#male idol x male reader
Text
birthday cake | lee sangyeon
nsfw, mature content, minors DNI!
ship: lee sangyeon x male reader
desc: (name) isn't a big fan of his birthdays, so his friends decide to cheer him up with a particularly handsome gift this year.
Birthdays are no easy feat for (name). Between corporate slavery, a horrendous economy and a dead love life, there really isn't much to celebrate. Well, maybe except for his friends. With New constantly reprimanding him for his bad decisions, Changmin being the sweetest guy ever, Juyeon raising his standards in men and Kevin teaching him all the naughty things of the world, (name) appreciated those little troublemakers deeply.
So, despite not being the biggest self-lover on birthdays, the male did expect his friends would, at the very least, come over to his place, watch horror movies and build pillow forts as they bitch about anyone and everyone. Being far away from family made (name) cherish the boys' efforts all the more.
However, with no one even replying to his texts, let alone showing up at his apartment, he was more than a bit confused. The male was just about to call New and demand the reason behind their sudden silence when the doorbell rang.
(name) was more than relieved to hear the chime and was quick to open the door, not wanting the person to ring it again. The man's mouth opened, a bright smile already on his lips but before any words could leave him, a cake was shoved into his face and his vision was obstructed by the sugary mess.
The male was still blinking in surprise when the candles were blown off and someone clapped happily, a voice exclaiming, "Happy birthday!"
(name) finally managed to pry the cake away from his eyes, looking at the group of four that stood before him. They were all holding gifts and smiling widely at him.
"You're here," he mumbled, not even bothering to hide the happiness in his voice.
"Of course," Kevin exclaimed, stepping inside the house and taking off his shoes. "Why wouldn't we be?"
"I'm surprised you guys are here, to be honest," the birthday boy mumbled, still wiping the icing from his eyes and nose.
"And why is that?" Changmin asked.
"You weren't answering your phones."
"Oh, those..." Juyeon mumbled, looking at the other three for a brief second before continuing. "We left them in the car. You know how the signal sucks here."
(name) nodded. He didn't believe a word of it. "And who brought the cake?"
"Me," the black-haired male replied. "You said you loved that cheesecake so I decided to surprise you."
"Thank you, Chanhee." (name) smiled.
"No problem, dude. Now let's go and open your gifts!"
"Yes, please. I have a present too and I've been dying to give it to you!" Juyeon added excitedly, pushing past his friends and into the house.
The others followed him, leaving their shoes at the door.
(name) was feeling like the happiest person alive. His friends came to visit, brought him gifts and baked a cake for him. They didn't have to, but they did it anyway.
Chanhee noticed (name) and gave him a small smile. "It was a pretty last minute decision. Sorry, we couldn't do better."
"I think this is already amazing," the male replied, mirroring the other's smile.
"Hey! Stop flirting and get your asses in here," Juyeon called out.
Chanhee rolled his eyes. "We should go and stop him before he does something stupid."
The younger one nodded, following his friend into the living room.
They did all that (name) had envisioned. Watching horror movies(The Amityville franchise this year), eating the cake Chanhee baked and talking smack. Like clockwork. The smile didn't leave (name)'s face the entire night. A few drinks in and the guys were still sober, but way more relaxed.
"Guys, I have to say something." (name) began, the boys turning around to look at him with fond smiles on their faces.
"Thank you. Thank you for doing this every year. And on days when it's not even my birthday. Life is a lot less shittier because I have you all."
Perhaps it was the soju talking, but (name) felt like he needed to make it known how grateful he was for his boys.
"Aww you cutie, c'mere.." Kevin cooed at the male, making kissy faces as he tackled him into a hug, the birthday boy yelling for him to get away.
"Ewww cringe!" Chanhee fake-gagged as he made a disgusted expression.
"Shut up, Chanhee. We know you're the biggest crybaby deep down" Changmin shushed him.
"I think it's time to give you your gift," Juyeon whispered into (name)'s ear, his hot breath sending shivers down (name)'s spine.
"O-okay."
Juyeon smiled, standing up and walking towards the door, leaving (name) confused. Why didn't Juyeon bring the gift inside with him initially? He glanced over at the others who were looking into space, avoiding his gaze. Alert number 1.
"I swear to god y'all if this is something stupid like last ti-"
"Hello."
(name) stopped dead in his tracks as a deep, matured voice interrupted him. He turned around to see: Lee Sangyeon. His very attractive, very charming and very well-spoken neighbor, though (name) had barely exchanged anything past normal greetings with the man.
"So, remember how we were late? We were hastily searching for a good gift shop as the old one recently closed, and ran into this guy who was kind enough to help us navigate to a new one. Guess who it was?" Juyeon explained the last bit in a sing-song voice. "Exactly! Sangyeon hyung."
"And when we left for the same way, we talked a little more and realized he's your neighbor! What a small world." Changmin added.
Hyung? Damn Juyeon and his extroverted nature. And yes, Changmin, (name) is well aware of his hot neighbor. Thank yew. He's been purposely treading carefully around him in order to NOT make a fool of himself, which you've kinda defeated the whole point of?!
"Happy birthday! I hope you don't mind me. I was free and your friends insisted I join." Sangyeon offered a charming grin.
"Thank you. And ,N-no, no, not at all! I don't mind. Please, feel free to join anytime you'd like. I mean-" (name) rambled.
"Oh boy. I knew he was gonna shit himself" New sighed.
"I didn't say it was a bad thing. It's kinda cute. YOU'RE kinda cute." Sangyeon chuckled, and if the sound of it didn't send an electric jolt down (name)'s spine.
"So are we done yet or..?" Kevin yawned, leaning onto the couch. Everyone scurried off back to their places in the living room, continuing the movie they'd paused to drink. For a while, the boys made small talk with Sangyeon, (name) getting to know the man better. As time passed, they all became increasingly sleepy, but (name) and Sangyeon hardly ceased talking to each other, now cuddled up with each other. They clicked rather well.
"So, I think there's one last gift left. For both of you." Chanhee smirked.
"I agree," Sangyeon whispered.
Before (name) could blink, he was pulled into a warm embrace and his lips met Sangyeon's. It was gentle, yet firm, and (name) felt like he could die and be satisfied. The latter tasted of sweet wine, and the older's scent filled his senses as he pulled him closer, a soft sigh escaping him. Sangyeon's lips were soft and warm, and his tongue moved confidently against his own, making (name)'s toes curl.
As Sangyeon pulled back, a smile appeared on his face. (name) had been crushing over him for 2 weeks now. So is it safe to assume his feelings are somewhat reciprocated?
"How was that?" Sangyeon asked, his fingers stroking (name)'s hair.
"Amazing.." the latter breathed.
"I'm glad." The elder smiled, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Well, I hope you had a good birthday."
"Yes, and I have you to thank for it."
"Then perhaps we should do this again?"
"Definitely."
And (name) was sure his heart was about to burst with joy.
"Ahem."
New's voice caught their attention.
"Sorry for the interruption but it's getting late and we should leave," he announced, gesturing at the other 3 who were already gathering their belongings.
"Alright. You guys have fun and behave yourselves." Kevin grinned, bidding them a goodbye.
(name)'s eyes widened. "Yeah, bye Kevin!" he offered a tight-lipped smile, mouthing "I.will.Kill.You", knowing fully well it must have been the Canadian's idea to pull this stunt. "You needed this babe" Kevin whispered in the other's ear. "Thank me later", he left after blowing (name) a kiss, Chanhee and Changmin dragging him.
"Sangyeon, we hope we can see you around soon." Juyeon said.
"Definitely."
The birthday boy's eyes met with Sangyeon's, and (name) didn't miss the way the man's pupils dilated. He wasn't alone in his feelings.
"Happy birthday, again." The eldest of the 4 leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on (name)'s cheek, the gesture sending warmth throughout his body.
The moment the 4 left, (name) plopped onto the couch, still dazed from what had transpired.
"They really thought of everything."
"It seems so."
"Are you happy?"
"Yes, very."
"Good, that's what matters."
"Can I...can I kiss you again?"
"Of course."
Sangyeon cupped his cheeks, bringing their lips together. It was gentle and slow, yet there was a hint of hunger behind it.
"I've been thinking about this for a long time," Sangyeon admitted, his thumb brushing over (name)'s bottom lip.
"So have I."
"That's good to know."
The eldest captured (name)'s lips again, this time with more urgency. He sucked on his bottom lip, drawing a low moan from him. The sound spurred Sangyeon on, and his tongue slipped into the younger's mouth, eliciting another moan.
"I'm not quite finished yet. There are many other things I'd like to do to you."
"Such as?"
"You'll just have to wait and see."
The next thing (name) knew, he was being lifted up, the male's legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Sangyeon carried him to his room, and the two fell onto the bed in a heap of tangled limbs. Their lips met again, the kiss becoming more passionate and urgent.
"Do you want me to keep going?" Sangyeon whispered against his lips, his fingers brushing the younger's cheek.
"Yes, please," (name) whined.
The older one wasted no time and started undressing the male beneath him. After he had stripped him down, the two kissed some more, their hands roaming each other's bodies.
"I'm going to make you feel good," Sangyeon breathed against his ear, his fingers trailing down his abdomen, causing him to shiver.
(name)'s eyes widened as the elder stood up and stripped down his lower half, his thick member on full display. The birthday boy swallowed nervously, his cock throbbing at the sight.
"You're already so hard." (name) breathed.
The latter was about to apologize, but his words were caught in his throat when he felt a wet heat envelope his length. He couldn't hold back a moan as he threw his head back.
(name) continued to suck on his length, eliciting a chorus of moans from the elder.
After a few minutes, Sangyeon hurriedly pulled (name)'s mouth away, biting his lips to stop himself from cumming.
"Mmh, I think you're ready," Sangyeon mumbled, and (name) let go of his member, wiping his mouth with his hand.
He reached the hem of the birthday boy's underwear, tugging it down. The cool air of the room caused the latter's member to twitch, and Sangyeon smiled. He laid (name) down face first on the bed, spread out. Kneeling between the younger's legs, he leaned down and spread his ass cheeks apart using his hands, licking his lips at the sight of the male's pink, puckered hole.
(name) gasped as he felt the wet heat of the elder's tongue circling his entrance. He gripped the sheets tightly as he felt the sensation of being stretched.
The younger male could only moan in response, the feeling of being penetrated by the elder's tongue was intoxicating. He could feel his orgasm approaching, and he arched his back, pressing his hips against Sangyeon's face.
"It's your birthday, but i'm the one eating the cake," the elder chuckled, and (name) whimpered, feeling the latter's tongue slide in deeper.
"Oh fuck," he moaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.
Sangyeon continued to fuck (name) with his tongue, and the younger male couldn't help but cry out in pleasure.
"I-I'm gonna cum," (name) whined.
"Go ahead, baby," the elder encouraged, and the younger male could only gasp and shudder as his orgasm ripped through him.
Sangyeon sat up and grabbed the bottle of lube on the bedside table. He squirted a generous amount onto his palm and spread it over his length.
"Ready, baby?"
"Yes, please," (name) nodded, spreading his legs wider.
Sangyeon lined himself up with the younger's entrance and pushed inside, eliciting a loud moan from the younger.
"F-fuck, you're so tight," the elder moaned, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Feels so good," (name) panted.
The elder started to thrust in and out of the younger male, and the latter could only moan in response.
"You feel so good around me," Sangyeon moaned, and (name) could only whine in response, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.
The older one leaned over, capturing his lips in a heated kiss.
The elder started thrusting faster, the sound of their skin slapping filling the room.
"Fuck, I'm close," the elder moaned, his eyes screwed shut.
"M-me too," (name) gasped.
Sangyeon gripped the younger's hips tighter and increased his pace, causing the latter to moan loudly.
"Fuck, I'm cumming," the elder growled, and he spilled inside the birthday boy.
"Holy shit," (name) breathed, his orgasm rippling through him.
The elder pulled out, the latter's cum coating the tip of his cock.
"Happy birthday to you," Sangyeon breathed, leaning down to kiss the birthday boy.
(name) sighed contently. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Making my birthday special."
"I'll make every birthday special, if you'll let me," the elder smiled, and the two kissed once more.
When the 4 were far away, New's voice broke the silence.
"Hey Juyeon.."
"Yes?"
"Do you think he'll actually thank us for setting him up with his crush?"
"Probably not.." Juyeon answered.
"Should we start running?"
"Yup."
"We're doomed."
"Well, it was worth it."
"Definitely."
"Happy Birthday, (name)." Kevin yelled into the night, wishing nothing but happiness for their friend, as the 4 walked home.
#kpop male idol#kpop x male reader#kpop x male reader smut#male idol x male reader#tbz x male reader#the boyz x male reader#the boyz x male reader smut#tbz x male reader smut#sangyeon x male reader#sangyeon x male reader smut#male reader insert#x male reader
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Enemies to Fuckers
Park Sunghoon x Male Reader
cw: enemies to lovers friends trope, university au, anonymous sex at first, gloryhole, implied musk kink, implied sweat kink, drunk sex, bathroom sex, hair pulling, creampie, dirty talk, fluff-ish end.
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another year of studying at the university it's coming to an end and as always one of the brotherhoods will be in charge of organizing a party. This time it's the turn of the one that sunghoon belongs to.
y/n was sitting on the grass listening to music while drinking some cold coffee. when he turned his head he saw that sunghoon was coming towards him handing out the invitations “fuck he's coming” he tried to gather his things as fast as posible and run away from there but two pairs of black boots stopped him from doing so. “do you hear that?” asked sunghoon to his companion “it's like a fuckass rabious dog it's around here” both laughed. “yeah and there's a bitch too. i'm looking at it right now” y/n mocked making eye contact with sunghoon. “son of a bitch” sunghoon was ready to punch y/n but his companion stopped him “what happened pretty boy? if you like throwing “jokes” at someone you gotta learn to take them as well” he winked and then made a disgusted face getting ready to go. “see you tonight at the party fucking pussy” sunghoon threw his invitation to the floor and went on with his day.
the rivalry between them began with that pathetic cliché that one was smarter than the other. every day the competition was growing, the tension as well and in the end it exploded with sunghoon ruining y/n's project ending in a fist fight where they both got bruises, cuts and a two-weeks suspension. since that day they cannot see each other and if they do they will say all the possible insults at each other and if they don't remember any more they will make new ones.
y/n was standing in front of the door that separated him from the party, the boy was hesitating whether to enter or not and just when he was going to leave he saw his crush, jay park, enter the party "maybe it's a good opportunity to talk to him..." y/n murmured as he crossed the door.
hours have passed and he hasn't found jay. "he's probably fucking a lucky bitch" he pouted gulping the remaining liquid on his cup. he was getting dizzy and walked towards the bathroom holding onto the walls to not trip and die of embarrasment in front of the whole university. he sat on the toilet and closed the door. when he was about to fall asleep he noticed a hole in one of the sides of the bathroom stall “the fuck is this” he wondered watching how it had tape surrounding the edges.
he was getting ready to get out of the bathroom when suddenly a big veiny cock appeared from the other side of the hole.
y/n's jaw dropped and he finally connected the dots “this is a fucking gloryhole!! what the actual fu–”. “are you gonna suck it or what?” a kinda familiar voice asked. y/n's face and neck were red as a tomato it was the first time he had seen such a beautiful and appetizing cock, his mouth was watering.
“if you're not going to do something move out and let others do i–hngh…” moaned the other male. y/n kissed the tip licking the pre-cum and then swallowed all the shaft “hmpgh soo goodd~” the cock's smell sending him into a dizzier state. “you're deepthroathing skills are fucking amazing” growled the male on the other side “no other bitch has sucked me as good as you” he added thrusting his cock at an animalistic pace chasing that feeling, seconds later cumming inside the other's throat. on the other side y/n came as well painting the bathroom's floor in white. drool mixed with cum spilling out of his mouth while the cock keeps fucking him.
then the cock suddenly disappeared leaving a pouting y/n that wanted more of it. suddenly the bathroom's door is opened and both males make eye contact, mouths wide open. it's as if the drunkenness of both of them has dissipated. an awkward silence between them as they look at each other with disgust. “i can't believe i just sucked fuckass sunghoon… so disgusting” y/n broke the silence “that's not what you were saying before tho. you were moaning like a bitch in heat” sunghoon pointed his finger touching y/n's chest.
“don't fucking touch me asshole” snarled y/n. “or what?” sunghoon's face inches away from y/n's. they stare at each other's lips… it's a desperate kiss, finally the tension between them broke again but this time in a more pleasant way.
“your sucking skills are so damn good. i want to see how you handle it down there” a hand sliding down y/n's underwear and a finger started rubbing his hole. with his hands locked around sunghoon's neck while the latter kissed his neck y/n asked “i thought you liked pussies”. “but you're a pussy… fucking coward” he snickers. “that doesn't make sens–” sunghoon hand covered his mouth “shut the fuck up and let's just fuck, i'm so bricked”..
sunghoon sat on the toilet while y/n rode him taking all the cock inside him. “hngh shit” he growled “who would've thought that I was fucking my enemy... the worst of all is that he has such a tight and delicious fuckhole” y/n just trying to contain his laugh after hearing that focusing on squeezing hard sunghoon's cock “come on cream this fucking hole. m-motherfucker”. “what's the hurry whore? we have all the night. and i have a lot of cum to cream your fuckhole so many times” whispering that last part.
the sound of skin slapping being muffled by the loud music, sunghoon pulling y/n's hair so he can thrust hard “gonna break you and make you come asking for more” sunghoon's tongue licking a strip from y/n's neck till his upper back tasting the sweat “salty” he murmured pushing down y/n's head so he can fuck him harder.
y/n's velvety walls clenching on sunghoon's fuckmeat as if his life depends on it “ready to get your used hole creampied, slut?”, “hng.. yeah bastard be-be fast i want to go home now” he fucked himself on the thick piece of meat. the cock tip brushed that sweet spot on y/n making him see stars and cumming hands free, splurts of sticky cum covering the toilet's lid “oh my god… hngh.. that felt so– good..”. “i know, everyone always told me that” a cocky sunghoon proud kf his fucking skills pull out his dick, jerking it off and spilling his seeds around and on top of the gaping hole of y/n. then uses his cock to scoop it and introduce it again to ride his high, thrusting some times more.
the party organizer helped y/n to clean up and get dressed, then he put him in the car and drove to his house. “you know.. kinda like it what happened tonight” sunghoon commented “wanna repeat it.. another time when we are sober?” … there was silence but this time it wasn’t awkward … “yeah.. i like it too…” y/n's blushing face being noticed by the driver “friends?” he asks … “friends” sunghoon shook his hand. “then as an act to celebrate this fucking friendship and because you shouldn't be driving while drunk.. umm why don't you sleep in my house” y/n offered to sunghoon who's eyebrows raised in surprise “..unm ‘kay but i'm not sharing a bed with you”. “of course no dumbass you're sleeping on the carpet like the filthy dog you are” a gentle punch landing on sunghoon's arm who just smiled.. ‘cute’ he thought.
#park sunghoon x male reader#sunghoon x male reader#park sunghoon x male reader smut#sunghoon x male reader smut#enhypen x male reader#enhypen smut#male reader#kpop x male reader#kpop x male reader smut#smut#male reader smut#male idol x male reader#idol x male reader
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answer me. - kim hongjoong
pairing :: kim hongjoong x male reader
viewer rating :: 18+
genres :: smut
au's :: i dunno
content warnings :: choking, begging, rough sex, a hickey i think, biting, slutshaming/name calling, heavily implied recording of the rough sex, slight sadism
word count :: 767
18+ ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
you chuckled, leaning in and letting your whole body weight fall onto hongjoong as he continued to rail him into oblivion. you buried your face in his neck and bit down as hard as you could, relishing in the loud, sinful, obviously exaggerated moan that ripped from his lips.
he was being recorded, after all.
"such a hungry little cockslut, huh?" you growled into hongjoong's ear, looking directly into the camera of your phone, which was propped up against a pillow leaning against the bedside table, recording the whole thing as hongjoong whimpered weakly into your ear.
"answer me," you hissed when hongjoong didn't respond, grabbing his hair and yanking harshly on it to summon forth another one of the shorter man's pretty moans.
"f-shit, y-yes," hongjoong whimpered, fisting the sheets as you thrusted continually into him at the fastest, roughest pace you could get your body to let you keep.
"open your mouth," you commanded, gently tapping hongjoong's left temple with your finger to get his attention before you spoke. when he obeyed your wishes, you chuckled, spitting into his mouth. he swallowed it with a needy groan, wrapping his shaking legs around your waist and pulling you as close to him as he could get you.
"yeah?" you taunted, "you like that, whore? i bet you do, i bet you like getting used like this, huh? you like it when your boyfriend uses your slutty little hole for whatever he wants, hmm?"
"y-yes, i l-love it, ugh- FUCK, RIGHT THERE-" hongjoong cut himself off let out a high-pitched moan as the tip of your cock hit his prostate dead-on. his eyes rolling back into his head and his cock twitched as he (barely) registered the words you had just said to him.
your eyes raked over his face, taking in the stunning pink color your ministrations had made his cheeks turn. then you pulled out without warning, switching positions so that you were on your knees. then you took hongjoong's knees in your hands and pulled him closer to you before thrusting roughly back into him so that he screamed in a blissful mixture of pain and pleasure. you leaned over and grabbed your phone, immediately resuming the pace you had been fucking him at before as you moved the camera so that it was recording hongjoong.
"fuck, you're so sexy, baby," you cooed, cupping his face in your hand and letting out a little "awww" as he leaned his face into your hand. then you chuckled, your voice full of sadism, and slapped his cheek just roughly enough that he would feel it through the foggy sense of cloud-nine pleasure he must have been feeling.
"look at you," you growled quietly, "taking my cock like such a good little slut."
hongjoong just whimpered weakly in response, groaning as his eyes rolled back into his head again.
you chuckled, ending the recording and chucking the phone lightly over your shoulder towards the foot of the bed. you leaned over him and let your weight fall on top of him again, wrapping hongjoong's legs back around your waist. he wrapped his arms around the back of your neck and pulled you close, pressing his lips to yours in a heated, needy kiss. he licked your bottom lip and nibbled lightly on it, growling as the tip of your cock hit his abused prostate again.
"oh f-fuck- right there, don't stop, please…" he begged weakly, a broken moan escaping into your mouth that you gladly devoured.
you broke the kiss and chuckled darkly, licking his right temple and then moving downward and biting down as hard as you could, almost melting away completely when you heard the whoreish, broken moan that ripped from his throat. you gladly obliged in hongjoong's request, putting your hand on his throat and squeezing. he moaned again, his eyes rolling back into his head for what had to be the tenth time tonight; his cock twitched again, indicating that he was getting close to his release.
"beg for it, slut." you whispered simply.
"y-yes, sir-" he whimpered, "fuuuck, right there- please, m/n, fuck me harder…"
"you promise you'll be a good, obedient slut for me if i give you what you want?" you asked, pulling his hair roughly.
"yes, i pro-fuck- yes, i promise i'll be a good slut-"
"good boy." you said simply, putting your hand on his waist and holding him down as you willingly indulged in the railing your cute little boyfriend had requested of you.
fuck, you were so lucky to have this man for a boyfriend.
© bouncyyunho 2023-2024.
#chaece.exe 🌑#fever.dreams 🌑#cacaokpop#ateez#preciousillusionsnet#hongjoong#ateez x male reader#ateez smut#hongjoong smut#kim hongjoong#hongjoong x male reader#ateez x male reader smut#kim hongjoong x male reader#male idol x male reader#kpop x male reader#kim hongjoong x male reader smut
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Not so innocent
Jung jaehyun x male reader
Hello everyone. Orecana here! I've written and post another fic for you guys to enjoy. Thank you to whoever read and support my fic so far. Love you guys.
Warning: this fic contains the following that may disturb you
Alpha beta Omega second genders
harsh sexualization
Sexual assault
Murder
Description of blood and gore
Pet names
Belly bulge and cum inflation
Most importantly, my first time writing a smut which will go extremely bad......
If any of the things listed above annoys the hell out of you, you are more than welcome to get the hell out of this fic and do something else.
Y/n is a young omega that has just recently transferred to neo academy, a prestigious school for talented individuals like himself.
Neo academy, is a prestigious school that will send an application letter to the most gifted individuals in the entire world.
He jumps happily as he looks at the academy in front of him, he can't believe it! It's like a dream come true.
He goes into the academy and is extremely happy and surprised on how luxurious everything is.
He goes into a room which he presumes to be the office, so that he could get his schedule and dorm key. However, that will have to wait a bit because the person behind the desk is currently talking to someone.
He waits until they're done and when the person turns around, y/n feels his heart beat faster.
The man is ridiculously handsome with brown hair and that sharp jawline. The alpha seeing y/n admiring him, sends him a wink before going out of the office.
Are you y/n l/n?
Y/n snaps out of his daze and looks at the direction of the woman.
Yes i am
The woman hands over his schedule and dorm key to him. The woman frowns when she sees his key.
Uh there's seems to be a problem with your key, I need to take a quick call.
The woman phones someone. When the called picked up, they engaged in a serious conversation. Y/n doesn't know what they were talking about because the woman used her magic to conceal her conversation, but he knows that it was not going well, seeing that the woman keeps rubbing her forehead with a permanent scowl on her face. She reluctantly stops the call before facing y/n.
It seems that the omega and beta dorms have all been booked, so the only available rooms are in the alpha dorms. I truly apologize for this.
Y/n smiles before holding the woman's hand which has his key.
Don't worry miss, I'll be fine. Besides you read my application form you should know what I can do that other omegas can't.
The woman seems to contemplate before remembering. She smiled at y/n before sighing.
Right... I totally forgot about that. Still try to stay safe, the majority of alphas there Don't really respect omegas.
Y/n only giggles as his once (eye color) eyes turn into purple ones.
Oh. They will turn into new people by the time I'm done with them.
He thanks the woman before leaving, the woman only smiles as she thinks.
"this boy.... Is really incredible."
Y/n looks at his schedule that also works as a map around the school. Biology first then lunch break then we can do extra courses and last but not least battlefield fighting.
He smiles at the last one, eyes turning blood red once again at the mention of fighting. As an omega, he was badly sexualized in the past by so many unruly alphas but today he can change that.
He stops in front of the biology classroom and knocks. *Knock knock*
Come in!
He enters into a full classroom with many students. They all turn towards him as he closes the door. The professor adjusts his glasses before looking at y/n.
Ah! Are you y/n l/n? Please have a seat in one of the empty chairs. You're not late at all, we're just starting.
He smiles at the professor's kindness before bowing and sitting in one of the empty chairs on the left.
Shortly after a few minutes though, he slowly begins to regret sitting there. The alpha near him keeps releasing his toxic pheromones onto him and it's making him lightheaded. Fortunately, a student sitting across from them seems to notice and alert the professor, which immediately groans and clog his nose, an action that most students there do as well.
Mr. Samuel... We would appreciate it that you don't stink the whole room with your pheromones.
That alpha only smile cockily as he slides his hands down y/n's waist. Y/n was shocked at the action. How dare he!
And what do you want me to do professor? I got a real delectable omega sitting next to me right now. How can I keep my hands to myself? Besides those hips and that asshole just looks like he's begging to be fucked.
Many students were shocked that he say stuff like that with no remorse, he discreetly tries to slide his hands into y/n's shirt so he could play with the nipples. Y/n was about to act when a fist made its way into the alpha's face.
The entire class was shocked and Samuel holds his face in pain as blood started to come out, dripping down his broken nose and lips. Y/n looks up at his savior to see the handsome man from before, his left fist was covered in blood.
He goes and holds the other man's knuckle and raises his palm. Everyone was wide eyed when y/n's absorbed the blood from the knuckle into his hand as he moans.
Ahhhhh.... (The relaxed moan) I haven't felt blood in my veins since ages ago.
He says this as he looks at Samuel who cowardly tries to run while injured.
Oh? Where are you going? Didn't you wanted to grope me and feel me? Why are you running away?
Y/n says these lines with the most sinister face everybody could of imagined, even the man from before was awestruck at such a personality.
Samuel ran out of the class.
Typical alphas. Always acting so tough on the outside, but a bloody coward on the inside.
He turns around and look at the professor.
Shall we resume class professor?
He says this with such the sweetest smile ever that everyone wondered on what the hell happened to the person they saw just now?
Eventually, the professor did resume class and all students listened. Even y/n, who was new to the school managed to answer some of the difficult questions, which made a lot of people in the class respect him.
It was lunch break and students were hurrying out of the classroom. Y/n was putting his books back into his bag when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looks behind him to see that man.
Hey, wanna eat lunch with me?
Y/n could not believe his ears as he just stared at the alpha in front of him.
"this handsome god wants to hang out with me?!"
Y/n feels a blush coming on to his face as he mutters a weak "yes", which made the alpha smirks in satisfaction. The alpha leans into his ear as he whispers sultry.
My name's Jung jaehyun, baby~.
And boy did it make y/n squirms in his seat. His face flushed so hard it could be compared to a ripe tomato. Jaehyun smirks even more as he pats the Omega's shoulder.
I'll see you later at the cafeteria baby.
Once y/n hears the door shut behind him, he summons a concealment aura around him before screaming his lungs out.
"did he just got asked out by a hot guy? It feels like a dream come true."
He was smiling so happily as he imagines the alpha dreamy looks. He eventually snaps out of it and heads for the cafeteria.
When he reaches the cafeteria, he is even more awestruck. The whole cafeteria is divided to suit each person's personal taste on places they want to eat and the food there is absolutely divine. There are so many options to choose from though, y/n is at a lost on what he should eat.
Eventually, he decides to eat webfoot octopus with a side of iced milk tea. He has always enjoyed milk tea, to him it's like a special drink that will always make him relax.
Soon a boy is walking towards his table with a tray of his food.
Enjoy your food
He nods and quickly dig in.
Hey baby~
Y/n freezes, there's only one person with that voice.
Y/n: jaehyun? Is it you?
Jaehyun chuckles and sits down in the same table as y/n. They started talking about each other, from likes and dislikes to preferences.
One point during their talk, he could feel someone staring him down. He looks around him carefully, to see a lot of omegas staring him down. There were also alphas staring jaehyun down for being next to him.
He smirks as he looks at jaehyun, signalling him to come closer with his finger. Jaehyun lean in while chuckling.
I'm gonna make these omega and alpha drop their jaws, do you wanna help me?
And what are you gonna do baby?
Y/n pulls jaehyun closer to him before locking their lips together. Jaehyun, not even surprised immediately follow up by pushing his tongue into the other's mouth.
All the omegas and alphas watch them make out as some scream in anger while most are turned on.
They pulled away with saliva connecting their lips. They smirks at each other as y/n eyes turns purple yet again. Jaehyun notices this but doesn't act on it because he doesn't want the omega to be uncomfortable. He does think about others.
I'll see you later baby
The bell rings signaling the end of lunch break as most students grumble on their way to extra lessons. Y/n however don't have an extra class to participate in though. He did see a few request into certain classes but he's just not interested.
He decided to call it a day today by checking into his dorm room early. He goes into the alpha dormitory and scans his key card on the elevator. *Ding*
The elevator opens. He walks towards the dorm rooms counting them down while looking for his number.
500? Ah this must be it!
He uses his key to open the door. It went in!
He opens the door to a welcoming vibe as he drags his bag into the room and sit on the sofa in the living room. He decided to unpack early so he could get it done much faster and don't have to deal with it later.
Y/n takes a quick shower to relieve his stress and apply his favourite powder. This magical beauty product was always capable of making anybody the fairest by just a few pats on the face.
He looks at himself in the mirror, admiring his appearance.
I look so cute
He puts his make up product back in its place before he goes back into school for the last lesson.
Fighting.
When he arrived at the battlefield location, most of the students there has already fought. People noticed that he was here, some catcalled him because of black kimono he's wearing. It had a unique design of many Sakura flowers and burning spirits. The teacher approach him.
Hello y/n. Would you like to fight someone too?
He look around to find an alpha who is mocking everyone he fought.
Hah! You are so weak! Why did you even come to this academy, you bugs? Haha.
Y/n smirks as he found his target for the day.
I wanna fight him teacher!
Oh really? He is a bit strong tho, please be careful.
Y/n chuckles as he steps onto the stage. Once he was on the stage, he levitates off the ground and sits in the air in a meditating position.
(sth like this)
The alpha who he chose, smirks as he steps onto the stage as well.
Well well well, looks like another person have decided to challenge me. I have thought it would be a beta or an alpha, but it's a just an omega slut.
Most of the people in the battlefield feel disgusted as the alpha keeps talking about how useless omega is to society, only viable as a breeding tool for the whole society to use.
Y/n did not react at all, he just levitates there in the same position. The alpha slowly starts to get angry.
Oy, bitch! The hell are you ignoring me for?
Y/n didn't reply
You f***ing useless slut! Answer me!
Y/n didn't reply. The alpha got so angry that he goes in to hit y/n hard with his fist, until it collided with something in front of y/n's body that made a sickening crack to his hand.
Ahhhhhhh! My hand!
Y/n opens his eyes, his eyes were purple and he slowly drops onto the floor, walking slowly towards the alpha who tries to crawl back in fear.
How dare you insult the nature of my kind? Just because your kind is of higher stature, doesn't mean you can make fun of my people. The omegas...
People watch in fascination as y/n drags out a sword from the middle of his chest through his kimono as a glowing purple aura surrounds he stage.
SHALL SHINE ETERNAL!
He slashes with that sword as the alpha stops screaming. He sheaths the sword as the alpha lets out a large painful wail before collapsing.
He goes off the stage before going back to his dorm room not bothering to talk or look at anyone right now.
He unlocks his door and try to go in before someone grabs his arm. He pulls his arm away from the person before turning around with the deadliest glare ever. Jaehyun was scared shitless because of y/n. Once the omega see him tho, he softens a bit before pulling him in his room.
I'm sorry. I'm just mad.
Jaehyun only hugs y/n as he hugs him back.
Through a couple of days in the academy, y/n was a popular student among campus. He was the "his excellency the almighty Narukami ogosho god of thunder."
He has deepened his relationship with jaehyun and even met some of his fellow friends. He found himself getting along with taeyong the most, who was like a parent to him.
Things were going smoothly for y/n until that day
Y/n wakes up to the harsh feeling of nausea and headache. His dick was brushing against his shorts as he sighs at the uncomfortable feeling. He already knows what this means. His heat has just arrived. He groans as he just takes off his shorts and plays with his hole, moaning at the feeling of emptyness.
His mind keeps wandering to jaehyun and his well built body, packed with muscles and a six packs. He subconsciously licks his lips and his fingers goes in and out of his hole more aggressively. He moans out loud as he climaxes.
He breathes in and out, tired but his erection is still hard. He groans.
This is going to be a long day.
Jaehyun wanted to go see y/n, hearing that he was absent today in class because he was sick. In his hand was a box of hot soup. He knocks on the door of y/n dorm room
Y/n I'm coming in!
He lets himself inside the house as he immediately freezes and the box of soup fell onto the floor. Y/n was there, stretching himself with his fingers yet again as he moans lewdly.
Jaehyun wants nothing more than to fuck y/n at this moment, but he controlled himself. Y/n however pulls the alpha towards him as he looks at him with a lustful gaze. He flicks his fingers and they were teleported into y/n's bedroom.
Alpha! You're finally here.... I've been waiting for so long for you to show up. My fingers aren't enough to satisfy my heat at all. I only crave for more and more.
His fingers slithered around jaehyun's uniform as he swiftly dispose of them with his magic, quickly leaving jaehyun in his boxer. The omega mouth waters at the large bulge the alpha is carrying. He pulls it off and was slapped in the face with his cock.
IT'S SO LONG VEINY AND THICK.
Y/n knew that jaehyun was packing, but not to this extent. His purple glitters as he wasted no time and suck off the cock in front of him.
Jaehyun grunts as he feel the hot mouth of the omega sucking him off. It feels so good. He looks down at y/n who was busy savoring his cock like a starved man, filthy slurping sounds were heard all over the room. He sees how the omega took his long and thick veiny cock like a champ.
Y/n felt jaehyun dick throbs inside his mouth and begins working on it faster, determined to make him cum. Jaehyun groans in arousal.
Fuck! Baby, that feels so good. I-i'm gonna-
Jaehyun didn't even get to finish as he finally cums inside y/n's mouth. Floods of potent alpha cum is continuously being released into y/n's awaiting mouth, who slurps and drinks it all up.
Hah..... Hah...... Hah.....
Y/n takes jaehyun's cock out of his mouth while leaning his tongue out to collect any leftover cum. Jaehyun moans as his cock returns into its former condition only even bigger than before.
He quickly uses 3 of his fingers to play with the Omega's hole. Y/n moans out loud at the sudden intrusion of such thick fingers.
I'm gonna get your hole ready for my cock baby. Gonna breed you full of my pups *groans*.
Jaehyun whispers these words so hotly in y/n's ear that he immediately cums. His white semen covering his and jaehyun's body. Soon jaehyun removes his fingers and y/n knows what coming up next.
Jaehyun lines up his cock with y/n's hole, before pushes his cock in with one big thrust. Y/n moans loudly at the intrusion while jaehyun moans as well.
F-fuck baby, you're so tight. You're gripping so hard onto my cock.
J-jaehyun, f-fuck m-e. fill my hole with your pups. Breed me with your know, please alpha. I beg you~.
Jaehyun lost his sense of control and immediately rams into y/n's hole mercilessly as y/n just moans lewdly with his tongue out. They were both loss in the pleasure.
Jaehyun switches their position as he holds y/n against his chest and holds y/n's head. He kisses y/n as he continuously rams into the tight hole.
A-alpha~ look how good your cock is fucking me.
Jaehyun moans when he sees y/n's stomach and it only urges him to fuck him even harder and deeper. Everytime he rams into y/n's hole, it creates a noticable bulge inside the Omega's stomach fueling the two desires to mate.
Your ass feels so good around my cock. I'm gonna cum!
M-me too.
They both kissed as they chase their climax.
They both moaned into each other's mouth as they climax, jaehyun knots into y/n's hole as he pumps gallons of cum into y/n's tight clenching hole. The omega also came.
They both pants, out of breath as they recover from their sex. They miss each other sweetly before pulling away. They look at each other in the eye and smile.
I love you y/n l/n. I have fell for you for a while.
I love you too Jung jaehyun.
They look down at y/n's stomach that has a considerable bulge because of the amount of cum that jaehyun is dumping in him.
Heh how much cum do you have?
It's all for you my love.
Y/n blushes. Even in times like these, jaehyun never fails to make him blush.
After a while, jaehyun's knot shrink down and he pulls out of y/n's hole as the omega whimpers from the lost of being filled. Cum did not fall out of the omega though because y/n uses his magic to keep it all in him.
You really want my baby huh?
Of course, you're my alpha after all.
They lay down on the bed that is now cleaned thanks to y/n's magic. Jaehyun embrace his lover as he leans in close.
I love you my not so innocent omega.
*chuckles* I love you too my hot alpha.
#fanfiction#romance#gay#male idol x male reader#jaehyun x male reader#jung jaehyun#nct x male reader#nct 127#nct 127 x male reader#kpop male idol x male reader#x male reader
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The General and The Prince
Park Chanyeol x Male Reader
Contains:- mentions of wars, blood, and kidnapping.
<Part 1> <Next>
A little over a week ago, y/n's life was all over the place, and it still is; the difference is that now he is married to the vilest person he could have probably thought of while imagining a married life.
But life changes happen often so abruptly that one is found sitting in an emptied ballroom, with a burnt-up piece of dress shriveled up in hands clutching it tightly while the castle palace all around collapses.
Y/n was well aware of the fierceness of the General who was the primal cause of every defeat his kingdom had suffered; the end result of the war was pre-destined the day enemy troops crossed the inner walls of their most secured military base, but for it to come to this was never imagined.
A surrender was in process to safeguard the capital; y/n's father was hellbent on not letting the enemies cross the gates of the capital and destroy it like they have left ashes and misery in the path they have followed.
Yet General Chanyeol was not satisfied with it; he had to take the main palace down, and that was his aim, swearing which left his country.
Y/n sat there, ashen and mute, staring at the embers still there all around him; his clothes were still intact, he had a few cuts and burns throughout his hands and that was it; he sat as if in a trance, without any emotion on his face, so still that to an observer it would be a photograph symbolising doom.
Chanyeol saw y/n sitting there, he knew who it was and he knew why it was important to not touch him still; something in him was calling out, a melody, rising, rippling like an unknown sea coming up from the depth of the earth; it was the very last step which brought him so close to y/n that he was able to clearly see the tear stains on his cheeks that made enough metallic noise to break the young prince's trance and look up; there it was, the face that he denied to dance with at the last winter ball, still looking unfazed, 'let's get out of here your royal highness' said Chanyeol, with a proud grin, that is all he remembers before blacking out.
'Is this really the only thing you are going to ask for, General?' The King was shocked, and the Queen and the princesses too; everyone was ready for General Park to ask for rank promotion; the King even decreed a Dukedom, only for winning over the major ports and cities of the enemies, but to ask to marry the prince of the enemy was unprecedented.
'Yes your majesty, this is all. Now, if you may permit, I will take my leave.' Chanyeol left the murmuring throneroom and made his way to the room housing y/n, it was the fourth day since he arrived with the prince there, and he was informed that the younger regained consciousness last night.
'Leave.' As soon as he entered the room, he ordered all the attendees. He went forward and sat on the chair next to the bed facing the wall opposite to it. The prince was leaning on the headboard with his head down.
'So, your royal highness, how do you like our facilities here?' Chanyeol cocked while turning to look at y/n. No response. After a few minutes, the older continued, 'We will give the inner territories conquered by us back, and you will be marrying me for that to happen.' Y/n knew this was coming; all the threats the General made for years to make him dance with him whether he likes it or not, to marry him and only him, they were all real which y/n took in jest as he was too proud to accept such an invitation.
'You know, keeping quiet will not lead you anywhere, so say what you have to now, I am here to listen, I grant you a wish too, as is the ritual here, ask for anything but return.' Chanyeol was suddenly all perched up, looking at y/n. 'Respect' y/n whispered; his throat was still hurting due to all the smoke he inhaled.
'What?' 'I ask for respect; if you can grant that, I will say yes to the marriage.' There was a stretched silence, the fountain of the connected gardens was all one could hear, then a deep inhale, 'Okay, if that is the only request you have, you will have titles here too, I have been granted a Dukedom and you will be living comfortably, nobody will disrespect you, even at the court. I will assure you that.' 'I want respect from you too; you have taken, vehemently snatched everything, still you are returning the territories, so I will say yes, but I want respect from you too.' 'Will I get the respect back my prince?' Chanyeol smirked; he knew how irritatingly ambitious he was, 'Yes.'
The only win here seemed to be that of Chanyeol; it was the completion of his grand plan, the final nail in the coffin; this is what he has been dreaming about since he set his eyes on y/n a few years ago during a festival, he was just a mere soldier back then, he bloodied his hands to get to the level of a reputed General to be asked in a ballroom full of aristocrats, then too he was denied the chance to be with y/n as the prince knew how ruthless the General was and y/n hated wars and murders.
After a few days of convalescence, all of which were accompanied by Chanyeol, who updated him about the upcoming marriage and all the preparations, y/n was free to meet his family.
A troop was sent with him to the castle on the farthest side of his kingdom where his family was currently staying after the attack on the capital. His father was annoyed and his older brother was not helping with the mood too; they were all dejected that it had to come to this but none of his relatives even suggested going against the marriage.
'We will gain back our territories; think about your brother's future as a limited king; you need to persuade your fiance to let go of all the territories and not just the inner ones.' 'I am doing no such negotiations, I am already becoming the reason for you to get back what you lost shamefully, do not try to depend on any of my upcoming relations, have some self-respect father.'
'Self-respect!?' Y/n brother screamed making him bounce in shock a little, 'It was your deranged idea of self-respect that caused this war; if only you could have given him a chance he would have never attacked us like this. And look where you stand; you are forced to do what you never really wanted and did whatever you could to stop it.'
'Well, brother, you do remember who it was who first denied me to dance with him, don't you? 'A self-obsessed lowly General' is what you said when he asked you for a dance with me the very first time we went there for the Royal Ball.'
'But later he became a threat so I urged you to give him a chance too, then you were the one who was hell-bent on denying him!'
'Enough! Stop arguing about what has already transpired and think about the future. Y/n, son, you must not waver and make demands; you are a prince, he is a General, and the rank difference must come into play.'
'Update your information father, because you seem to be having none; he is a Duke now, and even if I am a prince, of a mostly fallen kingdom I must remind you, I have no intentions of making any more deals for and on behalf of this marriage. I will leave now, I am not waiting for dawn to have another fruitless discussion, farewell your majesty, brother.'
With a solemn bow, y/n left as he came, with the metallic clinks and rustles of the troop.
Reaching the other kingdom he was informed that rather than going to the palace, he would be going to the new manor of Chanyeol, which was now decked and ready for his arrival. He was greeted by the whole household and finally met his mother-in-law, who opposite to what he had expected, was too sorrowful to handle without any prior preparation.
'I am ashamed to be hosting you like this, your royal highness; please find a way to ignore all the mess; the house is still not up to date with all that is necessary to be having you here.' The lady wouldn't even raise her head, 'Please sit now Lady Park, I have no reservations as such regarding the place, I am pleased that I am not in a prison after a war, and please do not make a fuss about the titles, you are going to be my mother-in-law so we can work things out.' 'Oh no sir, I do not accept any of this, I am more of an apologist for my son's actions right now in front of you; he paid no heed to my requests and did what all his swelled-up ego allowed him to do. I don't know how will I ever get over the fact that my son forced you into such a situation.'
'Lady Park, I just had this conversation with my father and brother too; let us please move on from what has happened and try to resolve the situation peacefully and think about how the path ahead can be one that is less painful to go by.' 'You are as kind as the rumours suggested sir; please let me know about any trouble you have here, and I will look into it right away; let me take you to your room for now; you must rest before tomorrow's ceremony.' 'I am not a guest here Lady Park, I am supposed to live here, so please do not be at your tip-toes around my comfort; let us go; it is quite late now.'
Y/n's room was, for now, pretty well arranged; he could run away pretty easily from here, the manor was secured but if he asked Lady Park to help him, he was sure that she would do all in her power to let him go without a scratch; but it was useless to do so, he had nowhere to run and if somehow he managed to cross over to the other kingdoms there was no guarantee of his survival, he had no money of his own or any possession, so he sits down on the bed and flops, to stare at the roof and think, think about tomorrow when at a private ceremony he will accept now Duke of Sandria Park Chanyeol, then he will be living with that man under this roof, as his husband, for the rest of his life, was respect the right choice?
The rituals were over; they were married, no gala, no ball, a peaceful summation of more than five months of unrivaled violence. Y/n was sitting in his room, with a book open as a distraction while looking out of the giant window; the land surrounding the manor was beautiful, and the hills were lush green and mild dew which the mist caused made it all look fantastical.
'Come in.' Y/n answered the knocks and did not look back at the door, thinking it was some maid or servant who came to take his belongings, or gifts as they were, away, 'You looked beautiful today, Mr Park.'
Y/n stilled for a moment, then closed the book and turned back. 'Why did you knock at my door? This is your house.' 'I believe privacy should be respected too; you have all the right to say no.' 'I believe I lost all the rights to deny anything the moment I said yes to you today.' 'Don't make it more miserable than it already is dear, I have no intentions of hurting you, I just want to talk to you before going to my room.'
'Oh? I will get a room of my own?' 'Until you are ready to share a bed with me, yes, you will have a room to yourself.' 'Then I guess there will be no more direct descents for the Dukedom.' 'Time will tell. Well, if you have any requirements tell to my mother who is pretty much willing to serve you food if you want, (he sits on the bed) I will be going on a tour soon so we have a week to spend together and unfortunately my sister will be coming to meet you too.'
'You know, I feel like this is all a dream; as absurd as it may sound, it has yet to settle down on me, because I never thought I would be taken away from one prison to another like this. I knew my father wanted to marry me off as a peace offering to any kingdom willing, but it happened so that I was actually picked up, like a garbage bag.'
'Don't demean yourself; you are the crown jewel I snatched, and this is not a prison; you can go anywhere you want, do anything you want; you do not need my permission for anything, just remember to come back otherwise there will be useless wars again.' 'Don't worry, I will not run away, I will stay, and live, but do not expect me to reciprocate your feelings, whatever they may be, and we will be fine; a lot depends on this marriage, I do not want my people back home to suffer because of my foolishness.' 'Ah well, I will go now; also, try to accept people here too; they see you as a prince and no less; good night.'
The next few days were calm, weirdly bland, and nothing happened, which made y/n realise how calm life can actually be; back at home before the war all he did was read and attend events or be locked in the palace; there was nothing to do, he was not allowed to go anywhere too since the threat of people kidnapping him was always looming, which he never understood why, kidnap the crown prince why the other one.
On the third day Lady Kim, Chanyeol's sister, arrived, and she was like her mother in a grave mood, fidgeting while meeting y/n; he did not understand yet again, why such courtesies for a snatched prince, 'Your royal highness, I am sorry I was not able to attend the wedding, I live quite far away from Sandrian region and it was such a shocking and sudden news.' 'It is alright Lady Kim, please do sit down, you too Lady Park, I have said it to you multiple times don't wait for me to sit, just sit; let us cut back on some formalities insides these walls at least, we are a family now, forced indeed, but I have not a drop of vengeance in me, if you ask me honestly, I used to live like this back at home too, so, let us just be comfortable.'
'How are you adapting to the changes, sir? It gets colder than your kingdom here, I hope my brother has made arrangements for you to be at ease.' 'I am doing well, I have always adored winters more than the humid summers we had, so I can say I am better off here in some sense.' 'Oh it is good to know; we can all go and skate over the lake once it freezes and you can attend the winter festivals; we have a lot of them throughout the empire, I am sure the public is eager to meet you too.'
Lady Park put down her cup and said 'They are eager indeed, I have more than a dozen invitations for the balls and dinners already, and all asking specifically for his roya... I mean, y/n to join them.' It was as hard as biting a bullet for her to let go of the formalities in which she had soaked herself into the bones.
So it went on, and a week went by, full of still awkward lunches and dinners and a few guests to be entertained; throughout the week he did not see the head of the house anywhere, technically he was the head too but he liked Lady Park being in command more as he was not used to being the one in authority of a household.
One Saturday, after almost two weeks of disappearance, Chanyeol knocked on y/n's room around the ungodly hour of 1 AM. Y/n was a bit scared by the knock; he was writing a letter of reply to the crown princess as she had invited him to the palace for a private visit and did not expect anyone to be up this late. 'Can I come in?' The rasp was the giveaway, 'Please wait a minute, I am not presentable.' Y/n was not; he was in his robes; he quickly put on a loose shirt and trousers the said 'You can come in now.'
'Why are you up so late your royal highness.' The courtesy was more sarcastic than respectful, 'I have not been able to sleep, I have weirdly a lot of correspondents to reply to so I thought why not do that.' As he finished speaking and arranging paper on his desk facing the grand windows, he turned to look at Chanyeol and was shocked to see blood all over his clothes; for a moment he was stunned; y/n was not a fighter; he hated the very sight of blood when his brother would come from his military tours and right now, in front of him was a man almost soaked in blood, in his room talking to him, and he felt scared for the man, so much so that without thinking about who he is talking to, he had to verbalise it.
'What the hell happened to you!? So much blood!? Why are you here!? Go to a damn hospital for god's sake!' He almost screamed the last part, and was shaking so much that Chanyeol had to walk from the door side to hold him. 'Calm down, it is not mine.' 'DO NOT TOUCH ME LIKE THIS! I HATE BLOOD!' Y/n screamed in whispers while shutting his eyes. 'Okay! Okay. Will you try to calm down please, wait just turn around.'
Chanyeol took off his pads and shirt and gloves and threw them out of the room, then shut the door to come back in and saw y/n standing still, 'you can turn around now.' The glory of the human body was never so well available for y/n to look at like this; his brother was muscular and well built but nothing he can imagine, even the Commander in chief of his kingdom's army was not comparable to Chanyeol, yet he had to control himself once again. 'What happened? You are still wounded you know, I see the cuts on your arm, not that they should do anything to such a great General, but get treated I guess.' Y/N had already turned around again flustered.
'Nice to know you care, and sorry for coming in like this. I had no idea you would have such a reaction upon seeing blood. I will keep that in mind. I came to check up on you as I was attacked on my way here by some people who were allegedly from your father's kingdom, so I thought why not check up if you are safe or not.'
'Oh. Don't worry, my father does not want me back; they would never come for me; rather, they might kill me as it was pretty clear that I caused the war that destroyed them.' 'Something's wrong with your family, I have never seen anyone react like this to all the events that have happened.' 'Well, why dwell on it. I am here; you survived another attack, and all is fine.' 'Nice to know my survival is fine for you.' 'Don't get ahead of yourself; my survival depends on your survival, do not forget that you brought a prince from your enemy kingdom after a war. You must survive, I plan on living a long life.' Y/n turned and looked straight into Chanyeol's eyes.
There was an understanding between them that some lines are put up and they shall not be crossed, and respect was mutual. 'I will be staying for some time; we have to go to the palace soon, a private invitation. I hope it won't be a problem for you to attend, I have yet to accept it.' 'I was writing to the crown princess; we can go, I have no problem, just keep your mother here; she will probably fall sick due to all the stress she will take about a royal visit.' 'You like her?' 'I never had a mother; she is a good company, but frail for her age; you never thought about her while fighting wars?' Now y/n was sitting on his bed, and Chanyeol was in front of him on the chair where a y/n sat writing letters.
'I thought of her; that is why I never told her any trouble or wound or failure I ever had, and I had a retinue of servants to look after her.' They were again staring at each other; where will all of this arrangement lead them? Nobody had any idea; it was a day-to-day event still.
'Well, I will take my leave; you should sleep, I will ask them to serve the breakfast an hour later than usual.' 'Don't do that; your sister and mother should eat on time, I will just get up early.' Chanyeol was surprised at how well y/n was settling in; it was as if for the first time he had somewhere to hold on to. 'Okay then, good night my prince.' Chanyeol smirked closing the door, and left y/n flustered again.
P.S.:- If you liked it, you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.
#fanfiction#gay#kpop x male reader#male reader#gaypop#kpopidol#kpopgay#bottom reader#male idol x male reader#exo x male reader#exo#bottom male reader#kpop#park chanyeol#park chanyeol x male reader#chanyeol x male reader#alternate universe#alternate history
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Hi…. Usually I’d never do this but I truly need help. As of Thursday (9/7/23) my house was burnt down. Thankfully no one was home but everything I’ve ever had or loved is gone. The only things I have are my phone and a few pairs of clothes. I have nothing else to my name as of now. Just so you don’t think I’m lying I’ll include a link to the article.
I’m truly scared and confused and so many other emotions all together. Me, my mom, and my 6 brothers are currently without so much stuff. A home, clothes, school supplies, food, any and everything you could think of. I just need alittle help- there’s a link to our go fund me, if you could just take alittle time out of your day to share this post and spread the word I’d be forever grateful
Even if you don’t help I want to say thank you for even reading my post and taking time to read it. God bless you all and I hope everyone has a better day than I’m having 🩵🩵
#x male reader#pls help#please share#house fire#big family#stray kids x male#i tried my hardest#male idol x male reader#stray kids#Ateez#txt#gidle#wonyoung#emergency#I need help#pls dont let this flop
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Why is it so hard to find male idol x gn or male reader?? Or female idol x gn or male reader? Idk but their all over the place and i just cant find it 😒
#male idol x male reader#male idol x gn reader#female idol x male reader#female idol x gn reader#so hard to find anything tbh
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wow i have so much drafts
and i literally forgot abt them since i started college now idk how to continue the plot since i forgot all the sht that went through my head when i was still writing these💀
#kpop x male reader#nct x male reader#nct imagines#yuta x male reader#lucas x male reader#male idol x male reader#lucas x male reader smut#name-is-no
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A clingy, not very innocent idol who refuses to confess despite his actions already seeming like those of a boyfriend.
desc: yandere innocent idol x gn manager reader, lots of nsfw near the end, manipulation, possessiveness, and general asshole behaviors from a yandere. I really didn’t intend to right this much, oopsies.
You’ve been managing an idol for a bit of time now, a very short and stressful time. All your hard work pays off when you can go home and relax without a worry about how Akol is going to act in the general public.
He’s pulled too many stunts, some even making you believe that his career was done for, but he proved toy wrong when all he had to do was write a sweet and short tweet of how sorry he is and the fans were back to loving him.
Not that they hated him in the first place anyways, they were always going to love him, always. Why else would he preform for losers who could commit to him no matter what he did?
“Manager! I think I lost my phone in here” He knocks, louder once he starts growing impatient that you’re not hastily opening the door to see him like how he thought you would. He wants to be admired, he wants you to see how he put himself together before coming over.
“I’m comin!” You inhale as much as your lungs can let you before letting out a tired sigh, opening the door to see your precious idol looking up at you with his doe eyes, shadowed by his long lashes. If you looked any harder you’d be able to see his pupils widen when you entered the frame.
“Geez you need to start answering quicker, what if I was in a hurry or getting chased by paparazzi?” He smoothly delivers feigned worries with a whiny tone, inviting himself inside like he always does.
The sneaky minx of an idol even managed to convince you to hold up the couch while he purposefully bent over and pressed himself against you without you being able to view the not so innocent faces he made at your grunts from the weight of the furniture and his teasing.
“I just can’t find it, oh well” He slumps against the couch before you even fully set it down. You open your phone and go to call him, and as you’re doing so he stands up, wanting to look at what you were doing. He hears you dialing for someone, who on gods green earth was more important for you to be calling while he’s right infront of you??
“Who ya calling? Someone I know? Have I met them?” His questions go unanswered as he seems to stiffen when the two of you can both hear vibrating emitting from his pocket.
“Oh! It’s in my pocket, silly me” He wobbly smiles, he was so focused on you that he had forgotten to hide it somewhere. “Well, I guess my search is over, do you wanna watch a mov—“
“I’m okay, I was planning to enjoy my time off.. alone, you have a couple of brand posts you need to do, so I won’t keep you waiting ” You start walking to the door, to which he does not follow.
“No, I can do them later, let’s just watch a movie!” He insists, patting the space next to him, trying to bite back his frown. Did you not want to hangout with him? Was he being annoying? Ugh, so what if he was being annoying, you should entertaining it!!
“Akol—“
“Please? I just wanted to hang out with you today… without work n’ stuff” He mumbles, demeanor completely different from what was going through his mind. His hands are clasped in his lap as he squirms, looking down like a kicked puppy.
“Alright..” You quietly sigh, making sure your front door was locked before coming back to the couch, somehow immediately having your pretty little idol in your lap. He’s becoming more shameless by the minute.
He whispers a few thank you’s while facing you, wrapping his arms behind your neck as he sneaks his face between your shoulder and neck. He’s inhaling your scent, growing more aroused by the minute but he won’t dare to do anything. “Not yet” He repeats in his mind, but he breaks and can’t help but grind his lower half against yours.
“Manager…?” He says a little too breathlessly, capturing your attention away from the movie and at him, you pat his back, rubbing it softly as if he was a sick critter. “Yeah?”
“Can you help me, please? It’s so hot and.. I-I can’t focus, you’re too distracting” He whispers, lips almost touching your left ear, as he lifts his head to look at you, his eyes are clouded with lust, pupils almost in hearts.
His grinding only quickens when he notices that you’re trying to focus on the movie, he’s jealous, rightfully so, why aren’t you focusing on him? He’s perfectly playing his usual sweet idol act, it should work on you!
“I can’t do that. I’m not someone who should be touching you like that” You shake your head, placing your hands on his hips, making him shiver as if he was cold despite his body feeling on fire from your fingers pressing into his skin. You’re stimulating him with it but your words just make him want to bash his head.
“I don’t care if you should or shouldn’t be..! I trust you” A throaty whine leaves from his throat, lips quivering as he hardly needs time to get his eyes to water at the perfect moment. “It’s okay see?” He moves your hand on his chest, lifting his shirt so you could touch him bare. He cups your hand, making it squeeze around his perky nipple.
He growing more and more pathetic, and he knows it, he could care less. He doesn’t even care about what his fans would say if they found out about his crush on you, fuck his fans, he only wants you! He’d leave all of them if it meant that he could have you.
“You’re very sweet Akol, but you know I can’t, I would do it to help you but this is just going to start a bad habit” You sighs, taking your hand away much to his dismay, he’s about to reach for your hand again before you move him off your lap. Fuck. no, you’re supposed to be saying yes, you have to.
He internally panicked for a few moments, eyes flickering with worry before smashing his lips against yours, making it soft and passionate once you don’t try to pull away, his kisses are needy and insistent, just like him. He sneaks his hands under your shirt, hands squeezing your chest, slowly rubbing your sensitive nipples between his thumb and pointer.
“I won’t ask you for anything more? Just please entertain me this one time?” His voice is rough and raw, nothing alike compared to the chipper and sweet idol you usually witnessed, this was real.
“I promise I won’t ask again” His lies coax you to help the poor idol you deemed to be in need, despite never needing saving from his lust for you, if anything you were the one who needed it after he milks you dry.
#yxami’s yam#yandere#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#male yandere#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#tsundere yandere#yandere male#yandere x reader#yandere x gn reader#yandere idol#yandere idol x reader#yandere innocent idol
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DOWNRIGHT ICONIC (aespa karina)
(smut, male reader, screenwriter you, stranger karina, public sex, rough sex [choking/slapping/biting/spanking/hair-pulling etc], oral, anal, facefucking, titfucking, facial, bondage, degradation, name-calling, other weird stuff, 26k words, it's been 1 million years..., BUT WE'RE SO BACK BABY <3)
Hey, turns out the critics really are onto something:
You’re going to win an Oscar for this.
You aren’t surprised when the nominations are announced. It’s all anyone’s been talking about. You’re this up-and-coming screenwriter, this newly-minted visionary, and - cue the applause - you’ve just made the movie of the year. Clips go viral everywhere; the reviews are calling it extraordinary. They all want to know how you - a relative nobody - managed to pull it off. What’s your secret? What’s your inspiration? Where’d you get this billion-dollar box office idea?
And here’s one version of the truth:
“Well,” you’re quoted saying in every single interview: “honestly, it’s about a girl.”
Everyone eats this up, of course. It’s so fucking romantic.
You’ll tell an abridged version of this story for the rest of your life. A blip in time in early January - a certified slow-motion movie moment. You’ll say things like she was the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You’ll say things like, I know it sounds lame, but that’s how it went. She took my breath away. She fascinated me. I saw her and I don’t think my life has ever been the same.
You’ll never once say her name.
“It’s weird, actually,” you’ll say in an interview after the news of the nominations drops. “Making this movie about her. She’ll last forever there, you know? She’ll always exist in this film, in this one moment in time. She’s in all of it, basically - every scene, every line. It’s all her.”
“You make it sound like she’s dead,” the interviewer will say, all open-mouthed melodrama.
You’ll laugh. “Oh, God, no,” you’ll say. “She’s alive and well.” As if it hasn’t been years since you last saw her face, watching you from down the corridor, looking lost and torn apart and very, very small. “She’s okay. I mean - I think - yeah, she’s okay.”
As if you’d know.
Because here’s another version of the truth:
You’re going to win an Oscar for this. You’re going to stand up on that stage and thank your family and your friends. You’re going to stare at all those faces until they swim together into one golden, glittering blur, and then all you’ll see is her - her dark eyes, her glossy hair, her wrist in your grip, her throat between your fingers - her in your sheets, her smiling in your doorway, her shivering in your shower, her sobbing into her hands, her bleeding in your bed, her walking away. Her, her, her. Immortalized forever in this perfect thing you made, winning awards off the reconstruction of a memory. Art imitating life; reality warped into something magnificent, and beautiful, and better.
And the only thing you’ll feel like doing is throwing up.
Sure, you’ll bask for decades in the thrill of it: the fame, the fortune, the glory; the adoration, the worship, the attention; the eternal, endless love. You’ll be able to look back on your life when you’re decrepit on your deathbed and know that you - brilliant you, utterly superior you - were divinely blessed with earth-shattering success, and no one will ever be able to take that away from you. You made your mark. You meant something. You were the best, for fuck’s sake, and you have the accolades to prove it - you really, really were.
So here’s the full truth - the final bottom line:
You’re going to win an Oscar for this. You’ll live the kind of life people beg God for. You’ll get everything you ever wanted.
It won’t be worth it at all.
-
First, though, there’s this.
-
Disturbingly enough, you’re in the romance section of a bookstore when everything starts.
This is really not your genre - that’s the funniest part. Historically, you’re bored to death by the cartoonish pastel covers; you don’t get your kicks from seeing the same delightfully quirky heroines fall for brooding bad boys, or whatever the fuck goes on in those books. You have your standards. You prefer your art a little gritty, a little fucked up, a little more interesting - the kind of thing that can leave you shellshocked in a movie theater, overcome with the sort of full-body, lightning-struck epiphany only truly good work can manage. It’s not a judgment call - you’re not trying to be pretentious. It’s just that you prefer something with some fucking bite.
The second funniest part is this:
You’re pressed against the shelves, surrounded by the cutest, chastest love stories ever told-
“Are you serious?”
-and Karina’s on her knees, about to take your cock down her throat.
Maybe this is what your contemporaries call cinematic irony.
That’s gotta be the only phrase for it, really. The scene itself dripping with classless, crude, erotic filth - the way she ducks her chin to spit on her hand, the slow pump of her fist around you, the rough hum in her mouth at how achingly hard you are - nasty and irredeemable, too fast and too loud. The gross lack of subtlety in her sex appeal: all pale thighs and porn-star tits, the wet pink flash of tongue. Seductive in a way that screams at you. It’d be so easy to write this off as some deliberately controversial opening scene, gory shock value, horror-film suspense - starring you and the slut you’re about to ravage and ruin and potentially leave for dead.
“Baby - are you sure?”
It’d be so easy, if Karina didn’t look like an angel incarnate.
“I mean, you-” You’re stammering. You’ve got both hands in her hair, fingers sliding through the glossy black in petting, soothing motions - your clumsy attempt at reassurance. “You don’t have to, if you don’t - we’re in public - I’m not expecting you to - I don’t need it-”
Karina’s fine, sculpted eyebrows twitch upwards. Her lips are a twist of scarlet, distinct and amused. She doesn’t quite smirk, doesn’t give a voice to the sarcasm, but the sentiment is the same - yeah, right.
And then she lowers her mouth to lick.
“Jesus fucking Christ-”
Scratch that, then. This is the funniest part. The most inhumanly beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, debasing herself in public like some sort of desperate common whore - come on, bring in the laugh track.
Not that anyone’s laughing now.
You’re no poet - they’re a few sections over, Plath and Yeats and Dickinson - but Karina’s the kind of thing that makes you understand the motivation completely: only capable of being captured in metaphor, without context, painstakingly interpreted hundreds of years from now by people who will never get this right. All carved-out cheekbones, fluttering lashes; tight fuckable body clad in a little low-cut dress, feet tucked neatly behind her like she’s simulating worship. Dirty and religiously devoted in how she stretches her full glossed lips around your cock and lets your grip tangle in her hair and-
“Karina,” you get out, but her only response is to blink sweetly up at you and suck.
Well, who gives a shit about the poets, anyway? You doubt any of them ever got to fuck a mouth like this.
There’s an unfamiliar caution to the rut of your hips, a wincing fascination every time she gags - and she gags loud, choking and heaving, saliva dripping slick around you and down her chin - that seems to both entertain and confuse Karina. A skeptical crease in her forehead, saying everything she can’t: you don’t wanna fuck me up? Ruin me? Cloudy spit falling in strands to her tits, seeping into the crimson fabric of her dress; she’s wearing a worn black sweatshirt that’s slipping off one shoulder, exposing the clean line of her collarbone. The hollow of her cheeks, the obscene painful sound of your cock clogging her throat - it’s subtext, explicit suggestion. A preternatural understanding. I know what this is. I know what you want from me.
Which - she couldn’t possibly.
“Baby.” You sound so wretched that it’s humiliating. Karina’s sharply lined eyes seem to flash with humor, smug and lazily self-satisfied. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum.”
The thick, sloppy, choked noise she makes is the closest she’s gonna get to a laugh.
Oh, sure, whatever, it’s not like you’re not thinking about it: digging your fingertips into her scalp and really fucking her face, relishing in the way those eyes would go wide and glassy with unshed tears; refusing to let her have control, to let her lick and lap and breathe. You’re scripting it in your head already. You’d strip her bare and make her sob. You’d wreck her throat and cum all over her face and force her to walk out like that: coated in the sticky, filthy evidence of everything you’ve made her - look at this, you’d say, look at what I have. Look at what I did - all this, all me.
“God.” Your thumb braces against Karina’s temple, like the gentle stroke of a brush, like you’re painting her right into existence. “You’re just-” A harsh gag; a fall of dirty, drooling spit. “You’re really enjoying this, huh? Getting on your knees in public for a fucking stranger?”
That’s why the fantasy of fucking her into brutal submission is actually so understandable. You don’t know her. You don’t owe her shit. You could destroy her and it’s not like she could do anything to fight back - not when she’s already below you, looking up. When she asked for this.
Except-
“Karina.” You can’t stop saying her name. “You’re - fucking perfect.”
And it’s true.
So you cum.
Karina swallows it all with the same amount of sultry grace she seems to do everything - how she laughs and walks and talks and takes your cock like a fucking professional - languishing in the practiced bob of her throat, the preening flicker of her eyelids, her face shiny and pale. It tugs the same feeling out of you as a flawless shot in a film, a well-timed bit of dialogue: watching an expert at work, pulling out all their stops. One hand through her hair. Her nails the same rich color as her mouth and her dress. Nasty, slutty, impressive attention to detail - Christ, get this girl in front of a camera, get the moon to be her limelight - you’re breathless, you’re enthralled, you’re so fucking far gone.
Then: the sticky retreating glide of her pouty mouth, lipstick smeared badly down her chin, stark and arresting as blood.
“In my experience,” Karina says, finally, “being perfect’s never gotten me anywhere good.”
She pulls the sleeve of her sweatshirt up and wipes her face with her wrist.
“You’re unbelievable,” you say, dizzy.
“Thank you,” Karina says, sweet like she means it, and sits back on her heels.
You can’t help yourself; you’re petting back her hair again, cupping her face softly in your hand, caught on the dark glint of her irises. Angel was an understatement. She looks more than that - looks like something holy and all-powerful, something omniscient and blindingly beautiful, something who knows exactly what you need and knows exactly how to follow through. Something worthy of mythology. Something like a god.
And any sort of rough, ruthless, fucked-up fantasy - it’s never going to happen.
You just can’t ruin a girl like her.
“So?” Karina’s voice is a smoky bombshell lilt, like she’s just stepped out of some film noir from the 1950s. Hands folded primly in her lap, fingers interlocked like a lady. She could be a pop culture icon, an eternal sex symbol - a Marilyn, a Bond girl, a timeless universal beauty. “What now?”
You think your brain actually short-circuits. “Sorry?”
Head tilted, lids dropped low. Smirk still sharp and scarlet. “Are you gonna take me home?”
You open your mouth to respond, but then a customer walks by the aisle.
You’re a panicked flurry of motion - zipping up your pants, turning away, frantically patting down your clothes - but Karina just stays kneeling on the floor, little chin on an incline, utterly incriminating. It doesn’t matter. The customer passes you by. The world returns to the way it should be: just the two of you.
“Karina,” you say, flabbergasted by her composure.
Karina’s lips quirk. “What?”
You shake your head and offer your hand to help her up, but Karina laughs instead - actually laughs. It’s peculiar, beautiful: raspy like a chronic chainsmoker, as though there’s something foreign she’s trying to dislodge. The raw, gravelly aftermath of a skinned knee, a grisly scrape over skin.
“Wow,” she says, and stands all on her own, tugs the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her fingers. “That’s a yes to taking me home, then?”
“What are you doing?” You’re laughing too - you can’t help it - reaching for Karina’s tiny waist to pull her in. “What are you - what do you want?”
When Karina smiles, it seems to set her eyes aflame. Bright and dancing, lashes like a shroud of smoke. “What do you mean?”
“You just met me.” It sounds feeble, somehow: a thin, useless excuse. Nothing against the way her body slots between your hands, a smooth effortless fit; nothing compared to how she kisses you between sentences, so quick and easy it already feels like a habit. “You don’t - you don’t know me.”
Karina’s mouth puckers, coy. “No?”
“No,” you shoot back, grinning, but it doesn’t sound convincing at all. “Come on, baby, seriously. What do you want?”
There’s gotta be some motive, you’re thinking. There’s gotta be a reason. Karina is so still, so soft and pliant under your hands, all the carved porcelain perfection of a marble sculpture but with none of the cold stiffness. Spine curving under your fingertips, jaw tilting into your touch.
A complete stranger, maybe - but every part of her body is begging to be known.
“Don’t you get it?” Karina says. “I want whatever you want.”
It’s so simple and earnest it takes your breath away.
“I - Jesus.” You’re biting on the inside of your cheek, drinking her in. “What if I told you I don’t know what I want?”
Another rasp of a laugh, sound like the serrated edge of a blade. “I’d say fine, okay.” Karina’s voice is low, conspiratorial. “But I’d think you’re lying.”
And here’s the thing you know for sure:
The very second you saw Karina you swear you saw the next hundred pages of a manuscript unfurling in front of you, lines and themes and gorgeous dark-eyed heroines, tragically beautiful endings and stunning cinematography - infinite narratives in the glossy sweep of her hair, in the seductive stretch of her legs, in the way she looked at you in a crowded room and smiled a lovely, secret smile and told you she’d follow you anywhere. She’s worth making art about. She’s worth devoting lifetimes to. The most honest thing you could say to her right now is baby, I’m writing a movie about this one day, and I think you’re really gonna like it.
Karina couldn’t possibly know any of this, but it still feels like she does - impractical knowledge in how she loops one arm around your neck and kisses you again, no hesitation. Like she actually knows you.
“I want to fuck you,” you murmur against her mouth, because it’s the next most honest thing. “Is that enough for you?”
You’re a screenwriter. You know your horror movies. A small part of you recognizes that this is precisely how they start: fanged vampires, wicked succubi, femme fatales out for blood. Karina’s so gorgeous she can’t be human - teeth so sharp there’s no way her intentions are pure.
“Sure,” Karina says, smirk glimmering like starlight. “Then I want that, too.”
It’s a murder plot waiting to happen.
You take her home anyway.
-
(Oh, and about your Oscar-winning script-
In theory, this is how it begins.
It’s classic. There’s a stranger and there’s a beautiful girl and they’re both sitting at a bar, talking for the very first time. The girl has a rose tucked behind her ear; it matches the crimson color of her lipstick perfectly. The stranger had asked her what the deal with it was, but she’d said something vague and nonsensical about it being a gift, so now they’re talking about normal, average things. Jobs, names, flirtatious pickup lines. It’s obvious because it’s meant to be, like a set-up to some predictable porn - everyone watching knows they’re going to fuck.
She keeps getting closer to him. At one point he thinks she’s going in for a kiss.
Instead, all she does is pluck the rose from behind her ear, and hand it to him.
It’s okay, she says. No thorns.
He stares at the rich furled petals and the whittled-down stem.
Thanks, he says, amused, charmed. He thinks there’s something odd about her. He likes it, though; if she were as beautiful as she is - which is very beautiful, exquisitely fucking beautiful - and she behaved like most people do, he’d find her terribly boring.
He takes it from her. Turns over the rose in his hands absentmindedly as she keeps talking. She’s got all this hair: wild and glossy black, pouring over her thin shoulders, her ribs, her tiny waist. After a moment he feels the sharp prick of a thorn against his fingertip and releases the rose in surprise.
You said there weren’t thorns, he tells her, laughing. Ow.
Whoops, she says. Then: Did it get me too?
She turns her head, pulls her hair out of the way. There’s a scarlet bead of blood trickling down the side of her perfect pale neck. He can’t quite tell where the point of entry was, where the thorn had dug in and broken skin. It’s bleeding a bit too heavily. Covering its tracks.
She swivels, slightly. She sees the look on his face. Is it bad? she asks.
No, he says, though he can’t really tell. But - couldn’t you feel it, though? The thorn?
The girl presses her hand to the side of her throat. It comes back bloodstained, a neat smear of red along the lifeline of her palm.
No, she echoes, though this can’t possibly be true. Hey, you wanna get out of here or something?
Alright, he says, smiling. They both stand. They leave the rose where it is. Let’s go.
He cups her cheek instead of her neck when he kisses her for the first time, so he doesn’t have her blood on his hands.
It starts simple like that.)
-
Karina’s so out of place in your apartment that it’s almost laughable - or it would be, if you were capable of thinking about anything but her mouth and her hands and her tits crushed up against your chest as you pin her to the doorframe. She keeps making these little sounds into your mouth: low and throaty, almost agonized. You swallow all her moans off her lips - oh, baby, you’re okay - and you only kiss her harder. She doesn’t belong, among your carpet worn-down from pacing and your laptop still open and idling and the mess of incoherent colorful post-it notes pasted to your fridge. She doesn’t fit here. Here kissing your mouth, here in your arms, here on fucking earth with the rest of you heathens-
“You wanna fuck me so bad,” murmurs Karina, chin on an incline, staring up at you, “then do it already.”
She doesn’t squirm or fidget; she doesn’t get needy or start begging. She stays pinned down by your body, lips parted, and stands completely still.
It’s like she’s telling you to make your move. Waiting for something inevitable.
“What happened to patience?” you say, anyway.
Karina’s mouth curls. She palms your cock through your pants. “What the fuck is that?”
You try to laugh, breathless and turned on, but all she does is kiss you again.
You’re a creative - you’re ready to attribute meaning to every movement - but there’s nothing so profound about it when you get Karina on your bed, all that thick black hair fanned out on your sheets, her hands grasping to get your shirt off - off, she murmurs, off. Even that comes out measured. She never shakes. She’s so sure. You kiss her everywhere you can reach, her face and her neck and her collarbone and her tits, drunk on the soft, humming sounds she makes when you do. You’re so fucking gorgeous, you can’t stop saying, and Karina keeps laughing that same raspy laugh, like it’s the most hilarious thing she’s ever heard.
“You told me you already know that, right?” You’ve got her face cupped in one of your hands and your other one at the neckline of her scarlet dress. “So what’s so funny?”
“Everything.” Her teeth glint the way fangs would, a deliberate trick of the light. She’d be villainous if she weren’t so content to be trapped underneath you. “All of it.” She presses her palm to the side of your neck. “You’re too nice.”
“Fuck.” Your thumb accidentally digs too hard into her cheek. She doesn’t wince, but you feel it - the stomach-turning thrill, the possibility of leaving a bruise. Your hand drops low - lower, down her throat and her tits and her flat midriff - and slips between her thighs, up her dress. It feels safer, somehow. “How do you manage to make the word nice sound like an insult?”
“It’s not,” she says, simply, and spreads her legs.
And it must not be - because Karina’s so wet.
She makes another low velvety sound when you first touch her, seems to melt into the stretch of your finger in her cunt - just one finger, and her back arches faintly, prettily, hips lifting to take more. “Jesus,” you mutter, but Karina’s not looking at you: her eyes are shut tight, lashes fluttering black, tits heaving in her dress with each draw of breath. You’ve fucked girls who’ve seemed unsure of themselves - embarrassed by their own wantonness, how wet they are, how bad they want it - but all Karina does is wrap her hand around your wrist and tug, once: a clear soundless plea for more.
For a second you’re actually, positively certain that you’ve lost it.
It’s abject fantasy. It can’t be real. You in your apartment with the dream girl - the personal Aphrodite - the muse; God, if anyone was ever made to be a fucking muse, it’s her - underneath you with her ridiculous tits and her tight little pussy, face like a Hollywood dream. Ludicrous. Impossible. Bucking as she tries to fuck herself deeper on your fingers, all the way to the knuckle - slowing down only to say you wanna fuck my cunt open with your big fat cock or what?
“I,” you try to say, strangled - her mouth’s so fucking filthy. “I was - I mean - we could take it slow-”
“How romantic,” says Karina - and this, too, sounds like a heinous insult coming from her - but she drags your wrist to her lips and sucks her own slick off your hand anyway.
You choke on your next breath. “Karina-”
She looks up at you, unflinching, tits half out of her dress and cunt dripping down her thighs. Lipstick worn-down, kissed-off. All over your mouth, or your throat, or your shirt. Mouth chapped from the cold and stained marvelously pink. There’s something in the way her smile forms slight and crooked every time you say her name, as if there’s some private joke you’re not in on.
“You’re such a gentleman,” Karina purrs, all syrupy-sweet condescension. Then: “You really don’t have to be.”
She licks the pad of your finger. She’s so completely shameless. You feel monstrous on top of her, in this sick, superior way, like she’s just too small to be so sopping wet and slutty and fuckable - too beautiful to be anything but treated just right.
“If you want me to fuck you like a whore, baby,” you tell her, half-joking, “then just say that.”
It’s a mistake the moment it leaves your mouth - a line crossed. Because all Karina does is cock her head, your wrist gripped delicately in her hand, her legs parted underneath you, and stares. Almost droll, bemused. Like you’re so goddamn predictable.
“Didn’t you hear me?” That perfect face sears right through you. You’d nearly fucked that face. Not quite. Not yet. “I want whatever you want.”
She’s even tinier than you originally thought she was. You only realize this now, tracing her stomach under your fingertips, feeling the sharp relief of each rib straining beneath her skin. You don’t know it until you touch her, but you can span the width of her thigh under one hand. It sends a strange shiver through you: mapping every jut of bone, every startling edge. She’s tiny. Breakable, practically. Men meaner than you have probably thrown her around, fucked her up against walls, used her like a toy.
“So,” says Karina. “What do you want?”
Your fist clenches tight in her grasp, right in front of her face, knuckles going horrifically white.
Like you - like you’re going to-
An accident. A primal sort of gesture, like you’re less than human, turned under her touch into some feral hot-blooded animal who can’t control itself: carnivorous, predatory. You stare at your own hand and then the sharp scythelike curve of her mouth and feel revolted embarrassment crawl straight up your spine.
It’s abhorrent.
It also doesn’t even seem to matter.
Karina doesn’t go wide-eyed and nervous; she doesn’t look at your wound fist like she’s scared of what it could do to her. She clicks her tongue, once. Like this, too, is something she already saw coming.
“I thought so,” she says, anyway. Maybe this is it, what does it for her; looking the devil full in the face and begging to be burned. “Then do it.”
“I can’t do that to you,” you mutter, but you tug her dress up, and you fuck her anyway.
-
She’s a stranger. This is the point of fucking strangers. To do things to them that you’d never do to anyone else - to take out your worst impulses and tell your best lies and know that none of it matters, in the end. Because they’re nobody, and because you’ll never see them again.
But you just can’t.
She’s too indulgent and stunning and soft, with her low moans and the addicting drenched heat of her cunt, hand gentle and careful on the nape of your neck so she can keep pulling you into a kiss. She’s made up of curves, delicate edges - those hips and those tits you can’t keep your hands off of and her lips in a dreamy smile - and you find yourself stroking her hair back from her face so you can drink it all in: the blush in her cheeks, the almost serene way she lets her eyes slip shut and her mouth drop open, slack and enticingly wet. So good, baby, you keep telling her, because she is, her entire body warm and wanting and so easily fucked open, little pussy swallowing your cock right up. She doesn’t fidget or plead. She’s so sweet, such a perfect fit, humming into your mouth as your cock eases her open; so wet you can hear it, the sloppy squelch of her cunt when you bottom out. Your voice comes out coaxing. You like that? That feel good? Taking my cock so nicely, huh?
“Mmm,” Karina breathes, in an exhilarating moan, right into your mouth, against your tongue. “Mm, mm-”
She never quite manages full sentences. Never finds it in herself to make any more obscene demands. Just gets all small and soaking underneath you, licks messily at your bottom lip, and lets you do all the talking - lets you draw a careful hand through her hair and drop your other one between her thighs, clenches tight around your cock when you rub at her clit, keens low in her throat and listens. To the good girl, to the I got you, baby, to the that’s it, there you go, this is what you wanted - I know, honey, I know, you just needed to get this cunt fucked right, you just needed to cum real bad. I know what this is. I know what you need.
“Fuck.” She’s flushed pink to her chest, delightfully ineloquent. “Yes-”
Well - good thing you’re decent with your words, when it counts. Let Karina blush and drool and slick up your cock with every stroke. That’ll work just fine with you.
It’s the kind of juxtaposition you’d really lean into - the kind of thing you’d write just to get so self-indulgent with, a personalized note to the director, a wink and a nudge to every audience member. Look at that. Look at her eyes like something straight out of poetry. Look at her body like a pornographic fantasy. Look at how she gets so tamed and docile and compliant when she gets her tiny pussy stuffed full, creaming all over that cock, huge tits bouncing - look, that’s art, isn’t it? What else would you call it? What else could it be?
“You gonna cum, baby?” She’s so fragile underneath you. Color staining her cheeks apple-red; lips swollen and begging to be kissed. Fictive little fairy tale. “You gonna cum for me?”
“Yeah.” It’s breathy and barely-there. Her chin trembles, jerks in a weak nod. “I’m - I - fuck-”
See: you just can’t rough her up. It’d be blasphemous. Sacrilege. Taking one single look at the stained-glass windows of a church and tearing it all to the ground.
Still, you’re mesmerized by how utterly vulnerable she looks: the glossy shine to her irises; the way she inhales all slow and shaky, body slipping from some sort of precipice. Not just like she’s near-tears, but like she’s stunned - struck dumb from a violent blow, mouth wide open in the aftermath. And it’s just sex - and, fuck, you’ve said it, you see things the way every obsessive artist does; sex is never just sex. Every one thing means something more. A metaphor. An allegory. You get nasty and debauched and dirty because you know exactly what you can spin it into. Put the entire scene in a silent film and everyone can swoon about the things you might be saying to her, this impossibly captivating stranger in your bed with her graceful name, her dizzying moans, her shuddering frame in her orgasm. Don’t you get it? you could be telling her, hand brushing gently over her sweat-damp hairline. Don’t you feel that? You’re a stranger to me, baby, but you don’t have to be. There’s a reason we met. There’s a meant-to-be here, somewhere. I’m not a believer, sweetheart, but you could make one out of me - I swear you could, I promise-
But that’s the reason why these things are best left to the imagination, anyway.
A million scripted sweet nothings - and none of them manage to make it out of your mouth.
“Karina.” Your hips jerk hard. You sound half-possessed. “So pretty, cumming all over my cock like that. Such a perfect little cunt, baby - so fucking good-”
Her eyes suddenly shut tight; her body arcs into your touch, lips parted in a silent gasp. And for a second it seems like such a snapshot of innocence, like she’s brand-new to getting fucked quick and rough and dirty - though you know this can’t possibly be the truth, not with the way she flirts and whines and drips for more like she’s made for it - but she’s trembling under your fingertips, and you can dream. She’s your beautiful stranger, your pristine muse; you can pretend she’s whatever the fuck you want.
“God,” Karina murmurs, so soft and weak it makes your head spin.
Before you know what you’re doing - before you can even think twice about it - you’re pulling out, and cumming all over her stomach.
You can’t help it. You shouldn’t have had that thought about innocence. Jesus. This is what you mean, about you and your own painful humanity; you’ve got all the same vile desires. When you see a pure thing - all that porcelain skin, all that thick glossy black hair, all those gleaming white teeth in her open mouth - your very first instinct is to fuck it up bad.
You’d do worse, if you were worse - you’d make a real fucking disaster out of her.
“Baby,” you say, breathlessly. “Are you…”
And Karina, then, does something truly evil:
Sighs luxuriously, stretches her arms above her head, eases those gorgeous eyes open, and smiles.
As if she’s reveling in it. The scent of sex - the defiled tautness of her tummy - the way you’re not sure where her little red dress or her shoes or her panties are, how her cunt’s dripping wet onto your sheets, her hair a glorious mess. Grinning in the face of utter filth.
“You,” you exhale, running your palm down her side. “You’re so…”
Karina’s mouth pulls up at a corner, like she’s daring you to finish the sentence, but you never do.
You can’t stop staring at the stretch of cum-covered skin before you. Coating her belly, pooling into her navel. You realize with a start that there’s a new bruise blooming on her chest, a vicious sort of bite mark. You can’t remember when you did that. You’d been kissing her - of course you kissed her - her mouth and her neck and her tits, but you’d been so gentle, sucking light and soothing her skin with your tongue after-
“You didn’t want to cum inside me?” Karina asks, hoarsely.
You blink so hard your vision blurs. “What?”
“Right.” Her eyeshadow’s smudged dark underneath her eyes, making her look deliciously used up. “You did want to cum inside me.”
“Karina,” you warn - or, at least, you mean to make it sound like a warning - but her name comes out too faint. It’s horrific. Your hand traces her hipbone so reverently. You’re no match for her.
Karina arches a brow in unhurried challenge, ghosts her hand across her tummy. Takes two fingers and drags them through the cum you spilled, pulls back with it clinging thickly to her skin. Drifts down, down, down.
“Karina,” you try to say again, even more pathetic than last time. “Jesus-”
But you saying her name holds no weight here; she’s made that more than obvious. Nothing to stop her as she smears her cum-slick fingers across her glistening pussy, gaze locked amusedly on your face, tracking your reaction. She’s still so fucking wet - she rubs your cum in circles across her clit - tossing her head back a little, chest heaving and falling, fingertips just barely dipping inside her cunt-
“I can’t.” Karina lifts her hand to pop her fingers in her mouth, sucks them clean. Pointedly flashes her too-sharp nails at you like she’s unsheathing claws. “If you want it, you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”
“You,” you say, though your hand’s already pressing hard into her ribs, “are fucking cruel, baby.”
“And you,” replies Karina, head tilting, “just want to see my cunt all filled up and leaking your cum.”
Oh, she hasn’t been wrong about you all night. She certainly won’t start now.
“What?” A sly, languid smirk tugs at her lips. “Afraid you’re gonna knock me up or something?”
Your breath halts right in your lungs.
You’d been right about her too, it seems. Succubus. Vampire. She must be; she’s bloodthirsty. Tits gleaming with sweat, the scarlet stain of that bite mark you can’t remember leaving, cunt all dripping wet and desperately empty - body like a fatal fucking blow.
Karina’s eyes glint. I want what you want, she’d said.
With the way she spreads her legs, she’s gotta be ready to prove it.
So you never stood a chance. You give in and scoop up cum with one finger and sink it deep inside her aching cunt, feeling as she clenches down, as she takes it so well; like a good girl, you tell her, letting me do whatever I want with this needy little cunt; that’s my good girl. Karina lifts her hips - goes so still and so obedient - and lets you repeat it over and over again, fucking into her with your fingers until the plane of her stomach is bare and sticky and her cunt’s dribbling your cum onto your sheets. It’s completely nasty. It’s hot. It’s Karina craning her neck back and shutting her eyes as you bury three fingers inside of her and fill her with your cum, every part of her in utter surrender, entirely at your mercy, breathing out hard through her nose until your thumb rubs at her clit and she’s cumming again, all over your hand. She gets this look on her face, afterwards - exhausted, every line of her face gentle and lax - staring up at you like you’re the only person still left on this planet. Adoring, almost. As if you’re something out of another world.
It’s an expression too sweet for a scene like this - and it’s exactly what men like you make art about.
“There,” you say, soft and mesmerized, wiping your hand across her chest. “Satisfied?”
Karina laughs her strange, gravelly, gorgeous laugh.
“No,” she says, shamelessly. “But that’s not your fault.”
Your fingers curl around the curve of her jaw. “No?”
She barely looks like she belongs in your bed - she must be something divine, lit from within, god-blessedly gorgeous. She’s a fucking fever dream: stunning eyes and the bob of her throat and her tits and her curves and all that hair. Stay, you think of telling her. Let me see what I can make of you. I don’t know you yet but I could, baby, I really could.
“Nope.” Karina smiles, and somewhere, soliloquies are writing themselves. “I always want more.”
“Okay,” you say, mouth hovering over hers. “Then stay.”
-
So she stays.
-
(An update on your script:
The stranger and the girl are back at his place. They’re sitting on his couch. Nobody has cleaned off her neck. He’s been too busy pawing at her: at her face, between her legs, at her tits in her tight dress. I need you, he’s been murmuring to her, and it feels like he really means it: like he’ll die if he doesn’t get her desperate and whining underneath him, his cock stretching her tight little cunt wide open. He doesn’t feel too bad about it. She’s a dirty slut. She’s said as much. She’s got her own needs, too.
What happened to your window? she asks, suddenly.
He pulls back from her chest, his spit clinging shiny to her skin.
She isn’t looking at him. He has the sudden, unnerving feeling that she hasn’t been looking at him the whole time. Not like she’s had her eyes closed in blinding, overwhelming pleasure - but like she’s deliberately been trying to look at anything else.
But his hand falls between her thighs, and he realizes she’s already wet.
A bird flew into it, probably, he says. That happens, sometimes.
They’re talking about the stain on the once-clean glass of his window. The backdrop of the night sky behind means it’s barely visible, but the suggestion of it is enough. Implicit gore. Tiny little black feathers, caked in blood from the impact, dark and dried. It’ll be scrubbed off soon enough, he knows. It’ll be all gone eventually.
Oh, she says. She doesn’t apologize for potentially killing the mood. She hasn’t, anyway, not really. She’s still wet and small underneath him, begging for it. Poor thing.
Yeah, he says.
She turns back to him. Her hair’s everywhere, all over the arm of his couch, wayward strands beneath his fingers. She’s clearly expecting something - to be kissed, to be fucked hard, to be called baby and angel and good girl. It doesn’t really matter either way. Those are the only things he can give her.
He stares at the blood on her neck.
Let me clean that off for you, actually, he says, and goes to the kitchen to get a washcloth.)
-
Much, much later:
“I admire you,” Karina says, all tucked up in your bed, underneath your sheets, half-buried into your side. Moonlight bleeds into the room. Her eyes gleam like galaxies. “For showing some self-control.”
“What?”
Karina’s hair pours over your pillowcase. She takes your hand and brings it close to her face, working your fingers into a tight fist.
“Fucking bitch,” you mutter, and then regret it immediately. It lands too harshly, too strange and serious. “Sorry. I didn’t - that came out weird. I don’t think you’re a bitch.”
Karina’s lips brush your knuckles. “Not the meanest thing I’ve been called.” Her voice twists with humor. She shouldn’t be so comfortable curled up with a man she doesn’t know in the middle of the night. You think of kissing her hard, of scraping her neck with your teeth, of warning her about self-preservation - sweetheart, you could tell her, this is how people end up dead. “Not the meanest thing I’ll be called, either.”
You shift. Your fist, unconsciously, goes tense in her hand. “What’s your deal?”
Her mouth tilts. “What’s yours?”
You huff out a laugh. “You’re unbearable,” you say softly, which feels much kinder than calling her a bitch. “What are you - what do you mean?”
I’m not hard to figure out, you want to tell her. I’ll let you in if you ask me to. But you - you, you imagine saying, cupping Karina’s face in your hands and saying her name like you’re praying to her, drafting scenes in your head with each whispered syllable - you. Look at you. I’d fill a thousand pages trying to find a way to understand you.
“If you want to hurt me,” Karina says, “then hurt me.”
Your throat dries up. Your fist falls open. “What?”
“I wouldn’t blame you.” Her voice is matter-of-fact. You see her tongue dart over her bottom lip, the slick glimmer of spit. “If that’s what you wanted.”
You stare at her, hard.
It’s not difficult to make out her silhouette in the dark; she’s illuminated so distinctly by the moon, like it’s her own on-set spotlight, professionally arranged - she’s got the cosmos calling her shots. You think about how careful you’d been with her: doing what she wanted and making her cum and kissing her like you have history and maybe fucking her like you love her, just a little.
You think about that bruise you left on her chest, her skin between your teeth, the feeling of biting down.
“It’s not,” you say, and the lie tastes acrid in your mouth. “It’s - it’s not, Karina.”
“You fucked my face in public within like an hour of meeting me. And fucked me and came on my stomach. And fingered your cum inside of me.” It’s far past midnight. She sounds more alert than she should. “You’re gonna start being polite now?”
It sends an odd knot to your gut, the way she puts it. Equating all of that to hurting her. Laughing in the face of your clenched fist - not because she thinks you won’t do it, but because she knows how bad you want it.
Hurt me. She says it like it’s so easy. Fuck me. Let me stay the night. Hurt me; you’ve earned it.
“I’m not polite.” The truth doesn’t taste much better. “I just have, you know, common fucking decency.”
“Hm,” Karina says, a nonchalant little noise, and nothing else.
You brush her hair off her neck and your fingertips graze the hollow of her throat. You feel her swallow under your touch. You open your mouth, though you’re not sure what you’re about to say - Karina, like a chant, like she’s consumed you in a matter of moments, Karina - but she shuts her eyes delicately, and curls close to you, and just like that the moment is over.
I have common decency, you’d said. I won’t hurt you. I promise. I can control myself.
So maybe you weren’t right about everything. You’re not the devil. That’d be a delusion of grandeur - the idea that you’d ever have that kind of power over a girl like her.
Not for long, she’d replied, in the knowing tilt of her smile. Not if I can help it.
-
In the morning, it’s a picture of crime-scene proportions. It takes a little work to piece it all together.
Karina’s not in bed when you wake up, but there are traces of her everywhere - telltale, incriminating bits of evidence. Strands of her hair on the pillow. Blood-red lipstick stains on the fabric. Her crimson dress crumpled on your bedroom floor, sporting a tiny tear in the hem that you don’t remember leaving; you can still smell her perfume all over your sheets, like a calling card. If this was a TV drama - a clichéd police procedural - she’d probably be dead in your living room right now, blank-eyed and beyond saving, rigor mortis deforming her perfect body into something grotesque.
This is also probably not a thought you should ever relay to Karina, but you do anyway.
“Sorry to disappoint,” she replies. She’s perched on your kitchen counter, dressed in one of your t-shirts, bare legs swinging. “I’m very much alive.”
“I was being dramatic,” you try to say, gesturing with your hands to set the scene - the lighting, the fake blood and the special effects, the potential pallor of her face. “I’m - I’m a screenwriter. It’s in my nature. I didn’t mean I wanted to find your fucking corpse out here-”
“It’s okay if you did.”
You choke. “What?”
“I’m right with you, babe.” Karina leans forward conspiratorially. There’s a sharpness to the dark glint in her eyes that kind of makes you think she really does understand: that she has the same tendency to jump to the worst possible conclusions. A kindred, morbid spirit. “I get it. I’m pretty devastated that I’m still breathing, too.”
She says this all in a scratchy, sultry voice, hoarse as though she’s been sleeping for years instead of hours. Lashes fluttering like she’s just told you something very adorable and sweet.
“God,” you say, desperately charmed, and laugh until you feel light-headed. “You’re sick.”
Karina’s mouth curls. “Right.”
“I’m serious.” It’s surreal: her wearing your clothes and sitting on your counter like this is an everyday occurrence, indulging every fucked-up thing you say to her. Maybe you’re still caught somewhere in a dream, just waiting to wake up. “You’re, like - not normal.”
“Hey.” A light, careless shrug; her palm rests over the back of her neck. “No arguments here.”
You rub a hand over your eyes, smiling like an idiot, and take a breath.
It’s late January, and cool sunlight drips into the room, over your furniture and your floors and the angel right in the middle of your kitchen. It should wash her out, blur her at the edges; it doesn’t even come close. Turns her to a freeze frame instead, carefully color-graded, every hue just a bit too intense: skin ghost-pale, lips pouty and pink, hair jet-black and tangled to her waist. Your shirt hangs off of her slender frame like it aims to swallow her up. You thought you’d been stunned by Karina before, lulled by the late night, the electric rush of touching her - you’d assumed you could blame it on the alcohol, the slutty dress and the sultry makeup and the long-held habit of artistic romanticization-
But it’s nothing compared to seeing her now.
Karina crosses one leg over the other, and waits as though expecting a rating: to be starred out of five like a film.
Face scrubbed clean. Bone structure a study of faultless symmetry, delicate in a way that feels both inhuman and invulnerable. She’s so classically breathtaking - a miraculous second coming of a tragic, iconic movie star, a phenomenon back from the grave; jaw and nose and mouth all clean lines, aesthetically precise art - but God, those eyes. Enormous without the thick liner, suggestive only of impossible innocence. Like some darling baby animal, some long-lashed lamb to the slaughter - something pristine and completely untouched.
The morning after, the direct light, the exposed behind-the-scenes - she’s still beyond beautiful.
And somehow she’s still here with you.
“That’s insane, by the way,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “That you stayed.”
There’s a loud cracking sound.
You squint, disoriented. “What-”
Karina blinks at you, wide-eyed; her jaw shifts. The sound echoes again, startling and sudden. “What?”
“Are-” You step closer. “Are you chewing on fucking glass or something?”
“Or something,” Karina replies, smile’s tiny and closed-off. She gestures to the cup next to her. “It’s just ice.”
She’s so calm watching you approach her. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the freakout, for the breakdown - or, at the very least, the scrambling excuses before the walk of shame. Here’s the truth: she doesn’t know you. Here’s an even worse truth: judging by her hickey that looks like you might’ve tried to rip her throat out earlier, she’d have every right to take one look at you and run.
Karina doesn’t do any of it. Just raises her cup to her lips and tips it back, the arc of her neck so inviting.
“That’s so fucking bad for your enamel.” You’re laughing again. You’re in front of her now, settled between her legs. “You’re gonna break a tooth.”
Karina sets her glass down. Wipes the corner of her mouth with her wrist, eyes locked amusedly on yours - heavy-lidded enough to seem lazy, but pupils blown enough to be a siren call, a deliberate suggestion.
“Oh, no,” she says, all smoky sarcasm. “Who’d ever want me then?”
She parts her thighs the second you touch them; her body’s so obedient under your fingertips, like a doll’s, something to be dressed up and posed and played with. Daring you to do everything you’re already thinking about doing.
“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, and give in completely.
So:
Look, you know exactly how the movies would frame this. Pandering to the wide-eyed teenagers and hopeless romantics; adding the swell of strings every time your eyes or hands or lips meet, each motion accompanied with unsubtle cues - there’s the meet-cute, there’s the moment, there’s the love-at-first-sight. It’s ridiculous to drag any of that into your real life, of course. It’d be like believing in God. Giving up logic to put your faith in something silly and mythic and implausible - to follow true love like a religion, expecting it to save your soul; to pray to the one like a healing property, a benevolent higher power.
You can’t believe in that. You can’t.
But-
Karina pulls back the barest amount, eyelids fluttering open like a new day dawning, and smiles when she sees the look on your face. So sweet and gorgeous; so struck and adoring. So comfortable wrapped up in your arms.
“Hi,” she murmurs.
And - as though it’s some bone-deep instinct, saturating your bloodstream - you just have to kiss her again.
Don’t you feel that? you think of telling her again, your hand slipping to cup her cheek - the sentiment always seems to come back around. You swear you can see scenes flashing behind your eyelids, the beginnings of a creative epiphany; it must be seeping through your fingers, staining her skin with ink, every possible action depicted neatly between brackets. A laugh, a look, a touch. A version of Karina projected across the silver screen to a wild, wanting audience. Don’t you see what you could do for me? What you’re capable of becoming?
You can’t believe in any of this, but it’s gotta be something close.
The feeling doesn’t end when the kiss does: only intensifies, made tangible somehow. Sculpted into the spit-slick curve of her lips, the flinty gleam in her eye. Like she feels it too. Like she knows.
“And it’s not insane that I stayed,” Karina says, belatedly. “You asked me to.”
For a moment you just stare at her, seconds from her mouth and speechless.
It’s the truth without difficulty. It’s a confession with no strings attached. It’s the fucking dangerous way she says it - as if whatever you want extends to a lot more than sex.
“And you don’t-” Your throat closes over a swallow; you find your eyes darting between hers, searching for anything but honesty. “You don’t think that’s insane? Doing whatever a stranger tells you to?”
Karina only laughs her strange laugh, gritty the way good music is, demanding to be heard.
“Nope,” she says, like this is all so simple. “That’s just what I do.”
It’s unbearably filthy in its implication - and it’s exactly what you need.
The room seems to fill with potential, fantasies pouring in from the ceiling, enough to bloat any manuscript to its breaking point. You let out a breathless laugh, loud and unabashed. You think of pushing for even more, pressing your nails in and digging deeper - why me, why this, why now - but Karina leans in close before you can and slots her mouth to yours, and you’re no fool: there’s no line of questioning worth giving that up.
Seems like you’ll have to come up with this character motivation all on your own.
-
“Look at us,” she murmurs against your lips - meaning this very minute, the chemistry, how every glittering star must’ve conspired to get you here. “Kinda feels like this was meant to be, huh?”
She’s clearly kidding, because it’s too soon and too fucking crazy, but-
Well, the way you kiss her then is absolutely your version of a yes.
-
Here’s something people should probably know about artists like you:
You’re rather enamored with the idea of a magnum opus.
It’s a natural thing to reach for, to visualize - the concept of your one great masterpiece. Something you can pour years and years into, water into roaring reckless oceans; time transforming the things you make into something worth remembering forever. Everyone you know - your sculptors, your songwriters - has their own version of this, somewhere. When I finally create this one perfect thing I’ll be - go on, fill in the blank. Fulfilled. Gratified. Happy. When I finally do this, I’ll feel whole.
It’s strangely fantastical. A lifelong dream a kid would have - a childlike, storybook aspiration.
Yours - as far as you’ve figured out - looks a little like this:
“It’s not as romantic as it should be,” you admit, now. “I’m not really into that as a theme. True love, I mean. Or optimism. Or hope. I want something more…” Something rougher, you mean. Something with pain. Something with blood and bruises. “Nuanced, you know? Complicated, messy.”
“I get it,” replies Karina. She has her hands twisted in her lap, watching you very closely. You’re obsessed with the way she looks at you - like she’s drinking every word in with those smoldering dark eyes, greedy for more. For you. “All the best art is about pain, huh?”
You snap your fingers, pleased to be understood. “Exactly.”
Karina smiles, small and knowing, and gestures you on.
In your vision, your magnum opus is always about a girl. Like you said, it’s the way it goes with all the best films ever made: not about love, but the futility of it lasting. Think of all the famed examples - think of the filmmakers and their obsessions, sneaking the great loves of their lives between each line: there’s something she said, there’s a dress she wore, there’s a conversation they had in the middle of the night, tangled up in sheets and whispering against skin. Your future muse will be just like that. A reincarnation of the infamous women who haunt all the greatest artists - an amalgamation of their bodies contorted into narratives and replicated in loving, graphic detail. Someone with skin like marble, a statue you could take a sledgehammer to. Someone who looks unfathomably pretty when she cries.
Someone like-
“Uh-huh,” says Karina. She must’ve just gotten out of the shower before you found her, because her hair’s damp enough to have left wet patches on your t-shirt. She licks her bottom lip, once. “Sure.”
Someone to be what you’ve always wanted: a flawless girl to fall from the sky into your lap. To fulfill your promise to yourself: when I meet her, I’ll know. I’ll be able to make this movie. When I meet her, everything will slip exactly into place.
Karina cracks another ice cube between her teeth.
“So,” she says, low with insinuation. “When you told me last night that you found me inspiring…”
She doesn’t need to finish the question. She knows exactly what you want.
“You’re…” You shake your head. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I saw you and I just - I felt like I knew. I knew. I wanted you.” You shrug helplessly, smiling. “Do you think I’m nuts?”
She should, probably. You’re a total stranger, a practical lunatic, an artist talking of your visions like you’re possessed. You don’t know her - that’s the reality of the situation. You don’t know her.
But then there’s everything else.
The unbelievable sex, the staying the night; the way she lets you touch her, blinking slow and subservient, like you already have a claim to her body. You think muse and you think in abstract concepts, glittering stars, guiding lights; you think of skin cut up and sewn together, of creators and their finest monsters, of the implicit poetry in the undoing. You think muse and you think of the way Karina smiles at you now, full lips and frail bones, a painter’s portrait reference. Unmoving, unafraid. Too otherworldly for your day-to-day but just right when she’s in your arms, like a trial-run demonstration: this is what we’re capable of. You could make it happen. You could make me fit.
You swear you’ve been dreaming of someone like her your whole fucking life.
You think muse, and now you can only think of her.
It’s a sign. It must be. And this, the next one:
“No,” Karina says, easily. “I think you’re just like everyone else.” But she raises an eyebrow, so you know it’s a joke. “I think you’re all the same.”
You laugh, delighted; Karina’s smile widens, shows her teeth. “Shut up.”
Karina acquiesces immediately - claps a hand over her mouth like it’ll keep any other words from escaping. It’s so adorable that you can’t keep yourself from pouncing, suddenly all over her like an animal: wrenching her thin wrist down, fingers threading through her hair, tugging her lips to yours as if you’ve been starved and she’s something to devour. She’s so cold, ice still melting on her tongue; even her body feels glacial, more porcelain than real. It drives you wild - the stunning impossibility of her. The desire to see it all reworked, unwound, shattered.
“So,” you breathe over her mouth. “I can write about you?”
“Babe.” Karina’s dark eyes sparkle, frozen-over streets in the mid-winter sun. “You can do anything you want with me.”
That’s the whole point of having a muse, after all. Everything they are becomes yours.
-
“But,” you can’t help saying right after: “you don’t have to be, like - concerned. About what I said. About art and pain. I mean…” You falter. You’re standing in between her spread legs now, thumbing the sharp curve of her jaw. “It’s fiction. I’m not that kind of guy in real life - I’m not going to hurt you.”
Karina just stares at you, sentiment clear and unspoken.
“Not like - not seriously.” You roll your eyes, laughing it off. “Not like that.”
“Not like that,” Karina echoes. The hickey on her neck seems to flush redder every time you look at it - a photograph in a darkroom, developing. “But in other ways.”
Your mouth opens, but whatever defense you might’ve had gets traitorously stuck in your throat.
Karina laughs hoarsely, lets you trace her bottom lip with a finger. She seems to get the picture - that you’d love to see it bitten and bloody, but only ever in the name of art. There’s a kind of sick, sadistic beauty in destruction, battles waged and lost. She leans into your touch like she’s seen all the war films and knows precisely why they’re so well-loved.
“For the record,” she tells you, arms looped loosely around your neck: “I look very pretty when I cry.”
“Jesus Christ.” You’re smiling. She couldn’t be more perfect if you’d dreamt her up yourself. “Then I guess I’ll have to make it happen.”
-
It’s like fate, probably.
-
(Up next in your script:
The girl is standing in the stranger’s bathroom. She’s turning a little glass perfume bottle over in her hands when he stops in the doorway. He’s perfectly content to watch her; she’s the kind of beautiful that deserves to be observed, like some exotic wild animal caged between four walls in an elaborate exhibit, mildly unaware of all the attention. Her hair is messy; her head is tilted down. Unseeing.
Oh, he says. That was my-
Except he doesn’t even get the rest of the sentence out before the girl whirls around, and the bottle slips from her hand and shatters on the floor.
Jesus. The stranger jolts back. Jumpy. He’s not too concerned about the broken bottle; it’s not his, anyway. Why the fuck did you do that?
Sorry, the girl says. She’s leaning rather casually against the counter, observing the glass covering the ground, the sickly-sweet smell of the perfume sticking to the tile. Honeysuckle and the sharp note of alcohol, rendered unrecognizable. You scared me.
He looks down. A crystalline stretch of tiny little shards - if she tried to move she’d slice her foot open.
No worries, he says. Hold on.
He ducks into the kitchen to get a broom and when he comes back he stops in his tracks. There’s something slightly off about the picture in front of him. She’s small against the background counter, frozen, barely blinking. Everything about her looks suddenly frail, fair skin ghostly underneath shitty bathroom lighting, cheekbones gaunt and sunken-in, hair pouring ink-black in endless waves. A vengeful spirit. An incorporeal haunting.
Did you…? he starts to say, thrown.
She blinks, finally. Did I what?
He pauses, reassesses. She’s gorgeous. She’s art. She’s vibrantly alive.
Never mind, he says.
It seems kind of like she’d moved, but he can’t tell. He forgets about it. She’s still beautiful and she seems okay and so he steps forward and clears the worst of the glass out of the way.
It’s silly, she says, watching him. I used to know someone who wore that perfume.
It was my ex-girlfriend’s, he says. She left it here a while back. I think it’s a common brand or whatever. Hey, let me help you.
He’s very chivalrous about it, sweeping her off her feet, cradling her bridal-style across the possible remnants of glass. She laughs all the while, playing into it - a princess out of a fairy tale, being carried to safety by some gallant knight. But then he sets her down and cups her ass and says, You gonna pay me back for the property damage or what? and she laughs harder, because there’s nothing funnier than that: sweet moments turned filthy, a startling hairpin turn in intention.
Or - conversely - a revelation of the absolute truth. Because what else could he ever want from her?
So she says, Yeah, sure, take everything, and leans in to kiss him.
It’s a normal kiss, mostly. It’s just that it begins pointedly erotic but seems to turn strange after a second, like he might be gripping her hair too hard, like she might be corpse-limp in his arms, like at any moment he could unhinge his jaw and sprout fangs and swallow her whole, cannibalistic, viperous. There’s too much spit and sound. There’s too much teeth and selfishness. It stretches on too long and lingers where it shouldn’t and overstays its welcome terribly - the score seems to fall off-beat, the lighting seems to shift dark and discolored-
But then the kiss breaks, and it’s over.
When he pulls off of her she looks like the perfect picture of flushed contentment. Eyes half-lidded and lashes fluttering, her pouty lips swollen and rosy. Smiling like she wants more, like she wants it so, so bad.
It didn’t get you? he asks finally, looking at her neck, thinking of thorns and pinprick pain and the rivulet of crimson that’d decorated her throat. The glass?
No, she says. Don’t you wanna fuck me now?
Oh, God, he says, grinning, and every other thought melts away into nothing. He likes how she doesn’t play coy. He likes how she’s smaller and has to tilt her chin up to look at him. He wants to fuck her, so he does.
It’s excellent sex. The blood on the tile doesn’t really matter.)
-
Before you really start writing, there’s just one singular problem: you don’t know anything about her.
“That’s not true,” Karina replies, right away.
You open your mouth, then close it, because - okay, she’s not completely wrong.
For about an hour now you just haven’t been able to stop talking to her. About anything, everything: your start into screenwriting, your favorite novels, your greatest inspirations, your neverending passion for eerie, erotic art. You can’t seem to shut up. And it would be bad - would be making you feel self-conscious right now, if it were anyone else - but it’s just not. Because it’s, well-
It’s you, you told her, thoughtfully, watching as the sun climbed higher into the sky, golden light grazing each scalpel-sharp edge of Karina’s body. You’re easy to talk to. Has anyone ever told you that?
Karina blinked at you. Tucked a strand of silky hair behind her ear and looked away, considering it.
She has this way about her: this serene openness to her big eyes, her body language. Leaning back on her hands, humming and nodding and saying I get it, I feel that way too, I understand with such sweet sincerity that you can’t help but believe her. Like a Catholic confessional, a pristinely blank page - something you could pour hours and hours of words into that would never, ever complain.
Yeah, Karina said, finally. She pulled one leg up to her chest; you could see the lacy black of her panties. I get that all the time.
Just one of those people, huh? Her character was taking shape already. A vault for everyone else’s thoughts and ideas, cradling them between her fingers like something infinitely precious. A listener. Such a lovely trait; a perfect protagonist characteristic. An observer.
Yeah. Her cheek rested gently against a knobby knee. Exactly.
It’s something of an art study. You’ve been filing away these details about Karina since the moment you met her, unraveling her bit by bit.
She always seems to think deeply before she speaks, a sort of charming self-scripting, like she wants to make sure she gets every sentence just right. She makes silence seem like the most natural thing in the world. She doesn’t laugh nervously or blush or get embarrassed, ever. She’d mentioned offhand during one of your tangents about your most beloved movies that she tends to like films about gorgeous, dangerous, scarily self-possessed girls: Thirteen and Black Swan and Girl, Interrupted. She seems both intensely present and consistently lost in thought, there one moment and gone the next, her long-lashed gaze falling in and out of focus like a camera lens. A contradiction, you think to yourself. An enigma, even. Profoundly complicated. Not just a girl but something more.
Art in and of itself, displayed deliberately on your kitchen counter, waiting to be understood.
“No, you’re right.” Your fingers have strayed to your open laptop; you’re seconds from typing Karina’s name like a title, something you’ve created all on your own. “I know…”
You’re trying to think of something nonchalant to say and failing. I know you - the first instinct, somehow. I know you’re something brilliant and remarkable and new. I know I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. I know there’s something here, I know what I feel, I know what I want - you, you, you.
Karina stares at the ice melting in her glass.
Then she says, mouth tripping up at a corner: “You know I’m a world-class fuck.”
“Jesus.” You laugh out loud, surprised. “Okay, yeah. That.” A pause. “And, obviously-”
“Obviously,” Karina echoes, like she knows where this is going.
“I know that you’re, like - outrageously fucking beautiful.”
Karina hums once, letting the compliment wash over her, and turns to look out the window.
You bite down on your lip - bite back all the other too-soon things you could say about her, threatening to claw their way out of your mouth - and go in on your script instead.
It’s shockingly easy to write with her in the room. The details seem to stitch themselves together on-page, the restorative aftermath of an autopsy: sealing the slit chest cavity back up, prepping a corpse for an open casket, making something disconnected whole and beautiful again. You’d pulled these specifics from her like pulsing, throbbing organs - her tits, her tone, her tiny waist - and now all you’re doing is repurposing them. You know her body now. You turn stretches of pale, bruised-pink skin into prose, the curl of her little fingers around her thigh into dialogue. You imagine taking that perfect frame and picking it apart again, bit by bit; not just undressing her but peeling back layers of flesh, familiarizing yourself with the stark scarlet of her bloodstream. Until there’s nothing to hide and you can finally say it - I know you - and it’ll feel earned, and real, and honest.
All very melodramatic, of course. It’s just the process: the natural consequence of being a writer.
Your eyes trace the jutting protrusion of muscle in Karina’s throat, and you think about fucking her again.
“Also,” you say, as though your earlier conversation isn’t long over. “I want to know-”
Karina makes a huffy, half-impatient noise.
You grin, gaze flicking back to her face. “What?”
“You want to know more?” Her brows furrow in exaggerated confusion; her smile is absurdly self-deprecating. As if there’s anything she could possibly be insecure about. “You already got the two most interesting things about me, babe.”
“Stop.” Your mouth twitches. “No way.”
Karina’s smile stills in place, expectant. “No?”
“Come on.” Your hand slips from the keyboard to trace her knee. “I’m sure there’s all kinds of interesting things about you I haven’t learned yet.”
The laugh she lets out is quiet and nearly secretive, legs parting to let you touch her. You’re already half in some faraway daydream, wondering if you can bottle the color of her eyes and turn it loose on the page.
“Okay,” Karina says, easily. She nudges your laptop away, scoots closer to you, her sharp chin pointed down at you. “Come and learn them, then.”
“God.” As if that’s what you’re doing. Memorizing her body as some private education; taking her apart in a classroom dissection. “Can I - I’m trying to write, Karina. I’m being productive. I…” You’re shaking your head as though you’re not already giving in, fingers slipping up her thighs - she’s smirking at you like she knows it. “You’re fucking insatiable, you know that?”
“Then satiate me.” Karina’s head tilts, lids heavy. “Fuck me. Use me.” She leans down like she’s telling you a filthy, sordid secret. “Cum in me like I know you want to.”
There’s something surreal about how certain she is: never tripping over her words or waffling over intentions, the most practiced actress you’ve ever seen. Every move - her tongue wetting her bottom lip, her hand sliding gracefully through her hair, her mouth forming a sweet little pout - all clean, choreographed precision.
I know you, she says - like it’s earned, real, honest. Inexplicable, but there anyway. I know you want to.
“Karina.” Her name comes out embarrassingly strangled. You’re pulling her thighs further apart, toying with the edge of her underwear. “You’re such a fucking - you’re so needy.”
Her smirk sharpens even as you tug her panties roughly to the side. “I’m what?”
“Needy.”
“No.” She’s so wet - she’s probably seconds from dissolving into a whimpering breathless thing, begging to be underneath you, begging for more. That damn smirk is probably seconds from shattering completely. “What were you going to call me?”
“Nothing.” You drag a finger down the slick drenched heat of her cunt.
“A slut.” Her voice is a purr, gravelly and sensual. “You think I’m just this fucking slut who needs your cock all the time, huh?”
But it’s the kind of question that you already both know the answer to. Karina takes your finger-fucking so well, hips raised and rutting, hair cutting across her cheekbones - seems to give herself over to desire so fucking easily, with her whole body, back arching and neck craned and hot little cunt a sloppy mess. Never puts up a fight, never demures or acts shy; never says wait or don’t or stop. Only spreads her legs, and drips down your hand, and waits to be fucked good and hard.
And - hey, there’s one dirty word for a girl like that.
“Well.” You raise your eyebrows at her: a challenge. “Are you?”
It’s dangerous. This is all dangerous. Stumbling down a treacherous path, asking a stranger something like this. Are you what I think you are? Do I know you? Do I really?
Karina makes a low, luxurious noise at the stretch of your fingers in her cunt, buried to the knuckle.
“Sure,” she says - and the gleam in her eye tells you she knows exactly what she’s getting herself into. “I’m whatever you want me to be.”
-
So, it’s possible this is really the most interesting thing about her: she’s the kind of girl who never says no.
-
That scene goes down how all scenes should:
“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”
Karina’s choking out curses like she can’t recall any other words, head lolling back to expose the pretty bob of her throat. You thrust deep right then and she lets out a sound like an aching gasp, like you’ve doubled down with a fist to her gut, like you’re knocking the the air right out of her; you might as well be - oh, she moans, like she could be in shock or awe or pain - with the way you’ve got one of her thighs pulled up so you can fuck deep into her tight dripping cunt. It’s not nice, not really. Her back keeps hitting your counter. You keep staring at her neck and her hair and her face: the faint flush of her cheeks, the flawless construction of her bones underneath - there’s so much unmarked skin - God, she’s so clean, it’s like she’s never been fucking touched-
“You gonna cum for me?” you murmur, voice coming out thick and half-animalistic.
She has one hand curled around the back of your neck. She’s got those ridiculous clawed nails on her but she never presses down. Her pussy can’t stop clenching around your cock but she takes it so well, lets you make room inside her little cunt, shuts her eyes and trips over her own breath as you force her spine hard against your counter over and over again.
“Karina.”
“Yeah,” she exhales, raspy and strained, as your cock stretches her out. “Fuck, yeah-”
“Cum for me, honey. Cum all over my cock - oh, there you go, good girl-”
It’s hypnotic. The tiny bitten-off sounds spilling from her ice-cold mouth - that small pristine face and all that hair tangled to her waist, just available to be knotted and tugged and fucked all the way up - Karina clings to you when she cums, and you feel so much bigger than her when she does, like you’ve got her sloppy and open around your cock and you could do anything to her, that’s what she told you, and even if she hadn’t, it’s not like she could stop you - she’s gorgeous but she doesn’t have it in her - she’s just too fucking delicate-
It happens too fast to process.
One minute you’re buried inside her pussy and the next Karina’s on her knees, on the ground, and you’re jerking your cock until you’re cumming all over her.
It’s obscene. It’s fucking inevitable. Thick ropes of creamy cum coating her forehead, her cheekbone, her nose and mouth and getting all in that hair-
Her hair. You don’t realize how hard you’re gripping her hair with one hand - balled in a brutal fist at the back of her head - until you disentangle your fingers from it and Karina sinks to the floor like she’s just been cut loose from marionette strings, breathing fast and hard. She doesn’t even say anything: doesn’t comment on the fact that you’d just shoved her straight to the ground or complain when the head of your cock smears cum across her jaw. Doesn’t even flinch when your cock slaps heavy across her cheek, at the indecent sound of the impact.
You’re staring at her, open-mouthed. At her gorgeous, breathtaking, defiled face.
Karina’s not looking at you. Instead, she’s preening in the most lewd, pornographic way possible: swiping her thumb through the cum streaking across her forehead, popping it into her mouth to suck. Halfway through she seems to remember you’re still in the room - seems to recall the value of a performance - and she redirects her gaze up at you, lids heavy, and smirks.
“Did I…” you start, without knowing how the sentence will end. “Did I - was I-”
Karina lifts a cum-covered eyebrow. Her mouth’s an arresting pink, puckering around her thumb like it puckered around the cubes of ice, how her lips formed a ring around your cock back in the bookstore yesterday. She lets it slip free, shiny with spit.
“No,” she says. “You’re good.”
You can’t stop looking at the cum caught in her hairline. She’d been so fucking clean.
You glance down and realize there are strands of black hair broken off in your clenched fist.
Karina’s looking at her hair in your hand too, now, but with a sort of amused detachment. She stands shakily, using the counter for support. There’s cum all over her. Her knees are red from how hard she’d been pushed down.
“You’re so cute,” she tells you, grazing the side of your neck with her fingertips. “There’s no shame in being rough with me, babe.”
“Right.” There’s an unnamed pressure coiling in your chest. “But - but you-”
“Hey.” The word comes out in a rasp, and then Karina laughs, pushing the low hoarse lilt of her voice to its limits. She steps closer, angles her little cum-stained chin up at you. “Are you really gonna tell me you don’t like seeing me covered in your cum?” She’s tonguing the corner of her mouth. “Turning me into a-” her smirk pulls wicked; your next breath hitches so badly- “messy fucking whore for your cock?”
“God,” you get out, because she’s winding an arm around your neck, and her pretty face is still sticky with your cum. “I-”
“It’s what you wanted.” Karina blinks, in a show of such doe-eyed naïveté that saliva begins pooling hot in your mouth - like you’re feral, like you’re rabid. “Isn’t it?”
You’re looking down again. Her knees are going to bruise. Black and blue, as if someone’s bullied her in the schoolyard, pulled her pigtails and knocked her to the asphalt. An echo of something teachers could’ve told her years ago: oh, look, he’s mean to you because he’s got a crush. It’s okay, really - he only hurts you because he likes you.
“You like me like this,” Karina murmurs, dangerously low. “All sloppy and slutty for you.” Her gaze is trained on your mouth. “Marking me up.” Her hair slips from your hand. “Owning me.”
Her name clogs your throat, cloying and candy-sweet. “Karina-”
Karina’s head tilts. “Yes or no?”
She’s too close to you. She’s so filthily beautiful she seems somewhat alien, some kind of foreign invention. Her jaw is smeared with your cum and her flawless teeth shine like jewels and she’s like every creative vision you’ve ever had cut in clips and playing back in a movie theater, made to be scrutinized.
“Yes,” you tell her, winded. “You’re fucking - you’re unreal, you know that?”
You’re smiling like it’s flattery, like it’s an exaggeration. Like she’s not living, breathing, visionary art.
She smiles back, like she knows just how much you really mean it.
“So I’ve been told,” Karina says, and taps your neck, lightly. “Go make breakfast.” She shakes her hair out; some of it gets stuck to the cum on her cheekbone. “I’m taking another shower.”
“Right.” You bite into your bottom lip, hand skimming down her side. “Go get clean.”
“Clean?” She steps back and flashes a disbelieving grin, gestures pointedly at herself - her creamy thighs, her porn star tits in your t-shirt, her body like sex itself. Dirty by design. “Never happening.”
Some cynical part of you keeps waiting for a slip-up, some mistake in a masterfully crafted script - no one can be that gorgeous and still be here with you. But Karina moves and your eyes are hopelessly drawn to the disheveled curtain of her hair spiraling down her back, the sharp distinct lines of her calves, the flex of muscle in her thighs. Her hands, balled into little fists. She’s alluring as if manufactured that way: engineered to be perfectly bruisable, ruinable. It defies logic. It’s movie magic.
“Well.” You snort with laughter, swat at Karina’s ass as she turns to go. “At least you can try.”
You don’t even think she can help it - that’s the thing. It’s just what she was made for.
-
“What would you have done if I said no, though?” you ask after a moment, as she wavers in the doorway. “Like - what if I told you I didn’t like you like this?”
Karina shrugs.
“I would’ve been something else,” she says, and closes the bathroom door behind her.
-
(Next:
The stranger and the girl fuck and afterwards he promises her breakfast and then he realizes his cabinets are bare, his fridge painfully unstocked. Sorry, he says, as she pokes around his kitchen. I don’t know how that happened. I usually have something to eat here, I swear.
I don’t mind, she says. Her fingertips sweep his shelves. She seems fascinated by the emptiness, admiring the vacancy. Oh, wait, look.
She finds a half-eaten jar of honey that she ends up scooping up crudely with her fingers, dripping sticky amber down her hand. He’d tell her that’s disgusting but she makes it - as she seems to make everything - into a pointed seduction, her tongue pink and wetly visible, her skin gleaming as she licks it off. It’s funny. He’d never thought it possible to turn eating into some sort of sexual performance but she manages it anyway: meets his eyes, sucks loud and lewd, smacks her lips and wipes her mouth with her thumb, ill-mannered and stunning.
I can’t imagine that’s very filling, he says, delighted by her commitment.
Yeah, well, she says. It’s a good thing I hate feeling full.
But it seems like a moment of hilarious irony when ten minutes later he’s got her bent over his kitchen counter, tits pressed punishingly to the flat surface, honey stuck to her neck and collarbone as she’s fucked hard again and again, stuffed with his cock, his fingers everywhere, like her own body barely even belongs to her - all mine, he keeps saying, and means it; you’re all mine. All filled up. Overfed. Bursting.
Sex is a manner of consuming, it seems. He might as well be eating her alive.)
-
“Do you do this a lot?”
Eventually, it turns into one of those lazy Saturdays. An afternoon of sitcom plot points.
It’s just so easy to fill the time, the space, the page - you tell Karina some inane story from your college years and she reacts in all the right places like your own built-in studio audience; she says something off-handed and enticingly vague and suddenly you have a new thread of dialogue to explore. You’re both sprawled out over your couch, Karina’s got her thighs tucked over your legs, wearing another one of your t-shirts, a fresh hickey bruising over her throat. There’s something delightfully domestic about it - like you’ve been doing it for a lot longer than you have, or like you could do it eternally if given the chance, holding all the silken comfort of an old routine. When you’d mentioned it - I kind of feel like I could do this forever - she’d laughed her scratchy laugh and said forever’s nowhere near as long as you think it is, babe. A perfectly cinematic line. You stared at her, leaned over, and added it immediately to your draft.
“This whole…” You’re trying to elaborate now, staring at the blinking cursor on your laptop screen. Your knuckles skim her bare, bony knees. “You know.”
“Eloquent.”
“Shut up.”
“I thought you were a writer.”
“Karina.” You’re charmed by the drawl of her voice, the raspy roll of sarcasm. “I’m just wondering.”
Karina shifts in your lap. You’ve got one hand sneaking up the hem of her shirt - your shirt - skating up her tummy, her ribs. You’re probably about five minutes from snapping your laptop shut and pulling her on top of you and saying something crass about her tits and passing it off as a character study.
“What do you mean?” She’s as close to clean as she can be. You made sure of it - licked the hollow of her collarbone earlier after she got out of the shower, tasted nothing but soap and skin. “Do I have a lot of sex with strangers? Or do I stay the night a lot after I have sex with strangers?”
“Both.” You think of taking her hair down, sifting your hand through it, wrapping the strands around your fingers. “All of the above.”
Karina shoots you a look, fluttered lashes, suggestive understanding. You hear it without her having to say it. You want me to tell you that you’re special.
“I’ve kind of been going through a phase,” she says instead, nonchalantly.
Your eyebrows fly up. “A phase?”
“I’ve been, you know.” She gives an airy sigh. “Trying to find myself in the big city. Running wild. Terrified of monogamy but being very brave and quirky about it. Sordid past with love and romance and general human connection. Doing the whole manic pixie dream girl thing.” Her eyes flick to your open laptop, abruptly too wide and innocent. “That sound about right?”
“Fuck off.” It’s a complete non-answer. You run a hand past her stomach, laughing. “You’re fucking with me.”
“What?” Karina inches closer. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Your textbook rom-com love interest?”
You make a rather disparaging sound in the back of your throat. “Ugh.”
“Oh, my bad.” Her mouth curls, contradictory. There’s nothing apologetic about her. “I forgot. You don’t believe in art about love. You wanna see broken people and broken people only.”
“See?” You’re obsessed with her tone; all flirtation, some distorted version of come-hither charm. Talking of suffering like it’s a seduction tactic. “You get it.”
Karina rakes a hand through her hair; her fingers fall to the back of her neck and linger there. She pulls herself out of your lap and turns, hooks one bare long leg over you until she’s straddling you. Your hands find her hips. You’re disarmed by her strange weightlessness, like she’s seconds from either shattering or taking flight.
Then she asks, “Is that what you’re doing with me?”
It’s gotta be a very roundabout request to fuck her stupid, because she follows it up torturously: ducks her chin, parts her lips, rocks her hips down until you groan. You watch her throat, the way muscle works over bone, picturing unspeakable things: taking her by that pretty neck and pinning her to the wall, ripping your shirt right off of her with your fingertips leaving bruises - bending her over to fuck her fast and cruel until her cunt’s raw and aching and leaking your cum - until she’s begging pathetically, saying please, God, please - and you’re triumphant, victorious. Telling her you asked for this, didn’t you? You said anything. You said anything I want.
“Depends,” you reply, when you can breathe again. “Are you a broken person?”
Karina stops, moments from your mouth.
“Depends,” she echoes. “Is that what you want from me?”
It actually takes a beat for the question to sink in. Then two, then-
“No,” you say, loudly. “Obviously not, Karina, Jesus. Why would I…”
You falter.
Karina only looks back at you, patient, tolerant. Like if right now you said that’s exactly it: I want you broken, I want you ruined, I want you decaying and dead and buried, she’d smile and say do your worst. Flashing those white, white teeth, perfect like pearls, ready to be knocked right out and strung together.
You blink the bloody vision away. “Why would I ever want that?”
Karina studies you for a second longer, expression indecipherable.
“Okay,” she agrees, breezily. “Then I’m not broken. I’m just going through a phase, like I said. I don’t like being tied down.” Her shirt rides tantalizingly high up her thighs; her hand slips down to palm your cock. There’s a twist to her lips, a dirty sort of smirk. “You understand that, right?”
You stare at her.
“Right?” Karina prods, again, low and sultry.
“Right,” you say, unable to fight your sudden smile.
The pout of her mouth’s an inevitability; her little body in your lap’s a seductive form of foreshadowing. You dig your fingers into her protruding ribs, playful, and you don’t quite get the squeal of laughter you were expecting - all Karina does is curl closer, expecting more, expecting harder. She knows what you’re capable of. You’re both just biding your time until you cross the same line you’ve been crossing and you fall back into bed again.
“A phase,” you add, considering. It intrigues you, anyway - the casualness, the connotation. “So - I’m not special, then. That’s the moral of this story.”
Karina’s fingers sift gently through your hair. “You wanna be special?”
“I mean, yeah.” Your palm falls to her neck, presses down. She doesn’t seem to mind. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Her eyebrows rise in vague, unconvinced amusement. It makes sense: she’s the most special of all, a cosmic glitch, an angelic fluke. Someone like Karina wouldn’t understand the aching, clawing, consuming desire to be extraordinary. She’s already there.
Your hand on her throat looks even bigger now, tendons straining from underneath skin.
“I think we all want to feel important,” you mumble, thumb grazing gently across her jaw. “Don’t you?”
You’re pretty sure the wry, glittering smile that sits at Karina’s mouth is an answer in itself.
-
Alright, forget your television metaphors - you’re not sure there’s any sitcom out there that goes quite like this.
“By the way,” you say, grinning against her hair as you pull her to the bedroom. “Did you say you don’t like being tied down?”
Karina turns in your arms and doesn’t even flinch when you force her too hard against the doorframe and its edge smacks into her shoulder blade, digging in hard. You should apologize but you don’t; the possibility of her in pain seems laughable, a distant fantasy. This is how it goes, fucking a girl who looks like a god - your brain is convinced she’s wholly immune to hurt. The universe wouldn’t actually let someone so pretty bleed.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, voice raspy with insinuation. “Let me rephrase.”
“Karina,” you say, not really like a warning - more like you’ve got something to prove. This is real. You’re really here. You’re really this perfect, gorgeous, greedy thing. You’re really made for me.
Karina only lets her lips tilt in a smirk, devilish and knowing.
“I meant that I don’t like commitment,” she says. “I love being tied down.”
She’s still smiling when you shove her through the doorway, across the threshold - across that same old fucking line.
-
Not that it makes a difference now, but one of the reasons you and your most recent ex-girlfriend broke up was because of what you’d both referred to as sexual incompatibility. Actually, there were about fourteen other things, too - she was a trainwreck and a textbook attention whore; you spent all your time writing and she took offense to the fact that you found your scripts more interesting than her - but the crux of the sex problem between the two of you was that she thought you wanted too much power over her. She seemed to assume that was the point of potentially tying her up and shit like that: to exert power. To put you and only you in control. To make her into this helpless little toy - and I hate that, she’d said, working herself into a fit, I hate feeling helpless.
You hadn’t pushed her. You’d also tried to justify it in a number of ways. It isn’t about that. It’s not about control. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. But it hadn’t made a difference and she hadn’t believed you and you’d come to the reluctant, inevitable conclusion that that particular dream would never actually get fulfilled.
Until-
“Look at you, baby.”
Until now, when you’ve got Karina stripped bare and tied to your bed, thighs parted as you kneel over her, pretty little cunt glistening wet and tits heaving with every breath as she waits, and waits, and waits.
Eyes half-lidded. Utterly fuckable. A curated collection of every salacious desire you’ve ever had.
“You’ve been looking at me forever,” murmurs Karina, her tone still humorous, like the reason her voice is run so ragged is because she’s holding back a fit of giggles. “You gonna fuck me anytime soon?”
To Karina’s credit, the idea of tying her up didn’t seem to bother her one bit. She’d let you knot her wrists to your bedframe and only grinned sharply when you asked her if it was too much. She didn’t seem to care about feeling helpless or feeling bad. Actually - judging from the wetness that collects on your fingers as you rub two of them over her cunt - it all seemed to turn her on either way.
“You’re so fucking mouthy.” You lift your hand only to ghost it over her stomach, leaving a lewd shiny streak across her skin. “It’s like you want to be punished.”
“Well, you put in all this work.” Karina yanks at the ropes tethering her wrists to the bedframe until they bite so severely into her skin that it turns white. “I’d hate to see it go to waste.”
“Not a waste.”
“No?” She’s got that seductive little smirk on, legs spread shamelessly, head back and throat bared.
“Nope.” Your eyes rove down her body. “It’s a great view, actually.”
You’re shocked by the sound Karina makes, then: harsh and derisive, scratchy and painful, like she’s choking badly around some injury in her throat. You’re half-expecting her to turn her face and spit blood onto your sheets - all murder-scene evidence, horrifically vibrant gore. Coughing up her own vocal chords.
It’s so awful it actually takes you a minute to realize that she’s laughing.
“Karina?” you say, perturbed.
“Oh, please.” Karina hacks out one more horrid laugh. “Cut the shit.”
You draw your hand back uncertainly. “What are you-”
“Come on, man.” There’s a glint to Karina’s gaze as she looks up at you: bored, mocking, infuriating. Irises flashing like the darkest corners of haunted houses, set-ups for a summoning; lashes like cobwebs, self-spun and delicate. “Fuck me or leave me alone.”
For a second you just stare at her, unmoving, something caustic and furious threading up your spine.
And then-
Look, none of this next part is on you. You can’t blame yourself. It’s her - her tiny hands in tight clenched fists, tummy so flat it seems caved-in, hollowed-out; her own glimmer of slick smeared on her belly, physical proof of how desperately slutty she really is. The bruise on her chest; the one on her throat. Her goddamn eyes. Her lazy, lilting drawl, the exact matter-of-fact casualness she’d had last night when she’d told you to hurt her - fuck me or leave me alone.
It’s so obvious what she’s trying to do - provoke a reaction out of you. It’s gotta be the only reason she’s talking to you like that. Like, what else are we here for? Like, what else could I possibly want from you?
So - no, God, it’s not your fault.
But-
It’s over before you can even think about it. Before you’ve even rationalized doing it, before you recognize the sound ricocheting through the room as the perfect violent land of a blow, the hot whiplash of skin on skin, your palm connecting with its target. Before you blink, and recalibrate, and you take in the rapid reddening of her cheek, and her angled jaw, and her hair falling starkly past her chin - it’s too late. It’s already done.
Because you’ve just slapped Karina clean across the face - hard.
“Oh.” You’re babbling as if on autopilot, all your nerves on shutdown. “Oh. Oh, God. Karina-”
Karina licks the corner of her lip, like she can taste the impact.
“Jesus Christ,” you’re saying, panicking; you can’t shut up. You don’t know what to do with your hands; you find yourself kneeling carefully in front of her, cupping her face, stroking her temples with your thumbs like it’ll soothe the sting. You can’t believe you hit her. All the things you could do to a girl like that, and you - “I’m sorry. I didn’t - fuck, baby. I’m sorry.”
Karina blinks up at you, expression placid and blank, porcelain-doll cool.
“For what?” she asks.
You freeze, her face still between your palms. “For-”
But the serene tilt of her mouth makes the words die in your throat.
“Seriously.” Karina’s voice is softer now, a kind twist of mirth. “Isn’t that what you wanted to do with me this whole time?”
Her features seem to fall out of alignment, occurring to you in cut, edited fragments - the baby-animal eyes, the bone-white glint of teeth, the pretty blooming flush of her cheek, blood rising underneath skin but never breaking through. No evidence of a limit breached; she doesn’t wince or wail or cry. She wears the hit so well. She’s smiling. A you-don’t-need-to-be-sorry smile, a you’re-forgiven smile: I’m strong, I’m good, I can take it. Whatever you need. Whatever you have to give.
You blink and Karina reassembles, stitched up at the seams, beautiful and uninjured and intact.
“You want this,” you exhale, a wondrous revelation.
“Of course.” Karina’s shoulders rise as much as they can with her arms so tightly tied back. “You do, don’t you?”
The panic recedes, and something else - something electric and brutal, visceral, intoxicating - takes its place instead.
It’s the way she says it: rhetorical, all-knowing. As if she’s seen exactly what’s in your mind - what repulsive daydreams have settled right behind your ribcage, clawing to be set free - and she’s offering her own body in sacrifice. Saying here, put them here.
So you do.
She doesn’t even look surprised when you slap her again.
“See?” Karina’s chin tips upwards in delicious, submissive invitation: eyes darkly pleased, pale skin a burning wildfire, curled mouth a beckoning. Like it’s been what she’s waiting for, all along. “There you are.”
And when you’re finally able to catch your breath:
Oh, you think, in some exhilarating epiphany. Here I am.
Every single reservation falls out the window. Karina’s smirk slants viciously and then you’ve got your hands all over her, on her shoulders and her tits and her hips and her throat and her face, thumb digging hard into her cheekbone. Any sort of gentle caution is gone when you’re getting on top of her and burying your cock deep inside the suffocating vice of her aching little cunt, half-drunk on the high mewling moans you’re forcing out of her, head swimming at the drenched audible sound of her pussy every time you fuck into her - at how tight she clenches down around your cock. Fuck it all, then, it’s not like it means anything - hurt me, she’d said, running through your head on loop; I want it so bad, I need it, hurt me - and so you do, wrapping a hand around her delicate neck and pressing down, slapping hard against her heaving tits, salivating over the marks that you leave. She doesn’t even struggle. Takes it like a good girl, an obedient girl: something meant to be hit and torn up and pulled apart. A hands-on art piece. A disassembling, made purely for audience consumption; a sign hung around her neck that says leave your mark, that’s the point. You’d been so naïve, thinking of being careful with her - like she’d ever even fucking want that-
“You like it like this.” Your voice sounds raw, almost unrecognizable; your fingers press into the base of her throat. “This is all you needed, huh? You just needed to be roughed up real hard.” Your hand trails up to grip a fistful of her hair, merciless. Karina shuts her eyes. “Like you’re just a slutty fucktoy-”
Karina chokes out a small, wet gasp.
“Oh, baby.” You yank harder at her hair. “It’s okay to admit it.”
But in a way, she already is. Doesn’t fight against the restraints tying her wrists, doesn’t flinch at how rough you’re fucking her, doesn’t whine or blink back tears at the harsh graze of your thumbnail against her nipple. Like she’s a plaything, here in your bed for your pleasure alone. Like-
“Like you were just fucking made for this, yeah?” She comes undone so easily: cunt a wet sticky mess when you reach down to rub her clit, teeth pearly-white where they’re caught on her bottom lip - though nothing can hold back the anguished noise Karina lets out at your pace, the thick stretch of your cock, your palm smacking at her tits over and over. “Look at you. That face, these tits, this little fucking cunt-”
Like it’s her one and only purpose - to have all her fair skin turned searing red and bruised under someone else’s hands. Her cunt just begging to be split open and stuffed full, railed so hard she could break. It’s gotta be what she was created for. She’s more than mortal, so above the concept of imperfection; a nasty little fuckdoll of a girl, meant to be used hard and licked clean. She looks too irresistible all fucked-out and ruined. It has to be in her nature. Made for this, you keep telling her: to be fucked until she can’t walk. To be treated forever how you’re treating her now.
Your ex-girlfriend couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s not about power or control at all.
“You’d really just let me do anything to you, huh?” you murmur, awed, but you’re holding her throat too hard for her to reply.
You fuck her, and fuck her, and fuck her. Rub at her clit until she clamps down and cums around you, until you can really get on top of her, force her to hold those huge tits together so you can fuck them. You can’t handle how tiny she is underneath you, her face and her mouth slack with lust, eyes glazed over entirely. She squeezes her tits around your cock. She’s hardly even human. It’s the best thing about her.
“That’s how I know you’re a fucking whore.” Your grin feels wide and manic on your face. You’re gonna cum all over her - again. “None of this even matters.”
And it’s only after - after you’ve painted her collarbone and chest creamy white and let up on her throat so she can fight for air; after you’ve groped her tits and grabbed her face after just to see your cum glistening all over her perfect slap-marred cheeks; after you’ve rolled off of her and you finally leave her alone - that Karina gives you a response.
“No,” she says, hoarsely, staring up at the ceiling. “It really, really doesn’t.”
-
Power just isn’t the right word for it. It’s something much more beautiful than that.
Desire. You’re dozing off, halfway in a sleepy fantasy. You imagine rolling the word around in your mouth, using it in speeches, citing it as an obvious central theme. It’s about desire, you’d say, in interviews, at film festivals, patiently explaining your motivations to the masses. That irrational animal instinct. That innate human greediness. You’ll maybe even throw in some fun anecdote about how people in past relationships never agreed with you. It’s never been about power, though, you’d explain: how foolish, how crude. It’s about the ache of truly wanting something. Isn’t that so much more romantic?
So you’ll make a movie about this one day. So you tied Karina to the bed and slapped her hard and fucked her senseless. Actually, you picture yourself explaining, foggy and on verge of falling asleep: actually, it’s about hunger. Irrepressible, all-consuming hunger. That’s why I did this. That’s why I’ll keep doing it. You’re all like me; you get it. That makes sense, doesn’t it?
And it will, to raucous, riotous applause.
Good. You’ll laugh so hard. You’re dreaming, now; you can’t tell if you’re talking about the sex or the hypothetical future movie. I’m glad you understand. Anyone would’ve done what I did.
Because - honestly - what’s the point of starving yourself of something that’s right in front of you?
-
(Let’s pull back from your script for a second. Here’s a real story:
A few months back you were visiting a museum with one of your friends when you got into this conversation about performance art. He’d told you about a woman back in the seventies who walked into a gallery and laid out various objects and let the audience do whatever they wanted to her for six whole hours. Her as the artist, in title only; herself as the art. A free, untethered canvas.
And what happened? you asked, morbidly curious.
Your friend grimaced. What do you think happened?
It was a rhetorical question. The performance had been a test of what the general public was capable of - a reflection of their moral compass, of what they’d do if left unchecked. The setup spoke for itself. You didn’t have to get all the gory details in order to understand.
Seriously, though, your friend said, about the artist: I don’t know what’d compel someone to do something like that to themselves. He’d shaken his head, baffled. Like - I think it takes a deeply fucked up person to just give up their body like that. Like it doesn’t even matter to them.
It’s strange. It’s an almost universally accepted fact that, at least on some level, artists are inclined to put pieces of themselves into the things they create. A memory; a feeling. Condensing twenty different emotions into a single acrylic painting, or a lyrical reenactment of heartbreak into a song - something personal and unique and lovely. Often inspired, sure, but yours.
I think that’s what’s funny about it, you told your friend, before you realized that funny was a fucked up word to use here. There’s nothing personal about that. It’s so detached. It’s about the rest of the world, whatever they might make of her - it’s not about her at all.
You were both quiet, thinking. Visualizing what it might’ve been like. To be there, one of many in the audience, watching this woman who had thrown herself to the wolves and asked to be ripped apart.
She’s just - material for them to use, I guess, you said, after a moment. A blank page.
Removing her own identity; becoming nothing, no one. A ghost. An empty vessel. A slab of clay, taking on the impression of everyone who’s ever touched her: the ridges of fingerprints, the half-moon cuts of nails, molding her into something new. Even if it took some force. Even if it hurt.
Still, it’s what she’d asked for.
You can’t imagine she’d ever expected anything else.)
-
There’s this fascinating complaint people have about films these days, you’ve found. It’s actually quite the phenomenon. You talk to your colleagues and scroll through social media and read comments on movie trailers trying to get a grasp on it all: market research. This isn’t realistic, people gripe. It’d never sound like that. She’d never look like that. This would never, ever happen - God, are you kidding? Who are they trying to fool? As if they’ve somehow missed the point of fiction - of a sweet, escapist fantasy. As if they’ve convinced themselves that the real world is better.
Which is moronic, obviously.
“So what’s the solution?” Karina asks.
Well, you’re no expert; it’s been a while since you’d finished your last movie.
“But you have an idea,” Karina interpets. She’s perched on the edge of your coffee table, nursing a new glass of ice. She’s watching you with her head at an angle, eyes shrewd. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me this.”
As with most of her guesses about you, she’s right.
“It’s all about the details,” you say, after a moment. “It humanizes a person. Having little bits and pieces about who they are - it makes them alive. Their likes, their dislikes. Embarrassing stories. Things that make them laugh. Diary entries, favorite foods - first loves, first heartbreaks. So on and so forth.” You’ve got one of Karina’s ankles between your hands; your thumb brushes against the bulbous protrusion of bone. “It’s what makes people real.”
Karina’s mouth twists, sharp and strange; it takes a second for you to realize that she’s grinning.
“Oh, right,” she says. “You want me to spill my guts to you.” She pushes her ankle further into your grip. Her legs are just like the rest of her: thin and pale, waifish. Like a nineties catwalk model. “That’s how you’re gonna make me real. In your movie.”
You pull a face, letting her ankle slip from your hands. Spill her guts; what an ugly figure of speech. As if you’re doing something much more invasive and violent than just writing about her.
“Basically,” you agree, anyway. “I mean, it helps that you’re already, you know - a real, whole, living person.”
“Ugh,” says Karina, dry and amused. “Barely.”
You wonder if she’s also thinking about this morning; you, stunned and staring at her cum-streaked hair, calling her unreal.
She’s got a point, in a way. There’s something slightly uncanny about her sitting in front of you, as if she’s been taken straight out of some wildly different scene - some spotlit stage, some movie set, some glossy high-budget existence - and haphazardly edited into your life. You reach out and press two fingers to the side of her neck, like they do on television if they think someone’s bleeding out.
Karina tips her head to allow you access. Her pulse throbs hotly under your touch.
“I don’t know,” you say, smiling at the swanlike line of her throat. “You seem pretty alive to me.”
“Sure.” Her hair tickles your wrist. “But you want more.”
She says it like it’s this given - as if she’s always faced with people wanting more from her. You wouldn’t doubt it, little tease she is. You can picture her in motion so easily. Always running. Letting people pine and plead for more.
“Yeah,” you say. It seems pointless to lie to her. “I want more.”
Karina leans in closer. She reaches up and touches one of your knuckles with the pad of her thumb. Without makeup, you can see the shadows of dark circles underneath her eyes, but even those look painted-on, pre-planned; a study on the aesthetic allure of bruises. She lets her gaze drop to your mouth, then bites down on her bottom lip. Impish.
“Karina,” you say, grinning wider now.
It’s one of those unspoken things: the translation of body language, the transcription of the tilt of her mouth. Then have me, she’s saying, almost certainly - like a swooning melodramatic heroine, throwing herself into your lap, wanting to be saved. You want more? You want me? I’m right here. I’m yours.
“Fine,” Karina purrs, and kisses you again, like sealing a contract. “Take it all.”
-
You don’t fuck her again - not at first. There’s more than one way to take someone apart.
Karina says she’s got a story for you and then she pulls out her phone.
“This was back in high school,” she explains, scrolling back through her photo gallery. There don’t seem to be a lot of recent additions to it; you’d expected selfies, pictures of her with friends. There are more photos of food than anything: plates of pasta and donuts and burgers and pastries piled with whipped cream. It’s cute. It makes you laugh. “When I won prom queen.”
You splutter. “When you what?”
“What?” Karina gives you a bemused, sideways look. “Does that surprise you?”
It floors you, actually. At first you can’t quite put your finger on why, but then you look at Karina again - at her intense dark eyes and pouty fuckdoll lips and the exaggerated pinup proportions of her body - and you realize you’re making that mistake writers often do: buying into archetypes. It just makes sense that she’d be some kind of brooding bad girl. Mysterious, promiscuous; in your creative vision she’s probably cutting classes and chainsmoking in the girls’ bathroom. A favorite of the rumor mill. A pretty little delinquent.
“Wow.” Karina makes a funny noise in the back of her throat when you tell her this. “No. I was - I did fine in school. Perfect attendance, almost. And I can’t stand the smell of cigarettes.” But she doesn’t look offended, either; you imagine people make these assumptions about her all the time. “The prom queen thing - it wasn’t my idea, though. My best friend did all the campaigning for me.”
“That’s sweet.” You watch as she reaches the year she’s looking for. Flashes of her in a sparkly dress with her arms thrown around another girl - a tiny doe-eyed brunette - slide by. In one of them, Karina’s got her head tipped back, clearly mid-laugh; in another, she and the girl have their heads bent close together as if they’re trading secrets, unaware that they’re being photographed. “Well - I think it’s sweet.”
Karina’s fingers stall. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I’m just saying-” You shrug. “It’s a nice gesture if it’s something you wanted, I guess. Seems like a lot of attention, otherwise.”
“Oh.” There’s a pause. “Yeah. It was - I didn’t get to go to junior prom, so it was kind of - this was - senior year. Senior prom.” Another pause. “Yeah. She did it to make me happy.”
“And did it?” She passes by pictures that fill up with more people: friends with big grins who stick close to her side, wrapping her up in an embrace. “Make you happy?”
“Of course.” Karina’s thumb pauses on a video, the preview dark and unfocused. She says it like she doesn’t even have to think about it. “She was my best friend. She always knew what I wanted. Hey, look at this.”
The video’s of her in the back of someone’s car, prom queen tiara askew on her head, satiny sash falling off one shoulder. She’s yelling, laughing; the sound isn’t on, but her mouth’s wide open and her dark eyes are crinkled to half-moons, creased underneath heavy false lashes and glittery makeup that’s begun to smudge and fade. It makes her whole face look very soft. Young, too - cheeks full and flushed pink with excitement, hair blown-out and everywhere, glossed black. As if she’s having the time of her life.
“How old were you here?” you ask, in awe.
“Eighteen. Just turned, I think.”
“You look-” Like a baby, you almost want to say. It’s true, though. Big brown eyes, scrunched little nose - grinning like the rest of the world hasn’t quite dug its claws into her yet. Skin unmarred and infant-smooth. “You look pretty.”
Karina doesn’t look at you, but you can see the slight, entertained upturn of her lips. All the nasty things you’ve called her - all the irredeemable ways you’ve touched her - and now, inexplicably, you’re going for pretty.
“Thanks,” she says, and clicks the volume up.
“Shut the fuck up,” baby Karina is saying, delightedly. Her voice sounds high, childish and carefree. “You’re so dumb. It wasn’t - it wasn’t even like that, I swear!” She flaps one hand in the air, her nails all short and painted the same rich deep maroon as her dress. “No - you’re just saying that because you’re jealous, you idiot, I know you - you just-”
The person behind the camera says something that you can’t quite make out.
Baby Karina presses one hand to her sternum, pearl-clutching, and gasps.
“I would never,” she admonishes - over-the-top like an actress from a movie - before she throws her head back and laughs.
It’s a startling, wonderful laugh. A little-kid laugh. A mess of wild, unabashed giggles, hiccupy and sweet, so loud and infectious you can hear the other people in the car start cracking up with her; out of frame, someone reaches out to interlace their fingers with Karina’s, waving their joined hands until they smack against the car window and Karina only laughs harder. With her whole body, shoulders shaking and all. Streetlights flashing across her face, making her look sort of blurry and surreal, like something out of a painting.
“Your laugh,” you find yourself saying, stunned.
Karina’s touching the back of her neck, completely engrossed in the video. “My what?”
You don’t laugh like that anymore. That’s what you mean to say. That scratchy, almost painful laugh that she’s been gracing you with since the moment you met her - there’s no trace of that in how baby Karina wriggles with laughter in the backseat of the car until her happy, breathless blush spreads to her neck and her chest. Head tipping back against the seat, like she’s all tuckered out.
“Um,” you say, voice caught in your throat.
On the screen, her eyes fall shut, lashes fluttering so delicately.
You can’t do anything but stare. Brilliant, past-life, prom-queen Karina - grinning at nothing, and sleepy from a perfect night, and laughing as if she’ll exist as this version of herself forever. As if she just doesn’t know any better, yet.
“You,” you start to say, again-
Karina shuts her phone off, and turns.
And you’re about to say something - something about the gnawing, uncertain feeling you get when you watch this former self of hers. It’s on the tip of your tongue. You don’t laugh like that. Something happened to you. For a moment the whole image just seems off - like the way people make posthumous holograms of pop stars, superimpose faces of long-dead actors on stunt doubles. A kind of intense wrongness. A murmured, uncomfortable: that’s not really you, is it? It can’t be. I barely recognize her.
“What?” Karina asks. Her smile reveals her teeth. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Then reality hits you, all at once.
“Sorry.” Your hand finds her thigh. You laugh because you’re being ridiculous - how would you know who she really is, anyway? “I was just thinking - I don’t know. Never mind.”
She seems to take that at face value. You like that about her. How she seems to trust so easily - going home with you, winding up in your bed, staying when you ask her to stay. Giving you whatever you want: her body, her story.
“So,” you say, eventually. “I can put in my movie that you totally peaked in high school, huh?”
Karina snorts. “Yeah,” she says, playing along, and taps her dark phone screen with a clawed nail. “Say it was the last time I was happy.” She pulls a face, like the thought of it is just unspeakably pathetic. “That’s a tragedy if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Shakespearean,” you agree, and let her clamber into your lap. “It’s perfect.”
But you know she’s kidding. You’d like to think that you understand girls like her. They live in a different world than the rest of you - the kind of world where every person on earth looks at them and falls to their feet, falls madly in love. You’ll write about it one day; you’ll feel out the narrative for her, a curious exploration. That rose-tinted life she must flourish in, closed-off and flawless like a snow globe, her spinning and protected in the glass.
“Perfect,” echoes Karina, and kisses you - like she’s proving she really means it.
That’s the reality, here. That’s it. This is all there is.
-
Well, almost.
-
Karina lets you scroll through the rest of her photo gallery, front to back. You take the opportunity, because you’re greedy for as much as you can get.
There’s a lot of photos that are just her, funnily enough - selfies posed in front of the same full-length mirror, over and over again, clad in unholy outfits. Swimsuits, sports bras and little running shorts, lingerie: shit that makes your mouth water, eyes lingering, groaning out loud as she laughs at you. But it’s also her in faded old t-shirts, holding the hem up to expose her stomach. Body angled to the side in girlish sundresses. Hair pulled up, showing off her neck, her gorgeously sharp collarbone - in makeup or out of it, stare intensely focused and sultry.
“That’s hot,” you comment. “Self-obsessed as fuck, but hot.”
Karina smiles - her tiny private-joke smile - and doesn’t say anything at all.
There’s one video in particular that catches your eye. It’s recent, relatively - the date reads late December, last year. Less than a month ago. Christmastime. You click on it, curious.
Karina’s immediately recognizable in it, black hair winding past her shoulders, drowning in a large black sweatshirt. She’s smiling, but it looks sort of tense and tired - bags under her eyes, like she hasn’t slept in a while. She’s got both hands balled up into fists, held close and protective to her chest; her sharp chin rests on her pale knuckles. There’s a tiny smear of red across her mouth, lower lip bitten bloody.
“You just got here,” she says. She’s looking at something behind the camera. “The first thing you wanna do is hear me sing?” She laughs once, scratchy and hoarse. “Why are you even filming this?”
The answering strum of guitar strings, a pretty, perfect chord. An invitation, or a demand.
“You’re kidding.” Karina’s voice is flat.
Another chord - evidently not.
“Wow,” says Karina. Her smile, out of nowhere, goes very soft at the edges. “You just do this because you know I can’t say no to you.”
“What?” you ask Karina now, laughing. “Is this - what is this? Do you - are you really going to sing?”
And then - crazily enough - she does.
“Oh,” you say out loud, adoring, and Karina turns her face into your shoulder.
Her voice in the video is breathy, sweet. Shyly unpracticed, raspy from disuse, completely and utterly gorgeous; lids slipping shut and open again, laugh leaking into her melody line in lyrics about black eyes and kisses and wanting someone who’s just so, so bad for you. But what surprises you more than anything is the look that dawns on her blurry on-screen face - irises sparkling and smile bashful, hiding her mouth behind the sleeve of her sweatshirt, curled up with her knees to her chest. You see now that she’s wearing pajama pants, fuzzy and patterned with snowflakes.
She looks radiantly pretty. She looks vulnerable. And not even in a sweaty, satiated, filthy post-fuck kind of way - actually, genuinely vulnerable. Soft and wide-eyed and tender.
Suddenly, you just can’t tear your gaze away.
“Stop.”
The song’s over. On-screen Karina’s fully grinning now. Porcelain-fragile, but undeniably happy, too.
“I hate you,” she says. “Baby, I really do.”
“You love me,” says the person behind the camera. “You’ll love me for the rest of your life and you know it.”
And in the video - in vivid, fluid motion - Karina laughs.
Whole-hearted, lovely. Familiar. For a moment, you swear she’s still that girl sitting in the backseat of a car with her prom queen tiara on, giggling free and uninhibited, unhurt, untouched. A month ago - less than that, even - looking like she’s coming back to life.
That’s where the clip ends.
It doesn’t change anything, if you actually think about it. It’s just another version of reality. A Karina from a whole other universe, laughing like a child, and so, so far away from whoever she is now.
-
(Back between the lines of your script-
The stranger and the girl drink to get drunk and that’s about it. She reads the label of his wine; he makes fun of her for being a snob. She doesn’t really drink, she says at first, but he laughs like this is a challenge, and pours her a glass anyway. She flushes pink and fidgets around. She seems to shed hair like a cat and he thinks this is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen, picking up thin black strands off of the arm of his couch, teasing her about girls and how they really like to leave their mark, huh?
Leave their mark, she repeats. There’s some trick of the lens here, some sort of strategic camera work - he’s in the forefront and she’s in the background, and she looks so much smaller than him. Why do you say that?
He still had his ex-girlfriend’s perfume in his cabinet. He probably still has some of her clothes in his closet. Not out of any particular emotional attachment, but sometimes this is just the way things are: when you spend years intertwining your whole existence with someone else’s, it’s hard to rid yourself of that connection. You’ve grown into each other’s spaces, tangling limbs and heart lines, putting down roots. It’s gonna take a little force to get them out.
They’re just so much, he says, gesticulating with his hands. And they affect everything in your life, like a fucking infection. And then it doesn’t work out, and you - he makes a wide, sweeping motion here, attempting to encompass the wreckage. You have to fix everything they broke. Purge them from your system and all that. It’s so fucked up.
It’s like this, he means to say - you love someone and then they leave you behind and you’re left staring at the blown-up decimated crater that used to be your life together. You love someone and they don’t love you back and all you have now is the debris.
They’re both drunk. There should be music here and there isn’t. It’s only eerie, too-still silence, suffocating the both of them with every passing second.
Well, she says, laughing, and takes another sip. You and I can agree on that, at least.)
-
It happens like this:
There’s a monologue you want to write.
You tell Karina this after you’re finally fucking her again, when she’s balanced on the edge of your glass coffee table with her legs spread and your mouth slick with her cum. Well - not after, technically. She’s between orgasms and you have your thumb on her clit, tracking the expression on her face, the split-second moment where she comes apart. It’s then when you realize so badly that you want to write some great speech for your heroine - something about the sweat beading on Karina’s midriff and her tits that you can’t stop touching and the jerky movements of her hips, trying to get your tongue back on her clit, panting and delightfully desperate. Something about desire.
“Desire,” repeats Karina, voice halfway into a raspy, worked-up moan.
“Yeah.” You’ve replaced your mouth with your fingers, fucking up into the obscene tight heat of her cunt. She’s trembling, dripping everywhere; she’s the very picture of what it means to want, probably. “But I just can’t figure it out.”
Karina laughs roughly, and then she cums.
“Is that funny?” you ask her, after, when you’re wiping your wet mouth with your wrist and she’s sucking on your glistening fingers, licking the taste of her own cunt off your skin. Her eyes big, lips all full and pink - slutty angel on her pedestal, perched above you. “Me writing about desire?”
Karina lets your fingers free with a loud pop. She’s still clutching your hand close to her mouth, thumb dragging through the sticky gleam of her spit. “No,” she says, eyes distant. “It just reminded me of something. There’s this Anne Carson quote, about men and desire…” She shakes her head. Presses her lips once to your fingertips in a small, startlingly sweet kiss. “It doesn’t matter. Tell me more.”
There isn’t much to tell, truthfully. Except that you’ve got this love for movie lines that are just so utterly quotable - things that make their way into the pop culture consciousness. That’s the kind of work you want to be doing: creating something that has an impact, something that’ll exist long after you’re gone. Everlasting. If you had to pull for an example, you’d say-
“You ever seen Closer?”
“Yeah.” Karina drops your elbow into her lap. “Oh, I get it. He tastes like you but sweeter. Lying’s the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off - et cetera.” She hums the melody line. “So you want an early 2000s pop-punk band to make a song about your movie? Ambitious.”
“More or less,” you say as she shimmies her shirt back down, hem falling back over her midriff. “But like I said, I’m kind of stuck.”
Karina rolls her neck. Her hair is everywhere, sweet-smelling; snapped-off strands decorate your table, looking like cracks in the glass.
“Any suggestions?” you ask, thumb skimming along the pale bruised inside of her thigh.
She smiles, mischievous. “Maybe.”
That’s how you both end up curled on your couch together with your laptop in front of you, Karina’s eyes glued to the movie playing on the screen, watching as the four main characters fuck and flirt and cheat on each other and scream at the top of their lungs. Melodramatic dialogue. How do you feel about him using your life? You’re lying; I’ve been you. This will hurt, which Karina laughs at - as if announcing the pain will make it better, playacting at exoneration.
It’s also - predictably - how you end up fucking again. You barely make it an hour in, and then-
“Hey.” Karina’s breath tickles your ear. She’s already seconds from climbing in your lap already; her thigh is hooked over yours, bare and inviting. “Are you inspired?”
You’re swallowing back a grin. “Sure.”
“Oh. Great.” She’s no actress herself, clearly. She couldn’t be subtle if she tried. “Do you wanna be more inspired?”
And - whatever. It’s a movie about sex. If anything, at least you’re sticking to the theme.
The dialogue plays in the background as Karina rocks her hips down on your lap - you can feel how wet she is again, like she never stops wanting to be fucked. You’re telling her something about how she’s the most insatiable girl you’ve ever met; the sound of the film saturates the room, setting the tone like it knows its purpose. How? How does it work? How do you do this to someone? This big, infidelity-ridden confrontation. Did you phone her? Beg her to come back? Asking him why he falls for another girl, getting this ridiculous answer - it’s because she doesn’t need me.
“Huh.” You smile into the curve of Karina’s neck, already palming her ass. “That one’s funny.”
“Is it funny?” Karina’s sharp jaw brushes against your cheekbone. Her eyes are so dark, shadowed by her long lashes. “I think it’s pretty realistic. People don’t like needy girls. It’s a burden to be loved so hard.” Her tongue darts across her teeth; her smile’s somewhat caustic. “Too much to handle, I guess.”
“What are you talking about?” This strikes you as fairly fucking ridiculous, too. “What men have you met who don’t like needy girls?”
Karina just laughs and leans in for another kiss.
It’s easy to let the rest of the film float away in the background, the lines coming disjointed, unconnected. A spoken-word soundtrack, tone perfuming the air: the angst and pain and eroticism seeping into your clothing. Once in a while you’ll pull back from kissing Karina’s neck or tits or mouth and see a thoughtful little quirk to her mouth. Like she’s genuinely listening, even as you’re taking off her shirt, slipping a hand back between her legs. Where will you go? Disappear. I can’t still see you - if I see you, I’ll never leave you. I amuse you, but I bore you.
“I bet you’ve never felt that,” you say, half into the silk of her hair.
Karina pauses. Her shirt’s on the floor; she’s gloriously naked on top of you. “Felt what?”
“I amuse you, but I bore you,” you recite. You already sound sort of fuck-drunk, far gone. “You’re the farthest thing from boring.”
Back in the movie, the female lead sobs into her fists. Karina studies you, fingertips grazing the nape of your neck. You try to imagine it - her as one of those heartsick heroines, crying herself to pieces, begging a man not to leave her - but you draw an utter blank. Some people just aren’t breakable in that way.
“You’d be surprised,” Karina says, after a moment. “People get bored of me all the time.”
“Oh, please.” Even when she’s the one top of you, you can’t help feeling so completely in control. It’s gotta be the look in her eyes, dying to be obedient. “I bet you have lots of ways of keeping guys interested in you.” You smack her ass hard just to make a mark. “I bet you let them fuck you however they want.”
“Exactly,” Karina agrees, without missing a beat. She moves in close until your noses bump together. Lets her voice go all smoky and suggestive. “Wherever they want, too.”
You open your mouth - probably about to say something very rude about what a dirty whore she is and how you should’ve realized it the second you saw her; I knew it, I know you - but then your hands slip lower and Karina presses her lips to yours and licks into your mouth, over your teeth, making you swallow your words. Filling you up until there’s nothing but her and the movie, playing on.
I think I’ll be happier with her.
You won’t. You’ll miss me. No one will ever love you as much as I do. Why isn’t love enough?
“Romantic, right?” murmurs Karina, sweet against your tongue.
“Shut up,” you say, and grab her by the hair, tugging her off your lap as you stand. “Bedroom. Now.”
Later, you’ll take the time to consider the different ways filmmakers illustrate a power dynamic - it’s playing on your laptop screen right now. The heroine’s sitting on the arm of the couch, clutching desperately at the hero’s jacket. Gorgeously emotional and pleading for another chance, her tiny chin tilted up, eyes so large and watery. Made fragile and fearful by everyone: the protagonist, the narrative, the director, the audience beyond. By herself, even. It’s a stylistic choice - she wants to look that pathetic.
And you-
Well, you’ve got Karina’s long hair wrapped up in your fist, tits bouncing as she stumbles to her feet, ankle knocking hard and horribly loud against the leg of your table. Cute little ass all red from your hand. Thighs shimmering from how drenched she is, cunt dripping from how you’ve treated her. She hasn’t managed to work her mouth into a trademark smirk fast enough: when she looks at you over her shoulder, her eyes are abyss-dark and bottomless, crease between her brows, lips parted in pained surprise.
The definition of pathetic, too - but that’s exactly the point. She’s just so much more fuckable like that.
“Ouch,” you say, touching her hurt ankle with the side of your foot.
“It’s fine.” Karina’s skin feels clammy and cold. Her smirk’s intact now, camera-ready. “I’ve been through worse.”
Her ankle throbs under the pressure of your touch; you still haven’t let up on her hair. You’ll go through worse, too, you think of telling her: a sly comment about how rough you’re about to fuck her, what vicious marks you’re about to leave. How you’re gonna hurt her exactly like she asked you to.
You don’t say a thing.
She must already know all of that, anyway.
-
So, Karina’s not breakable like the helpless, weepy, soft-hearted girls in the movies - but that’s alright. She’s breakable in much more enticing ways.
Case in point:
“Oh, get real, baby. Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”
Well, breaking someone down doesn’t really get better than this.
It’s all a scene of your own making, a perfect pre-arrangement. You on your bed, Karina limp and bent belly-down over your lap - you in control and Karina as the most impressive toy you’ve ever gotten your hands on, creamy ass and needy cunt and skin that turns bruises to artwork. You’re goading her and failing - trying to get her to just admit to what she is, what a filthy slut, what a nasty eager fuckdoll - but it’s hard to get a response when even breathing seems to be a chore for her right now. Every noise out of her mouth is nothing but a gasping, choked-out whimper. Her face is buried in her forearm, hidden. And through the shine of lube dribbling down your hand and her ass and into the sticky wetness of her cunt, you’ve got two fingers stretching out her little asshole - and you’re just getting started.
“I know you fucking need this.” Your other hand slides up her back, slips to tangle in her hair. “You’re just too good at it.” You pull hard, wrenching her head from the crook of her elbow. “Too good at being an obedient fucking whore for me, huh?”
Karina’s whole body stiffens when you fuck your fingers deeper, as if tugged taut on a string: the flex of her feet in the air, shoulder blades straining, neck craned back almost painfully. You pull harder. It’s a buzz at the base of your skull, live-wire thrilling: the knowledge that you can yank her into whatever position you want - fuck her anywhere, work her ass open with your cock, fill her up with cum - and she’s just going to have to take it. Like she’s this pliant, powerless thing. Like she’s yours.
Your self-satisfaction seeps right into your voice. “Answer me.”
You hear Karina gulp down a breath. “I,” Karina mumbles, but she can’t do anything but babble. “I - fuck-” All teeth-clenching nonsense; she shoots a baleful glance over her shoulder, desperation clawing its way into every word. “Please-”
Your fingers pause. “You want more?”
Her cheeks are splotchy and pink; you swear there are tears wobbling in those big dark eyes. The heavy arousal in your stomach turns to violent hunger, as though your mouth could start watering at any second. You can’t help it. The thought of seeing her cry is fucking exhilirating. “You - oh-”
“Answer me. You want my cock?” You’re waiting for the breaking point. “You want me to really fuck your ass?”
“Fuck-”
But that’s not a proper reply and Karina knows it, so she doesn’t protest when you pull your glistening fingers out of her and smack your palm hard across her ass. Once, then twice, and then you just don’t stop. She yelps like a hurt animal - trembles uncontrollably, her thighs and her shoulders and her quivering bottom lip - and makes a sound in the back of her throat that might be a sob, but she still lets you hit her: gives into the harsh crack of skin on skin, over and over again. Listens as you tell her that she deserves this, that she wanted this, that you’re making her into a good girl and this is what good girls get when they’re too cock-hungry to follow orders or answer a fucking question, you know that - you know I’m this rough for a reason. It should hurt. It’s so much more fun that way.
“I’ve been too fucking nice to you,” you mutter, teeth gritted in an effort to hide your grin - as if you even need to. It’s obvious how much you enjoy this. It’s the point. “That’s the problem with girls like you - you never learned your fucking place, huh? Never really been punished for anything?”
Karina mumbles out something unintelligible, slurring from her drooling mouth to the sheets.
“Yeah.” Your hand comes down again - she flinches just before her body goes slack. “That’s what I thought.”
And after you’ve spanked her so hard that her fair skin is ravaged and raised with goosebumps along the slope of her back - her whole body in revolt - you finally, finally stop.
Karina doesn’t budge except to breathe, and even that releases shallow, unsteady. You read it all in the shaky lift and fall of her thin shoulders, her hands in white-knuckled fists, her face pressed to your sheets and hidden - her hair coats everything, all ink, all words written but left unsaid. She shivers beneath your fingers. Her cunt’s dripping all over your lap. She’s a masterpiece. She’s a wreck.
You’re filled up with thick, swollen pride. “Karina.”
Karina. Your own personal creation, transformed under your touch. Might as well have your name carved into her, too. A brand right across her back, slicing through tissue, scarring to seal her fate - this is who you fucking belong to.
“Poor baby.” You follow the sharp ridges of her spine, tracking notches, keeping a tally: counting how many times you’ll hit her, how many days she’ll stay in your bed. How many movies she’ll let you make out of her, being your brilliant muse for decades. “It’s painful when you don’t listen to me, huh?”
But then - inexplicably - you think of her bruising ankle. Her twist of a smirk, detached and humorless. I’ve been through worse.
You’re abruptly glad you can’t see the look on her face.
“Come on, sweet girl.” You dig the heel of your palm into her lower back, half a warning. “Pull it together.”
Between the strands of glossy hair tumbling over Karina’s skin and your sheets, you spot a reddish mark on the back of her neck. Like the impression of a thumbprint, small and round. Blurry enough in the dim light that your brain starts conjuring up strange theories; an old wound, maybe. A birthmark or a burn, a childhood injury.
You graze her shoulder blades with your fingertips, exploratory. She feels so small draped over you like this, a tiny wet wisp of a girl. A doll.
She still hasn’t moved.
“Karina.”
Nothing.
“Karina,” you say again, suddenly uneasy. Your hand stops. “Are you-”
For a few terrible seconds, you can’t even hear her breathing.
But then Karina shifts. Slow, sensual, deliberate. Pushing herself up off your lap, arching her back, the slick pucker of her asshole obscene from where you fucked it open with your fingers. Her bruised knees dig into your mattress as she straightens up, and her gorgeous pale face seems to glow in the midday light - heavy dark eyes, bitten-pink mouth, black hair curtaining her cheeks like a frame to a portrait.
“You,” you start to say, feeling suddenly like you’re looking at her for the first time.
“I’m really sorry,” Karina murmurs.
She doesn’t look close to tears at all. She’s so unfazed, as if having her ass spanked punishingly raw is something that happens to a girl like her on the daily. A run-of-the-mill occurrence - a consequence of having a body like that, made to be brutalized. She’s already reaching towards the nightstand for the lube.
“I just wanted it so bad I couldn’t think straight,” Karina tells you, with erotic-film certainty - reciting all the lines that’ll make her seem the most insatiably slutty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Her lips form a pout; she leans down to press them to the tip of your cock, all sweet and demure, like she thinks she needs to convince you. Eyes flicking up at you through her thick lashes, molten-hot. “I should’ve listened.” It’s only a breath, warm and torturous. “I deserved that, I know.”
Your hand winds tight in her hair. You want to force your cock down her pretty throat, make her gag and choke over her simpering apologies, spitting up your cum until it trickles down her chin, her tits, her tummy. Both a game and a power play: prove how sorry you are.
Karina pulls back before you can, and holds up the lube.
“Babe,” she says, the term of endearment almost a singsong - a lilting reminder. “I thought you wanted to really fuck me now.”
“Uh-huh.” Her tits heave as she moves, crawling closer, offering herself up. “And I always get what I want, right?”
You feel drunk with power. You forget that this isn’t supposed to be about power. You watch as Karina coats her palm with lube and pumps your cock, her fingers slick and hot, her veins starkly blue at her delicate wrists. Expression delighted at how hard you are, pink little tongue poking out between her teeth - seduction down to an art form, meticulously calculated.
“With me?” Her smile burns. “Obviously.”
You pull her in by the neck to kiss the smirk off her mouth.
It’s interesting. There’s this other thing regular critics and moviegoers have been saying about films these days: sex scenes need to have a purpose. Some sort of coherent motivation. Strip your lead actress down to nothing and get her keening and moaning and you’ve got to explain it away somehow. It forwards the plot, you could insist, pitching it to producers and directors. It does something for the character dynamics. It’ll draw in just the right audience, the ones dying to see their favorite celebrity debauched and getting dirty on-screen - they’ll see it over and over just to get a taste. Isn’t that enough? To satisfy the masses? Isn’t that why we’re all here?
Because otherwise all people are staring at is a play at pornography: useless half-convincing make-believe. The heroine can writhe and whine and arch her back all she wants. Everyone knows she doesn’t feel anything.
“Tell me the truth.”
Oh, if you two were a movie - you don’t know how anyone could justify a sex scene quite like this.
It doesn’t matter what artsy angle you take. It all comes down to the same unforgivable details: Karina face-down ass-up on your bed, the perfect bowed curve of her spine, the depraved wide stretch of her asshole around your cock - the sweat shining along her shoulder blades, the hard smack of your palm against the red raw skin of her ass, your other hand at the crown of her skull with your fingers wrapped entirely in her tangled hair - her cunt fucking ruining your sheets, wet all the way down her thighs, each brutal shift of your hips sending her little body into full-blown shudders-
“Tell me that you fucking love it.” Your hand slips lower until you’ve got her pinned down by the back of the neck, fingers pushing down: a grip she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. “Whoring out your slutty little ass like this for a stranger. Getting on your hands and knees for me just because you’re so fucking needy for cock, baby - don’t even try to deny it, you’re so wet, nasty fucking girl-”
You just can’t stop yourself. It’s so easy. She really is so fucking pathetic. Too fragile to get free - too easily manipulated and manhandled. Trembling and drenched and giving way as you make room inside her, forcing space. She’s just so tight - it’s godless, how you make your cock fit in her lube-slicked asshole, how she moans like a bona fide bitch in heat over it: needing faster, needing harder, needing more. Cheek pink and pressed hard to your mattress, sharp nails digging into the sheets rough enough to tear through the fabric. Giving herself up to be fucked cruelly and stupid and senseless.
Like she’s a real-
“Natural fucking cockslut, huh?”
Look, seriously - you can’t be held accountable for the things you say to her here.
Because when you say shit like you’d just let me do anything - like you’d let me fucking tie you up and keep you here forever, be an eager fucking cumdump for me whenever I want you, I know it, I know you - that’s just the moment talking. The circumstances. The pretty arch of her back and the drooling wetness of her cunt and the indecent tightness of her ass, conspiring to make you lose your mind mid-fuck - that’s the whole reason you even tell her any of it. You think you’re good for anything else? Right at her ear, your body covering hers, your cock buried deep. You’re not. Just made to get this slutty ass fucked open, and your mouth, and your cunt - this is all anyone’s ever gonna want from you and you know it - better get used to it now, baby. This is all you got. This is all you are.
It’s Karina’s fault, really. She just takes it - all of it. She doesn’t even try to fight it.
“But that’s okay,” you murmur, as she gasps and squirms and cries out like you’re killing her. “I’m still gonna make you cum.”
And with your cock filling her ass and your hand between her legs, slapping hard at her sopping cunt until she can’t do anything but collapse - shaking, shattered - her whimpers fucked-out and drool-soaked and bleeding into one big nonsensical mess, everything about her used and ruined-
“You’re mine,” you tell her, laughing as she falls apart. “You get that? You’re mine.”
-then, you do.
When it’s all over, Karina rolls over to face the wall, breathing hard. She’s slick everywhere, sweat and saliva and lube, your creamy cum dripping out of her well-fucked asshole and trickling down her thigh. You trace her lower back and grin at the way her skin seems to give into you, turning pink with a press of your fingertips. You’ve come to realize you adore her like this, the fugue state after you fuck her: utterly dead to the world.
Like she could become a permanent fixture in your bed. Too tired to move. Too tired to ever leave.
“Mine,” you say again, softer.
Karina doesn’t argue.
It’s basically all the confirmation you need.
-
So, really, if you two were a movie-
It goes like this: life can imitate art, too. It happens all the time. The line between fiction and reality blurs together until it’s indistinguishable - until you can’t tell where the fantasy ends, or if it ever did at all.
-
(It goes like this: the heroine smiles sleepily and tells the hero he’s the best she’s ever had. You’ve seen this film before. The movie stars with their fake on-screen fucks might not feel a damn thing, but at least it’s still fun to pretend.)
-
Also, the mark you saw on the back of her neck isn’t actually what you thought it was.
“It’s a tattoo,” you realize out loud, drowsily awed, brushing her hair away so you can get a better look. You’re both tuckered out, an inevitability when you fuck like you do; you’re seconds from dozing off. Karina’s looking away from you, on her side to escape the soreness of her ass, sheets loose across her chest. She lets you touch her wherever. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that before.”
“You don’t know me,” mumbles Karina, half into your pillow. “It’s not your job to notice anything about me.”
The tattoo’s crimson-red, all delicate linework. It really does look like it hurts: like someone painstakingly cut the shape into her skin. It’s of a heart, rendered in anatomical detail - valves and ventricles and arteries. It’s beautiful, you realize belatedly. Bright instead of faded, and obviously cared for. Lovely.
The only permanent stain on her perfect body. You press your thumb against the ink, fascinated.
“What does it mean?” you ask, but Karina’s already fallen asleep.
-
(In your script, the girl and the stranger watch some gory crime show, except they don’t pay very close attention and he tugs her into his lap and makes her ride his thigh. The episode they’ve got on is about a serial killer who murders so-called sinners - liars, adulterers, the like. Slaughters them like sacrifices, cutting their throats with vicious efficiency. Fake blood drenches the screen with every crime scene: a form of fucked-up baptism, a psuedo-religious cleansing.
The girl’s putting on an equally decent show on top of the stranger: head thrown back, eyelids fluttering, high-pitched little moans. He sinks his teeth into her shoulder and keeps watching the TV.
Hey, he says, a murmur against her skin, a close-up on his mouth. You’re a sinner, right?
She’s got her hands on his shoulders, hips rolling. Sure am.
How do you think this guy would kill you?
He thinks this’ll shock her, but she doesn’t even pause. Like he kills all the rest, she says. Like an animal.
I think he’d be more careful with you, the stranger muses. You’re too gorgeous. He’d have to use, like - a scalpel, or something. Something cleaner. Something that’d keep you intact.
It’s no use. Nothing he says seems to scare her. Her eyes are far-off, almost glazed in recollection. Like she’s thought about it too - her own untimely end. Her own vivisection, skin flayed and organs visible, viscera and bone. There, hold the shot: now the audience can consider it with her, ponder all the ways she could be torn apart, all the repulsive things they could do with her desiccated body. All the ways flesh can warp under a human touch: the blue-black yellow-green purpling of bruises, a whole palette on one tiny girl. There’s value in that, isn’t there? There’s something intimately, incomparably beautiful in suffering. There’s art.
Isn’t that why everyone’s watching?
I get it, the girl says, still soaking his thigh, smiling as if it’s an inside joke between them. You want me dead. That’s been obvious since the moment you met me.
I don’t want you dead, he says, and grabs her by the jaw. I just want to fuck you.
Okay, she says, uncaring, like there’s barely a difference. Fine. Whatever you want.
They don’t turn the TV off. They let the characters scream and bleed out in the background; he fucks her like she’s got a death wish. It’s funny - he expects her to get louder the harder he fucks her, ruthlessly working over the tight clench of her cunt - but she keeps getting less and less responsive, as if he’s pushing her little body into some sort of trance: expression vacant and blank, body limp and lifeless, mouth open and speechless. It makes him angry. Give me something, he’s saying, frustrated, clawing at her hair: baby, it’s not fair, it’s no fun like this. The on-screen shrieks aren’t enough - he wants it from her. Actually, he keeps saying he needs it - as if fulfilling desire is on the same level as food or air, as if he’ll drop dead in seconds if he doesn’t get her sobbing. He gets his overlarge hands on her face and starts contorting it, pushing her mouth open, her eyes wider, his fingers down her throat until she spits and gags and chokes. Oh, the audience will love this one: it’s reminiscent of those filthy exploitation films with their cult followings, so cleverly referential. Look at her pathetic and pinned down. Look at her helpless and struggling. Think of your favorite on-screen murder scenes, and then think of this.
Anything I want, the stranger reminds her, yanking back her hair as she drools down his wrist. You asked for this, didn’t you? You said anything I want.
Except now the girl can’t say anything at all.
This moment will start rumors, invite horrified scandal the same way some purposefully marketed horror movies are passed off as snuff films - that really went down, they really died like that. This scene’ll get a similar response. Did he actually fuck her? Did he actually hurt her? Did everyone - the writer, the director, the crew, the captive audience - actually just stand by and let that happen?
Sure. Or she might just be a really, really good actress.
There. The stranger’s murmuring to her now, watching her manufactured expression, watching the tears fill her eyes. There you go. There’s my girl. And she is his, she really is - transformed into something all beautiful and new under his clumsy fingertips, molded right into art. The camera will zoom in close on her gorgeous, cadaverous face, a perverse little gift for the audience: here, have this, take a look. She’s all yours now.
There’s something to be said here about the manmade link between sex and violence - inescapable, brutal, primeval; bodies in all shades of red - but he forgets it the second he touches her, and she’s being fucked too hard to remember.
Maybe they’ll get to it next time.)
-
AND WE'RE BACK!!!!!!!!!!! <33333
all my luv ever to @capslocked @worldsover @passingnotions @braaan for beta reading my dumbass shenanigans and also for being the best ever I LOVE U!!!!!! AND ANYONE WHO IS READING THIS I LOVE YALL TOO.................. PART 2 COMING SOON!!!!!!!!!!!
#kpop smut#kpop fanfiction#kpop fanfic#idol x reader#idol x male reader#reader insert#karina smut#karina fanfic#aespa karina smut
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love in three acts | kim mingyu, wong yukhei
nsfw, mature content, minors DNI! (ftm friendly)
ship: wong yukhei (lucas) x male reader, kim mingyu x male reader
warning: extreme feminization, reader is a femboy,
(reader's genitals are referred to as pussy/tits).
pure filth, read at your own risk
(requested!)
act i.
Life is not what it is portrayed to be in cinema. (name) learned as much now that he was well into his 4th semester of college. Society has romanticized the college experience to such an extent that one dives in, expecting alcohol, parties and an enchanting love life to be the frontrunners, while in actuality, it is assignments, exams and stressful days filling the void most of the times.
Nothing changes if you don't make it happen yourself. Your dream life doesn't manifest one day magically, and your love life doesn't become one for the books by itself either. You need to start living the way you want to. That, is the only viable form of happiness in today's world. At least that's what (name) taught himself during one of his loneliest nights, freshman year, which culminated with a self-therapy session.
Then the nerdiest, biggest pushover of a guy, (name) was now a changed man. He had the biggest glow-up: his slender curves, thick thighs and pretty eyes, putting everyone's wildest dreams to shame in comparison. He embraced his true self fearlessly, taking control of his life and living the way he wanted to. He had definitely been happier ever since then, but he believed it did little to better his dating life as he was still boyfriend to a man seemingly afraid to love him in public.
Wong Yukhei is a lot of things, but inherently smart, he is not. Which is why he doesn't understand why his boyfriend is upset with him right now. "W-what do you mean?"
"Seriously Lucas? We've been over this before. Every time I as much as I lean into you in public, you go off to do something else with your friends. It's like we're strangers in public." (name) explained, perplexed.
"It's not like that! You know I love you. It's jus-just.." Honestly, Lucas didn't know himself why he'd been subconsciously dodging his boyfriend's advances while they were out. It's not like he never indulged in PDA with his previous partners. Maybe he'd been getting too caught up with his friends that he unintentionally neglected his boyfriend each time they were in the public eye.
"You know what? I need to go. Come find me when you have an answer. " (name) scoffed dejectedly, storming out of the empty classroom, leaving the flabbergasted giant behind. (name) started wondering if he wasn't attractive enough for Lucas.
If only he knew how wrong that assumption was. Because if that was the case, he wouldn't have the hunkiest man to ever exist (besides his own boyfriend), eye-fucking him from behind. The large man traced (name)'s every movement with great intensity: the way his hips swayed as he walked quickly, the way his skirt rode up just enough to show his supple thighs, even the way his ass looked perfect as he bent down to pick up his fallen stationery.
Kim Mingyu was a lot of things. And like every other guy, being inexplicably horny at the sight of a pretty boy, was one of them. he snapped out of his daze, dashing to (name)'s side, helping pick up his belongings from the floor, without failing to catch a peek of his bra underneath the dress. needless to say, he had to physically restrain himself from popping a boner then and there.
"Hey, you okay? Looking a little sad there" he offered his charming smile, making (name) look up as he straightened himself. His gaze fell on the handsome man's huge biceps, that flexed under the weight of his stack of books, threatening to rip his half-sleeved tee that was already too tight for his massive chest. It was hard not to, when a 6 ft hunk was sizing up his body shamelessly.
"I'm Mingyu. I'm in this faculty too. 3rd year"
"(name). 2nd year." Offered he, politely.
"Boyfriend problems?" Mingyu inquired, (name) taken aback. "Just guessing", he clarified, knowing fully well he eavesdropped into the couple's conversation earlier. What? He just wanted to see for himself who bagged this hot specimen before he could. Before (name) could respond, Mingyu moved closer.
"I won't pry into your personal life, but tell you what. Any man that doesn't appreciate you enough, is a loser."
He ran his hands all over (name)'s curves, finally slipping underneath his skirt to grope his ass and lift one of (name)'s legs against his groin, making the boy gasp.
"Someone who loves the beauty that you are, y'feel me?" His breath fanned over (name)'s face, the boy feeling 50 emotions at once.
"I,I shou-"
"Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" the duo turned towards the source of the voice: (name)'s seething boyfriend. Lucas stomped over to them, snatching (name) from Mingyu's grasp and wrapping his bulky arm around his waist, pulling the boy flush against his hard chest.
"Not so shy touching him in public anymore?" Mingyu teased. If Lucas wasn't mad jealous right now, he'd probably wonder how Mingyu knew about the couple's fight. But he couldn't care less right now. He all but dragged (name) back to the empty classroom, heels clacking against the tiled floor and slammed the door shut.
"What's wrong with you Lucas ?"
"ME? The fuck's wrong with him? How dare he lay his hands on MY boyfriend?" Lucas fritted his teeth.
"I might as well let him. Since YOU'RE so ashamed of touching me. I bet, with his huge arms and adonis-like body, he can easil-"
"You mean, these?" Lucas threw his stupid smirk (name)'s way as he flexed his massive biceps that threatened to spill out of his half-tee.
"Lucas! W- what if someone sees us? The door has a huge window" (name) stuttered, turned on by his boyfriend's manly display.
"I don't give a fuck anymore." Lucas said, taking off his shirt over his head in one swift motion, using only one hand.
Throwing shame out the window as all coherent thought left his body, (name) ran firm hands all over the muscle mass that was rock hard under the touch. He squeezed the giant pecs as Lucas made them bounce. "You like that?" He smirked.
"So fucking much, you're so big and strong for me." (name) moaned, latching his mouth to suck on the bulge of Lucas' biceps, the giant flexing them hard in (name)'s mouth. The musky scent of sweat filled the air making (name) hornier as the recalled how hot Lucas looked playing basketball earlier, all sweaty and pumped up.
He ran his tongue over all his muscles: the abs, the meaty chest, the armpits, licking every crevice of the result of his boyfriend's hard work.
Lucas moaned, throwing his head back, grabbing a fistful of (name)'s hair as he pushed him further towards his body.
"Yeahh, worship those muscles like the good boy you are."
"You're so fucking hot, baby. Look how fucking huge you are."
Lucas growled, turning (name) around harshly, removing the string of his dress with one hand, the piece of fabric falling aside at once.
"This little pussy is mine" He landed a smack on (name)'s hole, cupping him hard through his panties, the boy shaking from the recoil of Lucas' strength. "Gonna ruin it with my fat cock, baby."
"Yes, daddy. Do it, fuck me!" (name) cried.
Lucas delivered more slaps on his clothed cunt, (name) tearing up and thrashing from the impact, but Lucas held him in place with one hand and he continued using the other to smack his pussy. "Crying already? Wait till I'm done with you. you're gonna cry harder than now, begging me to stop, but I won't."
(name) sobbed at the prospect, loving every second of it. Lucas grabbed a fistful of the boy's ass, kneading the flesh hard, digging his nails deep into his plump flesh. "You have the fattest fucking ass" Lucas groaned, slapping it hard again, and again, and again.
"I'll make sure this fat ass bounces when I fuck you."
Lucas turned him around, grabbing him by the back of his thighs and lifting him up easily.
"Ah! Lucas, fuck! You're so strong."
"Yeah? Want me to throw you around? Use my muscles to manhandle you and fuck you real hard, huh? Like this" Lucas lifted him up in the air and threw him on the desk. He leaned in, pushing his muscular body flush against (name)'s soft one.
He grabbed the boy's neck, squeezing it hard and forcing him to look him in the eyes. "I'm going to wreck you."
"Please" (name) choked out.
Lucas released his grip, sliding the panties clean off and shoving three of his fingers in.
"Look at how small your little clit is, baby. This is so cute, I'm gonna enjoy stretching it out."
He rubbed his calloused thumb on his swollen clit, teasing it in circles as he pushed his thick fingers deeper, adding his pinky.
"Fuck! Oh my god, you're so deep. I can't.
"That's right. Scream my name. Make everyone hear that you belong to me." The giant rammed his digits harder, abusing (name)'s sensitive spot. His body jerked forward and fell on the table behind him, hands scrambling for support.
"Fuck! I can't, please-ah!"
Lucas didn't relent, adding his pinky to the mix, his knuckles rubbing against (name)'s walls. "Take it! Take it like a good boy."
The taller boy continued his merciless assault, ramming his thick fingers in and out of his boyfriend. (name) felt the familiar knot in his stomach as the pressure kept building. "Cumming, please-!"
"Yeah? Gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my fingers? Cum like the good boy you are."
(name) did as told, clenching and shaking, squirting all over his boyfriend's fingers. Lucas took out his digits slowly, admiring the mess, licking his fingers clean and tasting his boyfriend's juices.
"Fuck, you're delicious. Turn around."
"W-wait, I'm sensitive-!"
"I don't fucking care. I'm gonna eat this pussy till I'm satsified. "
(name) turned and laid down, the hard wood of the desk supporting his back. Lucas grabbed him by the ankles and hooked them over his broad shoulders, spreading his legs apart. His heels almost reached the top of the man's back, but it did not deter him as he leaned down and pressed a kiss on the wet slit, his warm breath fanning over (name)'s sex.
"You look so beautiful right now. Your tits spilling out of your bra, and your legs spread wide for me."
Lucas dove right in, burying his face in the boy's pussy, licking and sucking at the swollen clit.
"Ah, Lucas-fuck! So good"
(name) gripped the hair on the man's head, bucking his hips as he was sent to another realm. He felt the wet tongue prodding and sliding, the sensation overwhelming his body.
Lucas captured (name)'s labia in his mouth, suckling hard between his lips and pulling it back with a pop sound. The lewd action made (name) cry out as he was eaten out, his pussy abused and raw, the man's tongue lapping at his entrance.
"Lucas, I-I can't take it. Too much, ahh"
"Yeah? Like how I eat your fucking tight pussy?
Lucas licked and sucked his boyfriend's clit, slurping up the juices from the sensitive hole. "Fuck, I can do this all day."
"L-Lucas, wait! I can't! Please-ah!"
Lucas kept at his pace, eating (name) out, the latter feeling his orgasm approaching rapidly. "I'm-cumming! "
The giant smirked, completely pussy drunk. " Yeah? Eating this little pussy so good, huh? Go ahead and cum all over my tongue, baby. Cum on my fucking face."
(name) was a panting and moaning mess. He couldn't take the pleasure and pain mixed together, and it all culminated as he squirted all over his boyfriend's mouth, the giant swallowing it all up.
Lucas sat on the teacher's desk, pulling (name) harshly onto his lap. He massaged his tits through the bra, growing hornier and more aggressive by the second. He couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful view of his boyfriend in nothing but heels, the black material covering his breasts.
"Take that fucking bra off" Lucas growled, pinching the buds beneath the fabric.
(name) reached behind him and undid the strap, the garment falling and pooling around his waist.
"Fuck" Lucas whispered as he squeezed the soft mounds in his large palms. He brought his head down and suckled the rosy buds, biting them harshly and leaving marks around the skin.
"Oh fuck! Please, more!
"Yeah, you like that? My mouth all over your pretty little tits?"
"Mmm, yes"
Lucas continued his ministrations, slurping noises filling the room as squeezed and sucked harder.
"Oh fuck, I need you, now. Turn around and show me your pretty little ass."
(name) slid off his lap and turned around, his knees resting on the wooden desk and his palms spread in front of him.
Lucas unzipped his pants and pulled out his throbbing cock, already leaking precum. He gave his length a few strokes before sliding the mushroom tip across his boyfriend's pussy, the heat of the wet flesh driving him crazy.
"Please, put it in. Put it in!"
"Yeah? This is what you wanted all along, huh? Wanted to be fucked stupid in the middle of class? Wanted me to breed you full?"
"Fuck yes, please"
Lucas didn't waste any time, grabbing his thick member and pressing the head against (name)'s sopping entrance. The hole twitched at the touch, aching to be filled. He pushed the head in and watched as the hole stretched to accommodate his size, a moan escaping his throat.
(name) whined at the feeling of being filled to the brim. The cock inside him was massive, stretching his insides and reaching the deepest parts of him.
Lucas grabbed his boyfriend's waist and rammed into him, his cock disappearing into the warm cavern. "Fuck! You feel so fucking good, babe".
The man kept his pace, his thrusts getting deeper and rougher. He leaned forward and bit the boy's earlobe, whispering filthy nothings to him.
"You take my cock so well, huh? Such a fucking good little boy.
"Ahh, please. Faster"
"Yeah, you want me to fuck you faster? Wanna feel my cock in your stomach? Wanna be fucked stupid?"
"Please! I'm so close, please let me cum!"
Lucas grabbed his boyfriend by the back of his neck and pushed his face down on the table, his hips never ceasing their movements. Lucas' strength never failed to amaze (name). He always sent himself over the edge thinking how the giant could easily snap him into two.
"Ah, I'm- I'm cumming!
"Go ahead and fucking cum. Squeeze my dick, milk me dry."
(name) shook as he squirted all over the thick cock, his walls tightening and convulsing around his boyfriend's length.
"Ah, fuck!"
Lucas slammed his hips forward, his balls smacking the boy's ass cheeks. His seed flooded the insides, filling him up to the brim and painting his walls white.
He pulled out his length and watched the cum trickle down the boy's thighs, the sight making him twitch.
(name) laid exhausted on the desk, his eyes shut and his lips parted. Lucas tucked his dick back in his pants and carried his boyfriend bridal style, the boy resting his head on the man's broad chest.
Lucas kissed his forehead as he left the classroom, carrying his boyfriend to his car.
Little did they know, they were being watched in this classroom, yet again.
Kim Mingyu let out ragged breaths, his head against the cold wall of the lecture halls, eyes closed and lips parted. He was sweating profusely and his jeans felt unbelievably tight. As he came down from his high and removed his hands from over his crotch, he looked down to see what the stickiness was.
He was so crazy over seeing (name) being wrecked in nothing but heels that he came in his pants.
#kpop male idol#kpop x male reader#kpop x male reader smut#nct x male reader#seventeen x male reader#male idol x male reader#lucas x male reader#lucas x male reader smut#mingyu x male reader#mingyu x male reader smut#seventeen x male reader smut#wayv x male reader#wayv x male reader smut#nct x male reader smut
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Blackmail
Kim Mingyu x Male Reader
cw: top mingyu, rough sex, blackmailing, mingyu is a father as if he has a kid and a wife and an asshole too, toxic masculinity(?) is just a comment mingyu says),cheating, y/n is a closeted gay, car sex, feminization, unprotected sex, tummy bulge.
an: so i finally could finish this but my perfectionism is telling that could've been better lol.
—
y/n is a teacher at the local high school and one of his students is a pain in the ass, not paying attention, throwing paper balls, bothering his classmates. one day fed up with this, y/n scolds him "hey you brat, what are you doing?. you think just because your parents have money you can do whatever you want?", "hell yeah" the bastard replied cockily. y/n just laughed and rolled his eyes "you're a typical daddy and mommy's boy hiding insecurities behind all that money… so i ask you to leave the classroom and go to the principal. oh and you can't come back to class until your parents come do you hear me?" yelling that last one part. the boy told that to his parents overexaggerating things so they can 'punish' the teacher. mingyu, the dad, decided to investigate about him and use that information as a way to blackmail him, he found out that y/n frequents a gay bar and after that he always leaves with a man to a motel.
"hello mr. kim" welcomed the teacher "i told you to come here to talk about your son's behavior. he's very disrespectful towards me and his classmates and that's not ok" mingyu was just listening to everything with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed "that's all?" he laughs "here mr. y/n" mingyu handles an envelope to y/n he opens it and it's full of pics of him with men and there's even a flash drive "your blowing skills are good mr. y/n how much do you think this would cost?" he asks tapping the object.
"please don't spread these pics anywhere.. i beg" said the teacher scared "i won't say something to your son ever again.. or… or if you want i can leave the school ye-yeah that's it i'm quitting the job here just… just destroy this pics please" y/n grabbed the man by the hands "why you're so worried about this? you could be a good star in the porn world". "no one knows about it" y/n lowered his head "please… no one needs to know this…" his hands were shaking trying to convince mingyu. "so you'll do everything i want right?" mingyu tapped his chin with his fingers "listen i will talk to my son and tell him to behave a little more but in exchange you have to met me tomorrow night, give me your number i'll send you the address later" mingyu winks and leaves…
y/n was now sitting besides mingyu in his car, "so what do you want me to do?" asked a sad y/n, mingyu passed his phone to y/n in where his video was playing "watching that video got me so fucking hard" he palmed the growing bulge on his pants he then unzipped it and pull his cock out "i want to feel that pretty mouth of yours around my cock too. suck it" he whispered guiding y/n towards his cock, "fuck so wet and warm" grunted mingyu, y/n started to feel dizzy smelling mingyu's musky cock. "such a perfect cock" muttered y/n worshiping every vein, the thick shaft, the size of it, "look at you, I thought you would put on a fight but you already gave in to me. pathetic bitch" laughed the rich man who started to mouthfuck y/n at a harsh pace.
some minutes have passed and mingyu's cock was dripping with y/n's thick saliva, mingyu stopped y/n from sucking his balls "c'mon let's go to the back seats" there mingyu discarded his pants and leaned on his back "let me taste that used pussy" y/n obeyed an accommodate himself in a 69 position so he can keep sucking mingyu while he eat his ass out. mingyu started with doing circles with his fingers on y/n's rim, then spat on it and introduced the first finger "mmh is indeed warm" then he introduces a second finger.. the third and lasty a fourth one all of them knuckles deep going in and out "i'm started to get why everyone on that bar wants this pussy is so fucking tight. more than my wife's" mentioned mingyu, "hngh" moaned y/n with his mouth full of cock. grabbing him by the waist mingyu lifted y/n and started to eat his ass enjoying how it clenchez every time he introduces his tongue "such a tasty manpussy"...
mingyu groped y/n's chest and started playing with his nipples, tweaking and pinching them to get those pretty moans out of y/n's mouth then used his mouth to lick and bite them 'he's moaning a lot… i guess this is a sensitive part for him… kinda like it' thought mingyu.
now tapping his cock's head on y/n's clenching hole mingyu was getting ready to pound him "please wait… use a condom i've never done it without one" pleaded y/n, "fuck off you're not the one in charge here i'm gonna breed your manpussy you like it or not" mingyu grunted putting the cock's tip already inside "that also means that i'm gonna mark this pussy as mine" an in one thrust he put it all at once forming a bulge on y/n's lower tummy "woah look at that" he laughed "you're took it balls deep not like my wife she can barely take half of it" he whispered that last part licking a stripe from y/n's nipple to his ear. both stayed like that for a moment until mingyu started to move every thrust being harsher than the last one "please be more gentle" squirmed y/n pressing his hand against mingyu's stomach trying to stop him but he quit it "don't be boring dude, you're a man just endure it and let me enjoy your pussy" he then pulls out and spat on his shaft and sucked y/n's hole introducing his cock right after repeating the action during some minutes.
"tell me how it feels" demanded mingyu putting his hand around y/n's neck, applying some pressure and moving his hips quite gently to make y/n feel good "it's sooo big… it feels so good how it stretches me… i like.. i like how it is throbbing inside me… can't wait to feel your cum" that's when mingyu realized y/n was already his. "so you want my cum inside you that bad huh?. what a whore. then be my side pussy and i'm gonna pump you up every day with my warm sperm" a dizzy y/n just kissed mingyu as a way to said yes, he was desperate, mingyu is making him feel things no one ever has. y/n knew what he was doing was wrong but the pleasure was immense… he just wanted more and more.
mingyu was now fucking y/n in a quite uncomfortable doggy style position pressing the bottom's head against the window with his hand, traces of saliva and sweat being smeared in the glass everytime mingyu thrusted harshly. with a loud grunt and a last hard thrust mingyu came inside y/n “don't you dare to waste any drop you whore. keep it all inside your pussy” the top rode his high with a couple of last thrusts.
he pulls out and start using his fingers to scoop the cum and put it back inside the gaping hole, savouring the delicious wet sounds “you have a taste pussy professor. glad it's all mine now… right?” mingyu licked his ear waiting for his response, “yeah” it's the only thing that comes out of y/n's mouth, his tired self just enjoying mingyu's breath ghosting over his neck. “good boy” mi gyu added kissing his forehead and then driving towards a hotel.
the next day y/n woke up in a hotel room, his lower back in so much pain with a note on his side that reads a number that y/n calls “hello?”, “good morning slut” mingyu's sexy voice answers “i have some news for you… i won't spread these pictures of you but in exchange i want to keep fucking your pussy, my wife's it's not as thight as yours and also i can breed you as much as i want. so… deal?” y/n hesitates but eventually responds “...deal” hanging up the call while gathering his things to go home. on the other side of the call mingyu just laughs and lick his lips while driving towards his job.
#kim mingyu x male reader#mingyu x male reader#kim mingyu x male reader smut#mingyu x male reader smut#kim mingyu smut#mingyu smut#mingyu#male reader#kpop x male reader#kpop x male reader smut#smut#male reader smut#seventeen x male reader#male idol x male reader#idol x male reader
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pretty little bitch - j.yh
pairing :: jeong yunho x male/amab reader
viewer rating :: 18+
genres/au's :: blowjob porno lol. (smut)
content warnings :: cursing, blowjob (yh receiving), degradation, deepthroating, spit kink, hair pulling, hard dom!yh, brat!reader
word count :: original :: 377 ; after :: 378 (big change ik lmao)
requested by an anon on my old account (pff wow say the middle of that sentence three times fast lmao)
your guts twisted in a pleasing way as yunho clapped his hand over his mouth in an effort to smother a feral growl. his hand fell away from his face despite his efforts, falling limp onto the faux leather of the car seat.
yun ho tore his eyes open and looked down at you, his grip on your hair tightening exponentially when his eyes were blessed with the pretty sight in front of him: you, his long-time lover, on your knees between his legs, your face black-cherry-red halfway down your neck, drool sliding down the side of your chin as you happily gave your most fantastic blowjob yet.
yunho tutted through the back of his throat, throwing his head back into the back of his seat and yanking roughly on your hair with no warning whatsoever. you groaned in response, your eyes rolling up into your head and fluttering closed. yunho chuckled darkly.
“what a filthy little slut you are m/n,” he spat, “sitting there on your knees, taking my cock like the pretty little bitch you know you are.”
you only kept doing what you were doing, but you sped up and purposely moaned into his cock. he moaned loudly, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up into his eyes.
“keep being so loud and you’ll get us caught, hm? you want us to get caught like this, whore?”
your mouth was wrapped around yunho's cock and he was beginning to force your head up and down the length of it, so all you could manage for a response was a muffled, slutty moan. you felt your face heat up even more in response to his words, and you closed your eyes and whimpered into yunho’s cock, making him let loose a loud, guttural groan.
after a few moments of this, yunho actually managed to form a fully developed idea through the fog your pleasurable ministrations were putting in his mind. he grinned to himself, taking hold of your hair and pulling you off of him. he leaned down, kissing you violently for a few seconds before breaking away. he then grabbed your chin roughly again and spat into your mouth, the only words he directed towards his pretty little slut being,
“swallow.”
and you obeyed.
© seonghwas-lighter 2023-2024.
#chaece.exe 🌑#fever.dreams 🌑#cacaokpop#preciousillusionsnet#ateez#yunho#ateez smut#ateez x male reader#jeong yunho#jeong yunho x male reader#male idol x male reader#ateez x male reader smut#jeong yunho x male reader smut#kpop x male reader#kpop x lgbt#kpop x male reader smut
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To reach you
Lee heeseung x male reader
hello everyone! this is a new fic and i hope you enjoy it. Thanks to everyone who read and like my fic.
this fic and title is inspired by (To reach you from memory fabricators from produce 48)
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING FIC CONTAINS
DEPRESSION
ANGST
MENTIONS OF DEATH
PHYSICAL AND VERBAL ABUSE
ATTEMPTED ARRANGED MARRIAGE
If any of the following triggers you in anyways, please click off the fic. thank you for your understanding. now let's get into the fic
"YOU ARE SUCH A FAILURE!"
a resounding slap was heard through out the house as a man slap a young boy extremely hard making him fall down. The woman gasps and tries to help the young boy but the man punches her in the face so hard it knocks her out. a sickening crack was heard as the woman drops onto the floor with blood everywhere on her face. drops of blood fell from the man's hands as he approaches the boy and grabs him by the collar.
"I'LL END YOU AND THAT WOMAN TONIGHT!"
He raises his fist and hits the boy.
*Gasps*
a boy woke up from his nightmare. His eyes were red and puffy with eyebags surrounding it. his skin was pale as snow as he gets off the bed. he reaches for the remote on the table besides his bed and turns on the tv.
"1 2 CONNECT! hello, we are enhypen!"
The young adult smiles as he watches his favorite idols do hilarious things and participates in fun games. Unintentionally, he reaches for the dark blood album that he bought months ago. He opens it and picks up a photocard. Even though it brings him great pain from remembering it but he still loves him even after all these years being far apart.
Lee heeseung
he shed tears again just by seeing his photocard. He cries bitterly as he reaches for the book sitting near his bed. It was a diary.
He opens it to see all those moments from when they were young and naive. when they became best friends. when they promised to always remember each other when heeseung moved away.
especially, when he fell for lee heeseung.
"Today, we have a special event for our fans! we are actually very curious about our fans. So you guys can submit random videos of something that you are good at doing and we'll do a live tomorrow to see most of it."
jungwon stops mid second before putting on a poker face.
"but please, don't put anything that is not appropriate. we will not hesitate to ban you."
He then changed back to his usual happy self.
"Goodbye, engenes!"
All of the enhypen members says goodbye before tuning off.
y/n sits there with a thought on his mind. He wants to do it but at the same time he doesn't want to because he's not sure if heeseung will remember him. After a while, He stands up and takes a shower. after changing out of his pajamas, He sits on his desk and opens a code locked drawer. in it was a paper filled with lyrics.
This is the only chance y/n can talk with heeseung even if it's only through video. If this doesn't work, then lee heeseung will no longer be in his life.
"i hope it reaches you heeseungie."
heeseung wanted to sleep but i can't. I'm really anxious for tomorrow. Will he submit a video or not? will he try to communicate with him or not?
Even though they have been separated all these years, heeseung still remembers y/n. There was never a time when he forgets his childhood friend or his case, crush.
he couldn't help but fall for the boy at that time and even begins to make advances. However, his mother was not happy with this development even going as far as to arrange his future marriage with some random girl that heeseung was sure he wanted to send to the depths of hell.
Luckily, His father was more supportive and gradually convinces his mother to drop it. She reluctantly agrees but only on the condition that y/n won't break his heart.
Heeseung was extremely happy about this. but the dreaded news come that their mother had an offer overseas. They couldn't let heeseung's mother go alone so the entire family had to go. He wanted to say goodbye but they were in a rush so he couldn't even call or text the other boy.
Heeseung felt a tear roll down his cheek as he shook out of his mind. he wipes it before trying again to fall asleep.
Unexpectedly, he felt someone caresses his back. he looks back to see jungwon who gives him a look of sadness and worry.
"are you thinking of him again, hyung?
He looks down. He wanted to deny it but nothing escapes jungwon's keen eye.
"yes."
"don't worry, if he's really your irreplaceable friend, he will come and support you. i'm sure he's looking for a way to talk to you as well."
Heeseung felt better after jungwon calmed him down.
"thanks, jungwonie."
"It's nothing hyung, what are friends for?"
Jungwon goes out of the room into his own room as heeseung is finally able to fall asleep with only one thought in mind.
to see y/n again.
"1 2 CONNECT! hello we are enhypen!"
"just as we have promised yesterday, we will now look at our engenes videos and get closer to you guys." jungwon says
"We won't be watching every clip so if your video isn't included in the live then we apologize in advance." jay reminds engenes
"without further ado, let's get into the videos. the first one is from (name)." jake says
*timeskip*
"some of these clips are pretty funny but some of our engenes are really talented." sunghoon states.
"oooh, this one is very interesting. It's a song cover of to reach you. There's also a message. it says (will you come for me, prince ethan?" sunoo announces.
Hearing that make heeseung freeze. His body was moving on its own and goes in front to make sure that the message was real.
There it was, the message really was attached to the video.
'did you really come y/n?'
"c-can you play it sunoo?"
sunoo nods and plays the video. (credits to original owner)
youtube
cheoreoptteon uri eorin nare yaksok (The promise we made when we were young)
geu mari saenggagi na (I’m thinking of those words)
jjalbatteon manyang haengbokhaetteon gieok (Short but happy memory)
yunanhi geuriun nal Oh~ Yeah (I’m missing you today)
sarangiran geureon heunhan mari (A common word like ‘love’)
uriegen jogeum teukbyeolhaetji (Was special to us)
seotulgo eosaekhaedo baraman bwado (Even if you are clumsy and awkward,)
Oh~ Baby
heeojimdo ashwiumdo (Saying goodbye, and regrets)
geugeonmajeodo geuriweo (I miss everything)
It really is y/n. even after all these years, heeseung can never forget that sweet voice of his childhood crush.
Hearing these words made heeseung thinks of the time when they were still young (no pun intended) of those times when they were still friends who would play hide and seek and venture recklessly into the unknown. The promise.....
"Heeseungie, when we grow up i want you to be my prince!"
"what? but you're not a princess though y/n"
"So? I love you and you love me right? you don't need a princess when you have me right?"
past heeseung smile. "okay, i promise to be your prince y/n."
"Heeseungie..... where are you? i'm here...... why did you leave me?"
past y/n cries when he heard that heeseung moved from there.
jeonhaji mothaetteon geu mal neoege dakireul (The words I couldn’t say, I hope they reach you)
seoroga aetatteon geu mam ijeneun dakireul (I hope our feelings reach each other)
birok meolli itjiman han (Even though we’re far away)
georeum deo dakireul (I hope we can get one step closer)
neol weonhago weonhaetteon nae mam (I wanted and wanted you)
neoege dakireul (I hope my feelings reach you)
suturutu suturutu suturutu
neoege dakireul (To reach you)
suturutu suturutu suturutu
eottae neon? neodo geureon saenggak hani (What about you? do you feel the same?)
uri cheoeum mannatteon nal (The day we first met)
gakkeum nan neoreul kkumsogeseo manna (Sometimes I meet you in my dreams)
ajikdo itji mothae (I still think about you) Oh~ Yeah
Heeseung unconsciously slips tears while listening to y/n's voice covering this song making the fans go crazy in the comments, asking why heeseung is crying. some of the members also notices and niki gives him a slight nudge but heeseung didn't budge. He was too busy thinking of their times apart. It's crazy how this song truly expresses how they felt right now.
ibyeoriran geureon heunhan mari (A common word like ‘goodbye’)
yunanhido naegen jidokhaetji (Was so painful for me)
jinagan shigan soge neol mannagireul (After all this time I still want to meet you again)
Oh~ Baby
dashi mannal seolleimdo (The anticipation of seeing you again)
geugeonmajeodo geuriweo (I miss everything)
Heeseung also remembers when he was on the plane with his parents to another country. He couldn't say goodbye to his y/n, he cried during that plane ride because he thought he broke their promise and left without saying goodbye.
jeonhaji mothaetteon geu mal neoege dakireul (The words I couldn’t say, I hope they reach you)
seoroga aetatteon geu mam ijeneun dakireul (I hope our feelings reach each other)
birok meolli itjiman han (Even though we’re far away)
georeum deo dakireul (I hope we can get one step closer)
neol weonhago weonhaetteon nae mam (I wanted and wanted you)
neoege dakireul (I hope my feelings reach you)
meollimeolli jogeum orae shigani geollyeodo (Too far, too long even if it takes some time)
cheoeum bwatteon geuttae geu nalcheoreom (Like the day I first met you)
gieoknani? seotulgiman haetteon neowa na (Do you remember? you and me, we were so awkward)
maemdolgiman haetteon urideure jinannaldeul (We only circled around each other all this time)
Heeseung looks at the other members who were also entranced by y/n's vocals, some were even holding back their tears. He chuckled a bit at this part. Their first meet was something else. They met when y/n somehow got his head stuck in one of the kid slides. Heeseung had to pull him out and they went tumbling all over the playground. after that y/n avoided heeseung because he was embarassed but they soon became best friends after heeseung offered to play with him.
eonjena yeogi seo isseul geoya geurae (I’ll always be here, that’s right)
Oh~ Yeah! geu nalcheoreom (Just like that day)
(Woo)
jeonhaji mothaetteon geu mal neoege dakireul (The words I couldn’t say, I hope they reach you)
seoroga aetatteon geu mam ijeneun dakireul (I hope our feelings reach each other)
aetatteon geu mam (hope our feelings)
birok meolli itjiman han (Even though we’re far away)
georeum deo dakireul (I hope we can get one step closer)
neol weonhago weonhaetteon nae mam (I wanted and wanted you)
neoege dakireul (I hope my feelings reach you)
suturutu suturutu suturutu
neoege dakireul (to reach you)
suturutu suturutu suturutu
nae mami dakireul (I hope my heart reaches you)
even though the song has already ended, the members were stuck for a bit, entranced by the song. Jungwon was the first to snap out of it and announces that this will be the last one they will watch today.
" it has been a fun day and we have seen what engenes can do" jungwon giggles
"We're gonna end the live now, goodbye Engenes!"
jungwon turns off the live and looks at his eldest hyung.
"you can go and rest hyung."
heeseung looks at jungwon and smiles, grateful at his leader.
"thanks wonie, i'll go get some fresh air."
heeseung exits that room and wanders around. He gets out of the dorm for a sec and takes a deep breath.
"Boo~"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
"Heeseungie. if you shout that loud you're gonna make my ears bleed."
That voice.... Heeseung couldn't believe it but he look at his left to see the person that has been the cause of his problems right now.
"y-y/n?"
"your mom contacted me after she saw the song, said that she's getting sick and tired of seeing her son mope around."
y/n giggle showing his ever beautiful smile that heeseung cherished so much. Heeseung walks toward y/n and cups his cheeks with both of his hands. y/n looks up meeting heeseung eyes as they stared at each other admiring the others visuals. They lean in closer, their mouths centimeters apart and they can feel their breaths against each other.
"Can i kiss you my dear y/n?"
"Of course my prince."
They kissed as a bright flash flickers from behind heeseung but they couldn't care less not when they have each other in their arms.
heeseung pulls back and smiles at y/n who only return a smile.
"i'm sorry i couldn't say goodbye, but now i can fulfill our promise."
Y/n giggles as heeseung pecks his lips before turning around.
"i'm heading back in the dorm, I'll see you when i have a free schedule my dear."
"I will wait for you then, my prince. I love you."
y/n walks home after his lovely time with heeseung as he blushes and squeals like a high schooler in love.
'I'm glad i covered that song. Now our hearts are connected with each other.
unknowingly, heeseung mutters the same words.
"My feelings have finally reached you my dear/prince."
#Youtube#lee heeseung x male reader#enhypen x male reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen#lee heeseung#park sunghoon#yang jungwon#kim sunoo#nishimura riki#park jongseong#sim jaeyun#kpop male idol x male reader#male idol x male reader
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I do not own the image.
I will be uploading more soon; this has been in my drafts for over six months. P.S.:- you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.
Lee Know x Male Reader
Part 1
Summary: Prince Lee Know has fallen for Y/n.
It was early morning, around 4 am, when Lee Know was sure that no one was following him; he departed towards the left wing of the manor, the ones where the guest rooms were located.
Y/n felt a light knock on his door and before he could ask who it was, the prince slipped in.
'Your Royal Highness!?' y/n whispered as he got up from his bed and felt a bit embarrassed because he was not in a very presentable state.
'Ah! You are up! Great! Let's go, we need to go to the lake; it will take some time. You wanted to look at the sunrise. So let's go.' Lee Know stated as if all this was a preplanned enterprise.
'Uhm... But sir. I just said it lightly.' Y/n could not understand how his light comment made the prince be present here at such an hour with all this enthusiasm.
He saw the older flinch a bit and feel a bit out of words, so he just complied with the request and 'You took such measures so early in the morning. I apologize; let me just get ready. Oh, don't worry, I can get ready without helpers, sir. If you could please turn around.'
Lee Know stood there, his face towards the door, with a feeling of restriction in his throat as he heard y/n rustle in and out of the clothes.
Lee Know was restless the whole night. He saw y/n for the first time last year at a ball held by his cousin, where the latter was introduced to him with the sole intention of a matrimonial alliance between the l/n and Lee families, both being two of the few most powerful ones in the southern region of the kingdom.
Lee family was also a branch of the royal family, with princes and princesses ornamenting the upcoming generation of family heads. So Lee Know, or Prince Lee Know, was an heir to the titles and extravaganza, and he knew how to use them to get the work he wanted to be done.
Y/n, on the other hand, was an honorable person, not with high titles, as he was not the direct heir and had three elder siblings. But it was truth universally acknowledged that he was the best catch out of all his siblings and hence was courted by a legion of princes and dukes and marquises and all the remaining titles of the realm, even the high-ranking government officials of the other nations and royalties of other empires wanted to have him as their son-in-law.
Why? Just because he was blessed with the supreme combination of mind and grace. He was, at his current age of 23, already an established author and a formal martial artist. He was mannered like no other person, full of the right protocols and courtesies. He was the gem the crowns of all the empires lacked. And, he was utterly clumsy and naive to love approaches to the level of irritation for his suitors.
'We can leave now, sir.' Lee Know turned around to see y/n in casual wear for a walk; he was still affected too much. 'Uh, yeah, let's go, let me, yes, just okay, let's go.' 'But this is my room, sir; I should be the one closing the door.' 'But I insist.'
So, y/n stood in the hallway as the prince closed the door and walked down the few engraved steps that his room had to them, a medieval design.
'Were you comfortable in the room? I got it arranged for you, especially because you like cozier spaces.' 'It is an honour, sir, that you took such measures for me.' Yes, y/n clearly has no idea that they met last year as a probable couple; his parents never notify him of such occurrences as he gets anxious and is not able to present himself. So now, it's the prince's turn to think that y/n is not interested in him and probably thinks of this all as a once-in-a-while opportunity.
'Will you be comfortable on the same horse, or do you want a separate one? Or do you want to drive there? I can ask for the cars too if you don't like horse rides.' Lee Know asked repeated questions to ensure he asserted that he was doing it all for the younger's comfort.
'I have no complaints about sharing the horse, sir.' Y/n liked such escapist endeavours. He was surprisingly cheerful this morning to go and look at the sunrise properly. He had heard of the majestic view of the sunrise which the lake of the Lee manor had. It was sublime, in his older brother's words.
The lake was situated in the little valley formed by ancient hills now eroded to moors. Here the duo reached just a few minutes before the sun was about to emerge through the horizon, and so there was a hazy lavender-maroon sky waiting for them.
'It is indeed sublime.' Y/n whispered. 'Huh?' Lee Know looked at the boy looking over to the climbing sun. Rays shined over them softly, and a light breeze ruffling the long hair of y/n made Lee Know to realise that he might actually have fallen a bit too hard.
What was to be done now? The sun was roping up, and the firmament shone, and so did the face of the younger, watching it all with awe as the mist started to clear up. Lee Know knew he had to take them back before breakfast, but he did not have enough courage to disturb the scene in front of him.
'Uhm, we-we should head back now, we need to be present there for breakfast, or your brother would think I kidnapped you.'
'Yes sir, we must hurry. I don't want to be caught slipping out like this.' There it was again; Lee Know felt a jab at heart; was he really not going to even get a chance?
#kpop x male reader#male reader#kpopidol#kpopgay#fanfiction#gay#gaypop#male idol x male reader#kpop#bottom reader#stray kids x male reader#skz x male reader#lee know x male reader#young royals
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Hi so recently saw this post
And I kinda feel some kinda way. Ngl it kinda rubbed me the wrong way. I put Female DNI on all the reads unless they are gender neutral or in the rare case that it is a x female reader which hasn’t happened in years. But that is simply because I do not want People of just she/her, cis or not, on my account for it is meant for dudes. I am Masc presenting Non-binary who is trying to figure out if I’m just trans or weirdly in between. my pronouns are He/They, mainly He. I make content for x male readers because that’s what I want to read and there’s less of it than for female readers. While people have started making more which I’m soooo happy for! It still lacks. There is soooooo much you could read instead of x male readers. Like really there’s a shit ton of it. If there’s male readers for something, or a fandom, I can almost guarantee there’s even more female readers probably even some that exact same topic/prompt.  And I really really really don’t need any fetishizers on my page because it makes me really uncomfortable. If I write anything that has to do with me projecting like not liking myself gender wise and I wanna be a boy and a character is making me feel better, I don’t wanna know that some girl is reading my struggle for enjoyment and entertainment rather than people who have the same feelings as me and also need the comfort! One thing I will personally never write is smut because I’m uncomfortable writing it and yeah I definitely don’t want women on my account for that. I’m not into writing for the views or followers or anything, I just want to make content for the people who feel like me. Honestly this is the first year I’ve posted my content and kept it up for people other than myself to read and I’m very happy people like it!! I do take requests and I’m in the middle of making my requests thing now. But I will only write for Male reader and Gender Neutral reader. So people who go by he/they or she/they or just they/them can read those ones as well. I don’t mind Females being on my account, especially considering that I have many works in progress for my partner who is she/they, just don’t read my x male reader fics please. That’s the only thing I will ever ask from the people who follow me or like my content is to respect my boundaries of what I do and don’t want for my fics. ‼️ALSO IM GOING IN AND DECIDING WETHER I WANNA CHANGE M/N TO Y/N BUT HONESTLY I DONT THINK I WILL BECAUSE Y/N LOOKS HELLA CRINGE TO ME NOW AND I WANT PEOPLE TO BE ABLE TO TELL ITS MALE IF THEY SKIP MY BEGINNING WARNING THINGY ‼️
If you have a problem with how I view this, welp don’t read my fucking fanfic then lol 😂 I’ve really been trying to be this nice author and like be sweet and shit but sometimes I really just want to cuss and say how I really feel so I tried to convey how I was feeling without cussing. Whoops sorry guess I’ll put 2 points in the swear jar, I’ll put in my bio and make a post about it lol. This has been the lovely author, penissirius, aka Ash <3 and I will be signing off now! Gooodbye my lovessss💕💕
#stray kids x male#x male reader#bang chan x male reader#changbin x male reader#x male y/n#male reader#got sad so i’ve been throwing myself into fanfic writing again lol#i tried my hardest#male idol x male reader#stinky stinky fic#sucks to be the people who don’t agree#get off my page#please#work in progress#kpop idol#stray kids#kepler#ateez#the boyz#4mix
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