloped you, and you hastily rubbed off the tears, almost embarrassed at the thought of crying in front of him. Both of them. “H-hey, Mark.”

“You okay?” You nodded, and he brought your hand to his lips, lightly pecking it before he shifted gears.

∞

The apartment was quiet at first, as if it already sensed the loss of one tenant. “Just squeezing past, babe.” Mark’s shoulder brushed yours as the keys jangled in his fingers, his steps retreating towards the bathroom. You walked over to the couch, looking at the empty cake box, the one Doyoung had bought to celebrate. The cake crumbs that littered the floor, the frosting on the couch – you didn’t even have the heart to be mad.

“Is that frosting…on the couch?”

You chuckled weakly, sniffling. “Yeah. I thought I told Jungwoo not to make a mess.”

“You didn’t. You’re so quiet around the boys. So shy.” Mark’s breath tickled your neck, his lips grazing the skin hidden underneath your cardigan. He kissed you gently, bringing one hand to your shoulder, the one he had brushed. “It’s what I love about you.”

You smiled, watching Mark’s shadow cover you as he moved to sit next to you on the couch. “What a mess. This isn’t driving you crazy?” You shook your head, but you smiled, a little bit more genuine this time. Curling up next to Mark, you basked in the heat of his body. He pressed his nose to the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “You smell good.”

“You trying to get laid, Lee?” You felt his chest shake as he laughed, both a little awkwardly and without holding back, like he always did. You thought of all the times you fell asleep in his lap, feeling him stroke your body soothingly as you both waited for Taeyong to get home.

You sat up, turning, looking deep into Mark’s eyes. “I love you.” You kissed him, pulling his bottom lip with your mouth as you pulled away. He ran his hands up your back, connecting lips as you climbed onto his lap, so quick to bring your body against his. He held your hips in place when you stared to move, groaning softly as he pulled away from your mouth. “Are you sure?”

“What, am I sure I love you?”

“No, I mean,” he gasped shortly when you kissed his collarbone, a spot only you knew how to tease. “Easy, baby. I mean, are you okay with doing it tonight?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, and you hated yourself in that moment for ruining it all. Desperate to stop him from continuing, you shut him up with a kiss, moving his hands from your hips so you could grind against his growing bulge. Your fingers in his hair, you dug your knees on the couch so you could push your chest onto his face. He moaned this time, tugging at the ends of your hoodie to signal you to take it off. You hissed when the cold hit your bare torso, Mark unhooking your bra clasp as you shivered. “You cold, sweetheart?” You nodded, but you were sitting back onto his lap, both of you shrugging off your bottoms as you talked. The cold drew goosebumps on your skin, but you felt wet and hot in the pits of your stomach.

“Fuck, so tight.” Mark threw his head back as you cried out, feeling the stretch harder than you remembered. He held you in place with a hand on the small of your back, another on your thigh. “Shhh. Come closer to me. Good girl.” He continued praising you as you sunk deeper onto his length, inches buried inside you. “W-wait.” You pressed a hand to his stomach, warning him not to move as you scrunched your eyes shut. “So fucking big.” Mark laughed, moving your hand away and bringing your chest closer to his mouth. As he licked and nipped at your body, you began to relax, your breath quickening with every passing second. His dick jumped inside you, making you whimper. “You ready, sweet girl?”

You tasted the tears before you felt them, streaked down your face. “Please.” you begged, and he began to thrust up into you. “Fuck, Mark, M-Mark!” Your voice carried through the apartment as he rolled his hips into you. “Come on, baby, that’s it. You’re our good girl, right?” You sobbed, bringing one hand to your mouth to quieten yourself, but he pulled the hand away. “If you’re gonna cum, you better do it screaming my name. You understand?” He held your chin into place. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, p-please. Fuck,” You gasped, feeling the ripples of pleasure run through your body. “I’m close! Please, Mark, can I-“

“Yeah, good girl, baby. I’m close too.” His voice was raspy, his thrusts sloppy as he reached his own high. You shut your eyes, feeling your thighs constrict as you came. You breathed heavily, the tears still running down your face. When the ringing sound stopped post-orgasm, you heard yourself crying.

“Hey, hey. You did well, sweetheart. It’s okay, I’m right here.” You nodded, feeling your body slump against him. “Can I pull out? Does it hurt? I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You looked into his eyes, feeling the way he held you so securely in his arms. “I miss him. I miss the three of us. I know it’s silly, because it technically hasn’t happened yet, but,” you sighed. “I didn’t know how hard it would be until it really happened.”

Mark hummed in agreement, wiping away your tears. “Of course. That’s not silly. And, I love you too, okay? I’m here for you.” You wrapped your arms around his body, breathing in his scent, feeling Mark pull your hoodie around the both of you. “You never hurt me, Mark.”

∞

You both woke up with a jolt when the knocking started. You climbed off Mark as your eyes shot open, and the both of you started frantically dressing, as if the person had entered straight away. “Who’s coming over so late?” Mark grumbled.

“Hopefully Jungwoo to clean the couch.” You muttered, but Mark was rushing to open the door after peeking through the peephole, and you frowned.

“Hyung.”

You knew it was him. But you couldn’t even move. In that moment, you were frozen in time.

“Hi, jagi.” His body stood looming over yours, his face red from the cold outside. You didn’t know what to say, rubbing the itch on one of your ankles to kill time.

“You’re…you’re here.”

“Yeah. It’s my apartment too, right?” He smirked. “Why, is the Anpanman look enough to make you forget me?” You laughed, sniffling, hitting him lightly on the chest. You noticed Mark raise an eyebrow, left out of the inside joke. Your stomach churned, your heart pining for a loss that suddenly was not lost, and it all felt so out of place.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He bent over to kiss you, bringing both of his icy hands to your face, but you didn’t care. The kiss was everything, and you brought your bodies over to the wall as you continued, one of his legs now in between yours. “Fuck, I think…I’m gonna miss you so bad.”

“You’ll live.” You scoffed, pushing him away. He laughed, the smile lines on his face making your heart soar. “I don’t think I’m gonna miss these stupid jokes.”

He kissed your forehead. “I think you will.” You rolled your eyes, but he was right. As always. You ran a hand up his chest, then, underneath the hoodie he was wearing. You gasped in an exaggerated, ditsy way, making your voice airy on purpose. “Officer, I think you’re pretty hard right now.”

Taeyong smirked, his eyes darkening as he gripped the wrist of your wandering hand. “Oh yeah? You think you know me so well? Wanna play that game?” In the corner of your eye, you watched Mark’s figure step closer. “She already did, Hyung.” He pushed his tongue on the side of his cheek, and you fluttered your eyelashes at Taeyong, feigning innocence. “I didn’t do anything. He’s lying.”

“Oh?” Mark looked pissed, and you only giggled in response. Taeyong brought his face closer to yours. “If I find out you’ve been lying, you’re done for. Now, on your knees.” You complied, seconds later being met with Taeyong’s length springing out of his boxers. You covered his tip with your mouth, but you felt your hair being yanked backwards and a slap on your face. “Did I say anything yet? Dirty slut.” Mark’s grip on your hair didn’t falter, and you whined. “If you want to suck me so bad, you better be ready to beg for it.”

“Mmm, please. Please let me taste you, Daddy. Please, I’ll be good.” Mark’s other hand travelled under your chin, tilting your head up almost uncomfortably, making you yelp. “Tap him if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded in response, and as soon as you did, Mark’s thumb pressed hard on your bottom lip, prying your jaw open. Taeyong thrusted inside your open mouth, guttural groans leaving him as he did. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sudden intrusion, the apartment now filled with the sounds of you violently gagging on dick. Your fists clenched by your sides. “Pretty cockwhore, aren’t you?” Mark whistled lowly, making you squeeze your legs in embarrassment. “Ah, so you like being our nasty little thing. As expected.” You shook your head, but he only tightened his grip, laughing almost cruelly in response. Taeyong pulled out when he heard you choking, inhaling air as soon as his tip left your mouth. “Not so talkative now, are you, pretty?” Your voice raspy as you spoke, you opened your mouth wider, sticking your tongue out. “Daddy’s little whore, yeah?” You could only hum in response as Mark held you still, Taeyong jerking himself off on your tongue. You swallowed the cum in your mouth, letting some of it drool out of your mouth. Taeyong bent over, spreading it over your chin, mixed with your drool. “Go and bend over the couch.” You went to nod once more, but he slapped your face. “Words.”

“Y-yes, T-Taeyongie.” You only used that when you were floating away, letting yourself go, and to be honest, you were surprised it had happened so soon. As you bent over the couch, you had an inkling that they were surprised too. You felt Taeyong’s hands on your sides, and you jumped. “Sorry, jagi. Is this still okay?”

“Uh-huh.” You felt wetness pool in between your legs. “Please, f-fuck me. Before, what happened…well, Markie…I’m sorry I lied, Daddy.” You heard Taeyong shushing you. “I want you to enjoy yourself, beautiful. Okay? Tell me if this is too much.” You sighed, relaxing when you felt Taeyong rub up your back, pressing hard in the way that you liked. Under his hands, you felt safe. Calm. Honest.

“C-Can we go to the bedroom? I don’t like this position.”

Your body burned, even though your shared bedroom was freezing tonight. “Fuck, it’s cold in here.” Taeyong held you close to your body, as if he never wanted to let go.

As the three of you sat on the edge of the bed, you began to ugly cry. Taeyong rubbed your back as you shook, Mark taking a tissue to wipe your chin. “Was it too much? Baby?” You didn’t know who was speaking, but you held both their hands, unable to stop the tears from falling. “No, its just that,” you rubbed your face harshly, feeling the days makeup rub off on your hand. “This is all so fucking dumb. I’m sorry, but, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t care if that makes me a bad person.” Taeyong laughed as he held your head in both his hands, pulling you into his body. Mark ran his hands soothingly up your thighs. “I think I love this side of you, actually.”

You smiled, remembering your conversation only a while ago. “Sorry I’m ruining everything.”

“Sorry but, you must be fucking crazy if you think that’s true for even a second.” Unlocking yourself from Taeyong’s embrace, you exaggerate lifting your hands up in surrender. “Okay, relax, Mark. Don’t call a woman crazy.”

“Especially not a horny one.” You snorted at this, making both of them laugh. Sighing, you tried to appear mad or even annoyed. But you hadn’t felt more free in days.

He was right. You were going to miss these stupid jokes.

The three of you rolled onto the bed, you straddling Taeyong while Mark left noisy kisses down the sides of your neck from behind. “I want you both inside me. Please.” You moaned as Mark squeezed your boob from under your shirt, your head on his shoulder as Taeyong pulled your panties down, the three of you momentarily and, almost comically, struggling with taking them all the way off.

Your hands splayed across Taeyong’s bare chest, you bent over to kiss him. “I’ll miss you.” You whispered against his skin, and he squeezed the outside of your thigh in response. As Mark sheathed himself inside you for the second time that night, he began to thrust straight away. “Still fits like a fucking sleeve, so fucking good.” Your breath quickened as your clit rolled against Taeyong’s bare cock, your moans thickening as you watched Taeyong lie beneath you. “You ready, my love?” You nodded furiously, Mark holding onto you with an arm across your shoulders, pressing your body flush against his. Both men guided you onto Taeyong’s length, the stretch now burning, firecrackers exploding in your stomach. “Fuck! Oh fuck!” You couldn’t breathe, pulling at Mark’s arm, slowly registering him shushing you in your ear. “Relax, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Almost there.” Taeyong groaned in pleasure, shifting the tiniest bit, which made you yelp. The feeling was so unfamiliar, and your heart pounded at the new sensations. “Please, don’t move yet.” Taeyong rubbed circles on your clit, watching your face carefully.

“Nghh, ahh…” The feeling of both of them inside you was starting to choke you from the inside, deliciously bringing you close to a release. “Wait, Daddy, don’t-“ You squealed as you squirted, your clit throbbing from the aftermath. “Shit, I don’t know if I can-“

“You can cum again, pretty. I know you can.” You moaned, feeling both of them bump against each other and into your walls inside you, wet and messy. “Oh my god, oh my…” you babbled, holding onto anything as they thrusted relentlessly, both their timing desperate and rocky. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for us, jagi, that’s it.” Taeyong’s voice rose in pitch, and you heard Mark groaning in your ear, pressing your upper body closer to his. You came for the second time, gasping for air, hips rolling without permission over both their cocks. You slumped over Taeyong after, Mark pulling out and resting next to you both on the bed.

[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."

[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.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

[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

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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. 

[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.

[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.

[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!!!!!!!!!!!

[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.    

[acciojaeyun]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇

DISCLAIMER. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED/REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ.

back to main masterlist.

oneshots

☕️ 11:47 PM how sunghoon falls in love. ☕️ under the web warnings: smut 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.

extras more to add soon!

[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?”

[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. 

[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…”

[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.

———————————————

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.”

[writerpeach]

Anytime, Anywhere

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x m!reader

19k words

Happy Minju Day!

---

Read on AO3

“I’m not looking for a roommate, Minju.”

The conversation should have ended there. But it didn’t.

Your front door is wide open and you can’t seem to close it shut. Like there’s something in the way. This something is a girl standing by the open door, carrying a suitcase, looking as pathetic as could be. Her hair is a mess, and the way she's been crying makes her eyes all swollen, nose still red. The only way she could look any more pitiful would be standing in the rain without an umbrella, but here she is with this disappointment on her face because you’ve given her an answer she wasn’t expecting. 

You’ve known Kim Minju since your first year of college. The first person to talk to you during orientation when you were too nervous to even look at anyone. Now you’ve graduated with a stable job that pays well, and moved into your first apartment, a place you can finally call your own—you’re not about to ruin it all. 

Minju was the first person you shared a meal with at campus, the first person you walked to class with that was just as awkward as you were, and you’d practically do anything for her—except let her live with you. 

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun!” 

Minju has a strange definition of fun. 

“Fun? One more mess to clean up? Having to buy more ice cream because you’ve eaten it all? Running out of hot water to take a shower with? No thanks. I'm not looking for a roommate.”

The girl doesn’t budge from the doorway, like giving up isn’t a part of her vocabulary. “Hey, I can clean up after myself. And I don’t even eat that much, so I won’t steal your ice cream. You won’t even know I’m here.” 

There’s some truth to that. All those years you’ve known Minju, she’s always been the quiet, demure girl who’s always cleaned up after herself and others without asking. You can’t exactly picture her the type to throw loud parties, and she’s probably the biggest homebody that you know. But still—that’s not enough a reason to let her live here on a whim. You enjoy your privacy, your quiet, your hot showers, and most importantly, your time alone.

“Minju, the answer is still no. The last thing I need right now is a roommate.” 

Your answer is firm and resounding, but Minju expects that to change. Like she’s got this laundry list of ideas that will convince you otherwise. 

“But don’t you get lonely? Look, I can clean. And I can cook. Kind of. And I can—“

“No, I enjoy not having anyone around. And I can cook just fine. I have a housekeeper that comes in twice a month. I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Every last word you’re saying puts a big frown on her face. Minju’s great, a terrific friend, but hearing the word no has never been one of her favorite things. 

“But I—“ she starts, and you can tell there’s about to be a double down you can’t prepare for. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” 

There it is. The pouty lips, the desperation, the puppy dog eyes. This triple combo intended to make you feel every pang of guilt, yet you’ve seen it so many times over the course of knowing her that you’ve grown immune to it. And you know it’s not exactly true. Kim Minju was always the popular one. Always the one with a plethora of friends. So it’s not exactly like she’s about to be homeless if you refuse her. 

“You had friends. So many friends, Minju. I never got to have lunch with you because you were always spending time with them. What happened? Surely you can live with one of them?” 

Minju looks away and down to her feet, like you’ve accidentally found some weakness of hers. Obviously, something has happened to have her standing in your doorway right now, looking so defeated, but when you’ve barely spoken the past couple of years outside of birthday messages, there's really no way for you to know.

“I’ve lost contact with most of them. The others, they’ve moved on. They’ve graduated, have lives, careers, families…” Minju says, as she stares off into space, like she’s seeing everything play out again right before her eyes. 

“And you think I don’t? What happened to you, Minju? You were top of the class. The most popular girl. And now you’re begging for a place to live?” 

Letting out a heavy sigh, there’s a long moment of hesitation before she speaks up again. “I made some mistakes."

Minju pauses again before delving into details. “I made so many mistakes. I moved in with my friend. Chaewon, do you remember her? Kim Chaewon? She was my best friend. We dated for six months and then moved in together. Then, my priorities got really screwed up, I guess. I focused more on going to parties with her instead of studying, and then that caught up with me when exams came around. Lost my scholarship, my interest in classes, and then eventually—lost Chaewon.”

It's a lot to take in all at once. 

Minju has never struck you as the type to be so reckless that she would let everything else spiral out of control. Not when she's the most hard-working and smartest person that you've ever met. Then again, you haven’t talked to her in years, and people change. But at the end of the day, that's still not enough reason for you to let her stay here. 

“I'm sorry to hear that, Minju." That's the only thing you can think to say, but even that seems to come across as a bit hollow. 

“The only person that offered to take me in was Sakura, said she could get me a job where she works. But… I can’t move to Japan. I don’t want to take my clothes off on camera for a living. You know she's an adult actress now? I can't do that."

“Minju, I understand, but I like living by myself, and I really don't want someone else. It’s nothing against you. Things here are nice and—“ 

“I’ll pay extra rent! I’ll pay more than my share. I’ll make sure the fridge is always full. I’ll…”

It doesn't seem to sink in that you're not interested, that you don’t want this at all, that you value your privacy above all else. “It’s not about money. I'm sorry, Minju, but no.” 

Minju isn’t listening. 

Or rather refuses to hear it, like she can't accept your rejection. So there's only one thing left for her to try as she falls to her knees—begging like her life depends on it. 

There's plenty of neighbors around, and having her on your doormat draws all this unwarranted attention that you don't need. But at this point, Minju still can't seem to fathom that your answer will never be the one that she wants to hear.

“Minju, stop.“

“Please, just for like a few weeks? So I can figure things out? I won’t be a bother, I promise.” Minju clutches onto your legs. It's embarrassing how desperate she looks right now, and the few people that walk by staring while this plays out aren't helping one bit. 

“Look, I’ll call around. I’m sure I have some friends with empty rooms that aren’t even getting used.” 

That sounds like a good offer, the best one you can give—but not to Kim Minju. She just clutches harder, so desperate that her nails are almost digging into your thighs through the thin layer of fabric of your pants. It's only been seconds since you've suggested the idea, but already, Minju is giving her rebuttal.

“But I don’t know your friends. So you want me to live with strangers? With people I’ve never even met? What if they try something weird?” Minju whines while finding a way to twist your words, and any last remnants of pity you have left vanishes. 

“Minju, I said stop,” you say with more authority, but it just makes her cling on even tighter. The iron grip she won’t relinquish almost causes you to lose your balance as you push away, trying to peel her off you to no avail. 

“Get up, Minju. This is beneath you.” 

She knows it is. Minju has always been so composed, and she knows that even if all other options are exhausted, there are less extreme measures to take. But there she is, clutching at your legs like there's no other alternative. Like this is her last resort.

"Minju, you need to leave." This isn’t your fault, and yet, somehow, it feels like it is.

"I can be a good roommate!"

Minju gives up on begging, finally rising to her feet with this adamant look on her face, like she’s going to give this one more dire attempt. “Please. I can give you something that's even better than rent."

It should end there. You should apologize that you can’t help, close the door on Minju, then grab a cold beer out of your fridge and forget this day happened. 

“Look, you still like women, right?”

What an odd question. You have no idea where this is going, and Minju has gone from begging to, well, whatever this is. Either way, you don’t answer.

“Come on, I’ve never known you to be shy. Surely you have needs, desires—and I can help with that. Just let me stay for a little bit while I get back on my feet. I can repay you in a way no one else can."

“Have you lost your mind, Minju?”

Clearly, the desperation has gotten to her head. Minju may sound as coherent as ever, yet you can’t comprehend these words. Maybe you need more sleep, maybe you’re a bit dehydrated—

“We’ve been friends for years… and you’ve never thought about me that way?“ she asks, sauntering closer towards you with this new sense of confidence in her step. Minju, she’s hot—very hot, this supermodel body with an angelic face you can stare at for hours. But that doesn’t mean you’ve entertained such thoughts. 

“Now, tell me. Wouldn’t it be nice if you had someone who gets you off as soon as you walk through that door? Someone who drops to their knees without any command. It must get pretty stressful, living on your own, without anyone to even talk to…” 

“It doesn’t, Minju. I’m fine. I really don’t need anything.“

“You keep repeating that, saying the same thing. You’re gonna tell me you wouldn’t enjoy getting between my legs right in the morning? Or having a way to destress after all those long hours at work? You would never want any of that?"

“Jesus, Minju, I’m not paying you for sex. This is ridic—” 

"That's not what I'm saying at all. All I need is a roof over my head, and in exchange—you can use my body as you wish. It can be as quick or long as you want. As many times as you desire. Anytime. Any day. Anywhere. No strings attached, that's my offer.” 

What an insane offer this is. 

“Get inside,” you beckon, because if the absurdity of this exchange won’t stop, at the very least you don’t want anyone else to overhear these suggestions. Minju follows inside, her suitcase still on wheels dragging along while she shuts the door behind. 

“Sit down, please.” 

Taking off her jacket, Minju takes a seat on the couch and crosses her legs, making herself comfortable. She sits right against the backrest, both arms sprawled wide across it while you wait for her to fully explain this ridiculous proposal. 

“Well?" Minju asks, a big cheeky grin, convinced she’s already won. “Sounds like you’re interested. If you weren’t, you would have kept insisting on me leaving, wouldn’t you?” 

Like you could ever get Minju to leave. 

Without much of a reaction, you sink into the armchair to her right. It's hard to find the words to say because she has a point. There were countless ways you could have asked her to leave, but you chose not to. Or maybe you’re just too exhausted by this whole thing.

“So—“ you pause, because you’re sure if you can call her bluff, this little game can end. “You’re serious?” 

Minju curls her lips. An eyebrow raises. She leans forward and folds her hands in her lap. This devilish little look in her eyes doesn’t have an ounce of doubt. “Absolutely. Just hear me out.”

You let out a sigh at the idea of ever entertaining this. “Explain it all. Don’t leave anything out.” 

Minju can’t help but laugh. “I’ve pretty much told you everything already. For as long as you let me stay here, I’ll be available at your disposal. As simple as that. Whenever you want to fuck me, you don’t even have to ask. I’ll drop everything.” 

“I don’t have to ask?” you repeat back, still in disbelief that Minju is capable of coming up with such an arrangement.

Minju nods. "If we come to an agreement today, then you won’t ever need to ask. You can have me in any and every way that you want. No restrictions."

“None?” 

“None whatsoever. You want a blowjob first thing in the morning? No problem. Need to fuck me at night before I sleep? You just say the word. Whenever you get horny, you can go right ahead and shove your cock in me. No need to hold back, ever."

"And you would be okay with that?”

“I’m the one who suggested it, didn’t I? I need a place to live, and I’m sure you wouldn’t mind some help getting off. So we help each other out.”

This doesn't feel real, to hear the girl sitting next to you is essentially suggesting her body to be a form of rent, and yet, this has been Minju's solution like it’s nothing. 

“And I meant anytime. If you’re hard at two in the morning and you wanna fuck a load into me, well, go right ahead.” 

“Jesus, Minju,” you say, and if you had a drink in your hands, you would absolutely be spitting it out right now. ”I’m not gonna wake you in the middle of the night to fuck you.” 

“Hey, I’m just saying. Totally okay if you wanted to. It’s all part of the rules.” 

“And are there any other rules?” Saying no to Minju is never simple, and this offer on the table seems almost impossible to resist. 

“Nothing too painful outside of spanking. Nothing too out of the ordinary or illegal. That should cover it. I’ll be looking for a job to help out as soon as I settle in, that is—assuming we’ve come to an agreement?” 

Maybe you should think this over, sleep on it even. But Minju, she looks like a goddess, with a banging body to go with it, and hey, she’s a friend, not a stranger, so there’s no way this could go wrong, right? 

“I promise you won’t regret this. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this place, and then whenever you need it—I’ll take care of you.” 

Minju really can’t help but be pleased at herself at that.

“Okay, sure. Fine.” 

“We have a deal?” 

“Yeah. Deal.” 

That's all it takes for it to happen.

“One more thing. We’re getting a contract made, to make sure this is all clear and consensual,” you say, and Minju has no complaints with that at all. It’s not that you don’t trust her, but putting it on paper seems only wise given the situation. 

“Understandable. Whatever you need.”

Pleased that this is all settled, Minju stands up from the couch with relief on her face. Then, with a radiating smile, she makes her way towards you, leaning down until she presses her lips against yours, sealing the deal with a kiss. 

“Thank you. You won’t really regret this at all.” 

✦ ✦

The rest of the night is relatively uneventful. 

It’ll take some time to adjust to having someone else in your place. At first, there’s not much conversation between you two other than an exchange of pleasantries while you help Minju get situated. She doesn’t have much in terms of belongings. A couple of boxes, an extra suitcase, a laptop bag and her purse—nothing that can fill a bedroom, which makes sense given the story she’s told you. 

You lend a hand in bringing it all in, and Minju gets her phone charger set up before running herself a long, hot shower that leaves plenty of time for you to think. This ridiculous arrangement starts to feel less surreal when you look around and find your apartment looking less empty. Yet, you’re not exactly sure what you’ve gotten yourself into. 

After giving Minju a quick tour of the place, she winds up sleeping on the couch, since your spare bedroom has served as storage for months. 

Aside from the agreement, nothing really changes overnight.

The next morning, there’s fresh coffee already made when you head into the kitchen. Minju has taken advantage of your breakfast offerings, pouring milk into a full cereal bowl when she notices your presence. Seated at the kitchen table, there’s this innocent expression on her face as she eats, wearing a white tank top and a tiny pair of black gym shorts that do little to cover those never-ending legs. 

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Minju asks as you sit down across from her, pouring yourself a cup of coffee before adding sugar and a splash of milk from the nearby carton.

“Well enough. Sorry about the couch. I’ll try to empty out the spare bedroom today.” 

Taking a spoonful of cereal into her mouth, Minju smiles and shakes her head, like your apology is unwarranted. “It's totally fine, don’t worry. I could have slept on the floor if I needed to. I’m just happy to be here at all.”

Minju’s gratitude is every bit genuine, and it looks like she got the best night of sleep that she's had in years. Which is hard to believe, given you’ve spent your share of nights sleeping on that same couch and it's nowhere near comfortable. Then again, you weren’t in the same position Minju was. 

“No breakfast?” 

“Not yet. I’ll cook something in a bit. Need to get some coffee in me first.” 

“Oh, I can do it. Anything I can make you? I don’t mind,” Minju suggests, starting to rise to her feet. 

“No, it’s fine, don’t get up. I like making breakfast.” You sip your coffee, and Minju settles back down to start eating again. Because even if you have someone else sitting across from you now, let alone Minju, you can’t break from routine. 

There’s a bit of awkward silence that happens while the two of you eat, as you’re unsure what to really say. But it’s day one of having a roommate, and you don’t regret it. Not yet. 

"So, are you off to work?" Minju asks, as she gets up from the chair and puts her empty bowl and spoon in the dishwasher.

You nod in response as you tilt your head to finish off the last of your coffee. "Yeah. Well, I work uh, here, actually.” 

“Here? Oh, like from home? That must be nice," Minju replies as she sits back down, like she’s waiting for something else to keep herself busy with.

"It's not the most ideal setup, but it's better than having a commute."

"I can imagine. Well, don't let me keep you then. If you need—you know, anything, let me know.” 

That sentence lingers in your mind while you head to your home office. And the workday starts the same way as it always does: meetings, phone calls, answering emails, the same tedium over and over. The only difference is the addition of Minju when you get up to grab a snack, some water, or more coffee—she’s there to greet you with a smile every time. 

The morning drags on, and you end up working through lunch to get caught up, which ends up being a mistake for many reasons. Now you’re this bad combo of stress and hunger, a recipe for disaster, but one of those problems is easier to solve than the other. So you grab a granola bar out of your desk drawer to tide you over, and as the wrapper lands in the trash can, you realize you can fix the other problem rather quickly as well. 

With Minju. 

It’s the whole reason why you’ve agreed to let her be here in the first place. So might as well test it out, right? And yet, you’re not even sure how to go about it. Summon her and say what, you're stressed, start stripping, and get on your knees? That sounds ridiculous to do, to even think about, especially when Minju hasn't been here for more than 24 hours yet.

Maybe the hunger is getting to you, and you should make a quick sandwich before getting back to work. Or maybe—just maybe, you should ask Minju for what she's offered.

"Minju?" you call out as you lean back in your chair, trying not to sound nervous at all. Within moments, a pair of bare feet enter into the room, arriving like she’s been on standby the entire time. 

You survey Minju from head to toe, this gorgeous thing idly standing before you, as if she’s waiting for orders. It takes you a moment to realize you’re just shamelessly staring at her, but who could blame you? The girl is the epitome of perfection: pale skin, these wide, curvy hips that lead to ridiculously long legs down to her painted toes, and tantalizingly creamy thighs that leave you salivating. 

Her tank top hangs just above her belly button, with the outline of her modest tits completely exposed through the flimsy fabric, the barest hints of nipples brazenly displayed, and there isn’t a hint of anything beneath her shorts besides bare flesh. You’re not sure this isn’t entirely intentional, designed to either tease or lure you into testing the waters, but maybe this is just Minju getting comfortable. 

Regardless, it’s working like a charm to ignite a fire inside you. 

"What can I help with?" Minju asks as her hands meet behind her back, nipples poking through the fabric of her tank top even more visible the closer she gets. She looks completely ready for whatever you’re prepared to throw at her, but you’re not even sure where to begin. 

“Are you busy?” 

“Not at all, just unpacking some boxes. But that can always wait.” 

"Good,” you start out as your eyes drift down Minju’s immaculate body, and can’t help but wonder what she looks like underneath those clothes. “I need—“ 

You take in a sharp breath, not used to something like this—or the fact that Minju might be willing to go along with whatever you imagine. 

“Need what?” She smiles knowingly, understanding whatever it is you need, she’ll happily oblige. You pause for way too long, your mouth suddenly feeling dry at the thought of voicing the idea in your head. “Don’t be shy…” 

Easy for her to say. 

“You need me to get you off?” Minju asks in this sultry voice when you don’t say anything in response, and it sounds so natural when she does, like there’s no reservation of putting herself out there like this. Eventually, you let out this pathetic little nod that doesn’t quite pass as a response, but still gets Minju to slowly drop down to her knees. And the realization of what’s about to happen gets your heart racing. 

“So…” Minju murmurs, as she scoots her body in between your legs. Her palm flattens against your thigh in these slow caresses that send a wave of warmth as it slides to your crotch. “You want my mouth? I bet you taste really good.” 

It's far more direct and open than you were prepared for, and has you trying to find an ounce of confidence. “God, yes.” 

There’s way too much desperation in your voice already, but it’s all Minju needs to get to work. Unzipping your pants, she tugs them down as you lift your hips. Already, your cock aches, getting hard, having no chance of hiding under the thin fabric of your boxers. 

When Minju frees you from your boxers, her hot breath against your bare cock makes you twitch. Her delicate hand closes around your erection, and she pumps with these slow, languid strokes, a motion that gets you to full hardness. In a matter of seconds, your shaft pulsates in her hands, leaking a steady stream of precum to coat her fingers. 

“You’re so fucking hard. This beautiful cock is what I get to play with for the next few weeks?”

Leaning your head back, you groan in response. You stare up at the ceiling while Minju strokes your hard shaft, these painful throbs getting instant relief when she moves in short, but powerful motions that draw a few breaths of bliss. It’s unfathomable, how the smallest touch she offers feels so damn good, this firm grasp she keeps coiling up and down your length at a leisurely pace to make you leak more. 

This is certainly a much better use of your time than staring at screens for hours. 

“You must be so pent up. Feels good, doesn’t it?” Minju asks, dragging a lone finger down from the base of your cock upwards to the head, across your slit, teasing her tongue over to taste precum smearing around, offering the briefest sample of what’s coming. 

“But I know you need more…” As she inches even closer, Minju spits right on top and you gasp at the sensation of saliva on your overheated cock. With each stroke, she spreads the fluid along your pulsing shaft, allowing it to drip down and coat your entire length. Her other hand fondles your balls, tugging on them playfully and doesn’t ignore how heavy they feel, as if it’s her new obligation to do something about that. 

“You needed this, didn’t you?” 

Another weak nod in return, because at this point words fail you. You want nothing more than Minju to guide her hot mouth down, swallowing you all until there’s nothing left. And you won’t have to wait long for that. 

Because even without Minju getting her mouth on your sensitive cock, you’re overwhelmed already. It’s clear she’s no stranger to this, the way her fingers tease and squeeze tightly around your dick, working in tandem with that pretty wet mouth that slides across your balls. Sticky drool spills down her tongue as she takes these sweeping licks against each back and forth, giving them individual care and attention in a way that’s granting pleasure you desperately seek. 

“Delicious,” Minju hums, and doesn’t pause for anything, smirking as her tongue drags up, taking swipes and frantic flicks against the underside of your shaft. 

This teasing, it’s insufferable. 

The soft groans that she coaxes out persist, until eventually her lips hover around your swollen head, and Minju plants a series of wet kisses to coat your dick in that gets you throbbing like crazy. Your patience gets tested as she gathers her messy dark hair into a ponytail in this slow, deliberate way. But you know exactly what’s about to take place. 

Her gaze gets locked tight as her warm tongue swirls around your leaking slit—then she lowers her mouth gradually, and takes just the head into her hot, wet mouth. It’s everything you need. Those perfect lips seal tight, and immediately she bobs her head at a smooth and consistent pace. Not too slow or too fast. 

Minju’s lips work their magic as she works a fist around your throbbing shaft, a grip just right that squeezes right beneath the head that keeps disappearing into her mouth. The tension in your body, it all melts as you sit back and enjoy the warmth of her wet mouth. She’s every bit eager to give everything you desire, this deadly eye contact that never yields, with hollowed cheeks as those soft lips slide down your throbbing cock. 

"Fuck, that’s amazing," you groan out, struggling to catch a steady breath. The way Minju handles your cock is nothing short of masterful, those heavenly soft lips wrapped tight around your shaft, and that equally talented wet tongue that flicks back and forth, tracing along every vein, every sensitive spot. 

It's a little slice of heaven.

Words can’t describe how good Minju’s warm little mouth feels on you. It doesn’t take much for her to get your cock absolutely drenched with a thick layer of saliva, this insatiable hunger to take more, increasing with every stroke her lips make. 

"Just like that, god..." Your voice trails off in a moan as your head hits the back of your chair. “That’s perfect, fuck, Minju—you’re so damn good at this.” 

The words hit her just right. Minju loves the praise, and in return, gives more pleasure, the immaculate pleasure that gets sloppier as she quickens the pace. Her gentle suction increases with every pass of her lips, with every desperate lick and slurp. She doesn’t leave any part out, massaging your balls with her free hand as that delicious mouth swallows up more and more of your length with each and every bob. 

“You really needed this, huh? Needed me to make you feel good?” Minju shows no intention of stopping, your shaft glistening from how much of a sloppy mess she's making. Her soft lips have an intimate way of knowing exactly what you need, this tight airtight seal around your cock every time they slide down, while the gentle tug at your balls gives you a perfect mix of pleasure. 

“It feels so fucking good—ah, fuck, Minju," you say, while your moans fuel this sloppy, absolutely mind-blowing blowjob that you never want to end. If this is going to be a common occurrence, then maybe having Minju around won’t be so bad. And you could get used to the sight of your roommate on her knees. 

This craving for more takes hold, but Minju fulfills it as she goes so deep. Her eyes water the further she gets, but this persistence never waivers, almost reaching the very base as she breathes deeply through her nose to take every last inch to the base. Minju swallows you whole in one motion, and shows no signs of backing down, even as she struggles to hold back her gag reflex.

“Minju—fuck,” you say in between sharp breaths as you stay inside this tight throat while the warmth surrounds you, makes you throb more than ever, building up your release. 

It’s impossible not to stare, impossible not to watch your length disappear again and again between those pretty pink lips as her perfect rhythm continues, this desire that only has one exit. 

“Mm, I can feel you're close," Minju says as she slides your shaft out of her mouth with a wet pop, jerking you off at an agonizingly slow pace. "Tell me where you want to cum. My mouth, my face—or somewhere else?” 

You need a moment to gather your voice before you can even think. 

“Your mouth. Wanna cum in your pretty fucking mouth.” 

Minju quite likes that answer. You aren’t given a moment of respite as she keeps up this same relentless pace, slurping on your length with endless amounts of fervor, with a new goal to suck you absolutely dry. She gets you right on the edge of release, eyes begging, pleading to taste it all, waiting for you to spill down her throat at any moment. 

The desperate look she gives while playing with your balls is more than enough to bring you right over the edge. With a low grunt, you empty into her warm, waiting mouth, thick spurts of hot cum coating the back of Minju's throat like this was just what she was hoping for. The more she drains your balls, the harder you moan, cock twitching with every burst of pleasure, and not a single inch of you isn’t unloading into that talented little mouth. 

Minju happily takes everything, her tongue not letting a single drop spill past those heavenly lips. There's no sign of disappointment on her face as she gulps down your load, with a smile that shows no remorse for taking you over the edge so easily.

"What a huge, delicious load," she murmurs after swallowing it all, running her tongue all over her lips. Minju makes sure to clean every inch of your length, from base to tip, licking and kissing every drop of cum until she's satisfied with her work. 

“Feel better?” 

"Yeah..." you breathe out, struggling to gather yourself, let alone find the right words after the intense high that Minju looks so proud of giving. “Much. Fuck, Minju—you’re amazing. Thanks.” 

“Anytime," she says with a soft laugh, as her hand still clings onto your cock, a few light squeezes and strokes that keep it hard. "Just let me know when you need more, okay? I'll be around."

“I—I should probably get back to work,” you say, sounding almost apologetic. With the euphoric bliss still lingering through your body, you’re not sure how you’ll get any work done, but that’s a worry for another time. 

“Yeah, of course. I still have some unpacking to do.” As Minju rises from her knees, she plants one last soft kiss against your swollen head before getting up to leave you with your thoughts, a moment alone to recuperate. You can't stop yourself from watching as she walks away, drooling over those luscious thighs and that minuscule pair of shorts that her ass practically swallows up. 

Work is the last thing on your mind, but you’ll power through with the help of this appetizer you’ve been given. This little sample is just one dish in a full buffet for what Minju can offer, and there’s no doubt that you’re going back for seconds. 

✦ ✦

It's late in the night by the time Minju stops unpacking. You’ve cleared out the guest bedroom, and she’s settled in enough to make it look like her own space. After working later than usual, you’re slumped on the couch, mindlessly zoning out while the TV drones in the background.

“Hey,“ Minju says as she makes her way in, still dressed in the same attire, this tight tank top that looks even more disheveled, exposing more midriff, and the same gym shorts that you swear look even shorter than earlier. Plopping down beside you, her curves instantly draw your gaze, like this outfit was designed to steal your attention. 

The littlest movement makes her flimsy top ride up, and you have no choice but to stare as Minju adjusts herself, lifting her arms overhead to stretch her arms, which gives a teasing glimpse of those perky tits that seem like they’re just destined to pop out. “Finished with work?” 

Now that there’s a light sheen of sweat worked up from unpacking boxes and organizing her room, her milky white skin looks so good. Minju looks nothing but utterly enticing, which has you dying to get to know that body better.

“All caught up. For now.” 

There hasn't been a moment all day when your full attention hasn’t been elsewhere, when you haven’t been thinking about Minju. She takes another stretch, and you’re sure this is deliberate when it draws a little moan that doesn’t normally come from this sort of relief. This time, your eyes are immediately drawn to her toned stomach, and you can just picture tasting it, covering it in little licks and pecks, this devilish temptation there’s no hope to resist. 

“Well, I should really shower,” Minju says as she starts getting up, but not before giving her stomach a slow caress, like she knows you can't keep your eyes off her. 

“Shower?” There’s obvious intention in the way you repeat it, like you have other plans in mind for her. 

“I’m all sweaty. I’ll be quick. I don’t wanna use up all your hot water.” 

Now, there's only so long you can hold back from testing out the waters, and it only takes a moment to throw aside your own inhibitions. You find sudden courage to give into your urges, and the look on Minju's face can’t hide the surprise from your sudden forwardness. “The shower can wait.“

If Minju’s going to take her clothes off anyway, you might as well give her a head start. 

“Your clothes, Minju." You're still hesitating, even if it's been on your mind all day, even after what she did earlier. "They’ll look better once they’re all off.”

“Then shouldn’t you do something about that, then?” 

There’s a borderline annoyance in her tone, like it’s way too easy if she does it, and wants you to take charge to do it instead. So you’ll indulge that, trailing your hands up her sweaty stomach to take in these perfect abs that flex at your touch.

The sweat that drips on her body, her delicious abs that glisten under your fingertips as you slide up to grab her tits, it heightens your arousal even more. She still isn't wearing a bra, so you give her these light little squeezes through her skimpy top, that makes her back arch, but this annoying barrier of fabric has to go. 

So the moment your hands pull up Minju's top, she lifts her arms to let you slip it off and throw it aside, her tits finally revealed as they spring free. And fuck, are they even better than what you had imagined—soft, round, the perfect size for her body, topped with rosy little nipples that just beg to be touched.

“I can promise you the rest of my body is just as good,” Minju assures as she catches you staring for far too long. No doubt you believe her, because this confidence isn’t just for show, but still, you’ll have to investigate on your own. 

Not the least bit shy, Minju shifts into the couch underneath you, flattening her back on the cushions to bring you down with her. Her slender arms lift high above her head, as if she’s daring you to explore her further, willingly inviting your hands to travel up and down to explore wherever you please. 

You'll accept this invitation without a second thought.

There's an inherent magnetism pulling you closer, as your fingertips caress whatever bare skin is in reach. With so many different paths to explore, all these intoxicating features that you want to taste and lick clean, it’s near impossible to pick where to start. While the gears in your head turn, Minju just stares back, so curious as to what you plan to do first.

It’s impossible to make a decision.

This body, this tight body of a goddess demands your utmost attention. These thick thighs perfect to wrap around your head, wide hips that were made for your hands, and this irresistible stomach that practically screams for you to make a sticky mess on. 

That’s all before you get to see what’s hidden underneath those tiny, barely there shorts. 

Minju’s curiosity doesn’t take long to satisfy while you plant your lips on her stomach, peppering the warm skin in kisses and licks as you taste every inch. This light hint of sweat, the sweetness that you can only attribute to Minju's delicious taste, it all comes from just her sexy stomach. It doesn't take much to imagine what other places would taste like.

The soft sighs that she makes encourage you to lick more, to plant messy kisses that cover every bit of her tight abdomen, while you can hear every breath she takes as you ensure you don’t miss a single spot. 

“God, Minju—“ You continue this feast of unapologetic indulgence, kissing your way upwards towards Minju’s cute chest, roaming between the valley of her breasts. “You’re fucking perfect.” 

“Better not forget that.” Minju gets a shy blush on her cheeks, and her nipples react the moment you tease them by playfully pinching them, rolling them, tugging between your fingers. Before her next breath, you get your lips wrapped around them, and then you take these unabashed slurps, these pretty buds that merit your equal attention. 

The cutest whine escapes Minju when your tongue circles the stiff buds, making them stand out even more under your stimulation. She’s so sensitive, and you relish in that, planning to use it to your advantage later. And fuck, there just isn’t a part of her that doesn’t taste absolutely delicious. 

As breathtaking as the girl’s body is, it’s not even the main event. You’re having too much enjoyment sucking on her cute tits, teasing them with your sloppy tongue, but you just know there’s a growing heat between her thighs, one that mirrors the frustration levels of your dick straining against your pants. 

You’ve got Minju’s body all mapped out, and you could spend all night tasting these delicious curves, devouring her breasts, planting as many kisses on her tummy as you can—but it’s unfair to ignore the other appetizing parts of her deadly figure. 

Besides, you can’t wait to peel those shorts off her ridiculous hips. 

A moment to catch your breath is all you need, because there’s no more time left to hold back your lust. You leave her with one lingering kiss on her stomach, and then your greedy hands peel those annoying shorts off with Minju’s assistance when she lifts her butt up. Through that eager smile, she doesn’t spoil the surprise that there's not even a pair of underwear underneath to stand in the way of her naked body—

That silky smooth, shaven pussy is all you can focus on, already soaking wet when she parts her thighs to give a tempting glimpse at those pink lips, and all you can think about is what they'll feel like wrapped around your cock. 

“Do you normally not wear panties, Minju?” you say, taking a moment to admire the sight of her bare cunt in its glory. 

“Depends on the company,” she admits, this faux innocent expression that is anything but that washes over her. You can’t go another second without getting your cock out, desperate for any kind of relief from this persistent ache while you unzip your pants. Minju watches you strip down with the same hunger in her gaze, shirt pulled over your head in one motion, and then your pants slide off along with your boxers. 

"That's much better," Minju says, and gets her fingers wrapped around your shaft, with no intention of doing anything else except for that. “It's so big, so perfect for me..." 

A firm squeeze gets your throbs going, as if you needed any encouragement to be rock hard, and Minju gets this content little smile at feeling it grow even more between her fingers. 

As the moments pass, her innocent demeanor fades, replaced by a longing gaze fixated on your hardened shaft, where there’s only one destination your length needs to sink into. Sprawling out on the cushions, Minju stretches out her long legs that are practically built to wrap around your body. 

Those wet folds, and your throbbing cock, there's only one outcome when they have their first meeting. 

With no reluctance, you position yourself between Minju's spread thighs, feeling how slick her pussy has gotten with anticipation. You run your cock against her dripping folds that glisten, teasing her slit as your shaft coats itself in her wetness. "It'll fit inside you so fucking well." 

You’re too speechless to apologize to Minju for not eating her out first, but judging by the way she’s looking at you, she’ll live. The initial plunge rips a heavy moan right out of your throat, all these sensations hitting all at once. There's no pause when you pull back, then slide in again unabated, pushing more of your thick shaft into this perfect pussy. 

"Fuck, you're so damn tight, Minju, god—"

“Did you expect anything else?” she asks, before another moan tears through her. There's no resistance to impede you, just inviting wet flesh that wraps around your cock in this wetness, your cockhead sliding deeper into the warmth of her cunt with ease.

“Oh my god.” Her walls tighten around your shaft, this overwhelming heat welcoming every inch into her cunt like it belongs there. “This pussy is perfect. I’m going to use it every chance I get.” 

“I sure hope so. That’s what I’m here for.” 

With nothing else but a confident smile on Minju’s face, and nothing but these erotic little moans as her walls stretch to accommodate every inch, until you can bottom her out for the first time. She’s so fucking tight it’s almost painful, this absolute vice grip that squeezes the life out of your cock, ensuring you aren’t going anywhere. “Your cock is so thick, it’s filling me up so well…” 

The urge to just drive your cock as deep inside of her as possible becomes overwhelming, and Minju doesn't give any signs that she wants to be treated delicately. There's no room for restraint or holding back with how well she takes it all, how badly she craves every inch you've got. “Don’t think for a moment I can’t take you all.” 

So you let the carnal urges take control, grabbing her slender waist and pounding into this heavenly cunt with no remorse. 

“Minju, fuck, your pussy feels so good,” you growl, each thrust only making you want to stay buried in there longer. You’re hitting all the right angles, creating an erotic soundtrack of flesh while Minju's wet cunt swallows you up to the base, squeezing in just the perfect way around every last inch as you pull back and plunge right back in.

“And it’ll feel even better when you cum inside.” 

There’s hardly even any time to think of a response before Minju wraps her long legs around your waist, digging her heels into the small of your back so she can draw your cock in even deeper. “I hope you weren’t expecting to pull out."

Hearing those words is like a shot of adrenaline that makes you pound into her cunt with everything you have, burying your cock balls deep with every long, powerful stroke. 

“Not a fucking chance, Minju. I’m pounding this perfect cunt until I fuck a load inside you.” 

There’s a devilish grin on her face when she hears that, legs tightening to make you backup your words, her dripping pussy clenching harder as if trying to coax that load out sooner. “With how deep you’re fucking me, you better not do anything else.” 

Through all these harsh thrusts, and the rough pistoning of your hips, you need to pull back every once in a while. Only so you can have the perfect view of Minju's body covered in more sweat than before, even more irresistible to not lick the side of her neck, savoring every little taste you can get. 

And the noises she makes only get filthier the harder your hips move, the best encouragement for you to bury your face into the crook of her neck as her beautiful legs keep your body hostage. This pounding is everything you’ve needed, keeping Minju breathless in her moans, a symphony of pleasure that gets siphoned right in your ears.

“This is how I’m going to destroy your cunt when I fuck you. Every single time. Your pretty pussy won’t go a day without getting a huge fucking load inside.” 

“Yeah? You promise?” Minju asks, and you’re fucking her so well, so hard, that she’s getting delirious. “There’s nothing better than getting a nice, thick load filling me up first thing in the morning.” 

That’s all the motivation you need to keep this train of pleasure going. 

Minju can feel it. She can feel how your thick cock twitches with every deep stroke, the pleasure becoming far too much for you to bear. At the tail end of an especially harsh thrust, she wraps her arms around your neck and holds tight, not leaving an inch of space between the two of you while you drill as hard as your hips allow. "Please, I'm going to cum. Keep fucking me, please keep fucking me like this…"

The begging flows freely right into your ears, and these desperate pleas offer another wave of encouragement that pulls you closer and closer to release. And it’s not like you can do much at this point but keep your hips moving, while Minju clings to you, limbs coiled like she never plans on letting you escape.

“Don't stop—I'm going to cum so fucking hard!" Minju cries out, and there's no need to hold anything back as she chases after that release. 

Wanting to speed this up, your lips latch onto Minju's sweaty neck, planting sloppy kisses that make her walls flutter, spilling more wetness while you crash your hips into her. Her thighs can’t stop quivering, breathing frantically until that intense orgasm is almost in range, back arching up in time for the final waves of bliss to crash into her. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ A litany of curses leaves her mouth , filling the room, and then Minju tightens her hold as these messy juices gush all over your cock, unleashing the most unrestrained orgasm of her life that erupts in her body. Through it all, her warm cunt spasms, convulsing, these drenched walls constricting so hard to the point where there's no other alternative than to paint her insides a creamy white. 

“Cum in me, fuck—oh my god, I want it all, fill my fucking pussy,” Minju begs and pleads, her trembling legs with a death grip around your waist. And then she cries out in loud, incoherent moans, only managing to spill out one more thing: "Fucking breed me—"

There’s absolutely nothing that can prepare you for the feeling when you unload inside. Your climax explodes into Minju without warning, several thick spurts of cum flooding deep within her cunt, warm walls squeezing to milk it all out of your balls. Each violent throb is a fresh surge that sends an extra big mess of thick seed into her pussy, an increasing fullness that clings inside while your pulsating cock empties this massive load into Minju. 

During this intense orgasm, Minju’s alluring legs lock you in place, guaranteeing you can't pull out for a second, not until all your pleasure reaches its apex. 

You might be here forever, you think, trapped inside this warm paradise, but you’d be more than happy to never move another inch inside Minju all night. While she basks in the obscene pleasure of her cunt now full to the brim, you can only move enough to pump your load deep, deeper inside her until it finds her womb. 

"That's a lot of cum," Minju says, and she looks absolutely delighted at the mess you've made inside her, like she’s accomplished something grand just by making you explode inside her cunt. 

You have a feeling a hot load inside Minju will be a common sight as coffee being brewed, and it’s almost like she hasn’t drained you once already with this load that’s promising to make a mess whenever it spills out. 

“So, how about that shower,” you suggest, even while Minju hasn't even released the hold from your body yet. She doesn’t have the slightest intentions of getting cleaned up anytime soon, wanting to let this high linger a while longer. 

“Like you said—the shower can wait.” 

There’s never been a better idea. 

"Yeah, it can wait." 

You share a tired kiss as Minju keeps you close, bodies sticky as her limbs finally uncoil and relax. It’s near impossible to not collapse on her from exhaustion, but from the way she gazes at you with thirst lingering in her eyes, there's no such thing as rest. Not when you have this endless freedom to use her as your own personal toy.

When you do eventually pull out, leaving Minju with all of your cum pumped into her tight little cunt, there’s nothing but gratitude on her face to see the results leak out. And when she grabs your cock that’s more than a little sensitive, to give these weak little pumps, you don't have the strength to beg her to stop.

“Minju—“ It feels more like she’s teasing you, rather than attempting to get you back into a proper state of arousal with such lackadaisical motions. "Are you trying to get me to fuck you again?"

“Hmm, maybe,” Minju says, giving you a fleeting glance, and doesn’t mouth anything else, like she’s trying to demonstrate that you can recover earlier than you think, wanting your balls to fill back up sooner than later. “Seems like you might have one more in you…” 

“Yeah. Maybe.” 

With whatever energy is left, you put it into kissing Minju, to explore these lips that haven’t even gotten half the attention deserved. Also as a poor excuse to extend the time you’ll need to recover. Neither of you have any intention of going anywhere during this lazy make-out session, and even while you’re both covered in fluids, you’ll kiss Minju until your jaw hurts. 

“Not bad,” Minju says, a sudden compliment as the kiss intensifies, until her hand slides between your legs to keep pumping your cock, ensuring not a single inch softens. 

“Which part?” you ask, not that you’re particularly interested in anything other than dominating this lip embrace.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she teases, while you plant these light kisses that purposely miss her lips. “But… the part where you’re good at kissing me. And the part where you came inside me. ”

“Sounds like you want more.” 

“Yeah… maybe….” 

“Then consider me convinced,” you say, helping her stand upright, and lead her towards the bathroom—leaving the remnants of your messy load that leaks out of her pussy all over the couch. That’s a problem for another time.

The walk to the bathroom is short, but still gives you plenty of time to stare at Minju’s tight butt, and the mess that clings to her glistening thighs. One of the best features of this apartment is how spacious the shower is, more than enough to fit a second person—or a third, if you were so inclined. 

But neither of you are interested in the shower. 

Minju leans over the sink to check herself out in the mirror, running fingers through her hair to somewhat put herself back together. Staring at her own reflection puts a grin on her face, proud of how disheveled she looks, while also noticing the dark mark in the shape of your lips on her neck.

“You know, I forgot to pack a toothbrush,” she says out of nowhere, attention turned away from herself to the contents of the sink. 

“I can buy you one in the morning.” 

You lean in closer, and your hands snake around Minju’s perfectly slim waist, eager to feel up her tight abdomen once more. That mark on her neck is like a target, and when you take a deep inhale of her intoxicating scent, you make sure to cover her neck in kisses that make her giggle. 

“You came in my mouth. I think you’ll live if we share a toothbrush for one night.” Minju rolls her hips back, grinding against your erection to reawaken your cock back to full strength. These little kisses turn more lustful as she turns her head to connect lips with you for a more sloppy, wet, all-consuming embrace. 

“Fair point.” 

Your hands are far too greedy at this point to do anything but grope Minju’s naked body. The touch of her smooth skin reinvigorates you, sending blood back into all the right places, something that’s blatantly obvious to this naked girl in front of you. 

“I can feel how hard you are again,” Minju mutters, with this shy little expression on her features that’s so out of place. She pushes away from the sink, pressing her lithe figure back, and it's hard not to picture fucking Minju here, slamming your hips hard enough between her shapely cheeks to ripple them. 

“Yeah? Wonder whose fault that is...” The idea becomes more concrete when you squeeze that supple ass, your greedy fingertips sinking into the tender flesh, like her backside was made for your palm to smack as you get in a few light slaps that echo. 

“Do you think my cock will fit in here?” 

Spreading her round cheeks, you get a glimpse at how her puckered hole twitches, already craving you inside it. That bubble butt is absolutely perfect in your hands, and it’s no trouble at all to spread Minju open, as you wonder how it’ll feel to rub your cockhead against her tightest hole. 

"We can always find out.” Minju gets this sultry tone in her voice, hands lingering on the cool countertop as she bends over even further, her ass imploring you to fill that hole. It makes it hard to stay focused with this perfect cunt and tight little asshole both accessible, but there’s only one problem—

“It’s a shame the lube is in the bedroom. And I can’t be bothered to take my eyes off this tight little ass.” 

"Tease.” 

“I would never.” 

There’s nothing in reach that’s anything but a poor substitute, but you’re not going to walk away for something in your nightstand when you’re throbbing so much between the cheeks of such a perfect ass. So, regrettably, you'll have to postpone your plans to pound Minju's ass. It’ll make it worth the wait that much more. 

Without another word, you guide your length back into her warm little pussy, grabbing her curvy hips to slide back in. 

“Oh fuck— ” When your hardened shaft plunges deep between her legs, Minju nearly collapses over the sink. Her hot cunt feels more than ready for you, all this wetness pooled that’s infused with the creamy mess you left earlier staining her walls. 

The second your hips move, those pretty fucking moans from Minju have no trouble echoing around the walls. Her seductive stare beckons you to fuck her like the toy she promises to be, to use her until she can’t take anymore—a temptation too sweet to turn down. 

"Just like that, your cock is so good, god—just ruin me, fuck, please—“ Minju’s eyes widen from how hard you start slamming into her. This time, there’s absolutely no chance to adjust, nothing less but an incessant replay of your hips as you sink into the hilt, pounding her like the warm, wet, wonderful cocksleeve that she is, getting those heavenly walls stretched out all over again.

With no restraint in your thrusts, you can truly pound this tight pussy without mercy. The warmth that smothers your cock, how slick her pussy has gotten—god, it feels so fucking good that you don't ever want to stop, even after you pump another hot load.

“That's it, right there—right there, harder," she says with these breathless whines that are nothing more than unabashed encouragement. Fingers trembling, they dig into the porcelain of the sink, making the entire bathroom resonate with the harsh, wet smacks of flesh colliding together, in unison with each thrust. "Use that pussy—fuck, make me take it all, use me, god, use me, fucking use me—“

Those words, they make it so easy to do so, to keep up these thrusts, to just ram your cock into this hot little cunt that’s aching to be full, clenching down around you like it'll never let go.

And this ass—Minju’s got a perfect fucking ass, that you're already fantasizing about plowing. There's just no end to how much it bounces, the erotic jiggle that fuels your need to smack your palm against it, leaving red marks that'll stay on that pale flesh. 

"You're so fucking wet for me, Minju, god,” you groan out, pulling your cock out just so you can admire all the slick coating every single inch, before shoving it right back in. Minju bites down on her lip, trying to contain her moans with this near blush on her face from enjoying the rough treatment of her body far too much, moaning in bliss every time your thrusts make her hips jerk against the sink. 

“I just can’t help it. Your cock is too fucking big, my little pussy just loves it.” These constant smacks, they make her cunt clench, the pain forming additional pleasure. After your next heavy slap on her ass, your free hand ventures up her bare back, caressing along her spine in a gentle touch. But that gentleness doesn’t last when your fingers form a fistful of Minju's silky black strands—and a firm tug lifts her back so she's staring right into her reflection.

There's something to be said about being able to see Minju's pretty face as you wreck her body. All these priceless reactions she can't hide as she watches herself getting ravaged in the mirror that her hot breath fogs up. It’s an image you’ll never forget. 

You keep a tight handful of hair, each tug and yank rewarded with another moan, and she can barely even keep her eyes open, drunk on bliss as you dominate her body with every powerful plunge of your cock into that drenched warm flesh. 

Minju, through all these rough pumps and strained moans, can hardly keep up. Scrambling to keep a hold of the sink for dear life, she braces for each punishing stroke that reaches into her depths, your deep, rough thrusts that only grow in ferocity as you're both on the cusp of another release.

"Almost there, god—you're so deep, gonna cum so hard," Minju groans out as a euphoric wave hits her body with no chance of escape. "Make me cum on your big fucking cock—make me cum, oh fuck!"

That’s the only warning you’ll get. When the arrival of her violent climax hits, it gets her legs trembling, that sweaty body so close to collapsing that it leaves you to support all her weight as her toes curl into the bathroom rug, walls clamping down around your cock so snug it makes you grit your teeth. You fuck her right through this tsunami of pleasure, hips maintaining the same brutal pace, following the same path she takes until you’re nearly at the boiling point. 

“Minju,“ you growl, and there’s little else that needs to be said to know where this is headed. 

This isn’t asking for permission, but rather giving a final notice that this thick load that’s about to leave your balls desperately needs somewhere to go.

“Where?” Minju asks, struggling to get one little syllable out, and the question lingers as you get your final thrusts in. Without a response, you stare at the reflection in the mirror, pounding into this unbelievably tight girl with everything you have left to offer, until the last possible moment���

“Get on your knees.” 

Pulling out proves to be a challenge, but you've got plans that demand it as you give Minju enough time to collapse down without a shred of resistance, and you can already tell this is going to be a messy finale. The moment her knees touch the cold tile floor, you grab a hold of that gorgeous hair as you furiously stroke yourself in front of her face, squeezing your length that feels absolutely primed to erupt.

You let out a guttural groan of relief when you start to unload all over Minju's pristine features, this massive jet of hot, sticky seed that she doesn’t even flinch at as it lands square in the middle of her forehead, streaking down her cute nose. Your uncontrollable load blasts everywhere, across those pretty pink lips, splattering across cheek to rosy cheek while she stays perfectly still, letting you paint her like the masterpiece she is. 

It just gets everywhere. The beautiful canvas that is Minju’s face, it’s an absolute mess, cum dripping down her chin, a stray strand landing in her hair, more running down the bridge of her nose as you pump it all out and glaze her.

There's just so fucking much that it has Minju looking at you through this hot mess in a stunned silence, wondering how you even managed to have that much pent up inside—this load that has no right being so huge that you almost feel inclined to apologize. But this is really her doing, this sinful body of hers to blame for such a gratuitous payload. 

"There you go, all over this pretty little face," Minju says as she stares in awe, bewildered by how much of you she’s covered in. Your massive load drips down her lips as her tongue catches it, and not a single drop goes to waste. “How do you still have so much—didn’t you just finish inside me?” 

That’s a really good fucking question.

 One without an answer as Minju gives you a long lick of your cockhead before taking it back in her mouth, sucking the rest of you clean with a satisfied hum as it continues to drip down her face. 

“Well—only have you to blame, fuck,“ you groan, and you might just pass out with the way Minju refuses to let that hot mouth off you. “Yeah, this is definitely all your fault. 

Nothing but elation etches Minju’s face when she kisses the tip of your cock one last time, her gratitude for your cum written on her lips. Using a couple of fingers, she cleans up by swirling cum around her lips until it coats her fingertips, then puts them in her mouth, licking them clean, giving an audible slurp as she sucks every last drop down.

Maybe it’s about time for that shower. 

That is, if you could only move. Because even though the shower is only inches away, it might as well be in a whole different neighborhood with how weak and heavy your legs feel. There’s no time to rush, and you don’t mind a few more lingering moments seeing your messy load dripping across this girl. 

“You’re so pretty, Minju.” 

Minju only smiles with those cum-stained lips as the hot water starts. 

✦ ✦

Over the next few days, you’ve gotten quite comfortable fucking Minju on the regular.

This little arrangement already has lived up to its potential, and you wonder how you were ever reluctant about having a roommate—especially with these benefits. The only possible complaint you have is that there just aren’t enough hours in the day to spend balls deep inside Minju. 

There’s no routine to it. When the mood hits. When the clock ends in a seven. When you’re waiting for leftovers to heat up, you’ll seek out Minju to suck your dick, or bend her over whatever surface is closest. 

And it never gets old. 

During work, she’ll sit on your lap, keeping you company during a dull day with your cock all nice and warm inside her, like this little office pet of yours that knows the right moments to keep quiet. In between meetings, you'll bend her over the desk and pump that tight little cunt full of another thick load that she’ll keep inside while she goes to prepare lunch. 

It’s not unusual to be on a video call with a client, with Minju sucking you off underneath the desk, keeping her sloppy mouth on your shaft all the while you carry on business. And the best part—she’ll straddle you, right on top of your office chair, bouncing up and down on your cock with a dozen or so other coworkers on a conference call who are none the wiser. 

Minju is well aware what time you wake up, so almost every morning before you've even tossed the sheets off, she knows exactly what you'll want—a warm mouth deepthroating your cock without being told. 

Later that afternoon, there’s a new book to immerse herself in as she finds her favorite spot to cozy up in when you unbutton her jeans, slipping them off to spread those long, smooth legs so you can feast on her delectable pussy. Minju reads as if nothing is happening, like you don’t have your tongue buried in her cunt, warming up her tight little entrance just enough to slip your cock inside her without distraction. You don’t want to break her concentration too much, so you try your best not to make much noise, but well, it can’t exactly be helped when she feels so fucking warm and wet inside. 

The only acknowledgment given is these subtle moans that slip out when you get every inch of your cock in her, hands holding that narrow waist with a tight, unrelenting grip. But Minju, she’s too lost in this completely different world while you fill her up so perfectly, not even looking up as you fuck her. 

And honestly, sometimes that’s for the best—being able to use her while she’s preoccupied, without either of you muttering a word as you slide balls deep into her incredibly warm cunt. It doesn’t mean, though, that you can’t challenge yourself to get a moan out of her. 

When you inevitably cum inside Minju, a faint smile creeps up on her lips. Otherwise, she doesn’t say a word, turning more pages while you pump a hot mess inside her. She only takes notice of the steady flow of cum inside once you exit her warmth, one hand playing with your load and pushing it deeper into her messy folds, while the other hand continues reading her book. 

The following day, as the coffee brews, your roommate is already on her knees, and you’re fucking her face so roughly that tears stream down her cheeks while she gags around your cock. There’s not any makeup yet on that gorgeous face to ruin, but Minju guzzles down your load and goes about making breakfast, like it's all part of her routine. 

First thing, the next morning during work, you’re railing Minju in your office chair, with her gorgeous, sexy legs perched on your shoulders while you’re taking a short break from another tedious conference call. At this rate, your flimsy chair might give way before either of you cum, but that doesn’t matter too much—you can get your work to buy another one. 

You’re absolutely not paying attention to anything but the pleasure of Minju's tight cunt. 

The breathless moans from her lips are a much better alternative than whatever monotonous voice through the speakers drones on about spreadsheets and analytics. Even though your job doesn’t require you to step inside an office often, your cock buried inside Minju is the only way you can survive these remote meetings—but you continuously double-check that the camera is off and the microphone is muted. That’s a mistake you’ll only let happen once. 

Now that you have Minju all to yourself once the call ends, you lift her body up into the air, cock still buried, and impale her pussy just as hard as before while her legs wrap around your waist. 

She feels so small as you bounce her frame up and down, this weightless girl that’s light as a feather. You could carry Minju around the apartment if you wanted, but this is far more satisfying, a test of how many times you can make her cum while holding her up in your arms, absolutely hammering into her soaking cunt until you fill her to the brim. 

Later on in the afternoon, you get the urge again (as you tend to do), and Minju is sitting comfortably on her bed, laptop out, concentrating on what you presume is finding her next paycheck. Once you walk in, the laptop lid shuts, and she takes those big, cute frames off and tosses them on her nightstand, leaning back onto the bed in anticipation. 

You feel guilty disturbing her search, but you're exhausted from a workday that isn’t even over, so this won’t take long. 

Discarding your pants, you climb onto the bed, hovering your crotch above Minju's face, and pull your cock out of your boxers, as you start to stroke in her direction.

The mere sight of that beautiful face is enough to help you get off without any trouble. A few final tugs and you're there, groaning her name as you spray a pearlescent mess all over her face, thick cum shooting onto her cheek, landing on those pretty lips, a line across her nose, some up the side of her forehead. The relief is instant, the stress of a long day fading away while Minju lies there for you to stare at, your cock resting against her lips as you milk out every drop.

"Thanks, Minju. I needed that," you sigh, taking one more look at your impressive handiwork. “Gotta get back to work now.” 

✦ ✦

Minju hasn’t forgotten to hold up her side of the bargain. 

She’s here to get her shit together, not be a freeloader. While she’s financially destitute at the moment, she pays rent in other ways. Ways that aren’t giving head during a movie or being your personal on-demand fucktoy. Almost every night, without fail, Minju cooks up a delicious meal (and she's equally talented at it as she is at sucking you off). She'll even bring dinner to your office if you're working late and forget to eat. Not only does she do the laundry but also keeps the apartment in order, replenishing the fridge whenever needed.

This all buys you more time to fold Minju in half and unload what feels like a week’s worth of cum onto her flat stomach.

So, it goes without saying that your apartment would be in much rougher shape without Minju. That she’s more than just a warm hole to fuck your load into. She's a pleasure to be around, an ear to vent your frustrations to, someone whose absence would leave a noticeable void. 

Sure, it’s nice to fuck Minju senseless whenever you’re all pent up, but having someone across the kitchen table to talk to during a meal, or someone to watch bad movies with on the couch is just as valuable. 

Which brings you to the here and now. 

It's early afternoon, after finishing a mountain of work, and you go looking for Minju to escape these four walls of your home office that feel like a prison. She’s in her bedroom, sorting through laundry, and stops what she’s doing when you enter. 

Because one glance and she already knows. 

Minju lies on her stomach while you stand in front of her bed, stroking her gorgeous face as she gazes up and gets your cock out. With just the lightest of strokes, her delicate hand pumps the length of your cock, bringing you to full arousal in no time. And once you are, you glide the swollen head of your shaft over her glossy lips, coating them in your glistening precum. 

"You always need my mouth so much, don't you?" she purrs, teasing your cock with her hot breath, tongue dancing across the sensitive underside.

Letting out these little gasps is the only thing you answer, unable to give a proper response as your shaft stiffens unbearably so against the wet tongue caressing you, then her lips part with no further need of words, and invite you to guide yourself into the warm heaven of her mouth. 

A full, deep sigh leaves as those beautiful lips envelop your swollen cockhead. And god, her mouth feels so perfect, so warm while you thread fingers through her hair, holding her in place. She drools down your length, giving more playful licks before starting to devour your length inch by inch, all the way until her nose is nearly pressed against your stomach. 

"Minju—this pretty fucking mouth—fuck," you moan, just relishing her slow, steady bobs as she takes you deep, all of you inside her wet throat, looking right up at you. She savors your taste before saying anything else, lips popping off your shaft with trails of spit down her chin. 

"It feels so good, right? My pretty mouth wrapped around you,” she murmurs, spitting on your throbbing shaft to get it even more glistening, stroking it, rubbing that little sensitive sweet spot she knows you love. “Because your thick cock tastes so fucking good." 

That warm, talented mouth returns, swallowing you whole in one go, and you’re tempted to just fuck her throat to completion—but this blowjob isn't meant for the finish line, even as Minju eagerly deepthroats your length, craving to milk out a load from your balls as soon as possible. 

“Minmin, I—really need to fuck you." There’s a pause in her sloppy movements, to acknowledge the nickname you've called her, like she wants to hear it again. In this moment, you let Minju's warm mouth work her magic on your throbbing shaft, indulging in the sinful slurps she makes, as her tongue lavishes your cock until there’s not a single inch unexplored. But as good as her mouth is, it’s not enough—you need to be elsewhere, somewhere warmer, much tighter, to really satiate this appetite. 

“Stay right fucking there.” 

Minju obliges, staying flat on her stomach, and awaits what’s next with this innocent look full of curiosity as you approach from behind. And while she’s still got on all these bothersome clothes, you quickly rectify that, unbuttoning and tugging her jeans down to her ankles to grant a path to that delicious-looking cunt. 

When you climb on top of Minju, her pussy glistens in anticipation. It takes only a few shallow thrusts to bury your needy cock to the hilt, letting out a strained groan when you're fully sheathed inside her tight warmth. Her little whimpering cries tell you she needs this as much as you did, as her wet folds greedily pull you in, demanding more and more. 

“Oh god, fuck, you fill me up so well,” Minju moans, as you start pounding her tight cunt without warning. No teasing, no mercy. Nothing but a rough, relentless fuck that leaves both of you breathless as she takes every inch, laying idle to accept it all.“Please, just—fuck me, fuck me as hard as you can.” 

Pressing your whole body into Minju's slender figure, you pound away with no restrictions, relishing this prone position that lets you get as deep into this welcoming heat as you please. “Oh my god, Minju—your pussy is—un-fucking-believable."

Here, you can dominate Minju without restriction, and she takes it as well as you imagine. A shuddering groan leaves her lips every time your hips collide, when you plow into her at this rapid pace. While she usually can’t stay quiet while you're balls deep in her, all of a sudden Minju goes silent, not letting a single syllable slip as you ram her cunt with such unforgiving thrusts.

“Hey, uh—“ Minju breaks the silence as you keep her tight frame pinned into the mattress, going as hard as your hips will allow. “Do you mind not cumming inside me this time?” 

Your body takes a pause, and your hips slow down as you register her words. There’s only one instinct, and that’s to empty inside her like usual. It's become so natural that hearing her suggest anything else makes it feel… wrong.

“Asking a lot here, Minju. Do you want me to stop breathing as well?” The audacity of this request when you’ve gone all out at it from the get-go. It’s so sudden and unexpected, because Minju’s the first to beg and beg for you to breed her. 

“It’s just once. I have an interview in half an hour, so I’d rather not have to shower again.” 

She’s really asking for the impossible here. 

“But then I can fuck you again in the shower…” you say amidst all this intense fucking, but the look Minju flashes back tells you that isn’t the answer she wanted. So while Minju’s taking you so hard and fast during this rough fucking, with your full weight on her as you’re pounding away in her slick heat, your cock so eager and ready to explode, yet somehow, you’re expected to pull out—

“Fine. But only this once.” And you can’t believe that you’ve agreed to this the moment those words slip out. 

“Hey, you can still cum in my mouth,” Minju says with this proud tone, like it’s any consolation. “I’ll make it worth your while when I come back. Promise. I owe you.” 

You’re never one to doubt Minju, but this is one big favor she’s going to have to pay back, with interest. Even so, a sigh of frustration escapes your lips when you pull out, flip Minju on her back, and straddle her chest to finish yourself off. 

When you shoot your hot load into her mouth, painting her waiting tongue and lips in these white streaks, it’s a relatively weak and unfulfilling climax in comparison. Despite that, Minju’s still happy to take it, to swallow it all down greedily, like she’s dying for a second one that there’s no time for. 

“Good luck,” you mumble out with a strangled breath as Minju slurps your cock clean with her hungry lips. You can see a mix of satisfaction and disappointment etched on her face that mirrors you, because you both know that load belonged in her pussy. 

“Thank you. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Then you can breed me as many times as you want.” 

✦ ✦

Minju has spoiled you to no end. 

There isn’t a single day when she doesn’t so much as wish good night without draining your balls. Whether you prefer a quick, sloppy blowjob, railing Minju from behind, or watching her fit body do all the work, riding until you finish deep inside her, she doesn’t head to bed without you filling her up.

It’s routine to fuck a load into her first thing in the morning, whether she's brushing her teeth, putting on makeup, or simply eating breakfast. 

This agreement, it's been long enough that you no longer feel the apprehension about using Minju, no qualms about spending every morning with her lips on your cock, to spend afternoons with her face in the couch cushions, drilling her wet little hole while she answers her phone to respond to appointments and interviews.

Nearly two hours pass before Minju returns. The door closes shut with an exhausted sigh, and she sets down her bag, kicking off her heels, and takes a seat right next to you on the couch.

“How did it go?” 

Minju doesn't have an immediate answer. Her focus is elsewhere as she stretches her legs across your lap, settling into a more comfortable position on the couch before responding.

“I…I don’t know. Maybe it went well. Maybe it didn’t. I think they liked me—but that doesn’t mean I’ll get the job.” 

There's a certain hesitation when she answers, like there’s more she wants to talk about but chooses not to. You know firsthand how taxing these interviews can be, as you’ve been on both sides of them, especially for Minju, who tries to look as flawless as can be, only to be passed over because her resumé isn't a mile long. 

“If you don’t, then it means they picked the wrong person.” 

Minju smiles shyly before her eyes drift away. Now, it feels strange to watch someone so usually full of confidence look so unsure of herself. But she shakes that off quickly, like that self-doubting voice doesn’t belong to her, reverting back to that same bright expression. “Whatever happens happens. I'm just thankful you're letting me stay here practically rent free.” 

“Well, you can stay as long as you need. Even if you find a job, there's no need to rush out. This place would be too quiet without you around."

In her black pleated skirt, Minju climbs up and straddles your lap. She leans in and presses her soft lips on your own in a quick kiss, making no attempt to hide her affection.

“So. I owe you a promise."

The insinuation hangs heavy on her words as a shameless smirk takes over her lips. Even after the stressful events earlier, Minju never misses a chance to satisfy your desires, so quick to change from this somber tone into her role as your plaything, like a switch being flipped. 

“If I remember correctly… you keep your lube in the bedroom drawer, right?” 

You’ve done almost everything to Minju; fucking her brains out in every corner of every room, in practically every position imaginable, yet you've done almost nothing to appreciate her exceptional ass. At the bare minimum, you've enjoyed the sight of those perfect plump cheeks as she endlessly rides your cock, but aside from giving them a firm squeeze or some light spanks, it hasn't had the attention it deserves. 

While you have this insatiable hunger to wreck her ass, this is still entirely uncharted territory. So you respond to Minju with a silent nod, getting your hands on her underneath her skirt, grabbing that taut butt through her thin underwear to enjoy this divine handful. 

“I’ll go get it,” Minju offers with a lingering kiss to your cheek, but you grab her wrist to stop her path before she can get off your lap.

“Not yet.” 

Your hold on Minju doesn’t falter as you knead her asscheeks, not willing to part yet. ”Stay here. So I can see how pretty you are.”

Those cute pink cheeks that you covered in your load earlier now have a rosy tint as she looks up, letting you savor this moment a little longer. Your mind races with all the things you’ve yet to do, this perfect hourglass body that’s yours to explore, to use, to do whatever you can imagine. Yet, there’s only one thing you haven’t done to this beautiful girl, one place your cock hasn’t had the pleasure being in—

“What was it you wanted? To see if your cock would fit in my ass?” 

There’s no need for this extravagant fantasy to drag on, so you lift her up still with a firm grip on her ass, and bring her into your bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Minju.” 

“Me neither.” She sits in your lap as she admits, and with your arms propped back against the mattress, you watch Minju with unwavering attention. 

Every button on her blouse gets undone one by one, tantalizingly slow until it falls open to reveal more pale skin that complements the pink lacy bra you've bought for her. Once that comes off, you take in all that wonderful skin, drinking in those breasts that spill out, and her tight tummy that you've painted with so many loads already. 

“Now the skirt,” you tell her, and Minju flashes a smirk at your impatience. But she obeys, gets off your lap, unzips, then lets the garment fall down those smooth thighs until it lands in a pile around her feet, leaving Minju standing before you in only matching pink lace.

Before her underwear comes off, she spins on her heels to show off this perfect little ass in front of your face, bending over so you can take in the sight of those ample curves that frame your view so nicely. "Care to do the honors?" 

The answer is obvious. 

Giving those cheeks a nice little smack, you hook a finger under the waistband of her thong and slowly peel this little pair of lace down, leaving no detail of her round, scrumptious cheeks unseen, and exposing this tight little asshole you're dying to stretch.

"Hey—are you just going to stare all day, or are you going to put your cock in my ass?”

A difficult choice for sure—with the latter infinitely more enticing. Minju answers the question for herself as you stay perched on the edge of the bed, your focus never shifting from that delicious backside. She heads towards the bedside table, opening a drawer to fetch something. When she returns, you’ve matched her state of undress, getting your own clothes off in a flash. 

Bottle in hand, her gaze trails down your body to see this aching hard length that needs somewhere to sink inside; the sight making her salivate as she reaches for your shaft and pours a generous amount of lube into her hand.

Minju coats your entire cock in the cool, slick lube that only heats up once her hand pumps it, leaving every single inch drenched. This liquid has other plans too, slicking up her fingers before they slip between her own asscheeks, spreading herself and working the lubed digits inside her puckered hole in preparation for what's next.

“You look like you're ready to tear me open," she says, eyes widened at the sight of your big, thick cock, all lubed and primed for her asshole. This isn't an exaggeration as you lie back, watching the beautiful body of Minju straddle over your hips, hovering above you until she finds the right position.

"And you look like you can't wait to have this entire cock inside you."

"Of course I can't," she breathes out, lining you up with her tight asshole. One deep breath later, and she lowers down on you, trying to breach through that taut ring of muscle. You’re not sure how even a single inch plans to fit, and already it feels like it's stretching her beyond what's reasonable. Regardless, Minju still lets out these desperate moans as she tries to work your cockhead inside. 

“Shit, oh fuck—" Minju swears this isn’t her first time taking something up there, but with how tight this ass is, you’re not sure that you believe her.

The intense stretch has Minju crying out in bliss, doing all the work as she takes it nice and slow at first. Her fingers find her plump cheeks, spreading them just a little wider so she can fit more of your girth in. You can feel the desperation, that she really does want more of your thick cock buried in her asshole, and you’re aching to make her take your entire shaft with one swift drop of her hips—but she can barely manage your tip.

"You're really getting all in my ass, aren’t you?” she says with a moan, and you’re getting too impatient with the tease of this tight, gripping warmth as more of you sinks into Minju, disappearing past her puckered rim.

Minju puts in all this effort to take more, but there isn’t enough resistance in your muscles to just sit back and enjoy it. Patience thrown away, your own hips rise to meet her halfway, unable to keep your body from moving at all, getting a good grip as you guide her down, bit by bit.

"Keep going, Minmin, that's it," you encourage, and she does her best to obey, lowering her ass until she has almost every inch of you buried. That final push makes her cheeks come in contact with your balls, and her eyes shoot open.

"Oh fuck, oh my god—" Minju sounds so strained and overwhelmed that it almost sounds painful, but her nails only dig into your thighs, anchoring herself to keep you balls deep in her asshole as she looks over her shoulder to reassure you that she's content being this full. 

It takes a few deep breaths before she's ready for more, to get herself accustomed to having you so deep inside, before beginning to ride your cock with this tight, slick hole. All of this warmth around you, this ass, this tight little ass of hers feels like heaven, clenching around you. Minju can’t stop bouncing herself on you, ass smacking down on your thighs as she fucks your cock into her, impaling herself again and again.

"That's it, that's it—this big fucking dick. It's so deep.” Minju groans through ragged breaths, keeping the tempo until her hips move faster. She keeps riding, bouncing that tight little ass of hers, addicted to stretching that hot little hole wider as it accepts every single inch of you.

Your cock, her ass, there's no better combination. 

It's an amazing view, watching that asshole get stretched open, so wide around your shaft while her own hand wanders between her legs. This impossible tightness encourages you to thrust into her, drilling your cock, wanting to get in even deeper than humanly possible. 

You know that Minju can manage on her own, but your greed takes over as you lean her body back, hooking your arms under her knees, and pin them to her chest with your cock still inside her ass. Now it's her turn to let you take over, stretching her wider so she can really feel this deepness inside, opening her up in new unimaginable ways. 

The new angle offers much deeper thrusts, with you holding her weight, wrapping your arms behind her neck and slamming up into Minju with little regard for how wrecked she’ll get, balls deep with every drop of your hips against hers.

"Fuck, please—keep, oh shit!" Her voice sounds so fucked out, the delirium taking over her as your cock fills her, every last inch stuffed to the hilt. And the sounds Minju makes during this assault on her ass are unreal, deep whines ripped right out, fucking your entire length at the fastest pace you can into this tight asshole. 

"Your ass loves taking this fucking cock, doesn't it, Minmin?" You barely have it in you to speak at all, and all Minju can offer is another desperate whimper, unable to voice anything beyond swears at how full her tight hole is with your cock. 

"Please, god—don't fucking stop, don't you dare stop fucking my ass—"

This poor, helpless thing that you take your lust out on, legs spread obscenely wide in a v-shape position you've folded her in just pleads and cries for more. She’s unable to do much but take this pounding, and her mouth stays agape through your relentless thrusts, hammering into such a stretched, full, gaping hole.

Her flexibility comes in handy at times like these as she just lets you ruin her tight asshole without a care, feet helplessly dangling midair in the most pornographic display of carnal bliss, using her body to wring out every bit of pleasure. 

"Use me, oh my fucking god, please use my asshole until you fill it up."

As all those words spill out, there's no reason to fight it any longer as you fuck into Minju with reckless abandon, arms locking her in place to do as she asks, not daring to stop for any reason. With no end to your onslaught of violent thrusts, your balls begin to tighten, the start of an inevitable flood in her tight asshole. “So tight, fuck, gonna blow my fucking load right into your tight ass—“ 

Minju offers no response but her asshole clenching around your swollen shaft, urging you to release into her wrecked hole with everything you‘ve got, and nothing can stop this orgasm from building.

And with one last thrust, you can't hold back anymore. Buried deep, your release explodes into Minju, sending your seed shooting deep into her asshole as you fill her up to the brim with these endless spurts. Her desperate mewls escalate as her ass, this perfect, tight warmth milks your throbbing cock until your entire body shakes with pleasure, draining your entire heavy load into her tight little hole.

You savor this feeling, remaining balls deep into her ass, riding this high for as long as it’ll linger. You're breathless and panting when your grip eases, guiding Minju down as she topples onto her back, pressed up against your chest while your cock slips out of her ruined hole. Your thick seed oozes right out of that tight ass, dripping between her cheeks and leaking out onto your stomach, a beautiful mess of creamy white.

"Still had so much inside you," Minju gasps out, barely able to move a muscle after your merciless pounding. Her entire body stays limp on you, a satisfied wreck with cum still trickling out her ruined, gaped asshole. "I knew you would love my ass." 

“Best thing I’ve ever been inside in.” 

Neither of you has the will to move, staying like this just to catch a breath for a little bit longer, until she rolls off and shifts onto her side, tucking herself into your chest. Minju gives that smile of hers, the one where she's content that you enjoy her as much as you do. "I don't think I can walk out of here... "

"Then don't. You look good just where you are," you reply, glancing at Minju, who lets out a tired laugh at what an utter mess you both are. It's almost a guarantee that she’ll share your bed every night after you’ve made a mess inside her. She spends more nights with you than in her own bed, sleeping next to you, limbs tangled together under the covers. 

Other times, after a quickie before bed, Minju will keep you inside her, too tired to do anything but fall asleep in your arms with no urge to move an inch until the next day. It’s a nice tender moment through all this lust, the realization that she’s more than some mindless fuck whenever you need release. 

Maybe this arrangement has shifted into something more. 

And maybe you’ve really taken a liking to Minju. 

✦ ✦

“Yeah, it’s really nice here,” Minju says on the phone in her favorite pink pajamas during a video call from a friend. The TV plays low in the background as she gets comfortable all sprawled out on the couch, playing off the fact that she's been living at your place for nearly a month now. 

This temporary thing was supposed to be just that—Minju staying only until she could afford a place on her own, has now spiraled into something beyond that. Several weeks later, here she still is, wearing your oversized shirts to bed, shampoo and body wash occupying a lasting residence in your shower, and of course, her own toothbrush next to yours. 

And neither one of you is planning to change that.

Minju’s a near permanent addition to your household. While she's picked up some temp work to keep her bank account from reaching zero, you wouldn't exactly call her employed. Though that matters little; even if she doesn’t help out financially, she contributes in much better ways. 

"Hey! No, it’s not like that. No, I don’t, but I help cook, I clean, and I—“ Minju says in this exasperated tone when you join her on the couch. Cheeks growing red, she stays on the defensive, trying to starve off this teasing on the other end that you're attempting not to eavesdrop on.

"No, not like a maid. It's not—no, he isn't making me. Yuri-ya! I said we aren't together!” Minju almost forgets that you're sitting right next to her, remaining just as loud and whiny as she presses her knees into her chest, desperate to defend herself. 

Clearly, this isn’t a conversation you’re supposed to be a part of, so you should probably excuse yourself—but when you attempt just that, Minju pushes you back down with a bare foot from where you were rising, insisting you stay right where you are. 

"It isn't like that at all!" Minju pouts, and the camera captures every cute little flustered expression that makes her friend cackle. There isn't an ounce of persuasion behind those words as her friend shares in this same amusement with you, face growing more flustered by the second. Still, she remains steadfast to deny these accusations, holding you hostage to listen in by the pressure from her heel digging into your leg, pinning you there to hear these hearty giggles at Minju's expense.

You think you like this friend already. 

Minju is clearly more stubborn than she lets on when it comes to these matters, because Yuri refuses to back down. And well, if she wants you here, then you're more than willing to stick around—but you're not going to stay idle. 

"Okay, maybe once. But that was it. I swear," Minju defends, even if it's an obvious lie, and Yuri calls her bluff as her laughter continues from the other side. She's backed the poor girl into a corner, and you're somehow working together with this person that you've never met, all to make your mutual friend as bashful as she can possibly get. 

When Minju's bare feet land on your lap, it sparks an idea. Your thumb presses into the sensitive arch of her foot, massaging the targeted area with care, causing her eyes to plead not to escalate. 

"You've definitely hooked up more than once," Yuri insists, and you're unable to hide a smirk to see that you're on the same page. "There's no way it didn't happen again."

Minju’s got this ticklish spot that you once found by accident, and it’s so easy narrowing it down to send her into an uncontrollable giggle fit. The longer you linger over it, the more she tries to keep her mouth shut, eyes going wide as she panics when Yuri asks what's so funny. 

That's the opportunity for the killing blow as you press hard into the pads of her feet with both thumbs, overwhelming her as she struggles not to burst into laughter, which Yuri only sees as confirmation that she's right. 

"I knew it!" 

"S-seriously, nothing happened. Don't get the wrong idea…“

Minju’s never been a great liar, and it doesn’t help that she can’t hide her flustered reactions on screen. So rather than continue this drip feed of torture, you just spell the entire situation out for Yuri to understand—playing with the waistband of those cute pajamas, your intentions clear as day. 

“Hey, wait—the video is on!” Minju protests in disbelief as you threaten to yank her pants off her hips. But if she really doesn't want this, especially with Yuri there to watch, then all she has to do is say the word and you'll back off. 

"Then feel free to end the call…" 

But no, the truth is, Minju wants this.

Her eyes shift from Yuri back to you, a nervous look on her face—knowing exactly how this'll play out. All it would take is a second for the call to disconnect, one little goodbye, and you can do this privately. But when you work these pajama pants off past Minju’s hips, there's no such thing. Yuri remains right there on the call, watching on camera while you finish the job and strip your roommate below the waist, leaving her half-naked in the middle of this video call. 

There's a darker redness on her face, looking mortified to be exposed so easily in front of her unseen friend. She struggles for words, and you do the same to her upper half, unbuttoning her pajama shirt as you slowly peel it open, tossing it aside to leave this impeccable body entirely bare. 

With this display of her nude beauty, Minju stops any charade of denial the instant you slide a finger inside, and then a deep groan rolls from her lips at having your finger penetrate her in front of another person's eyes. 

"M-maybe it's happened more than a couple of times,” Minju admits, divulging this secret she no longer has the desire to hide. There's no point holding back, not when you're going to have her moaning on camera. 

"A lot more than that…" you say as you tease her tight entrance with another finger before your pants come off, hardness poking at your boxers until you toss them away as well.

"Hey!" Minju says as you spread open her gorgeous pussy with two fingers, exposing that warmth that's ready for you to sink into. "It's n-not a lot."

"Four times yesterday isn't a lot?" 

Minju just tries her best to not completely dissolve on camera at your immediate betrayal—but it’s not like she doesn’t want it either, as she guides the tip of your cock between the heat of her slit, teasing up and down before the inevitable push. 

“I knew it. Come on, no secrets," Yuri says on the other end as Minju lays there obscenely spread, already whining pathetically, when your throbbing cock demands to slip inside her warm, welcoming pussy. 

“Hey, if you’re going to watch—then no talking.” 

"Not another word,“ Yuri promises her, and that silence holds as you sink inside Minju, so deep and hot inside your roommate. 

A soft groan escapes from her the instant she's so deliciously stretched around your cock. With this additional pressure to perform for a new set of eyes, that makes the arousal much more palatable as you bury your full length into that slippery, wet warmth.

"Oh f-fuck, you feel so good," Minju whimpers, eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head. You can't help but bottom out in her cunt as she looks right into the camera, sharing this moment with Yuri who stays true to her word, not interrupting a second. 

All your initial strokes are anything but gentle, and Minju makes no attempt to keep any moans in that make it to the other side of the video call. It’s something so out of the ordinary, this girl that’s usually so timid, so reserved, watching her crumble underneath every deep pump, her folds absolutely dripping with honey to help guide the friction. 

Even so, it’s not quite enough. While this is all great and everything—it could be even better. You’re supposed to be giving Yuri a show, and you might as well give her a good one.

Minju has no complaints, only uninhibited deep moans when you lift her legs up, knees up right by her shoulders as you fold her up in such a vulgar display of her flexibility, plunging more of yourself to wreck this little hole. 

"So deep—fuck, I can feel you so deep in me,” she mutters out as she takes it all, barely able to hold her phone still in such a vulnerable position, utterly helpless while you're demolishing her tight little pussy with no mercy. You've done this to Minju more times than you can count, this perfect position designed to bottom her out in the easiest way possible—to fuck a massive load right into her pussy in no time. 

"It's so good, please, it's so fucking good—“ Minju becomes nothing more than a whimpering mess, head thrown back against the pillows as you keep pounding into her cunt, thrusting deeper in a rough, erratic pace that's more showing off than anything, and all she can do is keep taking it. 

It's just too easy to fuck Minju like a toy, especially when you've got a show to put on.

"Look at you taking me like this, Minju, oh my god," you groan, watching this warm little hole spread wider and wider around your throbbing cock as it disappears into her depths.

Her cunt feels tighter with each thrust, squeezing your shaft in a slick, unrelenting grip that brings you closer to the edge as she loses any semblance of decency. You don’t let up as she struggles to stay on camera, nearly dropping her phone while trying to hang on through all this ecstasy. 

“Keep going, oh fuck, keep pounding my fucking pussy,” Minju begs, and it's impossible to even focus with how deep her sloppy cunt swallows you back up inside. She lets out all these throaty, helpless moans from the animalistic fucking she's taking, perky tits bouncing from the force of you bottoming her out in front of her friend. 

And again, Yuri plays her part by being a viewer and nothing else. 

Minju, this wet little toy, lets you hammer into her cunt without remorse, and each impact of your heated bodies sends her jolting against the cushions, turning into such a lewd metronome. 

You're close, already so close—all thanks to those eyes of hers, filled with a desperate need to have you shoot your hot cum deep where it belongs. "I'm gonna fucking breed you, Minju—fuck, gonna dump this thick fucking load right in your cunt.”

Minju lets out a long moan of approval, equally on edge from having your shaft thrust right into her slick depths, ready for your balls to empty and pump her full of all your seed. 

“Give me that load, don’t cum anywhere but inside—“ That’s the last thing Minju says before this unavoidable release, face red from being so vulnerable on camera while her legs dangle up in the air, toes curling with every rough pump. 

You're so worked up that it doesn't take anything else but burying your cock into her sopping cunt one final time before you burst, unloading everything your balls have stored up. Your release triggers her own, that peak making her legs tremble in the air, writhing underneath your weight. Both of you let out a collective moan that competes in volume as your combined release gets milked into her womb, spurt after spurt until there's nothing left to empty inside of your roommate. 

Shallow thrusts drag out the pleasure, making sure not a drop of your load isn’t fully deposited inside Minju’s sticky folds until you stay there buried to the hilt. 

While you both pause to catch your breath, there's an unfamiliar satisfied moan of pleasure that you realize comes from Yuri on the other side of the phone call.

“F-fuck,” Minju breathes out, while you still have every inch throbbing inside her delicious warmth. ”Yuri, did you really just get off to this?"

"What? No, of course not," Yuri says, an unconvincing denial of a lie. "Maybe. Did you really expect me not to?"

Minju smiles as best as she can. "I can't blame you. God, there's just so much cum—he dumped his whole load inside me…" she says in smug satisfaction when you reluctantly pull out. 

Her poor little cunt is a wreck, all soaked in her own arousal and yours, this hot load eagerly dripping out onto the couch cushions while just laying there spread in such an obscene way, phone still in her hand, held out to display every detail.

Yuri doesn’t quite know what to say when she sees her friend like this, Minju the innocent angel being fucked absolutely senseless on camera, with a thick, creamy mess that oozes out between her legs.

"So, maybe we've done this a lot," Minju finally confesses to Yuri, who still struggles to respond to all this despite witnessing it moments ago. 

"Maybe?" Yuri replies. 

"Don't act all innocent now." Minju shifts her position on the couch to get a better angle, so the camera can get a good shot of the sticky semen running down her cunt. "You got off to it."

"Maybe. A little bit," Yuri admits, with a low voice shaky in response. "So what if I did?" 

“And maybe I jerk him off when I'm on the phone with you..." 

"Minju!"

With a hand covering her mouth, Minju laughs, unable to hold in her amusement. “You don't have to sound so ashamed. It's just you."

“That doesn't mean I need to hear this!" Yuri responds, the embarrassment coming through in her voice. "Oh my god, I can't believe I was talking to you like normal—while you were doing that? Ah, Minju!"

Minju's smile transforms into a devilish grin, enjoying every second of this like she’s earning revenge for Yuri’s earlier teasing. 

“Doing what, Yuri?"

“I—need to go, talk to you later, Minju!" Yuri stammers out, her cheeks brighter than a tomato. The video call immediately ends, with only Minju's soft laughter remaining in response. Looking at the end call icon on her phone for a moment, Minju sets it to the side on the coffee table, then lays her head back into the pillows.

“It's just you and me again," Minju says in her sweet voice, almost like she’s not the least bit exhausted after the rigorous fucking you've put her through. “What now?"

"Maybe we should clean this couch..." you answer, aware of the mess you and Minju have created all over her legs and the fabric, something that certainly can't be ignored.

"Later," Minju says, as if she could even care about that—at least for now. "Right now I need a shower. A nice long, hot one. Come join me. It's not fun washing off all by myself..."

Yet once again, neither of you make it to the shower. 

You follow her right into her bedroom, into the bedsheets that are still warm from earlier today. She doesn't have a chance to clean herself up, still dripping down her thighs when she pins you down into those same bedsheets and has you deep inside her in no time.

“Round two,” Minju says, as if it's not even a question, like this is how it’s going to go for the rest of the night.

“Minmin—wait. Give a guy a moment, fuck."

"No time to rest," she says, with another wicked grin on her face, and you're not used to being on the other end of this. You're the one that keeps the ecstasy going, the one that always makes the first move. This girl, she’s never been so forward like this before, not in the way she takes complete control, so shameless to get what she wants. Certainly not in the way that she grabs your arms and pins your wrists over your head with strength that you didn't realize she was capable of.

"I see why you like using me so much." 

Minju holds you down so tight that you can't even fight this. You're at her mercy now, pinned right under her in this vulnerable state with the weight of her body pressing into you while you can't help but feel like you’re the one who’s a little plaything.

And honestly, you like it.

"I get it now,” Minju purrs while you stay right under her control, a finger caressing the outline of your jaw. She has you helpless, completely trapped by this lust that's making you ache for more of what Minju's offering. "You know, I found a job. One of my friends recommended me, Hyewon. I think you’ve met her before. And it pays well. I'll be able to finally support myself. But you'll let me still stay here, won't you?" 

"Of course, Minju. You know I wouldn't—"

"Good," she says, cutting you off as if there's not any chance of rejection. "But I won't be around in the afternoon like before." 

Minju trails a finger right down the center of your chest, tracing circles along your abdomen. "So that means I'm going to need my fix every morning. And maybe even before I go to work, when I come to wake you up for me."

You've never seen Minju like this, so brazen with her desires as she tilts your chin up and makes you face her directly. 

"And as soon as I get home, I'm just going to jump on your cock for hours, until your balls overflow my little pussy again and again. How does that sound?"

"That—that sounds—"

"Great. It's settled then." Minju gives you the cutest smile as she kisses her way down your neck, lips lingering around your collarbone as she nibbles gently on the skin, leaving her mark. 

"Maybe it's a lot of fun being used by you. But maybe it's even better to use you, right?"

Biting her lip, she slides off your shaft that's still glistening in the mix of her mess and yours, leaving it throbbing in the air. "Oh my god, your poor cock. So fucking hard. And there's nothing you can do about it, huh? It must be torture for you. All this build up inside and nothing to take it out on."

"Minmin—"

"Now I understand—it’s so much fun to fuck you like a toy," Minju interrupts, right as she slaps your cock with her palm to watch you wince in response from how sensitive you are, doing it over and over again, these utterly relentless smacks that make every part of you quiver. 

"What's the matter? Don't wanna cum again?" 

Without waiting for a response, she slams back down on you, taking you to the hilt in one easy, fluid motion that doesn't leave you without her warmth for long. Even as spent as you are, Minju rides this aching cock of yours like it's the first time you've been inside her today.

"You’ve got my greedy little cunt addicted. I can't live without you filling me with this hot cum every single day. How many more times can I get you to breed me today? Three? Four? Maybe five?"

"Jesus, Minmin, please—" You groan at the thought. As much as you love finishing inside Minju, there's no way you'll be able to survive that—you're exhausted after this round and your body hasn’t gotten anywhere close to recovering. But she just carelessly continues, head thrown back in bliss as she fucks herself on you, spreading her walls that still drip with your load, and yet so needy to have another thick one fill her up to the brim once more.

"I can't wait to find out. You're not going to run out of cum, are you? No, I don't think your balls could do that. They're always so full, just for me, right? Maybe we'll have to keep going until we make sure."

You don't think your poor cock can stand that, but there's nothing to do but watch helplessly while Minju bounces on top of you, using you as nothing more than a toy—a nice hard cock that she can just ride into ecstasy over and over again.

And maybe you'll allow her to do just that.

---

No, I didn't finish writing this fic the day before realizing her birthday, shut up, this was definitely planned all along.

#BreedMinju