#i really like irenes legs

[capslocked]

PASCAL

male reader x karina & irene

part 1 of two roses, by every other name

28k words

It goes without saying that Karina’s reputation is flawless. 

Irene’s is remarkably not.

You're not even staunchly a romantic or anything. You just can’t be assed to manage the distinction between desire and distance. So when the dust settles, the best case scenario is the three of you going around telling people, "all of this is actually a true story by the way."

-

You don't need the extra helping of moody and foreboding, but the wind picks up enough to chill you to the spot.

It blows some of the longer, darker strands of Irene's hair into her eyes and she shivers, too, against the cold as she tucks it behind her ears. You’ve got both hands balled into your coat pockets, watching her pretend like she isn't about to say something you absolutely do not want to hear. Then, a sigh - the length of which is probably unwarranted. You can feel the frost on the air burning through your teeth as you face back out toward the taxi stand. 

It’s gotten late and you're still waiting on an empty cab - you’re realizing there was never a conversation to be had in the first place.

“For what it’s worth,” Irene says, and there’s an indecent proposal just in the way she glances at you. “I had my eyes on her first.”

It’s all on account of some sort of moral quandary, or whatever nonsense Irene pretends to believe every time it comes up. A gross power imbalance; an issue of innocence and entitlement; a threat of abuse. Something, another thing, patriarchal expectations, blah, blah - she fudges around the details, but never ever cares who gets hurt. Not really.

And it’s doubtful Irene believes what she says, not to mention she’s skeptical anyone is even capable of zipping their way down Karina’s denim, working a pair of hands up the contour of her long legs, and making her pant and gasp hard enough that she forgets to breathe.

Well, supposedly - that is anyone, save the two of you. Nevermind the fact she’s always, always been off-limits.

The bottom line is she's a whole decade younger than either of you. This just for starters - only legal for alcohol by some narrow margin. Because between you and your fiancée there are all these rules: no coworkers, no labelmates, no close mutual friends, no personal assistants, no jealous ex-lovers, and absolutely none of her juniors. It’s in poor taste, among other things.

Also, just as straightforward: crossing any number of those lines has its own kind of appeal.

"Okay,” you say, “then maybe you should be the one to tell her we’re taking her home."

Irene's arching her eyebrows at you like a silent rebuttal. She smiles after a laugh, quick and easy, because it's what she's good at. It's what she knows. “Like you weren’t hoping she’d be here, too."

The ash Irene taps off the end of her cigarette falls to the ground like snow. Hitting the pavement as if it might punctuate the thought. That's a rare first mistake from someone like you, and then a second one from her: she thinks she’ll need to defend herself with an explanation, like she’d ever need to justify anything to you.

“Besides, she’s not waiting for me to ask.” There’s a curl to her mouth - and then, she adds, for your benefit, "she'd follow you anywhere."

The twisted irony is that the two of you could pick up any woman, anyone at all.

"I think it’s a discussion for another day," you tell her, serious. She laughs out loud.

"Which one? Who Karina wants, or that you're aching every bit as much as I am to spread her out on our bed and fuck her? Because I'm pretty sure we can both agree that at this point-"

Your palm curls around the nape of her neck with a touch of on-your-feet-thinking: one of these moments that lets Irene sit with the knowledge of how small she really is against you, her head against the collar of your coat, chin angled just so to look up at your face. And there's only a beat that passes between your fingers in her hair, tugging gently as her hand releases to your waist, her teeth clipping against the press of your lips, before a cab pulls up right next to you. You kiss her hard. It probably looks cinematic.

If for nothing other than to give Karina one less thing to overhear when she comes back outside to join you.

"Really not the time," you whisper right into the subtle twist of her grin. Her cigarette's gone out in the snowy mess, but Irene smirks deeper in response before throwing it onto the wet concrete. She grinds it beneath her boot like a reminder, her hand still firm on your hip.

"What, you don't think it’d make her day? Don’t think she'd want to hear all those kinds of thoughts running together through our heads?"

You pull Irene in closer. “She’s not you.”

-

For context - only so you’re aware how it all starts - it wasn’t actually New Year’s Eve, even though everyone had been drinking like it were.

Also for context, it’s not something you were strictly invited to either. Irene’s company holds this holiday party at the end of every year where all of their employees show up (read: idols; Irene likes to argue about work sometimes - to which you have never contested the value of her labor - but your brain tends to fuzz out in the middle, and instead you mostly just watch her pretty mouth in motion). All of the high-up executives and department heads bring their uptight wives and girlfriends to some restaurant ballroom for a cocktail reception that only really functions for name dropping, or influencing the media, or placing side bets on who is sleeping with the CFO - or whose mistress might show up unexpectedly and meet someone's wife face-to-face for the very first time.

It happens to someone Irene knows, once. You pray every year it will happen again.

Be that as it may, there are a plethora of other terrible ways to spend an evening and a half, but it’s all laid bare in Irene's contract - attendance being mandatory; enjoyment excessively optional.

And sure, it’s taken time, but you have gotten used to it: the industry, all of its excess, the inevitable display, the million and one things required of Irene that you, on the other hand, will simply never be able to relate to.

The machine’s so fine-tuned and tightly wound, like clockwork.

"Yeah, whatever," she had said, leaning her hip against your bathroom sink earlier in the day. Her dress laid out neatly across your bed, already pressed, set with her heels and jewelry, everything set on schedule to the point of absurdity.

And so it goes.

You can hear her brushing her teeth through the open door - and see her profile through the hand-swiped-fog on the mirror. She drags the toothbrush to the corner of her mouth: "And before you even ask, yes, you have to come. That's the deal. That's always been the deal - bored, or busy, or trapped talking to some social climbing board member who’s realized the liquor flows fast and free - I don’t wanna hear about it. You’ll be there."

"Uh-huh," you say, eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror.

"Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she adds, spits, and lets the faucet run, “but this one’s shaping up to be a really long night.” 

You watch the meticulous effort to pull her dark hair back into a low, neat bun as she turns and comes back into the bedroom, tossing her hair clip onto the bed to reclaim later. 

“So I guess, pace yourself or something.”

"Ever the salesman, Irene," you say, facetious.

"Um, saleswoman, thank you." Her words are slightly muffled by a silk tank top pulled on over her head, then down the flat length of her body until it hits the tops of her thighs. 

It’s not a matter of opinion that she'll look gorgeous in the stilettos, the dress - those earrings that catch light wherever it dares touch her. She'll smile her practiced grin. It'll probably taste sour after the hundredth person asks how long it's been and she tells them she can't remember. But then look - Irene here, still perfectly disheveled: her damp-darkened hair sticking to the porcelain skin of her neck, skin washed free of makeup. She’s beautiful. In a plain and simple way, simple-but-good. Even with the tight little scowl she shoots your direction. It’s a look she has to know could launch a thousand ships; could start a real, actual war; though you're far too charming to know how to fight - you’ve never seen the appeal.

Irene's teeth tug at the corner of her lip like she knows you'd probably end up dying in it. She puts forward this unassuming, nonchalant, “hey.”

She muses it right into a laugh. Covers her genuine smile with her fingers.

"Hey," is how you answer, always.

You’re noticing, now, the strap of her top has fallen just down the petite slope of her shoulder. You want to get your fingers beneath it. Maybe get her back in the shower. You’re never too picky.

And here: an unspoken demand, the thing that always gets you about her - while Irene stands in front of you, her finger looped between the top buttons of your shirt to draw you close. The bow of her lip perked ever-so-slightly, this soft pucker - all pretty in pink. "Before I slip into this dress, you’re going to push me against something sturdy and kiss me until I'm dizzy," she instructs, calm and methodical.

"A lot," you continue for her. You nod seriously, for a moment. "Dizzying."

She closes her eyes and leans in, and you lean into her, too. "Yeah, exactly," she ends up murmuring under a hot breath. "So, get to it.”

And so it goes, and so it goes.

-

"Have a drink," someone keeps saying.

As a matter of fact, they all do: four shots together - or one old-fashioned, or two vodka seltzers, or three of these mystery concoctions that come in a tall-stemmed glass you didn’t actually catch the name of, and jesus, it fucking reeks of prosecco. You pace yourself, within reason. You really do.

Irene gets elusive under the surface, which is to say, she doesn't change at all - not even at the edges.

And though everyone is here to be seen, only a few actually do any of the talking. Irene has it covered - you do your time.

Happy New Year, sorta. You wait it out.

-

She tastes like everything sweet, strong on her heels and sharper on her tongue - and sometimes, it’s not the best mix, given all you can manage is the touch and scent of Irene without actually getting at the insides of her thighs or that tempting stretch of skin under her ear, her neck, down to her chest.

This much, and she has no complaint - hardly seems surprised or inconvenienced - to you stepping her into the wall like it's a matter of instinct.

She just sighs, a short huff. "Don't miss these kinds of parties," she then confesses, right into your mouth, her warm exhale filling you whole. The sounds of people laughing and champagne glasses clicking nearby, a new song starting up, it's all an unnecessary backdrop, and Irene isn't distracted by a single bit of it.

Character, setting, scene; it’s all rather textbook, no? 

You know what the sounds mean, the soft hums, the lingering touches, the firm press of your palm into the dip of her waist or the slender line of her back. She knows where all the cameras are because she knows everything that anyone could possibly ever want to know, such as the fact that this empty stairwell is a perfect place to start, that there isn't a real plan as to where this might go - or when it should end.

And you should know where not to press - or bite or grab or leave a mark - not in some liminal space, nor some vacant practice-room, not beneath a desk, not behind a curtain. No, not here, cloaked in shadow and secrecy, another scandal in the making. Not that the knowledge stops you from testing out the lines, from drawing little patterns up Irene's waist, slipping one hand along the barest skin where her dress has hitched up along her thigh. To a boundary, the low pitch of her voice, some suggestion like, "not here, are you serious?" mumbled across your lips like it really doesn't matter what gets said or does not.

She’s pinned so properly, so precisely, that the discord between her gentle coaxing, and your hard, bruising edge - that sheer incongruity between what you should do and what you should not - can make the adrenaline spike.

She kisses you harder - and harder, and harder. She catches the small sigh you let out. She kisses you breathless.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’re wasting an opportunity, given that you’re both dressed to the nines and are usually more homebody than anything else. Isn’t that the irony of fame? You sign up for an escape, and spend your life running away.

Irene eventually sinks back into the soles of her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, and she smiles so easy. She tugs at the cuffs of your jacket, sets your collar flat and proper.

"I'm thinking," you hear her say, taking stock for herself, the flush high in her cheeks, the tousled sort-of-curls now bared, "in half an hour, if you feel like leaving early, we could, oh, I don't know - escape?"

Escape to a bed with a door that locks, you assume she means. Irene wants; you deliver - however she'd like.

“Sounds tempting,” you tell her. She laughs against your shoulder. "Are you waiting on someone else to sweep you off your feet, maybe? Another offer?"

"Uh, always," she scoffs. It's the little things, confidence, and certainty, the honest-in-practice; how her palms sit soft and secure, cupping the angle of your jaw, one hand, now, toying with the knot of your tie like she's contemplating just how it might fall off of you later. Irene shrugs, leaning her weight back against the wall.

She taps a finger to her lips. Ends up saying, very solemn: "Thirty minutes."

As if you had any intention of absconding without her.

-

Irene holds true to her word - she catches you on the second to last pass around the banquet room. Some executive with a slack mouth is just launching into what sounds to be a spiel about a merger - it's unimportant, not well-versed, so Irene sidles up to you, and immediately steals your attention. It doesn't bother you in the least. She curls her finger into the cuff of your jacket sleeve, and without really being prompted or asked - and only, probably, due to the clear discomfort she has being there with anyone else - she begins dragging you out of the room; you, her ticket out of hell.

"I'm so sorry," Irene dons the industry smile and is probably charming. It's difficult for you to tell. You follow her blindly. "So sorry," she tells someone else as you exit, just before you both disappear entirely, "We're leaving. But, we'll see you next year, promise!"

A real celebrity.

The two of you suddenly a duo - and for everyone’s safety, the way it should probably always ought to be - here’s how it’s all supposed to go:

You, standing almost amidst a bank of snow gathered at the curb, your coat fanned out around Irene, shivers racking up her slight frame. All hidden just enough that if anyone were to notice where your hand ends up arriving at the narrow of her waist, they might think: 'it's not really any of my business,' and look away.

Her, curled beneath your touch - even the single press of your fingers over the small of her back as a stranger pulls a car up to the curb; or, the pull of you that ensures the driver can't actually see what you're both up to, what you're hiding; the little reach she makes into your pocket for a lighter, smiling appreciatively as she presses her cold face to the crook of your arm, your jaw, the juncture of your neck; a safe space.

“So.” Irene will look up at you, pale moonlight gathered in her lashes. She’ll make another face: this thousand kilowatt grin or her brow raising - sharp, quick, there-then-gone. She'll turn the lighter over in her hand once, twice, and say, “how long has it been since we’ve done anything social?”

You’ll know it’s not what she means, but you’ll offer her the out anyway: "could go downtown - there's a place you've probably never been to. Might even play your style of music, if you're really lucky."

Irene will arch her eyebrow as she raises the cigarette to her mouth, lit up before you know it.

"Is that right?" she'll say, dismissive, a smoky tendril curling up over city neon and catching starlight.

You're no stranger to what’s actually being suggested - an unspoken sort of arrangement. All because Irene sees herself as being above, hiding her intentions in euphemism, tact; in long, slow drags; in lilting lashes - while she's fully and shamelessly aware there's nothing virtuous about it.

Who the hell else could make it sound dignified, pretty even: ménage à trois.

Then, you’ll do your part. You’ll help interpret: another girl, gorgeous and probably unclothed, another bad decision, or two, the three of you finding yourselves back in your apartment where Irene will not hesitate to run her tongue up the side of a sweat-glistened neck, to tilt her head and whisper out a mantra of, honey, sweetie, anybody ever tell you how good you look between a woman’s legs? Or, fuck, let’s get you out of those jeans, let me take you all in, how the fuck have we not gotten our hands on you before?

Which means the question you really ought to be asking sounds more like, “maybe we can invite someone over?”

You’ll meet her eyes as they flick up - a lazy expression, easy to read. "Bingo," she’ll say, blowing smoke and even more caution to the wind.

Almost to a fault, everything she does draws attention. Every fool with a blog and a camera posted outside of an event will have her labeled on-sight. You can already see the headline - because the only thing worse than everyone thinking you're the antagonist is looking the part. The imagery, red carpet, sexy evening dress, sultry, regal. The caption, Bae Joohyun - they use her government name like they really know her - sulking in smoke, or thirty flirty and thriving? below a thumbnail of her holding the cigarette, with your suit jacket draped over her shoulders. She's a total tabloid darling. Irene the temptress, or Irene, ice in her veins, or Irene - "How does she look so fucking gorgeous without makeup?!" or "Do I wanna hate her, or wanna be her? @RedFlavor_ROYAL," or "In every shot I feel like Irene has me staring into her soul."

Add that to the fact the girl’s utterly shrouded in myth.

Everyone running amuck with speculation; she's the girl-next-door, she’s the fantasy-in-real-life, she's someone everyone could see themselves fucking - she’s the heroine they say, the villain, the perfect wife, the one-that-got-away. They never do decide.

Though there’s only one opinion she’ll concern herself with, and only on occasion: yours.

Her fingers will come in the dark to trail feather-light from your collarbone, between the rise and fall of your shirt buttons, before pressing open palmed to your chest to still right there, and she's such a pretty thing in the plain black dress, all yours and very much in the mood - which you'll already have reason to know, in part from having felt your way around her no more than a hour prior, but also just the way Irene's been looking at you from beneath her dark lashes all evening, that subtle predatory gleam in her eyes.

You’ll hold her close. Irene will have the audacity to comment, “love you,” in this delicate little whisper, quiet like it could go either way - affection or gratitude. Maybe a touch of both.

A car will shortly arrive, pulling up to the curb with snow melting under its tires, headlights in your eyes, and then finally, in no particular order, your heart hammering: the click of the lighter, the falling ash, the sweet easy laugh, the crunch of ice under foot as she steps down beside you, the soft sweep of your arm.

You have no complaints about the proposal. A lack of argument or dispute is basically the same thing as consent, isn't it? For all intents and purposes, as a whole, it's really kind of a win-win:

Irene needs variety, which you're well aware of. It's only natural for someone who can have anything they want. And, sure, you happen to be a willing participant when it comes to satisfying the occasional whim.

So - the conversation will follow you right into the backseat of the cab, simply to iron out the details. 

“Tall. Beautiful. Soft, soft, soft - like cashmere, a luxury brand," Irene will have one heel off and her knee braced up into the back seat while the other leg extends across your thighs, fingers running along your coat collar to make idle circles against the exposed skin there. "Or, at the very least, someone with a little more bend to their character - you know how those prim and proper types always get a bit lost in you.”

"And wouldn’t you know."

It’ll sound smooth, probably. Irene will roll her eyes.

“So, okay,” you'll return to her, right after instructing the cabbie how to get to Irene's place. None of the implications here are lost on you. “You have anyone particular in mind?”

"Hm, I’m thinking."

You can picture it, roughly: Irene's whole body sunk into the dark corner of the seat - one leg idling over the other. Her foot bouncing at your thigh. She has her heels in one hand, earrings in the other.

She’ll look wistfully out the window; the intermittent flashes of city lights casting her face in different hues. The curve of her jaw; the stately line of her nose; her thick black lashes - composition and subject. It's this kind of attention to detail that the cameras scramble to pick up. It’d be better if they got it for the right reasons.

You’ll pull out your phone. Start the usual scroll from the top of your contacts. The girls you know, the girls you don't, the ones who might be awake or who definitely are, regardless of time of day or night.

Irene will finally perk up, gleaming.

Someone cute, she might say, only because she'd rather not admit, someone like me. There's limits to her vanity insofar as her taste - in all sorts of things.

But she does like the idea of it. Someone young and pretty and impressionable; someone naive, or tiny and helpless; it's never difficult to find the girl who will fawn over her - all wide-eyed and doe-faced the instant Irene floats her fingers across her collarbone, smirking - when she starts at the zipper at the back of her neckline and says, "we’re going to see how wet I can get you," without missing a beat. Someone who will eventually say please when Irene gets a little stern and tells her, "ask me what I'm gonna do to you," in a rasp so smoky that it would make the cigarette seem blasé.

But that, you suppose, is the nature of Irene. A touch domineering. A little more than just a pretty face.

She always takes, but she takes gently - a push here, a pull there, she knows people will give her anything.

It will be more obvious when there's a small voice trembling between the two of you, twisted up in your sheets and simpering with the gentle sort of affection that Irene deals so expertly: two fingers sliding up, pressing down. Curling, beckoning. Slow and tender, without giving up that she's looking for any soft spot; a weak point. Some vulnerability to exploit.

It'll be right after whichever plaything of the hour pulls her lips off yours, off the length of your fingers - or when she unfastens her mouth from the hard shape of your cock with an obnoxiously loud pop: "do you guys do this kind of thing often?"

And Irene, without even an ounce of hesitation, will rip right into the sheer of her stockings, letting out an aggressively casual laugh. She’ll plant a kiss somewhere deep. Say, "oh, honey," as she nuzzles into the crease of her thigh. "We're pretty new to this too."

Everyone, just - believes her. For the same reason you suppose they believe she's perfect. She’s good, really good at all this.

In the taxi, Irene's foot will continue to tap against your leg, until you're stopping her by covering her knee with your hand. As for now, the evening will remain all but written in stone. You'll run a hand through your hair, you’ll lean an elbow against the window - the whole while, ignoring the sudden itch between your shoulder blades at the thought of something else. At the thought of all the other girls who'll take an instant liking to her. Who wouldn't. 

The light will change. The intersection will empty. The radio will turn to static.

You'll eventually offer up a name like, "Jennie Kim," among others. Moving alphabetically down your contacts list. Taking you a long while to make it through the 'K's.

"Hm." Irene's soft hum of disapproval, non-committal. "Are you asking, or telling?"

The difference won't matter. "I'm suggesting," you'll say.

You’ll watch how Irene turns the name over in her mouth a few times before smiling - how she knows, there's the smallest part of you that has her held in a certain light. "Maybe," she'll say, tapping her phone against her cheek in the contemplation of whether or not this is a tentative no or a provisional yes - when really what she'll avoid an answer with is, "aren’t we a little tired of Jen?"

Tough to say.

Good, sweet, and just naive enough to get twisted up between you, in her case. Oh, Jennie’s the type of girl - you'll stuff your cock in her pretty little cunt while leaning into her, taking her arms and pinning them to the base of her spine, so she can't reach and can't claw and can't make an utter fucking wreck of herself. The two of you have known Jennie for too long, is what will strike you then. And a moment later, the idea of sinking into her ass from behind with your palm flat and warm against her hip and your voice husky and deep in the way she likes, and saying, god, fuck, Jen, you’d let me do anything wouldn’t you, you’d let me cum in here too.

And - she would, really.

She wouldn't even complain. Her face would be pressed so firmly against Irene's thighs, and she would whimper, not beg. Even though you know it’s what Irene might prefer; how it makes her look real cute - cheeks stained crimson as the syllables roll around her tongue before being forced out into the open.

"I think she's great," you might say out loud, lowkey.

And in a voice that is louder than strictly necessary, Irene will cut in: "she lets you finish in her ass, and then not even three minutes later she'll say it was the best lay of her life, of course you do."

It’ll make the cab driver clear his throat.

"What you’re saying is ‘no.’"

Irene will frown, thoughtful, but not conceding anything - perhaps she means hold onto that thought for now. If nothing else sounds particularly enticing, we'll call it a maybe. "I’m saying: Jennie is. I don't know."

You can hear the end of her sentence: not quite good enough. Not this time around, but someday, sure, someday soon.

"And for the record," Irene will follow, casual, with a dismissive hand wave. "Just because you got to her first doesn't mean she's ever liked you more."

The few that fall afterwards will never make the cut. Irene will turn them all down. Jisoo - no, sorry, look, she's so, so pretty, Irene will be trying to explain, gesturing in a way that's hard to interpret. "But a little too stuck up for my tastes."

You've been speaking in code for years. She means: way, way, way too straight.

"The blonde though," Irene will try right after that. “Daisy, or Lily, oh god something or another, what was her name-”

"Um, do you mean Rosé?”

“Yeah.” Irene will sink back into the leather, sipping down a memory or two and shifting her skirt up the top of her thighs.

You'll consider the angle. Your options: Rosé on her knees right inside the foyer of your apartment, Irene's hands wrapped tightly in her hair, controlling the rhythm. The way she gets her fingers spread under Irene's knees and draws her forward, pushing up with her eager, prying mouth - licks and licks, nosing against the heat of Irene's pussy until she’s gasping and locking her hands around the younger girl's head to steady the jerk of her hips.

Then, you'll laugh out loud. Because you know, Rosie isn’t anywhere close to straight enough. 

And the back-and-forth of what-ifs and could-bes will follow. An endless string, a laundry list. Where Irene makes a face for every name, every suggestion: too messy, or too innocent, or too sweet, or too boring, or not nearly shy or gullible enough, or whatever other bizarre caveat she finds to slot between all of her impassioned criticisms. The cabbie will be shaking his head at some point too, because the question hangs over the taxi at large: 

What exact criteria could possibly be good enough for the distinguished tastes and sensibilities of Bae Irene?

-

(The truth is: it doesn’t go like that at all.)

-

Enter then, Yu Jimin.

The run-in starts there, downstairs, out standing in a pool of warm, yellow light. The snow flurrying about in the glow of a street lamp - melting into where her smoothed curtain of jet-black hair spills over her shoulder and trickles down her sleeve. She looks a little cold, but not noticeably shivering. There's a red flush to the exposed length of her legs, between a pair of knee-high boots and the short hem of the coat itself. The stockings underneath offer little in the way of wintery protection - nor do the little bows that rest at the the bands of elastic around her soft, pale thighs - though it's obvious to anyone who's looking why she'd choose to wear them.

An assay into form over function. She's never cared for pragmatism.

But the lines around her are pristine, a clean-cut of shadow and substance; you take a step onto the curb, feeling yourself fall right into the foreground.

Look: you know Karina. You both do. Enough to recognize where it’s calmest before a storm.

Irene eventually calls out her name into the silence, and there is a split-second where her fingers reflexively wrap around the crook of your elbow. Almost possessive.

A car rushes by. Karina turns with her ungloved hand holding her cellphone to her ear and she's fucking gorgeous as can be, always pinning you with these big, unapologetic eyes - strikingly and somewhat deceptively innocent beneath her sharp brows. A breathy huff in response; she's otherwise unaffected.

Her shoulders shrug in easy dismissal; a quirk of the corners of her mouth. She slips her phone back in the pocket of her pea-coat. "Oh, how we all doing?"

Not for long, the question lingers.

"Fine," Irene finally replies, though her voice doesn't rise above a disinterested murmur.

"Easier, right? To fight for breath down here than it is up there," she says, pointing her gaze up high into the rafters of the building, and in a lot of ways, you realize, she's just like Irene - sweet, charming, this uncanny ability to make you think she's close, when she isn't actually looking to share anything. When she hasn't exactly decided that she likes you or anything at all.

You squint slightly. Take in where her silhouette appears darker against the backdrop of city lights, blending with the velvety black, bleeding into the ink-smudged night sky.

"There's certainly something to be said for flying under the radar at these things," she continues, taking one step closer towards you as if for comfort. Or privacy - to guard against anyone who might walk by.

"You've still got it easy," Irene says, "that, and everyone thinks you're too pretty to go after. No one even seems to consider the idea, it’s insufferable."

"Jealous?" Her tone is playful. There’s a smirk she’s suppressing - until she can’t hold it in: an unexpected, stunning smile, dimple and all. This incongruously kind face.

Oh, and listen, no one gets it better than Irene.

"No," Irene exhales, hot. “Not at all.” You can see where the thin plume of her breath hangs over her like a cloud for a moment, thinking, before dissipating against the harshness of a frigid December breeze.

"Really." She smiles at you again. Makes a sound that could be a laugh, you don’t know, the wind takes it, far away.

"Are you out here waiting for someone?" you have to ask. 

"Loaded question." Karina purses her lips for a moment. Her long eyelashes blink once, twice. "Because, I dunno, aren't we all?"

"Some of us more than others." Irene speaks quietly, moreso to herself than anyone else - but somehow her voice carries.

"Cheeky," Karina says, and this time she does laugh. "No. I'm waiting for a cab. I've had one hell of a night, and no interest in spending the rest of it in some rising socialite's bed, doubters excluded, because - look, I'm happy for you guys, I guess? You're gonna get married," she claps slowly, slow and mocking, slow enough that Irene rolls her eyes, "-or, the two of you will make a statement saying that you are - either way it sounds fucking exhausting - congratulations to you both. But seriously, congrats."

This is sorta how you've always known her. 

Faintly-hinted secrets, flirty half-truths. Her love life is an utter wreck, but that’s not something you’re supposed to know. So that's all she gives, which is more or less how everyone knows her. It's the only way to survive, probably, in a world of glitter and glamour, when everyone's vying to look, to feel, to take, and take, and take. Irene knows how suffocating it can be - she doesn’t lie about it, not to you, which is the only reason you're so well-versed.

Point being, no one wants to admit to any cracks in the fantasy; the gold too shiny, the surface too slick, the mirror too smooth for that illusion to slip.

"So go grab a guy with a half-decent smile and get him to buy you a drink about it," Irene suggests, derisive, "arch your back, push your tits out, get creative. I doubt it'll be much trouble at all."

Karina looks down, back up - with a slight chew of her lip, saying, "you just have me beat in all the important ways, I suppose. You got it in the bag, no real competition."

Irene is smiling, but her expression is unimpressed; it doesn’t mean much, really, to be her friend, her colleague, or worse, her opponent. Irene is calm like an evening in July, a low, cool, languid feeling. "I don't mean to be a prick, but, aren't you a little young to be so jaded?"

"Gosh," Karina’s grin doesn’t change, but does turn a touch wicked, like she's biting back. "I'd hate to be around when you do mean to be a prick, but maybe we'll find out - you know, down the line, someday.”

Irene tuts softly. It sounds patronizing. "Please, you'll have to forgive me - for mistaking you for someone more aware of how the rest of us work."

“You're one to talk, Irene."

“Careful,” Irene warns.

"What, you gonna set me straight?"

"Right." The way the word rolls off Irene's tongue, slow, thick, bitter, like molasses; like the coffee she has when she's tired, like the cigarette she swears left and right she’s cutting out and the vodka she needs you to reach for in the upper cabinets, like the person she is after midnight when you've let her keep drinking to find the limits to her inhibition. You understand Irene too well. And no matter what anyone says, you will not have the facts wrong.

There's no kindness to the way she laughs. None.

She tilts her head to you, grinning: an honest grin, her favorite thing - inimitable, unique, and hers alone; her version of cruelty is what will always have them doubting. You hold her gaze as she adds, "of all things, right now - wouldn’t you just love to set her straight?"

-

Depending on who you ask, you’ll get different results.

Irene insists you kissed Karina first, probably out there in the snow - god knows how cliche would that be.

She also insists that it was you who suggested that “there’s a lot more sense in splitting a cab,” and then minutes later, “please, it'd be no trouble, just let us pay. Our place is five blocks that way," and Irene - being Irene - mentioning it's actually quite a bit further, but hey, it isn’t worth splitting hairs over. And it's not worth explaining - she shuts you up with another kiss, pressing her weight hard up against you, the arm she slings around your neck.

Then in a sort of mythologized version of the timeline, it's you who makes the proposition - invites Karina upstairs, with the charm that Irene knows is usually reserved for her benefit alone: that slight tick of the brow, the delicate slant of your mouth, the confidence you seem to have in thinking no one will ever say no, no matter how brusque the invitation-

"You two are unbelievable. Is this really your standard procedure?" Karina asks, once you're through the door, or maybe during a bout of smalltalk in the kitchen. Something flirtatious; and suggestive, and maybe a little offhand. A pointed glance downwards, back up. All it really will take. "You get some girl into your home and they're just so overwhelmed and dazzled and in love, they can't even make eye contact for longer than a second? Because that's quite a line," a soft huff, the exhale that seems to carry the faintest note of a sigh. You could call it wistful. Just this side of romantic; very attractive.

“That’s more or less the gist of it,” you offer.

“You’d be surprised.” Irene is lingering on it, back against the counter beside you, laughing. "Some people are more than happy to be swept off their feet."

"Imagine that. If that's how this is meant to go, then tell me," and Karina lifts her chin, a breath drawn slow and deliberate, "what exactly do prince and princess charming do next?"

Consider that Karina’s interpretation of events is closer to reality: no pretense. She is not drunk, and in this story, she never will be.

But it's the slow-burn thing, the rivals-to-lovers thing, the sexual-tension-through-conflict thing, the white-hot-blistering-rage matter gone awry. Not a series of happy accidents, but a result of intentional circumstance - this slow arc of descent. She knows exactly how Irene is tightly wound, and which thread to pull to make everything start to unravel. She'd flirt with you right under her nose - say things in this obnoxiously girlish tone, pout a lot, lean into so much innuendo it becomes impossible to miss the meaning, or the sincerity behind it.

If you had to guess - Karina’s been pining since forever, since Irene accidentally etched her DNA into the girl upon saying, carelessly, that she’d always seen some part of herself in Karina. Probably around the time Irene wrapped a palm over an expanse of bare thigh, just beneath the hem of her skirt, telling her, you're getting way too pretty for your own good.

Doesn’t matter who you are, that’ll fuck you up for real.

And it's not just how she looks at Irene when she thinks no one is watching either; swings and roundabouts, Karina probably can’t keep the thought of you sprawled out over Irene’s petite little frame, or Irene kissing you hard while wrapped around you tight. Your hand, her hand, intertwined and picturesque, sliding down Irene's stomach. Together - and so very without her - fingertips stroking lightly over Irene’s clit, gently dipping inside her.

Irene is not stupid. She picks up on everything, and there's a lot to unpack:

"Can you believe it? Minjeong just asked me if I've ever kissed a girl before," Karina had said to you once, ages ago, between a workout or dance practice, something or another - she was wearing a loose-fit tank top and very intent on showing off. She seemed then to be taking mental note of the face Irene put on, the look of someone trying to hold in an aneurysm.

“Well,” you played along, because you’re not really without blame here either. "Have you?"

"Oh my god." Karina knew what she awas doing, the playful slap to the chest, the lingering touches she’d have on you every chance she could get - total fucking coquette - anything to get a rise out of you, your fiancée. She hushed her voice down to this strategic whisper that Irene could just overhear: "of course not."

You better believe Irene broke her composure not soon afterwards, after Karina made her exit. 

"Do not fuck her," she demanded, firm, "I don't care how good you think she might be in bed, or what she would probably let you get away with."

You remember the knit of her brow.

“Do not.”

You’re sighing, profoundly. The memory - not to mention its shocking clarity - has put a smug sort of satisfaction into your bones, indulging. The nip to Karina's jaw, a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder. A hand tracing down the curve of her hips, under the guise of helping her settle between the cushions of the couch. You feel like you catch the color flooding her cheeks. Then, Irene, her pretty little shadow: the steady presence over her other shoulder.

"What." Karina sounds defensive when Irene pulls her lips away, but the hand she has buried in Irene's hair doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. "Are we going to pretend for a minute I don't see the way you're both looking at me right now?"

"Don't be stupid, darling, of course not." Irene leans up close again. Kisses up her neck, behind her ear, and coos, "the two of us, you just seemed like you were needing someone, that's all," and then whispers the words, barely audible: "I mean look, who wouldn't want the three of us right now?"

Karina hums. "Ah, so - you think I deserve to have a little fun."

"Maybe," she draws it out a little longer.

Your hands dip below her knees, running over the silk-slick surface, tugging at the frills lining her thighs - feeling up over the outline of where her body curves under her dress. Over the dark pattern printed across the front.

Karina swallows visibly, her head dropping back against the armrest, the couch cushion; by the way she shudders slightly and starts breathing, you realize that it's probably been a while since she's had much experience being in a position this helpless. You draw your fingers lightly across the bareness of her skin, right as Irene finds that sensitive spot just where her neck slopes to her collarbone. You trace along the fabric until you have her squirming beneath you both.

She sucks in a breath as Irene drags a touch right over the obvious seam, across the expanse of her hip, and despite your fiancée being a tad forward -

"Both of you should know I'm not that type of girl. Who puts out so easily-"

"Likewise," Irene practically sneers, not missing a beat and threading her fingers beneath her jaw, feeling her pulse against the pad of her thumb.

"Yeah, well. If this isn't a setup, then, what-"

“A setup.” Irene breathes the word out, contemptuous, which is almost as if she says yes, you figured it out, and she starts to lean in closer - the distance between the two of them now negligible as her mouth tightens with her derision. "That is awfully conceited of you."

"Ha."

You choose right there to run your palm between her thighs and cup at the front of her pussy through the skirt of her dress, squeezing tightly. There has to be an element of good cop, bad cop to this whole routine, and you'd be remiss not to participate in the former. Irene's glare is starting to become pretty intimidating.

"The way I see it," you begin, and it's so gentle. Easy to slip through, but easy enough to grip - no threat, or indication that she should stop rocking forward to the motion of your fingers, toying idly. "There's no catch. Only: Irene calls the shots. If you end up with a crush, or worse, think you're in love," a light squeeze to illustrate the point, the dig of nails, not too rough, but definitely drawing attention. "You've gotta walk it off.”

Karina just runs her tongue across her lips, sighing.

“No strings attached, no special treatment. Or anything."

"Oh." Karina is looking straight at you, dazed - as your fingers work harder, picking up where her hips started rolling a second before. She licks her lips. "You're telling me that I'm going to get fucked so thoroughly here, that it's gonna be a problem."

"Actually," you pull away, pushing her dress up so you can touch up ever higher this time. Rooting between her soft thighs. "I can't make any guarantees. You'll need to convince us first."

There's a laugh, from a spot inside her diaphragm - and yeah, there's no denying the reality here. She's nervous; or excited; or nervous-excited. Karina just lets it pass, an exaggerated sound in her throat, before gasping on an exhale of breath: "convince you to fuck me?"

"Between us, we've kissed our fair share of pretty girls in the heat of the moment," Irene supplies.

Karina laughs. Starts saying, "in that case, can I start by confessing that this whole exchange has left me pretty fucking wet-" 

You slip one finger down the rise of her panties, this lacy little number she probably picked out with sordid fantasy in mind. 

"Oh god," she says, voice drowned in her throat, husky, and sultry - it’s really hard not to appreciate the girl, like this - and then she closes her eyes, saying it again, "oh, yeah, like - like that. Okay, thank you."

Irene puts a hot kiss into her lips, and a subjugating silence stills over the living room, softening around her small voice, her breathing. Everything comes together so seamlessly, so effortlessly: 

The click of Irene’s heels against hardwood, these soft sounds of wet tongues twisting and bodies grinding, Karina's face, buried somewhere under Irene's chin, letting out the cutest moan. Irene's helping the rest of the dress up over Karina's ass, then up past her waist, pulling down the scalloped elastic of her stockings. She grabs hold of her hips, feeling the draw of her curves there - you watch how your other half does the thing she does best, the thing where she strips a girl down to nothing like she's doing them a favor.

"Pretty," Irene appraises her naked body - not her face, not her mind, not her ambition or the strength of her determination, or god forbid, something banal like her personality, but, "fuck, look at you, look at this figure," her palm skates along the plane of her stomach, "so pretty."

It could be the insinuation: Irene is ready to reduce the girl down to a heap of jumbled nerves; to tears, probably - given half the chance. Like she's telling her a body as flawless and well-manicured and sweetly receptive to being toyed with as hers needs to get absolutely wrecked, among other things.

(Fucked so deeply, and to the point of utter exhaustion - the point is that she forgets her own name.) 

Irene knows just by looking, her eyes tracing down each and every one of Karina’s curves like they’re taking inventory. It could be as simple as a handprint seared into her ass, a stinging red stain etched into her soft, creamy white skin, marking the insides of her thighs, her beautiful fucking tits - oh, the things the two of you could do.

"How do you want it, exactly?" Irene's eyes are dancing around her face, in her stare, darting down, then back up. "How, baby."

Karina smiles against Irene’s lips like she knows the answer, the perfect one. She must already have the script prepared. It's no stretch of the imagination: "anything, as long as it means you both keep looking at me."

Because maybe it's down to the pure physicality of it all. Something Karina's been waiting to feel, desperate to have, for some time - as you set into action, dismantling any pretense that you weren’t about to devour the heat of her aching cunt, from running touches all over her slick pussy. It’s a strong theory, you figure, from the visceral response you get when you get start to fuck her, when you slide a finger inside: tight and snug, and so unbelievably wet. 

“Oh,” she breathes out, and it sounds sated and needy all at once.

You make sure to glance at her face before pressing another into her. All the way past the knuckles. She looks lost to the feeling, the pleasure; her expression gone hazy-eyed as you start fucking into her with a few steady pumps of your wrist - slow and then faster, then faster again - fucking into her with increasing urgency.

Just to keep her gasping, panting.

Like a woman starved for it.

"God," Irene kisses softly into her mouth. Her hand tangled in Karina's hair, twisting strands between her fingers and tugging just shy of something painful, "you're really sensitive, aren't you?"

Karina nods, slightly. It’s all she can manage.

You have a soft spot for girls who will spread themselves open like they can't wait, but still end up flustered over how your lips ghost across aching flesh. Who can't even form the words - asking for this, and that, and a million little things; and look at Karina - blushing, her eyes fluttering closed, and digging her nails into the couch the moment you finally put your hot mouth on her. Her entire body is drawn taut like a live wire.

"Relax," you coax, speaking more to the muscle - her legs tensed, and knees pulled tightly together. You know just where to place your lips to make her go to pieces, but it's worth suspending pleasure - your own, and Irene's, who won't admit that this sorta turns her on too - so Karina's face might open up, so the tilt of her brow can slack, and the twist of her expression can soften. Like it's the only chance she'll ever get.

When you place your palm across Karina's stomach to steady her and look up, Irene has started peeling off her own clothes, down to nothing but the little panties underneath. That garter-belt thing that makes her ass look like she was sculpted straight out of clay - a reminder she's always worth your time, no matter what mood she's in, or whether or not she'll eventually let you take the lead. She's lifting herself on the couch to throw off the little slip of a dress, the high heels. “Baby," she purrs, teasing, maybe to distract from how she’s gone from dragging circles with her fingernails across Karina’s collarbones to kneading roughly at her tits. And she might even insert something she's never actually had a chance to confess out loud, or even consider much, like: she's been dying to know what Karina's face will scrunch up into, or what her eyes will look like, tears stained across her lashes while you fuck her within an inch of her life. The image you’ll find when you find all those spots that drive a girl wild.

Your mouth drags over the slick, her lips, her clit, and down again - as if to illustrate the point.

"That feels - so," she starts, and bites off the rest of the words.

Irene grabs hold of Karina's hands. Presses their mouths back together, and bites Karina's bottom lip. Kissing the words out of her, the sentences that start in half measures and stifled gasps:

"- so, good, oh. Do - ah, fuck. Oh, god-"

-and vanish somewhere in Irene's mouth.

"-oh, do that again. Oh my god. There. Just - lick- please, keep fucking, exactly that-"

And pay close attention, because here now is how she slips: from the image she maintains for the cameras, the audiences, her admirers, her competition, her detractors, the ones who mean it, the ones who don't mean a damn thing; the girl who shies away from anything overtly sexual, or sensual, or remotely hedonistic; and doesn't act as though she too, just as much as anyone else, needs someone to fuck her stupid - as if it's an eventuality of her own humanity, instead of a concept she's learned to scorn.

Irene picks up on the distinction, all too familiar with the look filling out across Karina’s angelic features.

She ghosts her thumbnail across Karina’s nipple. Tries out: "why don't you make her cum, baby, right here, on the couch.” A look at you, a quick tilt of the chin. Then, her tongue peeking from behind her teeth, and her voice dropping, "just so you can tell Minjeong, or whoever ends up asking - 'you have no idea how good they fuck.'"

And just like that - with Karina’s body laid out beneath Irene’s hands, your mouth - you simply fucking ruin her. 

You both do. 

Until it's only a mess of whines and shuddering limbs and that lovely look: pure agony. So helpless. So utterly exposed.

Karina hiccups something incoherent - you’re doubling down. You’re working your touches through the torrid mess between her legs. Her pussy is shimmering wet and hot and every bit as pretty as she is. Then, the motion of your tongue, the slow, heavy flick back and forth, relentless and constant - dragging back and forth, keeping her right up, riding the wave. Back and forth, back and forth. 

"Oh my fucking god." Karina can only gasp, jaw-slacked open. 

Overwhelmed and blissed-out and suddenly awash in this searing and wondrous sensation that the only real way she's able to make sense of is by twisting her hands in your hair and pulling you flush against her cunt while she cums on your lips.

"Ah - you're fucking kidding me. Please, don't stop, please don't-" Karina has her head turned. Voice pitched right into Irene's shoulder. You fuck her on two fingers until she’s got the heel of her palm pressed firm into her forehead, and she’s starting to jerk her hips into your face. Stutter her breathing, her words: “I, I, I- fucking - what the fuck, you’re making me - jesus fucking christ."

Like some delicate and intricate piece of her had just been irreparably snapped. Broken. You hear her expletive-laden screams - and think, better her, than either of you.

And all the way through every last part of it, cresting, waning, quivering, the tremble of her thighs snapped shut against your ears, the grind of her teeth, and each little choked out gasp-

“I'm… fucking cumming.”

Karina spends the entirety of her first orgasm between the two of you, heaving.

The look on her face alone, just from what parts you can see, has your lower gut clenched - it goes from anguished pleasure, mouth pulled wide and brows wound high and tight, all the way to calm and cathartic, the pretty bow of her lips settling into something manic. Eyes softening with a luster, half-closed. A mask, the afterglow: blissed-out and smiling dreamily.

How anyone could say no to a picture like this, you're unsure. Though not particularly willing to test the theory, naturally.

"That was mean," Karina finally huffs, letting a moment pass to even out her breaths. "Both of you, so mean."

"You said to," is all Irene says, amused. 

Karina looks down; lifts her head just slightly - as you bring your own mouth off her, catching her glance. Not even your palm and your fingers covered with the evidence - it's her lips that give her away, the swollen, pouting, bright pink lips of her pussy, still radiant with her climax.

She breathes, "god. Irene."

It sounds an awful lot like she's begging for mercy.

Irene hums softly. Leans in for a kiss, with her slender hands cupping Karina's face. Manages to say: "you just look so fucking hot when you're struggling. Can’t fault us for that." She reaches down, and digs her fingernail into the line of Karina's cheek - near the center, just short of the outer curve where her dimple naturally settles. She works her lips to a very soft, "ow."

"Listen," Irene says, "is there anywhere else you've been considering going? Because in the event you're looking to stay for the night-"

Karina replies, "only everywhere I still haven't gone."

Her smile looks honest. Her cunt seeping and slick - there's abundant honesty there, too. And you manage to catch the wicked glint in Irene's eye, like she's a bit obsessed with all that glisten, and what it means - that Karina hasn't felt a real, good dicking in ages. Maybe, probably, never. That she's slept with everyone and filled her quota of playing pretend: of someone just going through the motions, dragging their mouth or tongue or cunt along the most obvious, conventional routes.

It’s written all over her face: the girl between you needs to be touched everywhere, and by someone who knows how. Needs it deeper, more. Has to feel the pressure everywhere all over.

Irene asks her, plainly, “how might we get you moaning like that again, hm? We're both dying to know."

She puts her hand under Karina’s chin, tilts her face towards hers, and kisses her long and deep. Until the both of them are having trouble catching any breath. Until they have to break, only so one can take another in: inhale, exhale, and back in her mouth.

"Maybe." Karina lets go of Irene's lower lip. She sounds almost bashful, "you'll need to let me get my hands on that cock of his. Let me get it inside, want it real fucking deep inside. Tell you if I'm just, you know. Really fucking horny. Or maybe I have some hangups about sex I've never told anyone - and we have to work past that," she takes Irene's mouth into her own again.

It's the short consideration of sure, mm, why not? until the next suggestion is: "he should be on his knees, in bed, those hands around my waist, behind the small of my back and pulling me into every stroke."

“Oh,” Irene agrees, “I love that. Should I play with myself while I watch him fuck you senseless? So hard and rough - you'll start seeing stars. I wanna see him completely railing into your dripping pussy from behind, fucking you so goddamn well until you're screaming so loud it’ll wake the neighbors."

Karina sighs. “Well I’d hate to get all the way here and half-ass it.”

You barely catch it, but there's a lovely note in Karina's voice. It’s saying, and don't you dare treat me like glass, like I’m fragile.

All in all, a filthy, filthy way for a girl with virtually no ill-reputation or ill-gotten gains - no record whatsoever - to describe how she wants you to fuck her, until she’s biting down on the consonants in your name, moaning loud and unmistakably clear, and-

“-sorry, whose cock?” Irene has no intention of letting her off easy.

You draw away from the meat of her thigh, licking your lips clean, and insert mid-conversation with a husky-voiced, "hmm?"

Karina just shoots you a sharp-eyed look. "You heard."

"Only," you play dumb. You run a hand between her legs, using your palm as you go, so you can pull more sound out of her throat; the pleased sighs, a hum. Another. "The part where you want it 'real fucking deep inside,' I think I heard."

"I mean, wouldn't you?" Karina looks satisfied with that. Lets out an easy laugh and turns to Irene. "Besides, I need to know if it’s more than just pretty eyes and a handsome smile that you’ve gotten yourself so hung up on."

The tilt of your fiancée’s brow above her is noticeable and apparent. Not a twinge of surprise; more like recognition. It's Irene looking haughty - beyond the usual - wrapped up in the afterglow. It's the confidence, and not at all humbled by the reality that she is no stranger to fucking a girl this downright gorgeous, knowing the danger inherent in allowing that kind of damage, but if Irene has you figured - she's figured Karina even better: someone willing to push through the burn. Someone, she’s betting, with the capacity to handle pain like it's an artform.

“Karina,” Irene says, and she's really leaning into it, "you really ought to be more careful with that smart-mouth of yours.”

It's the absolute worst way to proposition someone; maybe second only to what Irene whispers straight into her ear:

"If I had to guess, it’s your sweet, pretty face that has everyone bending over backward just to let you fuck them, hmm?” 

You’d anticipated this much. You watch how your beautiful wife-to-be eases forward and leaves a slow kiss into Karina's throat, before adding the worst, most awful thing she can manage, “they're eating up this adorable, innocent facade of yours just as soon as you let it slip - letting you straddle their waist, and slide right on, and chase some clout out of oh, she must have this tight little cunt, or how good it would fucking feel to ruin a load just slamming these perfect tits, or. The best of the best, when it comes to pretty things with brains and mouths on 'em: 'fuck, I bet Karina has a face like an angel, she's the kind of girl who probably really, really loves taking it raw - filled and fucked as deep as she can manage'."

“She’s insinuating you’re a slut,” you offer on the next beat, down from between Karina’s knees. “Or something.”

"I put that much together." Karina has that teasingly pragmatic tone in her voice, matching Irene's level. "Your point?"

The joke is that even Irene - after she has the chance to drag her thumb across Karina's lips - looks mildly impressed.

"Sweetheart," the corner of Irene's mouth quips, as if the reason is so, so very obvious, "let’s say you’re just like me, total hypothetical. You're going to have to let us know which part feels better: the praise, or the degradation. I know it’s what makes you tick: all the attention. I know you need it. The same way I know that I could eat this perfect pussy out for hours just to get it slick, and wet, and wanting, and the thing I’m still not sure you’d be ready to learn," she tells her, a light in her stare that flicks upwards, eyes going from Karina's cunt and back to her eyes, her own mouth, and then hers, "the really good sex? Isn’t always pretty."

There isn't room for misunderstanding, let alone any mercy in it. Irene's face is dark; dangerous. Like, seriously. Karina knows better. Everyone does. You know exactly what she's doing. You know what comes next, but this time, you can't shake the feeling like-

Like Karina wants you to look.

She has her fingers on her cunt, spread, presenting - and a small shrug; her response is so fucking coy: "I guess I can't really help it. Besides, it’s common knowledge, isn’t it? The brattiest girls always turn out to be the best fucks. Honest, I get so wet sometimes, you know and then god, I can't think straight.” 

She laughs at the premise. 

“I dunno, what's a girl to do?"

You can feel the room starting to tighten up, just barely: Karina’s breath still heavy, her chest heaving, the way Irene holds her still, how her arm curls across her stomach, palm flat under her tits; that pose in particular, the power to entice.

And maybe it's the fact Irene is still making eyes at you from Karina's shoulder, the cruel bite to her upper-lip, showing how she's working at the soft skin of her neck - a smirk, before pressing into another kiss there. Your insides are running hot, a shudder racing up your spine. There’s no mistaking what she's getting off on, not just some pretty-as-paint newcomer. There’s your Irene, your fiancée - and her beautiful, adorable, awful little shadow.

-

So what if, by some pure hypothetical, this all spirals out of control?

You don't know the consequences of taking home what amounts to a coworker and screwing her with a certain reckless abandon. There’s power harassment, a toxic workplace environment, boundary issues, sexual-fraternization. So on, so forth. It's all relative, but watching Irene and Karina make their way up the stairs and admiring the things that only a woman's hips can do, swaying this way, and that - and, following the path from one tight little ass, the other, all the way up their spines - there are no such qualms to contend with, because there's absolutely zero chance that’s the thing that’ll be keeping you up all night.

Irene laments and hopes in the same breath. 

She has two pairs of panties in one hand, Karina’s fingers laced into the other, explaining with a quick squeeze, "don't tell me, baby, I already know," a wink, a laugh. She’s such a sweetheart when she means to be; charming, wooing, the coy girl Karina seems to have gotten so drunk off the idea of getting mixed up with. And yeah, when she drops them on the floor, and pushes Karina gently against the wall. Traces her finger up her jaw, then her cheek, and leans into the crook of her neck, into that same spot from earlier; yes, Karina can count herself lucky, or whatever.

"So, don't stop now, baby-" Karina's huffing - the line of her throat so taut and exposed. "You should really fucking try harder if you want me to beg."

"Honey," is how Irene responds, leisurely.

There will come a point in their intimacy, in all things considered, where this act no longer plays itself: Irene, the seductress, and Karina, a deft and innocent prey; of course you, the hammer to a nail, pushed and pulled in one direction, the next. The moments in which her lips leave the crescent of Karina's mouth - hot, hazy, and half-wet with their own spit, their tongues twisting, the muted click, and the telltale wet drag of a body pushing and straining up against her own-

Maybe in her bones, she is begging for it. Maybe, Irene hopes, she'll have to: eyes turned up, watering, tears coming hot, streaming down her flushed cheeks as she cries it from her lungs.

"I wouldn't have you beg for anything."

It's true that Irene is ninety-nine percent grace, one percent child-like wonder; she's easy to read when the mood hits her. The lines of their bodies tousling, twisting and tangling in moon-lit-darkness. There's some irony to it, only a few steps away from the bedroom. At the base of the staircase. In front of the tall windows covered with frost that serve, now, primarily to remind Karina that she's in a part of town she could never afford, in an ostentatious apartment she could only dream of; but most importantly, that the woman in front of her - with her fingers dipping down between her thighs and up again, tracing over her navel and the rise of her hip and her cleavage - can have anyone she likes, without limitation.

Karina can't deny it's everything she wants.

"Karina, I'm curious." You're easing into that spot, where the two of them have coiled themselves up - you’ve got your cock in your hand and you’re stepping out of your pants - in the hallway, the frame of the door, a heavy, long shadow cast: Karina has Irene pinned now, a wrist over her head, against the other side of the wall where the white paintwork is starting to run thin. "Didn't you say something before about how hard you wanted it? Raw, deep, I believe was how you put it."

Irene smirks. It's just the slightest sneer, until she has her hands reaching over the curves of Karina's hips and pulling her fingers into her soft ass. Spreading her cheeks. Touching up, then down, back in the same groove, this slow rhythm that builds - like they were both expecting this exact sequence of events.

You watch Irene whisper something into the girl's ear, and - fuck - the light catches her expression at just the right moment, head lolled to the side.

"Hey," Karina drawls. She lets it come out breathy - on the note, the middle and upper registers of her voice, hitting something near a perfect alto. "How about instead of having some heart-to-heart, and making me out to be some naive-ass kid, you stop asking questions and get to fucking the life out of my little pussy."

She ends it so charming.

“Oh,” you tell her, feeling how fucking drenched she is right at the end of your cock - sliding her slick up and down the length of her cunt, and knowing the feeling will likely stick to your skin and drip to the floor, all of it - "well. If that's all."

Your hand arrives on the lithe stretch of muscle between her waist, right along the ridge of her hip bone, your cock pressing onto the heat of her cunt. Karina turns her head over her shoulder so you can see it all in profile: that pout. That look. That everything.

"There you have it." Irene squeezes the flesh she's got cupped in her palms, drawing circles. "If only everyone else got to hear that sweet, sharp edge you've got underneath, hm?"

Karina opens her mouth with some clear quip to needle, but stops herself, a catch in the center of her throat, her brows shooting up. The pull of her voice is somewhere out and over.

“God, fuck-” she can just manage to sputter. “You’re- ah, ah - your fucking cock-”

Oh, it has you cursing too. You're pushing so far into her tight little cunt - the soft airy moan, that pretty sound, riding back on every last stroke until you've filled her right to the hilt.

“I know, I know - that feels so good, right?” Irene coos.

You just pull her all the way back onto your cock, thrusting deep. Base to tip. So goddamn fucking deep.

Karina probably doesn’t even mean to whimper, but the press of your hips, slowly snapping in and in, has her lungs constricted, as the pressure slides through every hot, slippery inch inside of her - this glide of agonizing intensity.

“I bet you want to just cream all over that cock,” Irene says, fine eyebrows knitting into something like contentment. “All filled up and feeling full, and just fucking letting it go - he’ll take such good care of you. He’ll fuck you so good you won’t ever get that warm, hazy, blissed-out feeling out of your veins ever, ever again, if he has his way-”

All while the head of your cock works over every fucking sensitive part of her, dragging out to thrust all the way into her soft cunt, the round of her ass bouncing back to meet each stroke. Again, and again, until you've worked through that wet stretch of muscle. And the motion isn't exactly elegant. Karina's mouth hangs wide open, catching short breaths that curl inwards when you reach the line of her waist.

“It’s so fucking good,” Karina’s sighing out. She’s all fluster, no bite.

There’s no lack for juxtaposition in the way Irene dotes on her either - these small beguiling bits of praise like, baby, you’re doing so good, these tits of yours are just, you are - just gorgeous. Mouth quirked into a tight grin as her fingers pull and twist around her nipple. The sharp yelp that comes after. The fact that she's kissing the words into her mouth on the very next whimper: “a girl like you needs the time, and patience, and opportunity to have her insides completely, totally, catastrophically ruined.”

Irene had it exactly right on the first read. She’ll say, “I told you so,” when Karina’s washing the cum off her chest or out of her eyelashes in the shower. It’s the praise; it’s the degradation; it’s you leaning down, your hands finding her hair, curling in, and getting her right up against your lips to say it quiet, low, intimate - like a lover, like she hasn't already heard it before, “such a good little slut for me.”

And the girl absolutely fucking keens.

You grip onto her hips. You pull her hair tight. Her throat bobs under your thumb and you can feel the anxiety start to throb, her pulse hot and heavy in her cunt. How it soaks the base of your cock. Jesus, you’ll fuck a load right into her. So easily. Her pussy is so snug, so unbelievably wet. Perfect enough to know if you fuck into her any faster, any harder - it’ll be just that: you'll paint right up to her cervix; you'll fill her to the fucking brim.

"Fuck, Karina, this pussy is such a fucking dream," is what you're making sure she knows, and at that, Karina just finds that bend. Arches more of herself to you, until her ass is slotted into the plane of your stomach, the head of your cock prodding, testing the limit where her cunt is hottest and wettest. "God, this has to feel incredible. Your ass bouncing on my cock" - Karina goes slack on the force, leaning forward - "as I rail your tight little cunt."

If anything, Irene is there to catch Karina's tearful, thankful gaze when she finally starts fucking crying, a litany of yes, fuck yes, yes-yes-right-there, please fuck, and a wet, dazed little "you're goddamn - you're ruining, fucking - fucking, ruining me," every other syllable broken by her shuddering breaths.

"Aw, you're going to cum again, huh? Baby-" Irene's got her head at an angle - their gazes locked, watching - and maybe Irene really gets it: how much of a big, bad crush this gorgeous fucking woman's had on the pair of you all this whole time, with all that faux-romance, and lust, and envy wrapped up inside her - but if she wasn't so obsessed with the shape of Irene's mouth, the contour of her jaw, the lean and sleek lines of her frame and the soft, round swell of her ass - she’d still be left with the shape of your cock, where it’s pounding her apart. Fucking her and fucking her up.

It's more than worth the breath to remind Karina what she came here for. Irene's fingertips brush the line of her lips, part them just so. 

“All over him, baby, let him make a mess of you. Just a total fucking mess. We'll fill you up, and fill you up, until your poor, aching pussy is full of cum," and it's probably as well: Karina does what comes most natural to her - with you three, the whole number. Her eyes flutter and go dreamy. There's not even a moment of hesitation:

"-until it's leaking down these fucking thighs-"

"You're doing so good, babe," is your supporting role in all this, murmuring encouragement straight into her ear as you fuck her to pieces. Your breath fans out against her cheek. And then, your hands make a grip under her thighs, holding her steady, making her mouth fall open - this keen, wobbly, vulnerable thing that exposes the naked girl she is, behind all the makeup, and the heels, and her seductive and all-consuming appeal, everything.

“Just so you know: it’s the best fucking part, Karina. I mean, the look on his face.” Irene laughs with her whole body, until the rich, raspy sound of it fills the hall. “The way he bites his lip when he's close, his eyes clenched - and god, I fucking love when he finally cums. It's so good, watching him. Letting him have his way. Feeling his cock throb and spill into you - hot, and still, and just pumping inside you - just so, so good.”

"Fuck, ah-" the little gasp is like she's starting to hyperventilate. 

"Because baby,” is the final nail in the coffin, hammering home, “he’s fucking you just like he’d fuck me.”

"Fucking, please, god-."

Irene's hands have her breasts in their grasp and are playing at where she’s sensitive, then pushing into the soft, delicate space beneath, thumbing the indents. "He's so fucking good, isn't he? Are you going to cream and cream all over his hard fucking cock?"

Then - and because it comes so instinctually to her. Because, actually, your Irene has a slight propensity for evil:

She slaps Karina, right across her tits. "Fucking cum on it."

One.

Tugs hard on a nipple. "I swear, every single bit of you is so goddamn beautiful-"

Two.

"That body is built, perfect. So easy to ruin. And god - what a perfect little pussy you've got-"

Three.

Karina struggles to breathe. Her voice is torn, frayed. She barely manages to utter out a very shaky, very desperate, "harder, fuck- you’re fucking making me so- you can, harder-"

Four.

The cruel contact of Irene’s palm pulls this deliciously hedonistic sound in Karina's throat, a loud moan; like she just hit the sweet spot inside that's all her nerves coming alight. Irene plants a quick peck in Karina's hair. Her temples, the ridge of her brows. Slides her thumb across her eyelashes, brushing them clean from whatever tears had sprung free. You don't even want to try, not at that moment, to try and endure the quiver of slippery muscle all over your cock as she shudders into her orgasm. It's simply too fucking much. She's too fucking tight.

"Aw, shh shh, shh," and then Irene's soft hushes are coming down from the other side of her head. Irene kisses her full, straight on her mouth. Karina is shaking, convulsing and caught and fucked from head to toe - and what she needed was someone like the two of you - to watch her cunt swallow your cock like some magnificent and unbelievable sight, taking the whole damn thing. Irene is telling her, "it's okay. You can let it go."

The silhouettes alone. From the end of the hall, and where the afterimage lingers: the smoke-frosted windows, the dim lights, their bare, beautiful forms - this picture that will stick in the center of your head, will probably haunt you-

"God, I can’t, just- ah.”

“Breathe,” Irene says.

"I'll cum again, it's too- I'm so-" Karina can only plead and sigh.

Irene shushes her one more time. "It's a lot. It's alright, baby. He's going to keep fucking you until he's ready to pull out, until he has a whole mess just painted onto your ass, and thighs, and I'm going to make sure that little pussy gets so wrecked, fucked, stretched on every last inch- until the thought of sex hurts, and then we're going to make you cum again, and again- over, and over-"

You're leaning over her, nose buried into the waves of Irene's hair, the curve of Karina's back, and the flush of skin in contrast. That's when you feel the coil in your chest come loose - unspooling, and bursting - when Karina's lids roll into the back of her head and her lips fall open with a pleasured gasp and a stammer, "y-you're, ah, both, you're so, both- oh god."

You're about to just pull her down and absolutely cream her, stuff her full - a mess.

And she wants you to-

"That feels so fucking good," she lets slip out on the cusp of a shiver, just as her inner muscles are spasming, milking your cock with the pressure from one pulse through the next, squeezing.

She’s right. It does. Her, coming undone. You, at wit’s end. 

Another breath, and Karina is managing out between these small hiccups - not as much out of breath, just dumbstruck - simply muttering, "I’m cumming, I- oh my god." 

You barely manage it; you unbury your cock from her cunt; you’re cumming all over her ass. 

A shot of white that streaks right down to her bare-slicked skin, before it gets painted down into the crease of her pussy, all swollen - wrecked and raw.

Just the way it feels on her skin is enough to earn another hushed moan from her, this sweet little whimper as she can hardly stand up straight. She lets her knees buckle, but Irene is right there, to catch. Her eyes are closed, eyelids clenching, as Irene tilts Karina's face her way, to lay one, two, three soft, adoring kisses on her mouth, the angle all wrong. 

“Mmm.” The smack of her lips. The pull of whatever breath she still has to give - right out of her heaving chest. "Sore, that, ahhh- um, thank you."

You fiancée wraps a slender hand right around Karina's wrist, and starts whispering to her, unbridled, "just had to. Had to see how you look-"

It’s wicked, for one thing. More than that, it's seamless:

While Irene still has the girl's voice caught in her throat, she reaches around the curve of Karina's hips and drags two fingertips through the puddle of warm cum that sits right at the base of her spine, glistening all over her ass cheeks and inner thighs, slipping and rolling off her cunt, down the center, running in rivulets. Your cum between her fingers is so filthy, so obscene - dripping hot - right off her reddened skin, and Irene can't possibly help it; not after a display as indulgent as that. The trembling that remains in Karina’s thighs does nothing to hide how her legs now jitter and shake under Irene's touch.

“That’s my good girl,” she whispers as her fingertips hover across the apex of her puffy lips. Over and over again, with more force, and more, until you're almost positive it's Karina that leans in a moment later, kissing the rest of her soft assurances right off her tongue.

Listen to her: this incoherent string of words pouring from her mouth, like they can't move fast enough, tripping over each consonant, "are you, oh, oh - oh, fuck."

No one else could make that kind of overstimulation feel so heavenly, you figure, the way she just properly melts. You take a step back, just to let Irene work. Just to watch. To appreciate the craft.

You absolutely get it. 

How to touch, how to tease. Firsthand experience has you know she'll ride your cock until you're throbbing and spilling cum and she'll just shh-shh, let you have it - it's okay, sweetie, just let go - until she's rolling her hips just right, or reaching a hand back to massage your balls, or stroking your inner thigh in that exact kind of spot; some method that keeps her all the way on the end of your cock, but not quite off the edge, and your cum leaking down your shaft, spent.

She’ll bite into her smirk. She’ll tie up her hair. She’ll get that serious look on her face because she knows: you’re all hers for the taking.

So she'll sink onto it, again and again, until she's fucking you with the slippery friction only your own spill might provide. "Just a little more," she'll tell you, which is absolutely a lie, "come on, just a bit harder, I'm so close." Irene does this thing - she's had years to refine and perfect - and her voice gets a husky edge to it as her teeth graze the shell of your ear; she makes a small, pained groan into the curl of your hair and breathily hums it: 'I'm almost there.'

Who stands any chance to resist?

And she's always asking you - the same way she's coaxing and promising Karina the world with just the movement of her fingers, this delectable in and out, in and out, pushing that filth up into the red-soaked lips of her pussy - "now, what did I ever do to deserve someone like you?"

Karina blinks, once - a sleepy-lidded draw that leaves her lashes, lush and long, and fanning her flushed cheeks. 

The sound between her legs is wet, squelching with your cum, with hers, the barest hint of slapping her tender skin. The beat of Irene's wrist against her thighs - like that's where she needs it most - a deep, primal rhythm, like the last thing she wants is to take a breath. It's fucking hot; her head is tilted, her jaw clenched, and Irene has the tips of her fingers twisted between Karina's legs, swirling your cum right back around in her slick cunt - those plump pussy lips that you've watched stretch out on the first press, the first and the second and the third, as Karina finds what gets her there fast, fast-fast-fastest-

"You can cum for me too, baby."

It’s not a suggestion. There’s nothing but expectation in Irene’s voice. 

“Just cum.”

You watch it knock the architecture right out of Karina's legs.

-

Indulgent, just isn’t quite the right word for it. Careless, reckless, clumsy even-

Look - the tumultuous tangle you three make is all over the fucking place.

One moment, you're at an angle, moreover twisted-limbed with Irene bent over her dresser, then propped up on top of yours the next, your forehead landing against hers, feeling the soft cradle of her shoulders, her legs around you. She has her hands wrapped in Karina's, in that muddled in between: it's a collision of sorts.

There's the chair in the corner of your bedroom that really has only ever known one purpose, a plush rug, all these surfaces, horizontal and vertical for you to take the two most breathtakingly beautiful people in the world on and let your bodies settle into the shape they've needed to ever since your fingertips met Irene's in the cab, ever since she blinked her heavy lashes at you with Karina in-tow, just shy of smiling.

And boy, do you learn that Karina likes to watch herself get fucked in front a mirror. Specifically, the tall one beside Irene’s closet. It's hard to blame her. When you hold her hips tight, and really, truly fuck her, you can’t keep your eyes off how her face twists with the pleasure; or, when you drill the length of your cock into her sopping wet cunt: the wide, glossy rim of her pretty lips pulling back into a wince - and your eyes dropping past the reflection of her shoulders, her collarbones, down to her perfect tits.

The back and forth, the up and down, the way they fucking wobble in their beautifully buxom blur.

Though the eventuality remains unchanged, spread out across your bed. Karina takes a moment, hand pressed to the mattress experimentally like it's all running through her head - this is where Irene gets all that fairy-tale-inspired romance from, really - a quick pause where your future-bride is up on her elbows and staring, watching - your finger sinks in slowly, between where she's soft and warm and wet. She's thinking, you can just read it off her face, 'oh. So that's what you'd do, huh?'

Just for demonstration’s sake, you fingerfuck her in all kinds of ways - show-off and performance and dirty and mind-blowing. Because even better than the whiny, gut-wrenching moan it gets out of Irene, Karina can't get enough of how it’s all presented.

"Ugh," she slides up next to you at the foot of the bed, helping you turn Irene on her side, "why does she have to be so pretty, it's annoying, she's- she's like, made it so fucking far by playing the girl everyone wants to wife, huh?" She's talking directly to you, even while Irene rolls her neck to press her head against the pillow. "Inspirational."

You're drawing circles into her clit. Thumbing the dip, circling in the opposite direction. Karina has her nails biting right into the crease where your knees touch. In tandem, you’ll help your fiancée reach the top of that first wave. 

Karina presses, all cheek - a very dry, "cute."

It’s so simple: you eat Irene’s cunt. You hold her down. And Karina slides her tongue lazily against the tight pucker of her ass.

The three of you know she deserves nothing less.

“Oh, christ, you have no idea,” Irene is murmuring into the pillowcase, head tilted at an awkward angle, looking at the wall, almost distant; but her legs are split wide and her hands are reaching forward to rub a circle into your cheek, "you know how sensitive-? Yeah. Like, really, super. Super, super fucking sensitive, okay? So - if you'd keep doing, uh, oh- oh…”

Simultaneous, then slow, and easy - kisses landing right onto Irene's clit. So much so, you can't help but turn a little, smiling right up at your girl as she digs her toes into the duvet and threads a hand into Karina's hair.

The thing is, with Irene: facades fade fast.

Karina gets to measure that fact up close - where the details of Irene's composure are not only sharp, but also readily and openly and emphatically pound to dust by the time the last loose curl of Irene’s hair falls over her collarbone; she ends up on all fours, spread out over Karina - pressed along the length of her stomach, spread over your duvet and fitted sheets, your hand at the base of Irene's waist and tightening into the divots. She’s so small beneath you that when you bury your dick inside her- 

“Fuck.” Her cunt is so wet. Her breath uneven - and her words are starting to slur. There’s the gooseflesh on her back that lets you know it’s all already over for her. “Okay,” she tries to steady the ache in her stomach, “okay, okay, just- right there.” 

The drag through her pussy is fucking extraordinary. It knocks the wind out of both of you; so soft to the touch, like velvet - she’s unbelievably tight. You pull her hips into you and it opens her right up. Then when you end up balls deep inside your girl a second, third, fourth time:

She simply shudders apart.

Even though you fuck her so slow, so easy - her cunt clenches and squeezes on you like Irene detests the very idea of letting you go. You don’t even need to rail her lithe body to complete and utter ruin just to feel the familiar pent-up tremor starting to build in her muscles, how she rolls her hips back just so-so. How your hands fit that round and pert little ass of hers so well, and when your fingers finally sink in, you’re pulling it all apart to get a good look where your cock shimmers with her slick before disappearing right into her tiny cunt.

Karina mutters something in her ear. It pulls on some thread, somewhere - you feel her wind like a spring, further, and further; your cock edging her so close. The smirk Karina saves for you over your fiancée’s shoulder makes you think she’s figured her out- 

“Irene, look-” 

Well, at least she’s tuning in on all the right frequencies.

"Aren’t we all about being thorough?" Karina raises a perfectly trimmed brow. She drapes her arm across Irene's neck, their lips sliding together again, and that kiss is drawn-out and languid, albeit needy. "So, say," it gets muffled against the seam of their lips, and comes up, and comes out like a slurry, "are we gonna use everything else too? Your mouth, your perfectly tight ass?"

Irene can hardly muster out, "fuck- fuck- yes, fucking, god," as she takes it, so deep. There’s enough there to make both of you cum, you’re sure.

“Who could’ve guessed - like there’s ever been a more perfect cocktease than bae-fucking-Irene," Karina coos, all lips. She plants a row of kisses along Irene's exposed throat. The tilt of her hips, as she pushes closer - as you press the head of your cock as deep as it can go. "Go on. Cum, baby. Be a good girl, a good hole to fuck, just do it. All over his big fucking cock. Let him fucking have you."

Which is probably about the same time you realize that you, Irene and Karina are all well enroute - becoming this one mind, a single unit. This plurality you know there’s no coming back from.

You look down, with a little more focus, and Irene is being pulled apart in every which way - your cock stretching her out, over and over - Karina’s fingers right under her clit, every circle making her whimper. She’s all sharp edges and delicate angles, but manages to be soft for you in just the right places.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” you tell her, shifting your hips; pulling her ass flush and filling her completely. Your grip tightens on her waist and she doesn’t flinch a bit. "It's so goddamn easy to cum in this needy little pussy of yours. All wet and slick, and, hah- just pulsing-"

Irene lets out this wanton sound, desperate.

“Oh, right there, huh?” Karina asks. It’s not quite mean, but it’s getting there, fast. “Is that how he’s going to make you cum?”

You thrust on the same angle again, the same depth - you’re hitting all her nerve endings, all her sensitive spots. There isn't even room, now, for some imaginary head-to-head, some verbal volley, the banter; what comes forward is her tiny, broken moan.

How many times had Irene done the exact same, after all. Fucked you without holding back? Fucked you over? The flood of sweet-nothings as you started to approach: honey, you're so perfect, we can go slow, you just have to ask, and if you feel uncomfortable at any point, if you want me to stop-

“Just say please, doll,” Karina tells her.

If Irene told you a quarter of what made it out of the side of Karina’s mouth, you’d have never believed it. "I can't wait to feel what that arrogant mouth of yours will do when he cums inside this cute ass-"

You watch Karina spank her. Hard. There’s a red stain in the round of Irene’s cheek, and her skin is so pale that the imprint of all five fingertips looks stark, glaring.

"Just," Karina presses the rest of herself against Irene's skin and steals a quick glance at you - this half-coy smile pulling on one corner of her lips, "thought I'd do that in the name of-"

"Mmph," Irene’s groan is long, loud, "yes. Fuck, yes- please-"

Karina immediately looks away. An effort to hide the smug satisfaction. She fiddles with the auburn locks behind Irene's shoulder.

You’ll finish the sentiment: "-being thorough," and drive your cock to the hilt. Irene collapses forward onto Karina’s lap.

The sound she makes you swear is a sob. See - for Irene, it’s only about getting control in so far as it is about getting off; she’ll take whatever comes her way so long as it’s directly to her benefit - the theatrics of being pinned, the willingness for surrender, for subjugation, for the sake of telling you, yes, push my knees, spread me apart, hold me there; look at the things you do to me - it's the Irene everyone imagines, when they see the dresses, the gltiz, the glamour, just the brief flash of her grin, or the way she holds her fingernail between her teeth. Everyone wants to put her on her heel and feel a bit powerful. To have you watch the supple arc of her neckline bend, to hear the humility slip off her lips: the notion goes beyond simple kink-

It steps out into pure necessity.

She really, really needs it, and it's written into every muscle and tendon - it's on her breath as it shudders through her whole body. The beautiful, harrowing sound. "I love the way you two fuck me," she murmurs, head buried into the crook of Karina's neck. It's the sort of line, coming from someone like her, you know could raise a few blushes - if either of you was still in the business of such things.

"Honey," her voice wavers. Then, it falters: "please."

The desperation is thick, husky, almost. Karina seems like she's breathing her in, nose tucked against Irene's forehead.

You watch how she runs her nails up Irene's sides, a hot whisper sliding over her skin. You feel it, and so does Irene, this white hot pleasure singing up from the tip of her clit and spreading throughout the soft curves, the sensual lines of her body, this tangible current, a hum, a whine. You see her strain the lean stretch of muscle connecting her neck to her shoulder.

Until her face is tucked under Karina’s jaw, with a hand reaching back and hooked around your wrist and keeping you fucking, filling her, your hips drawn tight against hers, like a second home.

In and in and in.

Fucked-out and outright to the extent she goes completely silent. Almost completely still. The moment she cums all over your waist. Mouth hung open, like she’s in pure disbelief.

It doesn’t really matter, how often or how precisely Karina has imagined the whole thing. It's still a fucking revelation the first time she gets to watch Irene cum.

“No way,” she’s almost laughing, holding Irene’s jaw with both hands. “No fucking way. All the times you- what? No. Nuh-uh. You better fucking explain why this face, you- it’s not fair, the perfect face- I swear, even mid-fucking-orgasm, you are such a fucking doll-"

There's the sheer intimacy - Karina holding Irene's lips open, dragging her thumb down along the center. Quiet and sordid curses slipping from her mouth. And the obvious, her free hand already running down the curve of Irene's spine, her ass: all this sensitive-touching, admiring, appreciating-

"Hey," Karina says, voice raspy and drunk on the sex, the premise, "do me a favor, and tell me this feels as amazing as it looks. Or maybe, for once - just for the sake of fucking argument, is it actually better for the both of us, hm?

Her eyes are half-lidded, heavy, sultry. She's arching up into Irene's warmth - until her palms are spread out against her chest, thumb sliding right over everything sensitive, and she leans right to pull the other breast to her lips, and start all over again. It's clear what she means, spreading her legs as far as she can, pinned beneath the orgasm you're still fucking into Irene. As much as her petite frame will allow.

And in case you missed the point:

"So. What are we waiting for," is what she says a breath later, matter-of-fact, not at all expecting denial. “Or am I not as fuckable as our princess here?"

There's so much wet spill around the base of your cock, and the sound Irene's pussy makes when you finally draw free - all her creamy slick mixed into your mess just fucking leaking around your shaft. Karina holds herself open for you like that, spread wide. All your attention to her pink, raw cunt; you slip right inside. 

Karina lets her arms go slack on the mattress, her chest shivering, lips locked around Irene’s panting breath.

And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes.

-

(To anyone taking notes - chemistry, by definition, is the sum total of a certain process; where and when energy becomes matter becomes another.

More relevantly perhaps, it is that race and rise you feel inside your chest. 

Nothing about the sensation, it seems, is too exclusive either - Irene, and now Karina, the pair of them equally devastating, all over and again. It has you in communication with a different kind of contentment: to fall apart inside their embrace in particular, and kiss them with enough breath and time to waste until the morning.)

-

“Jesus,” Karina laughs out loud, “you really believe that? You corrupting me?" she makes another scoff, both hands buried somewhere in the pockets of the sweatshirt you've lent her. "At least do me a favor and cut it out with the solemn tone."

You're leaning over your apartment’s balcony, watching an emergency plow make the slowest grind of progress up the road. It's late. And cold. Or actually - it’s early. The sky is the kind of dark midnight navy you see after all the snow and stars have run through the horizon. Time ticks on, and Irene’s inside sound asleep. A woman that small has no right to snore like heavy machinery.

So,

You and Karina happen to be two things at once: very tired, and very awake.

"What I mean is: I'm sure your manager, or your parents - fuck, someone - would fly off the handle," you say, pulling a cigarette from the pack and offer it begrudgingly. She takes the end and slips it between her lips, a little unsure. You then draw a lighter and offer it, too, and Karina puffs with all her strength. She's no expert, but it looks like the end catches and turns bright. 

A bit of color.

"My parents?" Karina flouts, sucking at it, pulling deeply from her chest - smoke pours from her nose.

She finishes with a cough. And says again:

"Um. Your girlfriend had her fingers in my ass - your cock down my throat - and we're worrying what my parents might think?"

Well. She's got you on that count.

"Not to mention: who the fuck thinks they're so virtuous-" a small chuckle as she passes it back. The cigarette is lit, bright. You take a drag. Watch her tap her feet on the snow. "That they need to do that to begin with. It's more trouble, telling me what to think and feel, as if that hasn't just the opposite effect."

“Irene’s protective, albeit in her own sorta peculiar way. So, you know, by extension, she worries-" you pull, and exhale, the smoke blowing past Karina. It gets caught in her fringe, in the wisps. You offer it back when you see her shiver. "That some shit happens, after."

"Your concern is heartwarming, truly - if you want to let me think on it, I might go and write a nice little diary entry tonight. It'll have sparkles and glitter - if you're that worried." 

Karina reaches in. Lets her fingers graze yours. Her skin is cool. 

“Besides, I don’t need a lesson in image from Irene of all people. She’s her; I’m me.”

She holds onto the cigarette between two long acrylic fingernails, tapping the end so the ash flits out onto the ice. You're caught staring, probably - the dark hair framing her face, all messy and soft, falling about her cheekbones. How that pretty pink blush in her skin seems to never go away.

Your eyes drop to where her mouth is red, a bit swollen - well-kissed; it is snowing again, after all. And it’s easy to be kind of transfixed.

"You're not, I dunno, say embarrassed?" you ask, after a beat.

"Nope." Karina swallows. Brings the cigarette to the pucker of her lips again. You watch how she holds the inhale, holds her wrist up and slacked, head tilted back a little. This exaggerated fashion-model exhale follows, all smooth.

“Because I'm not the type.”

The heavy stream of smoke then blown right into your face.

"Really, I think - sorry, I have always wanted to do that. It felt like a movie. Look," she coughs on the next breath. "I get your dilemma. But also, um-"

There are some quiet moments too, here and there: the heat between your thighs, her pressed up close. She smells like Irene's shampoo and bodywash and that just confuses your head some.

"Who’s to say I’m not just looking out for you," you offer. Every good lie is rooted somewhere in the truth.

"Don't bother," her words hit you square on. "It's about getting off right? You invite me to your bed; I’m so starstruck and enchanted by the very concept of it - Irene and her charming, intoxicating husband. Fuck, I dunno - the way the two of you kiss, look, feel: the experience that you will let me be a part of," she stops and makes another face of amusement, so fucking confident, "you let me play, too, just once, and we're all just a little happier. My version."

“We’re not married,” you correct.

“That’s the part you’re hung up on?” Karina leans over, her upper half across the balcony, staring right up at the sky. “Same difference.”

The moon finds her smile bright like nothing else. It's something infectious. Immediately, it reminds you: of Irene.

"Trust me," she goes on to say. The cigarette slips back into the space where you are connected - the lines of her fingers, her knuckles. "I had a wonderful time, but the sun will rise here, and I'm not gonna stick around to blow you while Irene burns three omelets and finds a spot for me in her fucked up game of house or whatever."

She makes you laugh, free and easy, like a gust of cold air. Something genuine and natural. And as the laugh shakes, Karina makes it impossible not to crumble farther. Not to fucking simper there like an idiot.

“I really thought she was going to make me call her mommy or something, I swear-”

"Hey, I'm sure if you had asked." A spark catches you. The flash of her canine, and those eyelashes. “She’d have done you the favor.”

"Oh, shush." The touch of Karina's fingertip against your hand is delicate, careful - unassuming. But, god, everything with her is just the right amount of heat - it melts you; and when it stops, her touch: that feeling is so cold that you just chase her out of impulse.

"What about New Year's?" you ask. There are still boundaries you really shouldn't be crossing, but here you are, straddling yet one more.

Karina's grin cracks like an old fault line. "You're not allowed to ask me out like that," she insists, batting you away - trying her hardest not to lead with the obvious. You look out on the view, watching a guy in a parka trudge over to a garbage can, a handful of newspaper bundles, then a glance back-

The slightest flush has bloomed up Karina’s face, right underneath where the makeup's been rubbed bare. It's utterly irresistible. "Go wake up your fiancée and ask what her New Year's Eve looks like. Doubt it involves me and my dumb friends."

She’s probably right.

"Karina," you start, watching her push open the balcony door with her foot and walk slowly, lazily, back into the apartment. The window rattles, and she looks back over her shoulder. The bob of her ponytail, the sweeping lashes, that perfect slow-burn smile. That’s how you end up with a title as ridiculous and reductive as ‘original visual’ or ‘the human cg’.

"You’re really going to let them in on what we all got up to?"

"Oh," she makes this low, delighted hum - it sounds so dreamy, how her voice gets the richest sort of rasp, "every last detail."

-

On Monday: the holidays are officially over.

There's a bunch of stuff on the to-do pile. A lot of loose ends you have to clean up, a ton to catch up on. Irene is judiciously ignoring all of it. She's wearing her glasses - the ones with the big round frames that should look entirely obnoxious - which means she's already decided she's not leaving the apartment; Karina's still wrapping the world at large around her finger and has everyone convinced that she's all femme, no fatale; and you - well, you're back to thinking about how to climb the ladder and maybe how to stay there.

You head downtown with a cup of coffee in one hand and a musing mood in the other.

On your phone, some more choice text messages arrive in the late AM: had a great time by the way, stay out of trouble, this sweatshirt is actually just mine now, duh. 

The selfie alongside it is pretty suggestive, but just vague enough to flirt with indecency.

She sends one more at lunch where she's gotten out of the shower, or a hot pool, or maybe a long workout - her breasts squeezed between a towel and an arm - she has the camera all zoomed in and framed tight, almost full body. If her intention is to mess with you, that's what she gets. The texts: ah, fuck off and did you have a nice date with your left hand then, thanks for reminding me, the hotel wifi is shit lmao.

The messages just keep on coming and there's really no better descriptor.

And Irene, later, in a way that's neither diplomatic nor nuanced: jesus, don't let her catch you by yourself. For simplicity’s sake. She interprets being alone with a handsome boy as carte blanche to do absolutely whatever she wants and she's vapid that way.

There’s a chance it fizzles out into nothing. An even greater chance it all goes sideways. You'll have to see what becomes of you three.

-

Okay, right - new year, new you. The resolution for the past couple remains unchanged, and unfulfilled - less takeaways and eating out; more meal prep, less calories, healthier decisions.

Irene has this cute little apron over her sweater that is fixed extra tight, the belt trailing down the tops of her jeans to accentuate her nice round hips and slim waist. She knows the nature of her charm, her sex appeal. How it occurs, almost, as if by accident.

You say something that will get right under her skin like, “looking real domestic, Joohyun,” as she slides a chopped onion from a cutting board to a bowl.

She presses her hips out just a smidge, just enough. Turns a bit as she opens up the fridge, and the smirk she has for you, that sidelong glance-

“Don’t you Joohyun me,” is her lightest rebuke. 

She twists her way onto her tiptoes to fetch at the highest shelf. The crochet corner of her sweater rides up a couple of inches, flashing a hint of the fair, bare curve of her lower back. "You can help me by grating the parmesan, hm? Into that," she gestures back at the table, pointing with the bottle of olive oil.

And so you're ten, fifteen minutes into helping with dishes, with the grunt work - with the realization that Irene is going to chop her fucking fingers off if you leave her to it unchecked.

"Actually, here," you say, "can I?"

She tilts her head, skeptical - still, a quick nod of permission - and her slender fingers surrender the knife and wooden chopping board to you. She's tapping away at her phone, finding the playlist you're both always secretly listening to.

"Wow," Irene says, low, as you start dicing mushrooms, a stalk of celery. "So brave. There’s no way I could do that. Is it safe? Are we, like, in nuptial bliss now, do you think? I fancy you, I fancy you-"

It's always this sorta-delicate dance with her: how much should you step up; how much should you put out of hand; how much she accepts versus how she pushes you aside and gets through you all the same. You're too proud, really - both of you - but fuck. She's adorable; the apron adds insult to injury; and it makes the switch in your head simple.

“I always forget how much I love this song,” she’s saying; the rolling pin she’s grabbed is a reasonable surrogate for a mic. When she’s through singing a verse, she shoves it in your face. You don’t know any of the lyrics. 

She doesn’t really care.

You have to laugh at everyone who's ever wasted the effort to theorycraft who she is behind the smoky lashes, the lowered chin, the downturned glance. All the characters and archetypes she'll wear and cast off as she needs.

"Here." She sidles up and tucks her hair behind her ear, the side of her hip grinding into your thigh until she’s pressed firm into the line of your leg. Because she needs to tell you that's way too much garlic, and she's not going to kiss you if your breath is trying to kill her first. She uses the word "pungent" a number of times, just for good measure. Go on - she’s murmuring - taste; right off her finger. If anyone caught this you’d be embarrassed for weeks

“I think, definitely, should open a bottle of wine-”

That’s how you earn all the responsibility for getting the both of you fed; she gets distracted looking through the recipe book.

But there's the way she looks up at you from the opposite of the kitchen island, face held up between her hands, fingers folded underneath her chin. "What?" she asks. 

She’s totally caught you staring.

The truth is: Irene only looks this gorgeous when it's just her. When she forgets that she's supposed to stick to a script.

You tell her as much when you end up fucking her right there on the counter.

It's so slow, atleast at the onset. Her panties pushed aside, jeans spilling off an ankle - the fucking apron managed to make it to the floor but her sweater got kinda stuck on the way up. So you're reaching through some overpriced fabric blend to pull down the wire of her bra and get your palm where she most prefers it.

"Say it again," Irene sighs into your neck, clutching to the back of your shirt - white-knuckled at the seam. "Come on, you can be so charming when you want something."

"I wouldn’t push your luck," is all you choose to tell her. 

You're hitting all the spots she wants you to hit anyway: her pretty pink cunt, slick, all wet for you already. Everything clenching as she arches her back, until she's hanging off the edge of the marble. You find it’s just enough leverage to fill her completely with your cock - stretching her out and open until her thighs bracket around your waist at the perfect angle.

"Or what?" Irene is out of breath, but hardly at a loss for words. "I know. You'll have to remind me how much smaller I am than you, right? So easy to keep pinned."

Well, if you really wanted: "Hah, ah - right." You get right next to her ear, muttering the words as deep as your chest can go - then take hold of her waist to put her in a spot she can't escape. And, by Irene's usual logic, once that happens, that's as much a victory for her as it is for you. You're being compliant, aren't you? The in and out: fucking her, filling her up, pulling your messy cock out of her pussy and slapping her clit just so she can hear how fucking soaked you make her, merely as a reminder-

"I wonder if she was even half as desperate," she moans against your jaw. "Her heart probably stopped the second you, ah - told her, what? About all of this?"

You stop fucking her, halfway.

"I’m sure you wouldn't be referring to Karina, right?" is where you glance at her. “I remember us both agreeing to chalk that up as a total absolute mistake. That was that.”

Irene just swallows, looks off somewhere over your shoulder. No one wears a blush better than her.

But she won't say it. Her honesty is such a privilege. The prodigy-type. Or at least, that's the word Irene chose. Then again, there’s you and your uncanny ability to turn a blind eye. 

To the vice, the virtue, and everything in-between.

"So, can I ask," you press your lips together, finding the point of her chin with a gentle tap - you have her looking you straight back at you. The moment could let you drive back inside and fuck her brains right out, right there, like that - right through, instead: you watch her try not to squirm. 

The tension in her upper chest, the rising heat that settles between her thighs, her weight struggling where you spread her knees, as far open as her body can allow. “How long exactly," you choose your words, careful and pointed, "are we going to pretend that she isn't texting both of us?"

You bury the question deep where she’s practically molten - hot and wet and so incredibly needy.

You do, again, and again. You pull her against you, watching that pretty brow scrunch and un-scrunch as your cock bathes in that soak. And hell, Karina had sent her a selfie today, is what she's explaining when you slow down enough - a bit of red, on her cheeks and her lips, and a lot of black, all the rest - the part about a midnight flight that's on hold until tomorrow morning. And then another, an hour later. To you both: her tits, the lace lingerie - so heavy, and soft, and easy to see yourself getting lost in-

Irene gasps at how fast you find all her favorite spots, then repeats - twice and again - hey, Karina said you're "such a cutie," and she sees her as the perfect mistress-material, don't you think? Wouldn’t it be ideal? The perfect fantasy? The perfect toy-

Obviously, that is morally bankrupt, even for the two of you. And you’re making sure she hears about it.

You ask her, point-blank: "are you really so selfish? So callous." It's ground out, slowly, against her hip, into her cunt. You've got Irene dripping wet, she's running everywhere, and you're telling her, "and this is your roundabout way of asking me to validate your twisted little ego?"

Don’t get it too confused: Irene lives for this shit; that sharp, hard-hitting tone - it drives her up the fucking wall. 

"Duh. Tell me - just a guess," she presses her hands further back, arching into each push. The slim curves of her chest are bouncing, just under her sweater. "You like to feel so guilty and morose but I bet-" she chokes off mid-sentence, you know exactly how, the exact motion that has her wanting. She gets a leg over your shoulder with no effort at all, and your fingers find their place, digging into her hips as she locks into your thrusts. 

Like fucking her is the only thing the two of you ever do.

Your whole body buzzes, it hums in resonance with where her gasps conflagrate to moans - you're pulling her slender frame down into every sloppy thrust and she takes you so fucking well.

"I bet it all sounds like, ah, the prettiest fucking music - in your head-"

“Fucking god, Irene-”

“Mhmm?” she fucking coos.

Because the things she wants to hear never actually leave your lips - your girl, fucking relentless.

Because the line between you fucking her and her fucking you becomes less distinct every time she rocks back and takes you deeper. Or when her mouth catches your next kiss a bit lazily. She takes over to swivel and slide her cunt up and around your length. So good that you have to keep her there. Hand locked onto her throat, digging a bruise or two in her collarbones, fucking her senseless against the countertop-

"Irene, fuck.” Your voice comes out thick, like gravel, and practically as an aside, “you’re going to make me-.”

Irene cuts you off, nodding, shh-shh’ing you into silence. “I know, baby. I know.” This total sigh of agreement - a hushed yes, or maybe uttering something she knows will sink right into your core, two words that sound a lot like “good boy.”

What, is that tacit approval? Probably. It’s hard to think straight.

So you bury yourself inside her, instinctually. Irene tips her chin up when she feels you paint her fucking womb. Every throb - with a fistful of her ass and your face pressed against her chest, sucking and biting and marking her anywhere, everywhere - right through her sweater. Fucking her so full that your mess is dribbling out all over the fucking floor, drip, drip, drip, and-

"Hey, I want you to know that I" - she sounds so amused as she cards through your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead - "really couldn’t ever ask anyone except you."

(All is fair in love and war, is an adage Irene takes to its logical extreme, tangled in your sheets or with a dress puddled at her ankles. A silk stocking rolling down her leg, the crochet thrown into some dark corner.

You never say yes. You never really have to.)

This all before setting her down, off the edge, back onto her feet and taking another half-step forward and having the awareness not to completely flatten her under the full weight of your body, so she can run a hand down between the two of you and her fingertips can start gathering up all the cum you've pumped inside her. Irene tells you in her sweetest lilt to pay attention as she leans back up against the counter and gathers as much into her mouth as it will allow-

The sight alone.

When her head tips back, tongue passing over her knuckles, and she swallows-

"You are so," you sigh into her temple. Her cheek. You've settled the rest to the space in between. “Absolutely unbelievable."

She reaches out and trails the tips of her fingers lightly along the rise of your cock - her softness up against your hard lines. Her eyes flash when you twitch on the fucking spot. It's so tender all coming from her.

And there, a moment or two more. You can see it in the way she has her lips tilting, dreamy. You've always known what you were signing up for - how she's thumbing the nape of your neck - what her ideal outcome was, is. There's nothing and no one in front of either of you to bar the way.

You’ll make your vows like any other.

"Well, hey," she finally says, slow and husky and curling toward you with a smug self-satisfaction.

You push her hair behind her ears, the dark brown locks. Some part of you understands, unequivocally, that she is the absolute limit of how far you would go for any other person on the planet. No questions. In a heartbeat, without hesitation.

The kiss to the corner of your jaw is unironically chaste - before she’s telling you, "shouldn’t we get a move on it, chef? There’s food to eat, recipes to ignore; aren’t you fucking famished?"

-

The bolognese reduces down to a scorch in the cast iron. Too much heat, or too long, you got too preoccupied, who knows - there's a moral lesson to ignore here if you're so inclined. So it ends up being over a tray of sushi delivery that Irene explains to you her working theory like it's high-stakes political intrigue.

"Listen," she's got her chopsticks pointed at you, "for one, Karina, to her core, is a total seductress; and she's told me already, more or less to my face - she gets off on the chase, and hates the other shit. To be involved, or invested."

“Okay then why all the go-around; the wait-and-see; what’s her endgame?”

“What’s anyone’s endgame?” Irene shrugs. “Validation." She slips a tuna roll into her mouth.

"I think you might be projecting."

"Or, I'm simply an extremely empathetic person," her sarcasm hits harder through chewing - she almost gets you, and finishes swallowing to say, "look, she's like us if we were pretending to care, okay? Just more, like - explicit about her lack of intention. So. Doesn’t matter if it's to piss her manager off. Or it's like a revenge-slash-extortion-thing against someone she either had or is having an affair with."

"An affair," you repeat, skeptical.

"It's not like it’s an unheard-of workplace hazard, come on," and then the final confirmation: "she’s just into it because it sounds dirty and sexy, okay, like everything else-"

"And you figure we should be the ones to dole it out."

"What I figure," Irene says, doing that same mental calculus she did the first time: how, where, why - it's clear. A dozen different kinds of naked are an old, tired song by now. "I want us to fuck her. However she likes, whenever she likes, for however long she likes. Let her think she’s won something, or think she has you totally fucking hooked - I don't really care. Because it would be so much more satisfying to hear you tell me about it - because the idea of you two being like that for me. It's," her words pitch up a touch. 

"That's the fantasy."

And Irene dives into the details. She explains what it could look like, all the more raunchy and ridiculous. This very specific arrangement. It makes no real sense, the conversation alone, and that, you decide - what can't be rationalized - is how she'll take it: by fucking both of you. That's the objective fact. That's the demand.

You listen until it feels less and less like the decisions have already been made.

“Okay, babe,” she’s presenting her case. “Hear me out.”

And she keeps going until you both can see it materialize: "if Karina thinks she can handle both of us, then both of us it'll be." It’s how her fingers end up buried in your boxers and around the throb of your cock. You hear the gentlest laugh Irene has as you start fucking softly into her grip, and she runs her thumb over your weeping slit until she finds you that much more malleable to the suggestion. Effortless almost, she lures the primal part of you from its confines and teases and prods at its wants and desires. Which is also how some charged vocabulary gets thrown in for good measure. Because no, no, no - she's murmuring into your mouth, tipped back, plush lips right above yours - it's not a cuckquean situation, or an open relationship, or anything like freeuse or whatever else might justify the concern. It's not even cheating, Irene’s explaining, strictly speaking, because who said you and I wouldn’t be doing it together?

(Lying by omission is the story you both live - and the difference: she's pathological. You’re just now getting the hang of it.)

"Fuck," is what you exhale out as she opens her fingers, offering. Her thumb glides across the expanse of your head, a trail of pre-cum drawn underneath a nail. And you know all the things her nails can do - can rip your heartstrings. "I mean. God damn. There has to be, like, terms."

There's still sushi sitting on the coffee table, and Irene is placing these kisses into the slope of your shoulder, your sternum, making a show of the movement, how she's traveling down, downward - to her knees. Where she finds the seat between your thighs and tugs your shorts, the fabric gathered down your leg-

"Let me handle it," she tells you, and there goes the cut of your t-shirt, shoved up to your chest. Her grip runs flat, down from the rise of your hip, fingers wrapping around, touching - the flat of her tongue laving across the tip of your cock until she decides to lower her jaw.

"Just think right now. How I want to fuck her and how I'd want you to fuck her, too-" 

Right in her warm, wet little mouth.

Jesus, her tongue too-

She has it gliding up, around and against the swell of the underside. Rolling to where you need it, the places she knows you’ve died before. Lapping up the mess she's already gotten out of you-

Like this, Irene's looking at the way that the idea strikes: you and you and you; the only person in the whole goddamn world that can handle her; you fucking know it too - it's the most perfect, hopeless kind of thing. Like the feeling that catches at the apex of your lungs. It burns in your stomach and grips in your gut. She's gone and cut out the nerves - there's the crown of your cock caught in a velvet grip between those pretty pink lips and her fingers twisting at the bottom. 

She breathes deep. Sinks her lips so slowly to the base. Anything, everything you want: to put your hands to the side of her head, to weave your fingers through her hair, and coax her, fuck her mouth like it belongs to you, all slow and hard and measured.

To hear all those wet sounds she makes as she chokes on the end of it. The gags as you force your cock into the back of her throat, holding her head tight, her hair pulled up into a fist, to have that mouth hanging around the length of you, tongue stuck to the bottom of her chin as you move her, your fiancée, your toy. To be looking her in the eye and watching her look the fuck back while she revels in every filthy second of it, not a single damn drop of hesitation or doubt.

"Really think," Irene urges, and she's all innocent when she tips her head to kiss her way up your cock.

She’s trying for some grace or finesse, or both - trying, you think, to make a point; instead, you end up watching her gulp and spit into her palm, just to obscure the sensual curl of her tongue with the sloppy-hard rhythmic stroke of her fist. "How hot it would be if you watched us both choke on your cum. Her face fucked stupid - the perfect little fuckdoll, is that not an image for the ages-"

You get a glimmer of that catlike grin - the one you would kill for a picture of. Something for the wallpaper, or the wallet; you've never met a boundary she hasn't challenged. The most depraved ideas in her head are just, as she is, a masterpiece. And so the answer has never changed - there has never been anything she's not been allowed-

"Trust me baby," she presses her cheek against your shaft. You feel her turn and run that mouth all over. The tip of her nose. Her eyelashes. The wet heat of her breath as she nuzzles the length. "Karina's all ours to share."

Her pout, right there, waiting.

You can't stop yourself from grabbing her face, the crook of her jaw, her neck and the tips of her shoulders. Until it all comes with a good, hard pull. The sound of her mouth on your cock, the blowjob she's been perfecting for years. It's starting to fill up the room, her lips wrapping your shaft - the sound of her being so obedient, the most receptive, sweet, pretty thing: letting you guide her pace until she has a steady motion going. Taking the thick base in her hands and working it over between her fingers. There's only enough room for that before you’re all the way inside her, in and out, again: the tip of your cock brushing over the softest curve of her throat.

When you take her at face value, it's fucking wild: your fiancée kneeling before you. Her chin and neck wet with her effort, lips wrapped so pretty, stuffed, used-

There are no questions. This is simply Irene, doing what she loves.

She pushes a hand between her legs and holds herself together as your hips tilt forward, meeting her halfway-

Just letting you get yourself off in her mouth like it's no big deal. It's her throat - it's her goddamn cunt and ass, and whatever else - because you fucking asked, right? Because you gave her the permission, the choice, the agency.

"Hey, where should I?" you’re muttering as you push the hair out of her face, already half-drunk on her slick lips and realistically only a few seconds away from doing some real damage.

There isn't a need; but you want her to tell you, to use her words. In her mouth, on her face, in her palm, you’ll go without thinking. You’ll cum straight onto your own stomach if it’s what Irene says. Even if she’s acting like you already have.

"Make sure you give her,” is what she garbles out around the hard line of your cock, and it’d be impossible to understand if you didn’t know every nuance to her, if you didn’t - you know - fucking love her. To have and to hold - to hold on tight and for better or worse, and this is pretty much as bad as it gets. 

The syllables come in-between hollow breaths, all wet and sticky. When Irene wrenches the fuck out of it, the base of your cock- “hm, that same sort of courtesy when, agh, I'm not around-"

Because the image alone is what matters. There, getting your cock sucked like you've earned the privilege - it doesn't have to be real, it just has to look like it's a new truth to believe in. The little motions in her wrist are just - hah, fucking unreal - and the way she sinks down lower on her knees for each stroke, from base to tip - lips pressing over the knuckles she has wet, and squelching, and twisting up and down and up-

She places a hand under your balls, the gentlest cradle, and something of your restraint finally breaks - it snaps - her insistence is ruthless.

"Yeah, god, okay- I’m just gonna go ahead-" 

There are these images in your head, of Irene: the upturned brows, the hollowed cheeks, and that slutty-as-shit smirk - and then of Karina: doing the exact same thing. Fuck, your cock is heavy, absolutely leaking cum: you can feel yourself leaking into the press of her mouth. It fills up her cheeks as she blushes into the fuck. Her lips become flush and go soft against the ridge of your shaft - her jaw slack in anticipation. 

"Your fucking mouth, Irene" you breathe out, “I'm going to cum-” 

Just at half the sentence, you're there, sunk into your fiancée's throat. Fingers across her ears and into her hair and watching her own hands pulling you, guiding you-

It’s all flexed in your back. Every muscle. Every fiber.

Irene hums onto a simple, satiated note. She always does, when she tastes it. When you dump a hot load of cum all over her tongue and straight into her throat.

(And yes, some might claim this is the death knell for all kinds of reasoning, but you’ll go ahead and admit it’s so, so worth it.)

"How thoughtful," she says, low and slow, once she's through swallowing the entire fucking thing.

The corner of her mouth tilts up. Because you're finished: two steps left in the brain from falling out of consciousness, a mess on the couch. You get to watch as she pulls you into sorts and slots each piece back to where it's meant to sit. The underwear, your pants. It's with such careful attention. Your soft cock gets cleaned with a tissue and wiped dry. A tiny parting kiss for the tip, her mouth full-on puckered, like she's kissing out anything you have left.

Though it's a pleasant daze. She prefers you soft like this, really.

All you have left to say is: "fuck me, baby." It sounds sloppy and open-ended as hell. "I guess I'll leave everything to you."

If that's a cue or sign for the evening, the only right thing: it isn't exactly misinterpreted.

-

The actual logistics don’t arrive for a handful more weeks. You find it surprising they ever happen at all.

// Karina 10:41 pm > i'm bored.

// Karina 10:42 pm > suggestions?

// 10:49 pm > have you tried looking into an incognito tab?

// Karina 10:58 pm > lol, and what is it i'm supposed to be finding?

// Karina 10:58 pm > help a girl out here.

"Send her a picture of your cock," Irene says, like it isn’t a joke. She looks up from the smutty-dash-of-romance-porn novel she's got herself wrapped in, with her best faux-serious expression. The pair of readers that usually are in her top desk drawer have made a new home perched low on her nose. "God knows she hasn't stopped leering since she found out what I'm marrying into."

"Please," you tell her, because she's full of shit. "I'm not sending her a dick pic."

Your laptop is warm on your thighs as you huddle on your side of the bed. That's the point of balance where it feels like Irene isn't trying to look. Though she clearly is. You flick up through a couple tabs just to drive the point home.

// 11:01 pm > sorry. i'm not in the business of just handing out freebies

// Karina 11:07 pm > really

// Karina 11:07 pm > thought we were making progress here

// 11:11 pm > you're funny

"Ask her if anyone's home with her." Irene dogears the page she’s reading and sets her book down. "Or ask if she's, like, tied up or something. Something edgy."

"Something edgy," you deadpan.

"Do you want me to put the readers away," Irene offers. She's wearing the sort-of smirk you always need to be wary of.

"No," you say. “God, no.”

"Ask her where she keeps her lingerie. Tell her she should be thinking about what it'd look like: all naked except a thong. With the straps digging into her. Tied up all nice and pretty-like."

// 11:13 pm > u alone right now?

"What the fuck?" Irene slugs a pillow at you. "That is the creepiest way you could've sent-"

// Karina 11:13 pm > yeah. i am :/

You and Irene are both struck a little dumb by that. 

“Sheesh, she must have had her finger hovering over the reply button.”

"Yeah," you say, eloquent. “Who could blame her, though.”

"Uh-huh." Irene exhales, staring a bit pointedly.

// 11:16 pm > cool if I come over?

// Karina 11:17 pm > and… do what?

Irene nudges you with her heel, a questioning glance: the window has just been left there wide open and hanging. She whispers like Karina can somehow hear her through the phone, "you are terrible at sexting."

“Can you fucking leave it-”

Irene rolls her eyes.

// 11:18 pm > do you need ideas

// Karina 11:19 pm > got a couple. i wouldn't be against hearing something that lets my imagination fill in the gaps though

"Text her that you're into her throat and want her to show you her tits," and Irene actually cracks a laugh as she has the audacity to make the request. She's in good form this evening; in nothing but her favorite silk camisole - the navy blue one, which pairs great with all 5’2” of the rest of her. Like the soft curves she wears and everything else isn't bad for your heart. "Seriously, I want you to-"

"How am I supposed to end it?" You ask. The tone is purely sardonic. "Babe. Baby. My future wife. Tell me. You do realize you're basically asking me to bait her, right?"

Someone will eventually put their cards on the table, and Karina, Irene, and ostensibly you will realize you’re all currently having a mental break from reality. Or something along those lines. "I mean. Could that really be a negative," she wonders with an eyebrow quirked and another gesture of her arm like she wants to showcase the night sky beyond the bedroom windows.

"How, what - babe."

"You could promise to let her sit on it."

"Is the cockslut routine an act? Like," you lower your volume, "do you really have a playbook, here?"

"So mean." Irene reaches a hand over. She has her head propped on an elbow, the rest of her sprawled and comfortably positioned on the bed. And you wonder why the fuck you feel compelled to argue a point that so obviously has already been lost. "Just go fuck her already, god damn, I dunno."

Right. So. This was the part that was kind of inevitable - and Irene's impatience aside, you probably were about to win a lottery when you showed up at her door - that golden little interaction: "hey it's me, your rival at work's future ex-husband, I guess - I'm so horny and I think you're so beautiful and wouldn't it be so crazy if we, like, boned, haha, what?"

"Just- have sex. Tell me about it after."

The novel beckons Irene back toward it. She makes herself the picture of someone perfectly comfortable with you walking right into the next most uncomfortable predicament.

The sigh. That long, heavy thing. A leadup you do so often.

The simple idea of sending Karina that sort of message sends heat, low - just under the band of your sweatpants, and right where you've got yourself in the palm of your hand and you're already wondering how this is the result, why your cock is coming to a rise already - god damn - why every thought of Karina's face, and Karina's ass, and Karina's everything, every moment her lip is caught in between those teeth is becoming impossible not to touch. "Okay," you huff, "fine. I'm getting up, I'm going now- I mean it, right now, just give me a minute, I am putting my clothes on."

"Wait," and she's saying, "wait. Wait."

And when you turn around, Irene has this cat-that-ate-the-canary grin all stretched on the canvas of her face. She takes off her readers - her elbows thrown into her lap as she goes to the very edge of the mattress, pulling your shoulders for balance. "Babe-"

"Mm."

Irene likes to get you at a low simmer. The way she runs her thumb pad along your bottom lip. And all those questions - a look into her eyes - it's hard not to fold or break - when she's holding onto that sort of expression, unwavering; no matter how her mouth seems to get soft and curious.

Her lips move onto yours, asking - a push. And your eyes - a brush against a shoulder and you've already gone a whole mile from anywhere decent. There's the touch of her tongue between your parted mouths.

"You'll be good right?"

"I mean, sure," is what you manage, watching her lips close.

"You'll fucking wreck her, and do it exactly how she needs it done." And her brow, knit. She can tell your brain is busy jumping ahead to a hundred different scenarios. "Stop worrying."

There's a brief nod of reassurance. Her fingertips dust down your chest and the rest of the way. You hear Irene tell you to-

"And give her an extra hello from me."

"Okay, I love you, but also you're insane, like certifiable."

"Shush, I know you," and Irene gives your hair a little tousle before pushing you out the door.

-

You're standing there at the front door of Karina's apartment a little after midnight, bathed in dim, orange wicked fluorescence. Like it knows your sins - past, present and future. There's no obvious answer when you go knocking, and for a half-moment, you're thinking, okay, it's alright, this is how I let someone down easy-

Until she answers and leans out, pulling open the door. It takes you by surprise-

"Well, I'd normally let you in," you hear Karina say, and a smug smile starts to cross her face, "but..."

It's about the degree to which she looks hot and a little off kilter in this tight t-shirt - a snug pair of panties around the sway of her hips - that almost sends you spinning. There's not an ounce of self-consciousness; it's like a punch to the gut.

"Aeri's date went south and she's drunk. She's passed out on her bed, like, right now, I don't think-"

There's no bra. It's hard not to get fixated on every detail. Like her nipples, practically standing out. You have an irrational desire for her to take a step back, further into the room, further out of your vision's reach-

"Uhh," you croak. And you do have the mental faculties for, uh. For telling her. "Maybe, you know, later, could be better, yeah, maybe call me."

Though, unfortunately, the suggestion falls short on delivery.

"No, no." Karina has her hands searching up and underneath your sweater. Her fingers dance flat up, right over your stomach - teasing as she hikes you back inside. Right past the threshold. Your mouth is half-caught and stupid under her, the gentle hum and pressure on her lips. "It means we need to be quiet."

She drags you another step forward, with just the hot flash of her gaze. 

"Shut the door behind you?"

"Locking it too," you tell her.

The laugh she makes into it, this one little scoff - it's an acknowledgment: an agreement. It's one of the worst fucking sounds, and the whole damn thing gets to you. Like her ass wasn't the perfect fit for the palm of your hands- like you don't want to trace your fingers under the elastic of her panties.

As if it wasn't fucking clear enough. It's the tongue in your mouth and the hands in her hair. She's kissing you soft, she's kissing you deep; her weight rests and pulls back with each swell of your ribs, pushing her fingertips down until they're skating, slow, low into the grooves of your spine. Like she's getting familiar with you again.

"Okay," you breathe. She laughs on your lips and presses forward - pulls you back, farther- "uhh. Okay."

She must see the confliction you're in-

"Hey." Karina keeps going until you've got her backed against a wall, until your thigh has pressed into the crux of hers and your hand is in her shirt. You don't miss how she lets her head tilt back when her eyes shut. It's her. There's no disputing the reality. "Whatever you want to do to me. That is all I've been thinking about. Do it."

"I- don't really-"

She makes a decent show of crossing her wrists and tugging her shirt right over her head. Tosses it someplace safe enough. "So are you just gonna leave me in suspense, or do you need my explicit, enthusiastic permission?"

Your lips draw themselves a blank on anything useful, while your heart rate accelerates.

"Here try this: you’re going to fuck me until I beg you to stop. Then you’re going to fuck me some more. Or whatever- then we can go somewhere, I don't care," she offers with a half-whisper. In all her goddamned glory - barefoot, almost bare chested - it's not like it could be any other thing.

-

You’re not exactly supposed to end up on your knees for this.

This isn't quite how you pictured-

Okay, fuck, Karina's making the prettiest noises where her spine is curling up against the wall; those sounds you couldn't even make up. How it feels like the easiest damn thing, because there isn't a question to why. Every inch of you is pressed to every inch of her. You know what you'll taste on your tongue, which of these breasts belongs in your palm and the fingerprints in the dips of her waist - her lips on the curve of your jaw - every mark and bruise on her skin, every hint of it is real; it's fucking you up because you're kissing the woman that Irene picked, the woman you met - it's how you pull yourself away-

Karina, for the longest few seconds, is shocked into stillness.

Because you could, of course, decide to give this one last shot, your head between her thighs and eat her out until she was so fucking wet your cock wouldn’t even enter the equation. This is not actually a new idea; the possibility has run through her mind enough times already.

"Yeah. That would work."

Like it's no big deal-

"Do you need instructions? I can get a bit graphic."

"Actually, you know what?" you choke a little, and - "trust me."

You stand straight up for a moment, a second, an extra fraction. You slip your cock inside her hot cunt, and, yeah. She collapses right into you. You’re holding up her just enough to fuck into - she's starting to breathe deeper, harder; you've got her pinned like that - a hand on her neck, fingers sinking into everywhere she's softest: her tits, her ass, her waist, her throat, and there is nothing that isn't some version of fucking glorious about Karina's weight grinding, heavy onto the tip and onto the ridge and down the thickest length of you-

And her face, jesus christ, her fine brows upturned, the tears heavy in her dark lashes, the little gasping-sobbing sounds that spill across her wobbling lips - this is the both the easiest and the hardest part: seeing her get absolutely fucking ruined-

(You know, god help you.)

-

Irene doesn't even have to ask. There are hickies and bruises shadowing in on your neck, your chest - these marks you never remember Karina giving you, and a ton of scratches all up your back.

"You know I was going to offer to make you breakfast," Irene says, smug, "but I'm wondering if Karina got to you first."

"What the hell do you think?" you say, dumb.

There are eggs burning on a skillet that are never going to be salvageable, no matter what Irene says. She has no respect for the process. And her voice is full of that infuriating smile: "was it everything you hoped?"

"God," you mutter, trying to mask the embarrassed laughter in your words. You can hardly move an inch on her behalf.

"At least tell me something fun, you insufferable tease," she presses her nose into your hair and tickles the spot on your side, just to be a pest.

You lay it all out for her. Everything she wants to hear.

-

Surprisingly, there’s still plenty to learn about each other; days to weeks to months. The first real thaw of the year comes, and you’re quick to fall into this odd rhythm.

Karina won't actually join Irene on set or production very often - too much heat. It shouldn’t have taken so long to figure out the two don’t belong in the same room together, and if they’d asked you, they’d know - but no one ever really does ask you. However she does spend more and more time around the apartment. In and out of your personal spaces. And maybe a bit in between, or a little underneath too: how she seems to slot herself right into every possible fold whenever Irene’s away.

Always traveling for this reason or that.

And god, the perfect powder keg Karina is - ticking, short-fused, all ready to explode. It’s ironic, you think, she’s drawn to scandal the way Irene will do anything to avoid it, and here, she's found her ultimate indulgence.

The quick lay, the time and place you know you can be patient in pulling her apart, the everything in between. 

In fact, you’ve taken to calling her "babe" just so she doesn’t think twice when she gets your cum pooling deep in her cunt, all hot and sopping. Looking like the picture-perfect centerfold. The fucked-dumb face - all twisted in your grip, flushed-red; and the musky scent of sex; the noises and her presence alone. You fuck her, and fuck her, and fuck her, rubbing a thumb across where the mascara runs thick.

To be the gorgeous girl, cock-drunk and fucked-out in your lap - so simple - so natural: Karina finds her way over more often than not.

After your shower, after your nap; your work, the bar - Karina’s never more than a text away. And you'll keep a hand around her waist as she stands around in the kitchen, stealing Irene’s leftovers out of the fridge. Karina ends up straddling your thigh right there at the breakfast table, holding onto the wood for support as she cums all over you.

The long and short of it is: 

She's fucking you. She's fucking your fiancée. She sees no problem in having her cake and eating it too. The only caveat is: Karina thinks neither of you know what's actually going on.

“You gonna say hi to Irene for me?" she's teasing one day, snapping her bra back into place. The t-shirt pulled over all that glossy-dark hair, the shimmy of her hips just to get back into the world's tightest jeans. She presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth. It's such a stark, clinical goodbye - ending with a flick of a thumb across a screen. "And oh, let her know if she ever wants me to teach her a trick or two. Anytime."

“Yeah, I’m sure she’d love that.”

Karina does the most insipid thing. She fucking winks. “I’m sure she would.”

-

"Uh, are you kidding me?" you ask Irene. 

It's late one night, and Irene is standing in the kitchen in her pajamas with a welt the shape of Karina’s lips kissed right into her jaw. A couple drinks in your system have given you both a false sense of clarity, and also an ill-timed desire to solve all your goddamn problems. You lower your voice. "In her ass?"

Irene has that all-triumphant and dopey grin that makes your heart ache for her. There's a soft curl of her hair loose, thrown across a shoulder. "I’m serious, pull her hair right, hold her wrists until her back has to be arched. Pin her to the bed," she continues to illustrate, "it's all in the finer points of how much. Tell her to count, even. I'm not joking-"

She takes another spoonful of yogurt between her lips.

"-she'll let you do anything, promise."

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know.” Irene wags the spoon at you. “It’s great.”

-

It's not only the hypothetical-homewrecking that gets Karina so torridly wet for the whole affair; when she's pinned beneath you with her legs spread and her toes pointed skyward, or perhaps later - the same day even - riding Irene's face in a locked dressing room and crying out - "ah, hah, jesus, please-"

In her head, she has you both at her beck and call. Forget semantics - Karina is a fool to her own illusion. Because in her head, not only has she managed to go toe to toe with the industry's reigning monarch, she’s managed to win.

-

You don’t exactly know how Karina ever intends to keep it casual. Because things are damn near constant:

It’s a weeknight, and the moon is high above the windows, casting a crisp rectangle onto the hardwood; it doesn’t actually matter, as far as Karina is concerned.

Irene’s on television again, the sequin in her dress clinging tight, and she’s found the gaze that never breaks for the cameras. Found the flash of her most practiced smile - that little chime of laughter she has that sounds like striking pure gold.

Then Karina: sitting cross-legged at the very end of the sofa. One leg thrown over your thigh, she’s got these nylons on her feet and she’s poking a toe into your ribs. "Isn't she stunning," you hear her muttering, "honestly. Doesn't it, like, turn you the fuck on?"

Her foot grazes your lap, all casual at first; the impossibly soft-curved heel of her sole. There are so many ways she'd prefer to pass the time and they almost all involve getting under your skin, if not just outright getting into your pants.

“Elaborate.”

"I mean listen, in your case, just knowing your fiancée is up there looking like a total angel and at the same time, thinking about you; how she’s got to be considering every which way she’ll unwind just after the showcase - at least, that’s what I’d be doing." She licks her lips, teeth. "Hell, I’m only imagining how pretty her eyes are when she can barely keep them open, and that’s enough to ruin my panties."

"Are you really."

She shifts her weight. Puts that ankle to good use. Rubbing it into the crease between your legs. "Tell me," her lips curl. She’s looking at you dead-on. "How does she usually prefer it, hm?”

Like a wildcat, you suppose, your Irene - a pretty, little predator. You could tell Karina everything, but you don’t. Instead you let her wander into the lair of her own making. Her eyes: light and curious; it’s written in the lines of her face how she's picturing it all so plainly.

“I’d guess she lets you go slow. Or hard. Or maybe a little rough and then you make her cum, and then maybe, just maybe, after the teasing; after the edging, I guess, that's when she comes in hot. I would hope."

Karina twists her foot around, swings her weight onto your lap, and sucks in a sharp breath when you reach out and grip the lean lines of her hips. It’s as easy to hold her still as it'd be to drag her across the couch and under the rest of your body, fuck the goddamn tension until there was no longer any room left for the pretty smirk in her lips. And her gasp would probably sound a hell of a lot better - than all the needling quips - a much louder and much less-pretend whine when you could throw those thighs open and really pound her wet, aching little cunt-

“Easy,” she chides when you end up taking two handfuls of her chest. "Shouldn’t you be more supportive? For god’s sake, it’s your fiancée’s moment in the spotlight, you know-"

There’s nothing stopping you from popping off the buttons of her dress, one by one by one - and kiss right there, into the swell. Your voice feels all the rougher when you respond, "and what a moment."

Her fingertips skim over the places she's been kissing you, where she's been marking and claiming and trying to, at least, to stamp you like her personal property - when the look is that serious. All cold-burn. Right through to the bone.

“So.”

You can feel her touching into your pants. The heat in her soft, silky thighs; she sits above you, keeping a leg on each side. A part of you feels trapped; another is confused why you aren't turning the tables right now - flip her and ride out her cunt on the couch. Some passing thought, or just a fraction, the only one that matters in that particular instant, wonders what Irene would do, will do - has done - in your situation. How her hips would roll. How Karina’s moan might sound when she dug a nail right into a sweet spot.

You push Karina's skirt a little farther up her body and try to gauge the moment she's finally decided she doesn't mind.

“How about you keep your eyes on her, and I'll suck your cock while you do," ends up being the short and not-so-sweet of it all. “-or maybe you can get off between my tits.”

She wraps those fingers around your base and pulls gently. It's not a decision, but merely a continuation, a culmination: a gesture made entirely to pull the response: the hitch to the throat. Her nails skim that ridgeline as her eyes track across the cut of your features. It makes you groan into her next kiss, to say, "if you wanted it so bad, babe, you could’ve just said. Would save us a lot time-"

"Are you complaining?" she husks, pulling your pants down your thighs. Your cock is in her hands and she smiles like a cat - licks her teeth when it twitches at just the slightest touch. "Yeah, I didn't think so," is how the breathless laugh leaves her lips.

You catch the quirk of her brows, her tone: straight-up, like nothing. You’re almost buying into that until she's got your shirt on the floor, those lips of hers in the divot of your collarbone, and her tits wrapped around the base of your cock, and, well, fuck-

She actually wastes no time - none at all. A couple feet away, Irene covers her laugh with one hand. There's a brass award in her other. And the television casts this soft, pale glow.

Karina tips her head, and a curtain of her dark, silken hair spills across the ridge of her breast. She runs those big eyes over you, all wide and round and vaguely-deviant. There's the perfect amount of motion, of squeeze, just a light-bit of pressure, and she's got a face smug-arrogant in an instant, knowing. Fuck, her hands on either side start pushing into the line of her cleavage as she bounces and rocks and draws every inch of your cock up through her soft tits and back down again.

"Fuck," is the harshest exhale she's ever dragged out from you.

She hums a low sound, all self-satisfied when it's her own namesake: your body wants her, like you know the full weight of her needs, your touch, how badly she's fucking craving to get off and still not admitting to anyone it might be more than sex. Like it's really as easy as her next breath, the flutter of her lashes: Karina wants your eyes, the weight of your attention and she's not going to beg for a fucking thing. The feeling, you think, is mutual.

"Irene," she says, her smile as open as it could ever get. "She's just so gorgeous, right?"

On one hand, she’s speaking between the lines. A perfect tincture of deceit - the bawdiness-by-nature: watch me, look at me - is what she might as well say - look what I can fucking do, the whole lewd display. And, god, how she knows every way to make a guy want it, like she wants you to remember it.

Because on the other, the movement is so, so direct. 

Karina twists herself in an upward tilt, just an easy, practiced thing; she lets her tits spill around your cock and through her fingers, full and soft - and her lips part, mouth slacking alongside yours, matching the sounds out your chest with her own. Like she knows exactly which slide of slippery friction will make you moan, or which pull and drag will send your teeth straight into your lip.

"Isn't it crazy," she lolls her head a little, letting her own saliva drip down the center, onto your weeping slit. "How much I want your cum filling my cunt, even knowing she's the one you'd rather put the ring on," the drag and drag and drag - her tits are fucking incredible, and she knows it. She pushes up with her fingers and gives you a long draw right through the press, right where the nerve endings run electric, right where she keeps moving, up and down, and up and down- 

“-it must be hard, I mean, jesus christ. Here I am, needy and hot. Begging you to wreck me and my only sin, hm - the sin of being second best, right-"

"Holy fuck, you're-"

"Obsessed," she says, and drops her tits against your waist again. "I know, I know. How could I not be?"

You're left muttering into the titfuck alone, watching her rub your precum up between their soft shape, feeling the slight give, how her skin goes warm. The act itself: such a simple-thing-bordering-on-the-absurd that you notice how you coil and flex beneath her curves, how she feels so soft and warm. The slight pucker of her lips every time your cock escapes her cleavage does little to help. It's probably the fault of the brain-fuck but the wet of her mouth is practically everywhere you look. You could eat her alive right here, spread her legs on the coffee table and finish with a bit of screaming, groaning and tearing, and no one would ever stop you.

But instead,

"-it's a good color on her, really; but then every color is a good color on her, isn't it so unfair?" She's taking your cock into her tits, deeper on every rock forward and back, holding them close - a gentle lock of those long manicured fingers keeping it all together. "Even wearing no color at all; you must just love how all the freckles are so easy to see," she murmurs, squeezing tight. The sound is wet, messy. A filthy chorus between her dirty words and the dirtier action, and just that glimpse of friction when she strokes down again is maddening. You're all slippery. So sticky-slick, so tight.

Of course there's not a fucking inch of a reaction out of her; you want to get off so bad-

"You could close your eyes," she tells you. "She would still be there. The sound of her laughter. The image. In that dress or not," and her mouth furls into a half-smile before she pauses. Reaches down, pulls her tits around you impossibly tight. "Just so damn pretty-"

You cum just like that: 

"Babe," is what you let her have. The soft, undercurrent hiss. "Fuck."

You shoot clean up, all thick, hot splatter.

Well, mostly up - along the expanse of her neck and throat, coating where her breasts sit so pretty against the lines of your thighs. Across her sternum and the hollow of her neck - her body's covered in your shared mess: slick-filthy-hot, all strewn across her perfect tits.

"Jesus, Karina, baby you’re-"

"Completely covered in you." She's still smiling. That deep-cut and perfectly symmetrical curl of her lips. The gorgeous fucking shade, and her chin, how her cheeks flush, just a little - they've always turned pink in the most specific places when she gets fucking cum-soaked. “I know, just look.”

And her hands slide across her chest, trailing a path through the thick of your release, spreading the glaze all down her front. Making it messy, making the exact look a guy sees once and is driven to the ends of his sanity - just to spill his load out onto her. To get her all used, and trussed up: just how she likes.

(Sanity is being generous, considering.)

You can't do anything other than what's expected: take her up in a kiss, breathe into the mess you've made on her skin. The gasp is full, surprised - just enough, maybe, to count as genuine.

Such a mess - she murmurs - um, come on then, you can do a girl a favor. Bath bomb, bath towel, bath robe - and really it doesn't have to be a suggestion.

You’ll pin her down and fuck her right over the lip of the tub if that’s what she really wants. Just being in her company is indulgent and excessive and begging you to make a terrible habit of it. Have some self–restraint, she has this tone in her voice sounding more and more like a dare. There's just enough there in her hands: one reaching for you and the other reaching into the porcelain, swirling up the lather - and that look on her face, as if to say, can't believe you have me waiting, like some desperate, depraved pervert - only it’s more explicit than that. Only it feels worse - and her mouth is moving again, speaking into the air that already feels stifling hot, words cutting through the steam: you're not very nice, I mean really, it should come as no surprise how she turns out, having this jerk for a fucking boyfriend- 

Nevermind. Not a dare, it's a challenge. She was right the first day you undressed her, the brattiest girls always have the worst kinds of fantasies, the darkest little tendrils of self-destruction. How she's laying there, asking and telling, pushing and pulling; and how she thinks she's so clever too.

Though that is no reason, she laughs, for you to think she won't love having her pretty cunt cockwarmed and spoiled for an evening or more. - And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes.

-

(Really, to Irene’s credit, she had Karina pegged right from the jump. A character study in, well, herself.

She's seen as an ingénue by the press, and an outright savant to the executives. They know her as the obvious successor. They give her the runway, they watch the leggy-girl-turn, the model-posture, chin held high and aloof, looking down at the gathered throngs of photographers.

The protégé, the goddamn heir-apparent:  

But her favorite game - that bit of innocence served on a platter, ingenuous when it comes to spinning a flaw to gold, and the deception too - Karina loves and loathes every second she spends upstage from Irene's own, hectic, international production. Because if anyone asks her, that girl would claim it's never been a competition in the first place. 

So you see, if you and yours have both decided to ruin her-

It is a disaster-in-the-making, isn’t it.)

#karina smut #irene smut #aespa smut #red velvet smut #male reader smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

[fillinforlater]

On her back

Male Reader x Bae Joohyun

Length: 2958 words

Tags: Daddy kink, Master kink, breeding kink, literal breeding, like impregnation, rough sex, mating press (for literal, REAL mating), from loving to degradation, emotional manipulation, teasing, overstimulation, multiple creampies, spitting, toxic relationships

TW: rough impregnation, emotional manipulation, the usual "On her" stuff

Inspiration/Credit: not possible without @sooyadelicacies, my great co-writer and inspirator

(A/N: Reminder that OC is an asshole and that this is fiction. Anyways, rough daddy kink breeding sex, yay. Enjoy a subby!Irene lol. Btw, it's been more than a year since Part 1 came out!)

“I’m here if you need a break from all these youngsters xoxo”

You are alone in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz, quietly sipping on a cool, refreshing beverage with your airpods in. You need to destress and know just the person to see. You put your drink down and begin to close your eyes, settling in for a quick nap before you arrive at your destination. 

Maybe it was only a few minutes, maybe it was much longer than that, but you feel the car stop and you begin to wake. 

"We have arrived, sir."

Looking out, you find a beautiful secluded home surrounded by lush greenery. One of your many getaways. 

"Thank you, as always," you say politely as the door opens up for you and you're handed your luggage. You stroll up to the door and put in the passcode as well as the biometric scan of your fingerprint. But before you turn the knob, the door already opens and you are greeted by a stunning beauty. 

"Irene," you say simply. 

"Hello, my love."

"It's been a while," you add, a sigh on your lips, but you keep it down.

"It really has," the small woman responds, hands fidgeting on her sides as she just stands there, her boundless beauty that will persist for decades to come filling the air like the strong, vibrant smell of ripe fruits.

"God, you're so fucking pretty." 

This time, the sigh is at least palpable in the aftermath of your words when your arms reach out to her. Joohyun tenses up for a seconds before your embrace reaches her, caresses her back and finds rest on her butt. With ease, you pick the petite idol up and Joohyun's legs instinctively wrap around you.

You kiss her gently, lovingly. "Still tensing up? I thought I trained it out of you?" you tease. 

She blushes. "It's been a long time, Ma—" 

"Shh, not yet. There will be time for that. I need my lover right now, not my toy."

A soft smile on her face. One in a million, quite literally: days and weeks and months go by where she can never feel like this around someone else. They all make her put on the cold, reserved, distant smile, but with you finally by her side, she melts.

At least the temperature of her palms cupping your face is able to melt ice in seconds. Joohyun leans close to you and presses her lips on yours, her passion coming over you in a quiet explosion. A tad bit quicker, a little more tongue when she parts your lips, now you pull her in closer.

"God, I've missed this," she coos and you brush away her astray hair. 

"I have been busy... the young ones are quite—"

"Difficult? Always have been. Think of me back then."

You can't help but smile at the memories, though they also make your cock twitch against its cotton prison. Joohyun giggles. She must feel it poking her exposed midriff. 

"Those were fun times, but you know I'm still as tight as ever, only with more experience now. I promise I'll take away all of your stress today." 

"I know you will. That's why you know of this place. It's a short list, Irene." 

She smiles happily and melts her lips into yours once more.

With her secured around you, you wander off, straight to the bedroom, careful not to bump into anything on your way. There are easily a hundred idols you'd just violently throw onto a bed like this and then destroy their tight pussies, but with Joohyun you remain careful for now. Lay her down on it, never disconnecting your lips.

Joohyun starts to undress immediately and instead of following suit, you decide to watch her. Many months ago was the last time you've seen her bare body—at least in real life, up close. There are dozens of videos you've filmed with her and she even sent nudes last month, a rarity for the outwardly timid idol.

"You're skin," you groan and reach for her bare tummy, then breasts. "Still porcelain, still smooth and perfect."

"Th-thank you. I made sure it's perfect, just for you."

"Not for the fans, not for the members? Not for your own self-gratification?"

"Only for you, my Master."

There she goes. 

"Music to my ears. Hearing such obedience. It's rare to find that nowadays, I wonder if my methods are getting stale?" 

You muse, but she knew it was your way of asking for her opinion, her advice. Bae Joohyun was an intelligent woman and admirable leader after all, and she knew all the tricks in the outside idol world and in your bedroom.

"Are you concerned about the outcome, even with all your leverage? Or is it getting too boring for you?" Before Joohyun can continue, you rub in between her legs, over her modest panties to find a little bit of wetness there. Joohyun opens her mouth; no moan, no breath, she just sinks into the sheets. "I-I just don't see the problem."

"They are just so damn cocky and continue to be. Disobedience, arrogance, self-centeredness, it's all running rampant nowadays."

"We weren't any better back then."

Press a finger onto her pussy lips, the fabric disappearing a bit into the increasingly aroused hole.

"Oh, you think so?"

"Ye-yes, Master. Suzy, IU, Jennie, even I—we were all a lot of trouble for you. I remember the reeducation training with Jessica and Nana. Maybe some things never change—ah, fuck."

Joohyun moans when your tongue trails along the side of her body, up to her collarbone where you place kisses. She is now trapped underneath you and with all your experience and ease, you join her in her (almost) nude state. 

Instead of your finger you place a knee on Joohyun's covered heat and she instinctively grinds on it and loses herself in needy, desperate, good girl whines. She starts to pout and you rake your fingers through her hair like—

"Like in good old times." Your deep groan fills Joohyun with love.

"Yes, Master."

"You know how to grind on this knee. You know how to make yourself look submissive. You know how to combust into nothing but bliss when I just command you too.

"Don't you, Irene?"

"Y-yes, Master! You're so good to me."

Joohyun hesitates and whimpers for a moment, looking at you. 

"Master… call me Joohyun please. Irene is for everybody else, but I am Joohyun and I am yours, my Master. Your whore, your slave." 

The shortlist came with perks. She could make such requests of you. 

"Jennie was one of the worst, but she is one of my biggest sluts, so I guess it only makes sense." You think out loud. 

"Joohyun, is it true Red Velvet will have their last comeback soon?" 

She can only nod and hum. 

"I'll have to fuck you after then too… to breed you." 

Her eyes widen and you feel a great dampness in her folds. 

"Master, it will finally be my turn?" 

"We've discussed this before." 

"I-I know… but I said you could breed me before then. You know I would give up my career for you, Master. I only wish to be your cumdump."

There she goes, melting into a shape you have foreseen years ago. Of course she has been ready for it, but the time is right right now.

"Good girl."

You pull aside her panties and give her pussy lips tiny smacks. Joohyun starts to mewl and whimper in this perfect pitch, the pitch only your hand can make her reach.

"M-Master, hng!"

"This hole is ready to be bred." Indeed, you find it to be exceptional compared to even to your best youngsters, perfect, especially the wetness is extraordinary. "Now spread your legs and tell me how much you need it."

"Master, I've needed it since I underwent your training. I didn't allow any man to touch me but you, Master. I am pure. I-I stopped any form of contraceptive. I've been waiting. I'm ready to walk away from being an idol because all I want is you, Master. I see comments online, I know people call me Mommy because of my age and looks, but the only Mommy I want to be is for your child, Master. Breed me please. I am your good girl. I always have been. This whore, this slut, needs her Master to complete my training, to make me your breeding bitch."

You deem these words to be enough, excessive even. There was no need for all of them to be said out loud, you could clearly see it in her eyes, the wanton desire for your cock creaming inside her.  Some people might call it cruel to her, but the last person to call it cruel is Joohyun herself.

You penetrate her gracefully, something she has not experienced ever. There was always a need to destroy her pussy; after all, Joohyun was once a defiant bitch. Nothing of this is left as she ecstatically welcomes you inside, dopamine flushing her brain, passion in the way she moans, laughs when you bottom out.

"Daddy!"

"Squeeze tight, Joohyun. I need you to make me cum as often as you can and keep it all down, so you better be the tightest girl ever tonight."

"I'm Daddy's tight girl, just breed me and I'll not lose any of your seed."

"Stick your tongue out."

Joohyun does as told and you let some of your saliva spill out onto your tongue before it oozes down to her. You always found her cock drunk expression thrilling, this one probably being its greatest form when you start to thrust into her as she still tries to catch your gift.

She pouts, as your saliva misses her just a bit and drips on her body. 

"If they saw you now—Irene, everyone's ice queen—reduced to nothing but my personal whore, a Daddy and Master kink too? Some people think you're a bitch in how you behave and treat others. They are right in a way, aren't they darling? 

“You are my bitch.”

"Ma-Master, you are right," Joohyun moans, her response interrupted by ragged breaths. "I-I'm your bitch, a bitch in heat. Do-do you like the hot pussy of this ice slave?"

Has she always been this humorous? A circle around her clit, just a rub, and her eyes are wide open. Joohyun looks so different in bed, a different kind of gorgeous from her stage presence during songs with the velvet-concept. You appreciate both, but this is clearly your favorite.

"Good that it's still tight," you groan and pound her harder. "I bottomed out a thousand times and still your grip is... fuck."

"Yes, Master, please praise my pussy more!"

"Isn't this enough praise, bitch?" you say in rhythm to slower but significantly harder thrust, the type to make inexperienced girls limp and screaming. Not Joohyun, she takes it well, though her voice still breaks at the rough pleasure forced upon her needy sex.

Joohyun stretches her arms out, holds onto the frame of the bed while you force her feet further apart and higher in the air. She looks stupid, an embarrassing position for an idol of her class to be in. 

"Yes, Master!" she suddenly howls when your finger presses into the flesh of her thighs. "I don't want to dance anymore, make me unable to dance!"

"When I'm fucking done with you, don't even think about getting out of bed." You lean down to her sweaty, burning face and nibble at her jaw. "Don't move on your own before I've filled your entire womb!"

"Yes, Master.” Joohyun struggles to catch her breath, her words somewhere up in the air along with your face deliberately drooling down on her. “It's time isn't it? Please make me pregnant. I've been waiting for so long, Master, I've been patient and good—" 

"In due time, Joohyun, but you will take it all the way in your womb until you're dripping and spilling seed everywhere. One day.” Your promise is sincere, partially because Joohyun’s rippling pussy has your voice a bit strained. Rejecting her would be pointless, really, her pussy could just will you in and if she’s really not taking contraceptives— 

“I've heard your contracts are up in the air. Are you really going to throw it all away for your Master?"

Joohyun puckers her lips for you to kiss, barely able to squeeze out words through them and her forced out moans.

"Yes, M-Master! I don't care about the contracts, I only want your child."

"Then show me that cute little face," you say, teasingly leaning down to her lips searching for yours but not getting them. "The one you make when you cum on my cock like the good slut I trained you to be."

Joohyun is almost at that point of peak devotion, where she can almost will herself to an orgasm just from your command, but it's still too many almosts. You still have to lay a hand on her clit, the other on her waist and move both your hips and hands in quick, stimulating fashion until Joohyun squeaks like it's her first time in your bedroom. 

The night you tamed her, many, many moons ago, was a great achievement, because you know she would still be drop dead gorgeous when you decide to do this to her. Without giving Joohyun any signs of your imminent orgasm, you cream her the moment the pleasure over takes her. 

Her cute expression of bliss and submission to your superior frame is flooded with ecstasy and pride when you flood her cavern and womb with a thick load that is meant to stick inside her and eventually form a baby. Joohyun frantically holds onto your arms stabilizing her ever twitching body, her glassy eyes looking at you in reverence and servility. 

"Th-thank you, Master," she whispers, her face and chest flushed with happiness, both a bit puffed from pride and soreness as her walls still milk you. "It feels so warm."

"I know what you're feeling," you coo into her ear and feel her burn up even more. "Finally, no condom, no contraceptive, nothing blocking my seed from blooming in your tight tummy. Every orgasm before this pales in comparison, because this one was real.

"So I'm giving you more."

"Ma-Master, I don't deserv—ahh!"

You put every vampire to shame when you furiously bite down on a pale sweet spot between Joohyun's neck and shoulder. Unlike vampires however, the faint taste of blood pulls you back to reality, that it's better to just fuck Joohyun's cum-filled cunt deeper than getting your teeth into her deeper. Nonetheless, the euphoric girl has both arms around you and tightly clings to you.

"Ma-Master," she cries out. "I ca-can't take it any-anymore."

"Don't care," you growl, empathy foreign to you. "I don't care if your pretty feet or legs or hips go numb. You'll take my cock until I want to stop."

You glare at her, eyelids hiding sniveling, tears begging for mercy as once again, overstimulation breaks her. What a weakness to still have. It’s part of Joohyun, sure, but you thought she would’ve grown past it, especially for this moment.

"You wanted this Joohyun. You wanted Master to breed you. You begged for it, don't you fucking bitch to me now. Did I make a mistake in choosing you? Are you really ready to give up your idol career if you can't handle me like this?" 

Every word sliced into her. It's been ages since you broke her down like this, not just physically and sexually, but verbally. It was like she was your trainee all over again, a dominant, crushing hand on her throat, an unrelenting pelvis crashing down on hers.

"I will fuck you for however long I want..." 

You pause for a moment and choke her even harder. 

"Suzy can take it. Why can't you?"

"I can, Daddy!” Joohyun screams, finally fighting for herself against herself. “Make me a baby mommy, don't listen to my stupid mouth. You, you own this pussy!"

Feel Joohyun's pussy struggle to take all the cock and cum when you fold her to a painful degree and watch her face become just a canvas for tears. It's also red, like her bleeding shoulder or her round butt which you spank over and over again, red like her sore pussy lips or her insides. 

"Good thing that you're still tight," you scold Joohyun and spit at her face. "At least your pussy is trying to make your real dream come true."

"Master, I'm cumming."

"Shut up. I don’t care. Put your own fingers around your throat. Spread your pussy lips. Look at me, while I destroy you.

"While I end your career, Irene."

A second load, pumped and mixed into the first and ultimately overflowing from Joohyun's gaping hole. The moment you pull out, she knows that this will be it. She is going to be pregnant, no way around it.

You gently cup her face, look at an expression of bewilderment, hurt, happiness, sadness, pain, confusion. Not the first time that you've destroyed a young woman like this while making her pregnant. A kiss to ease the pain a bit, she thinks, but it's just a set up for a reality check.

"I'm a bit disappointed," you tell her. "I needed your full devotion, but it seems you have forgotten how to take a second load.

"That said, I don't regret it. You're beautiful and ready. I think your group deserves one more comeback, then you can tell them what happened."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"You can stop choking yourself, by the way."

"Yes, Daddy. I-I love you."

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #male reader smut #red velvet smut #irene smut #bae joohyun smut #joohyun smut #red velvet irene smut

[worldsover]

The Strongest Man Alive

~4k words, oral, gentle dom!Irene

The moon—a weak thing—casts a soft glow through your curtains, illuminating the tangled sheets and two figures and eight limbs entwined. Bae Joohyun. Yours. And yours, she tastes of soju. You push away the curtains of her dark brown hair. You must do better than the moon if you want to see her face.

You don't want to see her face. How weak. Want can't be enough. Want is the moon whose light could never push.

Of course, it's need, this need above gravity—you will fly under your own power to see her gentle eyes shaped like almonds, the scrunch of her petite nose, or the tinge of pink on her cheeks. Such a tinge, you've pulled into her milky skin with each kiss.

Of course, it's need: if you could draw something so symmetrical as the oval of her face, you would be putting your work in galleries. Instead, you find yourself here, marveling at the slope of her jaw. At the slope of her jaw, your lips dance, taste one bead of sweat. Then, you're latched to her neck, making her moan.

Her body yearns against yours. Arms around your neck, your stomachs press together like puzzle pieces (more like magnets: two separate things now one). Her legs, those endless legs, lace around your hips as if they've been there your whole life. They've been there for twenty-six days, if you were to start counting from when you first asked her out. They've been there for five years, if you were to start counting from when you first met her as a friend of a friend. They'll be there forever, because why would you bother counting down when you could count up.

But you couldn't count up how you got here. The nights you shared in your bed or Joohyun's bed were innocent, simple: movies, warm kisses, cuddles. You had expected even slower than that. The lurid moans or the hands on your ass weren't part of the plan. There never could have been a plan. You didn't understand how fate penciled in you and Joohyun as a couple. The woman eight years your senior, aloof and intimidating and introverted. You'd overwhelm her with energy. She'd scare you with an icy glare.

This isn't Joohyun.

Love and care as a person is closer to your real Joohyun. As you aspire to redden and purple her sensitive neck with your lips, her gaze into you is as a stronger light, the morning sun, whose warmth is true and full. The air too, whatever is left between your bodies, crackles with heat, making sleep and a timeful waking for work both distant dreams. Your hand runs down the back of her neck, over thin layers of sweat on her skin, before slipping under her shirt to explore further.

Asymmetries and imbalance—you're understanding these are inescapable parts of you and Joohyun, the longer you count the time together. She's the leader. You're the follower. She might be examining your gluteus maximus like a butcher inspecting meat, pulling you by the chin to kiss your lips again, but you have to ask her: "Do you mind if I touch you lower?" See, gravity is the moon is weak is if as if gravity is not Joohyun's, and in her orbit you float and careful to stay, you seek permission even when you don't need it.

Float higher. Joohyun giggles. It's an often sound, not often enough. "Of course, handsome." That's Joohyun's voice playful and light and airy as a cloud; this is Joohyun dark and dangerous and knife in hand—"Touch me wherever you like."

Because if she says it like that, like she's honestly out to kill you, honestly out to stab you in the heart and in the brain and in the nerves until she's carved out everything that isn't just primal reaction and until something gets cold and hardens and presses against her midriff—and when she does it again, "Go ahead, touch me," and she grabs your wrist and makes you place your hand on her asscheeks—then how are you supposed to react when she says:

"How do you feel about… letting me suck your dick?" Lip bite and all?

This isn't Joohyun. It really isn't Joohyun. Not those eyes, not this soon. Not the woman who dressed modestly, who kept her distance from other men, who fiercely protected her female friends. Your Joohyun would ask for patience. And you were content with your Joohyun. But then, your Joohyun was an image, based on an external shell of a woman, and you can't imagine the real, soft, fleshy bits exposed more than Joohyun right now. And this Joohyun, were you less or more content with this one? Man, take the blowjob—you, an idiot, instead ask, "Now? Suck? T-tonight?"

"Yes, honey," she replies, but her voice is not so sweet. It refuses to let up, to let go of the boning knife; it stays deep, twisting your stomach. "I didn't ask for tomorrow."

Nothing more that you want, but unable to answer, you kiss her again with newfound urgency. Your fingers sink into her ass, and you taste her moan on your tongue. A breathless noise, a hint of a cloud, as if this might tip the balance or untwist the blade. And then a mote of a daring idea in your mind blossoms to sudden action without thinking. "Only if you beg for my dick," you say, with a seriousness that keeps your mouth open. You were not the weakness and the unweight of a pithy satellite.

Joohyun raises a brow. It's over. It's all over. Goodness. You had one chance with the prettiest woman, and now what? But then she grins wide. "Oh, look at you. How bold." This is a smaller knife, used to pare the skin off of fruits, and the pride off of men, so you pout and she pets your head, and you feel better and you feel smaller. "No, I'm kidding, baby. That was really hot. Do it again."

You look down. You are the weakness and…

"I'm sorry, I swear, you did great. I would gladly beg for your cock any day." Joohyun sits up against your hardwood headboard, looks at you through her long, fluttering lashes. "Please? Pwease? Pretty pleeease, can I suck your cock?"

This isn't Joohyun. And this isn't a paring knife, nor a boning knife, nor a playful cloud of words. This is a spoon that eats ice cweam. She pushes her chest together, tempting with cleavage peeking out of her bra top.

In response, you let out a soft whimper.

"Aww, does that mean yes?" she asks.

"Mhm," you say, a shy nod in addition.

"That's my man," she says. That must be the natural truth already. Joohyun said so.

As you sit up to copy her, she pushes you back down using a gentle hand on your chest.

"Just relax and let me take care of you, baby. Be a good boy and trust me." This knife… it cuts your sandwiches in a diagonal, and you think maybe this time, there is a hint of honey in her voice. She coos as she slides between your legs and tugs down your pants with her teeth. When your ankles are free of the pants, Joohyun returns her head by your thighs, and says with a sigh, "Ahh, it's like unwrapping a present. Look at that pretty bulge of yours."

You understand this as a rhetorical command, but still, you look, because by that pretty bulge rests Joohyun's face, and you shudder at its proximity. And while the knife metaphor is over, the mouth literal is more evocative than ever. She trails fingers down your chest and stomach while lips linger on your underwear. When she laps at your bulge, even if she only uses the very tip of her tongue, saliva's wetness seeps through the fabric. Even if the tip of her tongue is scalpel-precise in tracing your cock's outline, your own pre-cum must be seeping too. Her every motion is subtle but effective; you're already mewling loudly, already writhing beneath her.

"Looks like someone is excited." Joohyun uses her teeth again, now fully freeing your arousal from its confines. Your cock springs out and nearly hits her face, and she lets out a delighted squeal and takes control of the unruly actor with her small fingers. "I'm excited too. Gosh, it's so cute how hard you are."

As you lay there, breathless and trembling with desire, Joohyun gazes with adoration and palms along your hardened length. "Please," you say like you don't know what you're asking for.

Contented, Joohyun purrs, grazes her nails on your shaft, traces sinuous patterns down your pulsing vein. "You're so precious," she whispers. Then, stricter (more knife): "But I don't hear enough begging yet."

You're pathetic, weightless, suspended on four strings for each of your four limbs and Joohyun is your puppetmaster and Joohyun is your everything so with your everything, you say, "Please, I need it so bad. Need to feel your mouth on me, n-now. I'm a good boy, please, I'll be good for you, I'll do anything for it. You said you'd take care of me, p-please, I need you to…"

Joohyun places a finger on your lips, and you gulp.

"Aww," she responds with a soft chuckle, soft kisses traveling up your length. "Anything? Hmm…" With each deliberate swipe of her tongue, especially as it crosses the ridge to your cockhead, the most concentrated bundle of nerves, unexpected sounds escape from deep within your throat. Nothing, it seems, is ever in the plans, but especially not the low, throaty, bubbly noses, or the high whiny pitches you make. As her lips ghost over the tip of your cock, you want to grab her hair, to command her to suck—no, you don't.

This isn't you.

If Joohyun expects you to wait, whether it's the next few seconds or until the next moon phase, you will wait.

So you wait.

Now the warmth of her breath is like the warmth of her skin is like the quiet warmth of a distant star, only felt in the deepest calm of the night.

Her dark eyes pierce you with their gaze, dark as to match the inky blacks that surround such a faraway body.

Outside, the wind hums low, like it too is aware of the moment between you and Bae Joohyun. But no one, not even nature, can understand truly.

It's all so hot, so bright, so loud.

After a moment too long and not a moment too soon, Joohyun closes her mouth over your cockhead. It's slow, so slow, like she's tasting this inch and considering the merits of its flavor, then she's savoring the next inch, where she compares and contrasts its mouthfeel. Embarrassingly loud, you groan as she takes more of you in, creating a vacuum seal with her lips. And as if the wet sounds aren't enough, she hums around you, sending vibrations that might start at your cock but cascade through your body. Every now and then, her tongue darts out to flirt around your frenulum while her equally adept hands twist your shaft and fondle your ballsack.

Suddenly, her sucking becomes fast and urgent like a storm rolling in on a sunny day. Her eyes narrow in concentration, a look you've only seen during arcade dates or board game nights—she's trying to win something, and the prize lies in your balls.

You shut your eyelids like you don't want tears to escape, clench your thighs like you want her to lose for once. "Fuck, wait," you grit out through your teeth, "wait, wait, I'm gonna cum if you keep going like this."

Joohyun hesitates for a moment, as though her blowjob is a runaway train. But then she composes herself and pulls away from your cock with a playful smack of her lips. "Aww? Already?" she asks, and you're unsure if she's teasing as usual or in genuine dismay. "Thank for letting me know, sweetheart. I'll slow down."

She adjusts her pace: her lips linger on the base of your shaft, waning crescent, or your sensitive cockhead, waxing gibbous, and her hand has settled on a firm grip of your testicles—and none of that bodes well for your endurance. Joohyun knows exactly what she's doing to you; whenever she makes eye contact, the corner of her lips tugs into a sly smile.

"Think you can handle more?" she asks, low and husky. "I don't wanna push you too far."

She might—she will. Nevertheless, even more unbearable is the mere thought of the lack of her warm and wet ministrations on your member. "Please, keep going. It's okay."

"Promise?" She sticks out her pinky finger. You interlock your finger with hers. Though her hand is small and delicate compared to yours, the weight of the deal is not so. You've just signed a pact with the devil, but all your blood has already rushed to your cock so there's no way you had enough ink. It seems hell's denizens have no respect for legal authority: Joohyun's mouth rushes back to a vigorous rhythm along your shaft, this time allowing more foamy spit to escape the sides of her mouth. Like a sloppy drunk, she talks with a mouth full of you. "I want you to enjoy thih... but I also wanna be a little selfish and worship your cock, pwopehly—" she coughs. "And I can't do that if my precious man cums too early. So I need you to be brave and strong. You'ww be bwave, wight?"

You mouth "I'll be fine" and you've just lied to Joohyun. You wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly filled her mouth with your load, though you'd feel guilt at the lack of forewarning. You find yourself growing louder and more desperate with each pass of her lips.

"That's it, moan as much as you want, babe. I love hearing you."

"Nngh, fuck, you make me feel so good," you say, groaning, grunting, panting.

Her eyes shine with admiration, with honesty: she truly loves every sound she extracts from you. "Well, you make me feel more than just good. I think I'm in love with sucking your cock. No, I know I am. The way it pulses in my mouth, mmm, fuck... it makes me dripping wet." She licks her lips. "I wanna give you all the pleasure in the world. You deserve it."

To prove her point, Joohyun takes a break from your dick and focuses on your testicles instead. She engulfs them one by one, sucking and licking like they are the ripest, juiciest fruit; you must be incredibly delicious because her teeth graze and tug carefully at the loose skin, making you feel heavy and lightheaded simultaneously. Despite your length resting heavily against her forehead and nose and the mess of saliva across her face, Joohyun remains the epitome of beauty.

"No one else gets to see me like this, my love," she says, winking—usually, that'd be deliberate, but you wager it's the sticky saliva and pre-cum dripping from your cock onto her face. Despite the debauchery of the moment, she still manages to look adorable with one eye closed and the other half-open as if she's trying to perfect her winking technique.

Your hands instinctively tangle in her hair, unable to restrain yourself any longer as the intensity increases, both balls in her mouth.

"Close again?" she asks, releasing you from the confines of her mouth with only her fingers remaining on clean-up duty: first, she takes care of the frothy mess on her face and untangles wet strands of hair; then, she collects the sheen on your cock before licking each digit clean. She crawls up the bed, her petite form hovering above you until her face is right next to yours again. You could have never signed a deal with the devil because this is an angel. The angel presses her lips to yours, a tantalizing and bittersweet combination of her saliva mixed with your own juices.

"Does that feel better, babe? I know how much you love to taste my lips."

"Mmm, I do, thank you." Even more than that, however, the kiss is a welcome reprieve from the constant barrage of ecstasy at your genitals. Like earlier tonight, your hands roam over her body. However, now you don't just stop at her smooth curves and pert behind. Your fingers trail lower, finding their way to the warm, wet space between her thighs. As you trace her slick slit, she moans into your mouth, and you realize she wasn't lying. Her cunt is soaked. You're jealous of how much pleasure she can derive from giving pleasure. There is little resistance for your digits to glide inside, a knuckle deep, then two. In a frenzy, her hands roam as well, exploring your every dip and muscle, save for your throbbing erection and twitching balls. Again, you welcome her prudence, though you pay her in kind with a fingerfucking that accelerates.

"Mhm, yes, that's it, touch me like that." Joohyun's gasps interweave each kiss. "You're amazing, such a good, good boy. I'll make you cum such a big load in my mouth soon, I promise."

The thought of it inspires you: you bring your fingers to your lips and taste the remnants of her pleasure, salty and tangy and addicting. She watches you with a mixture of amusement and desire, her cheeks flushed.

"Is it really that good?" she asks, her voice betraying her usual confidence or playfulness as she breathes heavily.

"The yummiest," you reply with a lustful grin, already planning to tongue-map every inch of her cunt later. For now, your focus is fixed on the pleasure Joohyun can bring you elsewhere on your body. Your mind races as her rosy lips part in happiness and glisten like freshly picked strawberries. To say your dick is throbbing is an insult to throbbing; it's a bundle of fireworks ready to set off at any time. "Can... can you suck me again?"

"You sure?" Joohyun asks with a gentle stroke of your cheek, a slight pout, raised brows. There's genuine concern in her tone, however mild, but it quickly falls back to cheeky. "Maybe I should just keep kissing you again." Her pillowy lips press against yours, your jaw, your cheek. Sucks on your neck. Nibbles on your ear. Isn't enough.

You plead, your voice raw and exposed, "No, I need it. Need your mouth on my cock again. Need to cum."

Joohyun's eyes light up with mischief and she leans in close, her sweet breath caressing your face as she purrs, "You're so fun to play with. And it's adorable how much you want this."

Suddenly, her demeanor shifts and she becomes stern once more. "Say 'please' if you need it that bad," she demands.

You comply forthwith, the word slipping from your mouth like a sigh.

Before any of your reactions can inform your brain, Joohyun's lips and tongue envelop your aching cock. Then all the information comes all at once. Light as the fastest hits first as your eyes capture the determination in hers, the way her brows furrow in concentration, how her hair flies about in the sudden action. Then comes the heat, as your length disappears into the depths of her mouth, and the sound of glucks and other carnal oral noises reach your ears last.

Your replies have devolved into incoherent babbling by now; the only word you can repeat is the one she's made you say, and as much as you echo "please", she swallows your dick at just the right pace—just the wrong pace. Fast enough to make you whip your head back, slow enough to leave you on the brink of climax.

"Keep begging all you want, you're not cumming until I've had my fun. You want to explode into my mouth, don't you?" she taunts—look at the stripe Joohyun makes with her tongue. Is she cleaning the saliva on your shaft or covering it further is a question that's repeated ten times for the ten licks between the hundred dips of her mouth. "You want to pound that perfect cock into my throat and coat it with your load?" Wow, it's like she's in your head. Incredible. "Okay. Yeah. I can do that." And with a deep swallow, your head's in her as she takes you all the way down, and holds down, long enough for a single tear to swell in her eye.

Joohyun's nose jams against your stomach, and her eyes twitch—it's the wink again, or so you'd think if you didn't feel your tip jab the back of her throat. A bubble of thick saliva becomes bubbles as determined as she is to ignore her own need to breathe. With every clench of her throat around you, sparks course your nerves, or maybe it's not just the pressure, but the sight of the distension at her neck. Either way, you're unsure how lightning has yet to strike your rod. Every gag seems calculated, designed to make you squirm, and she has an uncanny ability to recognize the approach of your climax. As though through the pulse of your cock vein, she knows when to pull back just when your hairs start to raise, when the goosebumps form. The buildup of static denied its discharge. You would try to thrust your hips into her, regardless of whether you should or shouldn't but should's or shouldn't's are aren't's when she's holding your thighs down. Joohyun manages to treat your cock like a toy to tease and please herself with, despite her fucking her own face into it.

"You must be trying so hard..."

Joohyun pauses momentarily, breathes out through her nose, before another deep swallow.

"Not to explode..."

One more swallow.

"Into mommy's mouth... right?"

And then it happens. With a primal cry, you release everything you have into Joohyun's waiting mouth, her eyes widening in surprise before she eagerly swallows every last drop. Your body trembles with pleasure as she continues to suck you clean, your mind blissfully numb. Even after you finish Joohyun continues to suckle gently on your cock, sending aftershocks of hot bliss through your body; however, the overstimulation is a bucket of cold ice that has you gripping the sheets and begging through loud groans: "Please, please, ahhh."

"Please, what?"

You shake your head as your thighs clench and your eyes roll back. You're still pulsating, still unloading onto her tongue as her lips pucker and lock around your dick. "No, t-too much," you say.

"Sensitive? Aww, baby." But there's a glint of mischief in her eye that makes you question her. Before you can protest, she takes you back into her mouth, working her tongue around the underside of your shaft and suctioning with her lips, pushing herself down into your root until she has wrung you out into her stomach.

When she eventually pulls herself off your sore and spent member, Joohyun's mouth stays open. "Wow, I've never done that. I'm so, so sorry... I swear, I'm not some crazy nympho obsessed with your cock or anything."

You're not sure you believe. You are sure you forgive her. As you catch your breath and bask in the afterglow of mind-altering bliss, Joohyun's head weighing on her thigh, you wonder if what's so irresistible about your cum to her—she's still playing with a glob of it in her mouth. When she gulps, she lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Hmm... seems like you really, really liked when I said a certain word. Or at least your dick did," Joohyun suggests, flicking at and toying with your softness, making you jump.

As her eyes captivate yours, she poses a question that rocks your world.

"Would you like me to be your mommy—" "Yes."

#kpop smut #red velvet smut #male reader #reader insert

[helen-with-an-a]

I am an Adult pt 3

Hi. So I wasn't planning to do a part 3 of the series but I got a request and it was really cute/funny so I thought why not ahaha.

Barca Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4

Word Count: 3.3k

Description: R gets a girlfriend

It took a lot of work to find the right balance. The give and take, knowing where to push and where to pull. That fine line between knowing when to go to the team for help and doing it yourself.

After the events of last Spring, you had been better at relying on the girls for essential things, and they had been better at asking you about them without nagging. You sent a picture of critical legal dates to Alexia, who would set a reminder to ask you about them a week or so before the actual deadline. Lucy helped you figure out meals if you asked for them. Irene helped you stock and restock your pantry and cupboards throughout your house when you were stuck on what to keep multiple or spares of. Marta helped out with your schedule if you felt a little overwhelmed. They felt like they were checking up on you and helping you without you feeling smothered. It was fantastic.

And then you got a girlfriend.

Initially, Your crush was slight, something you could repress and squash down. But then you played her in the Champions League group stages. Wolfsburg and Barcelona were drawn in the same group by some bizarre coincidence or the universe interfering in your love life.

Lena was so sweet and kind; it was crazy. You first interacted when you had to do some media together. UEFA media decided to do ‘head-to-head’ videos where some players from each team had to do videos, interviews, and challenges together. And with another stroke of luck – or divine intervention once again – you and Lena were paired together. You were caught off guard by how gentle she was. On the pitch, she was a force to be reckoned with solid tackles and her fearlessness of a yellow card. That was the only impression you had of her. Of course, you had stalked her social media for months, so you knew she seemed like a fantastic friend. But off the pitch, it was like a switch had flipped. She was so soft, it was unreal – always asking if you were ok with the questions she was asking and checking in with you after challenges. It was making your head spin in the most fantastic way.

“What do I do?” You asked Ona over coffee. She was the one person you trusted with this secret.

“Well, well, well. Where has the confident, cocky, ‘I’m so good with girls’ Y/N gone?” She joked. You had never experienced these feelings before, and you were panicking slightly.

“Ugh, never mind. If you’re just going to make fun of me-” you shook your head, starting to gather your things.

“No, wait, hey, c’mon. Do you seriously like her?” Ona grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving.

“I … I don’t know. I think so, but I don’t do relationships. I never have. It’s just been one-night stands and friends-with-benefit type things. Casual sex. Never anything more. I don’t do more.”

“Well, neither do I,” Ona cut in. You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Want me to tell that to Lucy?” You said sarcastically, chuckling at her deep blush. “Ona, c’mon, I’m serious. I really like her,” you all but begged.

“Ok, ok. No hay necesidad de preocuparse. If you really like her, just ask her out for coffee, or dinner, or to the movies, or something. Just be your normal self. You know you have game. I’ve seen the number of girls you’ve brought back after nights out. So just be your charming self, flirt a little, and ask her on a date.” You nodded at her words. Flirting, you could do. Charming, you could do. Asking her out on a date … you hoped you could do.

You asked her out after the first leg. It was in Barcelona, so you messaged her to see if she wanted to see the sights. You knew she wasn’t going home until 2 days after the match, so on her off-day. You knew it was slightly unconventional to ask someone out via text, but you think you might never do it if you asked in person.

[Initial]💙❤️: Do u want to go to see some stuff in Barcelona with me on ur day off?? x

L💚: By rselves? Like a date???

[Initial]💙❤️: Yes x

[Initial]💙❤️: Would u like to go on a date with me on ur day off??

L💚: Yes

L💚: I’ll send you the hotel details. I could meet u at like 10? 11?

[Initial]💙❤️:  I’ll pick u up at 10 outside the hotel – wear comfy shoes!!! <3

L💚: Can’t wait 😁

The day was beautiful; you took her to a little bakery for breakfast – laughing a few hours away over good coffee and excellent food. You then spent the morning doing the touristy things before having lunch at a tapas place, again not noticing the time passing as you giggled and sent longing stares at each other. The afternoon was filled with more happiness as you showed her the quieter spots and your favourite places to relax. Dinner was a classic paella, finally drawing up the courage to hold her hand on your way back to drop her off.

You were just around the corner from her hotel when you pulled her to stop.

“Um … I had a perfect day today.” You said as you shuffled closer,

“Me too,” she replied, softly pushing some hair away from your face. You licked your lips, staring at hers. She slowly leant in, her eyes flicking between your lips and eyes. You leant in, too; you were so close to kissing her – one slight adjustment at you would be.

A car horn sounded right next to you, making you both spring apart. Fuck!

“I … um … I better get going,” Lena said, gesturing towards the hotel. You could tell she was a little disappointed

“Yeh, no, I get it. Just … text me, yeh? Maybe you could show me around Wolfsburg when we travel to you guys?” you said nervously, not meeting her warm brown eyes.

“Hey,” she called softly, using her free hand to grasp your chin and make you look into her eyes. “I will absolutely be showing you around my home. We will definitely be doing this again,” she said with certainty. You felt your heart jump at the idea of a second date with Lena. She squeezed your hand before she left, looking back with a soft smile as she went.

[Initial]💙❤️: SPOTIFY LINK – One Direction, ‘I Should Have Kissed You’:  https://www.spotify......

L💚: SPOTIFY LINK – Odeal, ‘Next Time’: https://www.spotify.......

After the second leg, Lena took you to a Christmas Market, saying that even though it was only November, you had to experience one. It was lovely. You laughed, ate too much food, and drank too much hot chocolate and mulled wine. As she took you back to your hotel, you came to a stop, much like you had in Barcelona.

“Can I actually kiss you this time?” You asked her.

“Bitte Küsse mich.” You didn’t speak German, but she clarified her intentions as she put a hand on your hip, shuffling closer until your breaths mingled. Her lips were soft and rough and warm and cold all at once. It was perfect. The world stopped spinning momentarily as you slowly let your tongue explore.

“Mein Gott” she said as you parted.

“Guess I’m going to need German lessons.” You laughed, pressing your lips back on hers.

“Don’t worry, I know a willing teacher,” she said as you separated again.

Your relationship was semi-secret; text exchanges left you giddy, hushed phone calls left you too-smiley, and facetimes were taken as you hurried from the rooms. Everyone could tell something was different, and most people could guess that it was probably down to a person; they just couldn’t figure out who.

“Alright, out with it. Who’s got you so smiley?” Patri asked as she sat on your sofa. You were having a younger girls' night—like you do most evenings. Patri, Pina, Esmee, Ona, Jana, Martina, Vicky, Bruna, Cata … it was a bit of a squeeze in your one-bedroom flat, but you made it work.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said as you smiled into your glass.

“Oh, please. You’ve been smiling away, laughing, and being disgustingly cute. Who is it?” Jana swatted your thigh at your non-answer.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you stuck your tongue out at her.

“Don’t make us do detective work!” Martina threatened, pulling up her phone and going onto your social media.

“It’s recent, so check who she’s recently started following,” Vicky suggested. You were so grateful that you had been following Lena for years since you had played against her at club and national levels.

“It happened after the group stages,” Ona chimed in. You threw her an offended glare. You knew she wouldn’t actively spill your secret, but you had hoped she wouldn’t join in on the hunt for the identity of your girlfriend.

“You know something, Ona!” Pina accused, a finger coming to point at her. “You know who it is, don’t you?” They soon switched from interrogating you to Ona. Logically, it was the smartest move; Ona could crack very easily. It’s how you found out about Lucy – you had just narrowed your eyes at her for slightly too long, and she broke, spilling everything to you when she stayed the night a few months ago. You watched, somewhat amused, as Ona squirmed, avoiding eye contact, ducking her head, biting her lip. She was close to spilling everything. You knew she was terrified of telling secrets that weren’t hers, but she couldn’t help it.

“Alright, guys. Enough. Stop interrogating her.” You broke up the onslaught of questions, moving from your sofa seat to the chair she was curling up in. You could tell she was close to tears, and you didn’t want to do that to her – you knew she already felt guilty enough. You shuffled her around a bit before pulling her onto your lap.

“Right, you get 5 hints. If you can’t guess it from them, then I can’t help you. And no more asking Ona!” You glared at them all, ensuring they understood how serious you were. “Right, she’s German. She plays in Germany. She’s a midfielder. We’re similar ages. She’s made her senior international debut in 2019.” You watched as the group dissolved into loud discussion.

“Lo siento mucho. No querías que nadie lo supiera y ahora...” Ona hurried out, close to tears again.

“Hey, no, no, no. It’s ok, Oni,” you reassured her as you kissed her forehead. “No es tu culpa. I promise you. I do not blame you.” She nodded and buried her head back against your collarbone, watching the carnage in front of you. You quietly laughed to each other at the scene – Wikipedia was pulled up on everyone’s phones, the German national team website as well as they speculated on who you were seeing. You slowly pulled your phone out, quickly texting Lena.

[Initial]💙❤️: Like ½ my team are tryna guess my girlfriend rn x

[Initial]💙❤️: Do u mind if I say yes if they guess it right? x

L💚: ahahahahaha

L💚: No, I don’t mind. R u gonna tell them who I am if they get it wrong tho?

[Initial]💙❤️: Whichever u want x

[Initial]💙❤️: I don’t mind telling them x

[Initial]💙❤️: Would make it easier when I disappear to Germany for a few days and u suddenly turn up in my Barca jersey

[Initial]💙❤️: I want to tell them about u x

L💚: Tell em

L💚: Can I tell my team?

[Initial]💙❤️: Omg yesssss xxxxxxxxxxxx

L💚: also – I will never wear a barca jersey!!

L💚: Even if it does have ur name on the back 🤢

[Initial]💙❤️: ugh RUDE.

[Initial]💙❤️: But ud still be my WAG tho right? x

L💚: I’ll always be ur wag hehe

[Initial]💙❤️: so kind of u x

[Initial]💙❤️: I’ll always be ur wag too btw x

“Alright, alright. We have 2 possible answers.” Bruna turned around with a notebook in her hand. Where did they get that from? “Our first guess, we think, is less likely. Klara Bühl. She’s German, plays for Bayern, is a midfielder, and debuted in 2019. You’re similar in age. But we haven’t played Bayern in a while. So, how would you have met? So, we don’t think it’s her.” She paused, staring at your carefully crafted neutral expression. You met Klara once; she was lovely. She handed the notebook over to Cata. “Our final guess is one we think is pretty true,” Cata explained, adjusting herself to sit cross-legged before you. “We played Wolfsburg at the Champions League group stages, and you disappeared for the whole day the day after and came back all smiley. So, we have reason to believe it’s a Wolfsburg player.” You didn’t realise how seriously they were taking this. “But … most of the Wolfsburg team are German, but not all of them are German midfielders that debuted for the national team in 2019.” She paused dramatically. You knew she had figured it out. “That’s why our final guess is …” another final pause.

“Oberdorf,” Patri shouted out, clearly over Cata’s dramatics. “You’re dating Oberdorf.”

“Oi. Aquesta havia de ser la meva revelació” Cata lunged at Patri, loud shouts of Catalan descending on the house.

“D'acord, d'acord,” you shouted over the noise as you saw a wine bottle wobble precariously as someone knocked into the table. “Sí, Lena is my girlfriend.” You admitted. If you thought the noise was loud before, you were deafened by the cacophony that descended on you. You buried your head in Ona’s hair, laughing as your friends melted into chaos.

You knew that once the younger ones found out who your girlfriend was, it was only a matter of time before the older ones did. You hadn’t expected it to be the next day, however. You were in the changing rooms, chatting to Patri and Pina as you prepared for the session ahead of you. The door banged open, and you were met with an outraged Lucy. As she stalked towards you, you glanced at a very guilty-looking Ona.

“She looked at me.” Ona defended herself.

“Grow a backbone, Oni.” You shouted as Lucy dragged you from the room, remembering to add a nickname in so she knew you weren’t that mad at her.

You were dragged to an empty conference room. Alexia, Paños, Marta, Mariona, Caro, and Irene were already sitting on one side of the table. Lucy pushed you into the single seat opposite them and took her place next to Irene. You sat in silence for a full 3 minutes before anyone spoke.

“Is there something you want to tell us, cariño?” Alexia asked smoothly, folding her hands in front of her like she was conducting a business meeting.

“Ona needs to learn how to toughen up.” You weren’t too angry with Ona, but it slightly annoyed you that she had cracked so easily. You wanted to tell the older girls yourself to avoid this situation.

“Leave her out of it.” Lucy jumped in. You clicked your teeth at her, flicking your hand in her direction, dismissing her protest.

“You have a girlfriend,” Irene stated, bringing the conversation back on track.

“Ja, das tue ich,” you said, chuckling at their reaction to your German. They didn’t fully understand you but knew ‘yes’ in most languages. You could see Caro laughing slightly – she had played for Wolfsburg; she knew you were using your newfound language to irritate them.

“And you didn’t tell us?” Marta asked

“Ja, das ist richtig,” you smiled.

“Cut the crap, pequeña.” Paños hit the table, making you jump slightly.

“Bien. Si tanto quieres saber,” you snapped. “Yes, I have a girlfriend. I’m sure you already know who, but it’s Lena. I asked her out after our home Wolfsburg game. She asked me out after her home leg. We’ve been dating for a couple of months now. I really like her. Anything else you want to know?” You asked Alexia directly. You could see the internal battle – the desire to know everything about your new relationship with her promise to treat you more grown up.

“Everyone, out,” Alexia instructed after a minute, using her captain’s voice to show she was serious. “Cariño, please stay?” She asked. You nodded as the others left. Caro seemed to find this whole thing funny, but everyone else was grumbling and muttering about how they found it rude that you didn’t tell them and that you were too young for a girlfriend. “I thought we promised to tell each other things like adults?” She asked you.

“I know. The others only found out yesterday if it makes you feel any better. Ona’s known for a while, but only because I asked her for help.” You sat back in your chair, careful to leave your posture open.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” She seemed a little upset by your actions.

“I didn’t want this to happen. We’ve finally found a balance. And I knew that this would disrupt that balance. And it’s so new; I didn’t want to tell you guys until I knew what we were, and it’s only really been a few months. She asked me to be her girlfriend at New Year’s, so …” you trailed off, hoping that she understood where you were coming from.”

“Entenc. But cariño, why didn’t you tell me?” She asked again.

“I … I don’t know.” You did know. You knew exactly why you didn’t tell her. And she knew it, too. “Ok … well … I didn’t … I didn’t want you to treat me like a child again. Relationships are new to me. I can do the … physical …” you both cringed slightly, not entirely comfortable with those topics just yet, “side of relationships fine. But emotions. They’re new to me. And I wanted to figure it out for myself first. I went to Ona ‘cos she’s my best friend. One that needs to learn how to resist interrogation better, but she’s still my best friend.”

“Don't be too hard on her, pequeña. She meant well. And I get why you didn’t come to me first. But can I ask a few questions?” She watched as you left your seat, coming around to her side of the table, and sitting on her lap.

You sighed, “ask away.” She laughed as she squeezed your waist.

“Does she treat you well?”

“Sí,” you answered honestly.

“Do you treat her well?”

“I think so. I hope so.” You smiled at her concern for Lena

“Can we meet her?”

“As long as you guys don’t give her the talk, then yes.” She leant back to look at your face.

“Can I give her the talk?” You sighed.

“Sí,” you relented, not missing the flicker of excitement that passed over her face.

“When is she coming to Barcelona?”

“Our way game Èl Clasíco matches with a free weekend for her. She’s meeting me in Madrid.” You laughed as she pushed you off her lap, standing up and rushing to the door. “Where are you going?”

“To prepare my speech. Alba never let me do a charla de hermana mayor to her partners, so this might be my only chance.” You laughed at her enthusiasm. She indeed was like your big sister – annoying most of the time, infuriating some of the time, but just a big, goofy kid at heart looking out for everyone around her.

[Initial]💙❤️: U might wanna prepare urself now x

L💚: WHY???

L💚: WHAT DID U DO????

[Initial]💙❤️: Alexia knows

[Initial]💙❤️: She’s very excited to meet my girlfriend x

[Initial]💙❤️: She’s planning a speech x

L💚: I am dead

L💚: I am going to die

L💚: Will u still love me if I’m dead????

[Initial]💙❤️: She wont kill u

[Initial]💙❤️: I wont let her xxx

[Initial]💙❤️: Yes, I will still love u if ur dead xx

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

#barca femeni #woso community #woso #barca femeni x reader #fc barcelona #woso blurbs #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #barca femini x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #lena oberdorf x reader #lena oberdorf

[twice-inamillion]

The Company

Asking for a favor

Smut and Story Building (Sex, Teasing, Anal sex, Deep Penetration, Creampie, use of anal plug) 

Chapter 4

2630 Words

(Irene, like a good girl, is used by the Company CEO. He makes her wear a butt plug to get her accustomed to having something inside of her when she is to service her boss in anal sex. She uses this opportunity to get on the good side of her boss, even if it means being used like a sex toy.)

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Why is he making me wear this in public? I hate it him.” Irene walks through the main building, making her way to the CEO’s office. She greets the trainees who are coming from their biweekly evaluation meeting. “Good Morning, girls.” 

The trainees wave back and bow at Irene as she holds some paperwork through the busy hallway. She presses the button on the elevator, scans her access card, and selects the top floor. She faces the glass and sees the view of the campus, busy with trainees going to their classes. She starts to walk to the end of the hall when she drops some of the folders, “Damn, why is this happening to me?” She squats carefully so as not to reveal her panties and the plug she was forced to wear as punishment by the CEO. She quickly picked up the files and quickly felt the back of her skirt to make sure that the plug in her behind wasn’t showing. After checking, she makes her way to your office and knocks on the door. 

“Irene here. May I come in?” dreading to see your face this early morning.

“Yeah, come in.”

She opens the doors, walks in, and immediately closes the door behind her. She sees the smirk on your face, knowing that you’re laughing at her. “Good Morning, sir.”

“Good Morning, Irene. How are you doing today?”

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking.” With an annoyed face, she gives you the files you requested, “Here are the files you requested.” You take them, review the files, and set them on the table. You get back on your desktop but notice Irene standing before your desk. “Did you need something?”

“Sir, I want to ask you for something.”

“Speak.”

“Well… I reviewed the evaluations from the trainees who were tested two weeks ago, and four stood out to me. Would you mind looking at them?” handling your files. 

“Ah, yes. You mentioned one of them before, right? A girl named Wendy.”

“Yes, sir. She’s from Canada. We sent someone to recruit her based on her viral YouTube video.”

“Okay, and what about the rest?”

“The rest went through the Korean auditions. Most of them are good singers and have been performing well in their evaluations.”

“I see that there is no that’s not of age yet.”

“Yeah, her name is Yeri. She recently joined that company a few weeks ago, but I think she has the basics down.”

“Okay, and why are you showing me this?”

“Well… I wanted to see if you would consider these girls for a girl group.”

“Irene, You know we already have a group in mind.”

“Sir, but I think these girls would do well.”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

She walks over to your side of the desk, “Please, sir, let me be responsible for the group. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“So you want to be in the group too?”

“Yes, I would like to debut with them.”

You see the desperation on her face, making you want to tease her more. You remember the punishment you gave her and say, “Seems like you’re serious. You must really want this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Alright, show me how serious you are.”

“What do you mean?”

You place her hand on her behind, giving it a nice rub and smile. She reads your expression and knows what you are trying to do. She slowly spreads her legs and pulls her panties down to her knees, giving you access to her cheeks. With your right hand, you go up her skirt and grab onto one of her cheeks, feeling her pale and soft flesh, “A nice ass like always.” She tries to think of something else as you caress her ass cheeks by squeezing them, cupping, or slapping them until they’re slightly red.

Once you get your fill, you focus on what’s between Irene’s cheeks and slowly move your hand toward the bud sticking out of her. You grab the pink glass plug and gently give it a tug, causing Irene to twitch. You try to give it another pull, but her body tightens out of reflex. 

“Come on, you know the drill, relax.”

Without a word she spreads her legs a bit more and bends towards the desk. You give the butt plug another pull, and this time, you’re able to move it. Grabbing onto the nub, you give it a twist, which makes Irene moan. Seeing her reaction, you decide to pull on it, “Remember to relax.” With a firm grip, you begin to pull on the nub, which causes her pucker hole to stretch slightly. Irene gets firm to the table and feels you pull the plug out of her butt. She moans with every centimeter you pull until her hole is stretched to the size of a glass ball. 

“Ready for the last bit?”

“Shut up, just pull it.” 

All you hear is the popping noise of air escaping her now gaping hole, trying to clench onto the foreign object it held earlier before. “Fuck, lot at that gaping hole,” as you stare at the inside of Irene’s exposed hole. You stand and watch as her pucker hole constricts, turning you on. 

Not wanting to wait any longer, you undo your belt and drop your pants to the floor. You take out your cock and give it a full pump, getting it ready for some action. 

You open the bottom drawer and pull out some lube and squirt some on Irene’s ass and on your cock. Slowly and gently, you rub the lube all over your cock and between Irene’s slit. The cold lube causes Irene to shiver in anticipation of what’s to come. 

Now, the long-awaited meal that you have been craving is here. You press your cock against Irene’s ass and gently push it into her asshole. She groans as she feels the tip of your hardened cock spreads her puckerhole, “Uggh…fuck…” biting her lip. A cold sensation fills her spine as she takes in your massive cock. 

“Fuck, you’re still tight.” You press in even more, feeling the flesh of her walls wrapping around your cock. You take a better hold of her waist and warn her, “I’m going to go all the way!”

Irene tries to prepare herself and adjusts her position on the table but loses her balance when she feels a stab in her womb, “Wait! You’re going to mess me up!”

Her knees become weak from just one stroke, and it’s not the last one. You pick up the pace and mercilessly fuck her ass. You enjoy hearing her groan in pain as she takes you massive length. “Stop! Stop! Give me some time to adjust myself. You’re going to ruin me!”

You move your hand and insert two fingers into her wet cunt and collect as much fluid as you can. With those two fingers, you shove them into Irene’s mouth and say, “Shut up and suck like a good girl!”

Without a fight, she welcomes your fingers and begins to suckle. “Yeah, that’s right. Sucking on your own nectar like a slut you are.” She tries to respond, but you slam your cock back inside, reaching the deepest parts of her ass, causing her to gag on your fingers. 

After five minutes, Irene is a complete mess; she groans, “You’re turning me inside out. Please, pull out…”

“Alright, I’ll let you rest, but let me cum first.” 

You pull out your cock just enough to leave the tip and slam it once more, releasing a large wave of cum, “Hmph… fuck!!” She loses her balance, falls on the desk, and goes silent. “Fuck, your ass is so just tighter, it’s milking my cock.”

You turn to Irene and see her passed out, so you pull out your cock and see Irene’s motionless body. You grab your phone from your desk and take a picture of Irene’s gaping ass, “That’s so hot.” You walk in closer and see a large puddle of cum just at the edge of her puckerhole, just waiting to ruin Irene’s thigh. You grab her ass cheeks and spread them, causing your cum to spill out and drip onto her underwear. 

Not wanting to spill any cum on the floor you pull her panties back up and sit on your chair with Irene on your lap. You move her panties to the side and insert your semi-hard cock back inside, and continue to work on the computer. 

After a couple of minutes, Irene wakes up and feels the hot sensation of something buried deep inside her and lifts her head up. She slowly regains her vision, and the first thing she sees is your chest. She tilts her head up, “Wh…what are you doing?”

“You fell asleep, well more like passed out. I didn’t know I was that good.”

“Stop. Let me get off.” 

“No.”

“Come on, I need to get back to my duties.”

“These are part of your duties, remember.”

“Fine… just get it over with.”

“That’s no fun, but whatever. Let’s see your reaction after I’m done with you.”

Irene feels your semi-limp cock throbbing and getting harder as you bounce her small body on your length. With a firm grip on her ass tries to turn her head away, but you stop her, “Don’t look away. Look at me.” She moves her gaze at you, making direct eye contact. “That’s right, just like that. Now, I’m going to let go, and I want you to ride me.” 

You could see that she was going to talk back, but instead, she holds the words in her mouth and does as she’s told. She continues the rhythm you previously had and, little by little, increases the pace. You place your hands on her back, and she places hers on your shoulders; you stare at her, teasing that she is doing all the work like the good little cum slut that she is. 

“How does my cock feel up your ass? Good, huh?”

“It’s not bad.”

“Remember when the first time?”

“Don’t… don’t bring it up.”

“Why not? It was cute seeing you struggle.”

“I couldn’t walk straight for two days because of you.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault your body is so small.”

“It’s not my body, it’s that your cock is too big.”

“But you like it” as you give her a smirk. She doesn’t respond, but the silence gives away her answer. Instead, she picks up the pace to get her duty over with. “Fuck, you’re getting tight again. You’re so good at tightening your walls. If only your future members knew how much of a slut you are.”

“I’m not doing it because I want to; I’m doing it because I have to.” 

“Oh, if that’s the case, why don’t you let me fuck that tight pussy you have right there” as you rub your hands on her nicely trimmed cunt.

“No, you can’t.”

“Come on, it’s been over a year since we met, and you still haven’t…”

“Don’t. Remember, you can only fuck me anal if you don’t do it from the front. I’m saving myself for someone special.”

“Alight, I guess… You’re lucky I’m nice. If it was anyone else, they wouldn’t think twice about having all of you, if you know what I mean.”

“Haha don’t think you’re so nice. You still got your with me, even if it’s through my ass.”

“Let’s change the subject. How about you make me cum in two minutes. If you can do it in less than that, I’ll let you start your little group.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

Without a second thought, she increased the pace of her straddling. She moans as your cock reaches the deepest parts of her rectum. “Ahh… ahh.. it feels so good!” She lifts herself up and slams herself back down, causing her to tighten her walls. “Cum already, please…” as she looks up at you. “Almost.” She repeats it a couple more times, making you cum only five seconds before the two-minute mark. She groans as you fill her ass once more, causing her to lose strength in her body and collapse on your chest with a heavy breath.

It takes her a couple of minutes for her to regain a part of her strength, and when she does, she pulls herself out of your cock but don’t before you go for a passionate kiss to, which she does not reject. After you kiss, she musters enough energy to pull away, gets off your lap, waddles to the sofa across the room, throws herself onto it, and slowly closes her eyes.

You get off the chair and walk towards her and whisper, “Congratulations on your new group. Make sure not to disappoint me,” as you smack her ass. You walk towards the desk and grab some tissues to clean yourself off. You see the plug on top of her skirt and grab it before walking back to Irene. “Don’t forget this. I want you to walk around with my cum inside your ass for the whole day, okay” as you insert the plug back into her butt.

—————-

Irene spends the whole day with the plug as you order her to. The first thing she does when she returns to her apartment is go straight to the shower. She turns on the shower, lets it run for a few minutes, and places her head against the shower wall. After a long day, she tries to clear her mind and pulls out the plug. She watches as a large amount of cum pours out of her tight butthole and into the drain, “He pumped so much in me. It’s better for it to be my ass than the other whole and ending up pregnant. I’ll never let that man impregnate me. That would be the end of me…” as she takes a hot shower. 

—————

A few days passed, and Irene was heading to the meeting room to meet with her future group mates when she saw a group of women entering through the main entrance. She sees IU and Taeyeon coming out of the elevator and walking toward the women. “Hey, IU. Who’s that?”

“Oh the group?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re Taeyeon’s groupmates. They came for a tour since Taeyeon wouldn’t stop complimenting the place. She will show them around the campus and maybe meet with the CEO if he’s available.”

“Oh, okay. Good luck then.”

IU catches up with Taeyeon and the rest of the group and passes by Irene. They introduce themselves one at a time, but only one catches her attention. “You must be Irene.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I’m Jessica, by the way. Taeyeon told me I should communicate with you and IU if I had any questions.”

“Yes, IU and I are the CEO’s assistants and are more than glad to answer any questions you have.”

“Okay, good. I’ll catch you later. Can’t miss the tour of the company,” as Jessica waves goodbye to Irene. 

Irene waves back better, heading to the meeting room. She opens the doors and sees a group of four girls sitting next to each other, waiting patiently.

#kpop smut #male reader #irene smut #red velvet irene #irene bae #kpop male reader #kpop reader #kpop idol smut #kpop x reader #k pop idol smut #girl idol smut #reader x idol #idol x reader #idol smut #k pop idol #g idol x male reader #idol x male reader #TM smut #red velvet smut #kpop girls #bae joohyun #bae joohyun smut

[woso-dreamzzz]

Miracle

Aitana Bonmatí x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're a miracle

Aitana didn't take days off.

That was something Keira knew.

Aitana refused to take days off even when she was sick and injured. She always arrives ready and willing to train even though everyone knows that she'd just be sent home.

It's why this past week has been strange.

Aitana didn't come into training once. There was no hide or hair of the girl. Her phone immediately went to voicemail. The lights in her house were always off.

If there weren't still Bonmatí shirts in the kit room then Keira could almost believe Aitana never existed.

It was strange and off putting, especially because whenever she asked, Jona would respond that Aitana was off for personal reasons.

None of it made any sense until all of a sudden it did.

Keira was running later, tripping over her own feet as she hurries out of her car. She slams the door shut as she hefts her training bag over her shoulder.

The sound of another door slamming shut shocks her and she whips her head up to see which of her teammates would be having to run laps with her.

She spots Aitana though.

Aitana who is juggling three different bags and a baby.

"Aitana?" Keira asks," Are you okay?"

Aitana looks half to tears as one of the bags fall. She shakes her head.

"I've got it," Keira says," Come on. Let's get you inside."

Aitana doesn't speak as they both make their way to the empty locker room. She doesn't really do anything apart from occasionally holding you closer, breathing in your soft baby smell and pulling back with tears in her eyes.

"So..." Keira feels awkward. This wasn't how she thought her day would be going. "Are you babysitting?"

Aitana's bottom lip wobbles as she glances at you, shaking her head and Keira doesn't push about it anymore.

"Are you training today?" She asks instead," Or is this just a visit?"

"Training." It's the first word Aitana's said to her all morning and Keira counts it as a small victory.

Her friend looks distraught but you seem fairly happy on her hip.

You're sucking on your fingers and looking around, eyes wide as you garble out half words and sounds. Your happy smiling face changes though when you notice Aitana isn't smiling.

Your whole face scrunches up and you recklessly lean towards her to press what is more an open-mouthed breath than an actual kiss to her cheek.

That causes the tiniest of smiles to appear on Aitana's face. "Sí, thank you, estrella."

You giggle, kicking your little legs as Aitana moves to exit the locker room, Keira hurrying to trail behind.

Jona welcomes them both warmly and seems to forget Keira being late in exchange for greeting you.

"If you still need time," He says to Aitana," Then you're welcome to take more time off."

"No," Aitana says," I need to be back on the pitch. I...We need normalcy. The books said I need to establish a routine."

"If you need help-"

"Jona, I'll be fine."

"Of course you will but you're not alone in this. I'll help. Irene will help. You only need to ask."

"I know."

There's already a space made up for you in the shade. Aitana doesn't question who brought out the playpen to keep you enclosed but she's thankful regardless.

You'd just begun to learn how to get around by rolling and she doesn't want to have to keep one eye on you for the whole of training.

She doesn't have to do it but she finds herself doing it anyway, like she can't bare to be separated from you.

"Hey," Irene says during a little break," I heard what happened."

"From Jona?" Aitana can't help be annoyed. Jona shouldn't be airing out her personal business to anyone.

"Alexia, actually," Irene says," She said you might need some help."

"I don't need help!" Aitana snaps, fists clenched at her side," It's not the first time I've had her! I can cope!"

"Babysitting is different from being her mother."

"I'm not her mother!" Aitana insists," Her parents are going to wake up! They are!"

Paredes look tells Aitana that she thinks it's unlikely and Aitana regrets ever informing the club about what had happened. She should have known they would tell Alexia who, trying to be the ever-helpful captain, would pass on the knowledge to whoever she felt could offer the most support.

Of course, she went to Paredes, the ever-experienced mother of the group. She could have easily gone to Marta too but with her working out how to introduce Caro to her Conejita, she would be too preoccupied to offer help.

"Aitana-"

"Thank you for the offer," Aitana says through gritted teeth," But I don't need it."

She storms off then, turning on her heel. She barges past Alexia who was hovering nearby, intent on giving her a piece of her mind.

Her mouth is already open to hurl an out of character insult at her captain when she catches onto your wailing. It seems you're a bit out of character too today.

You'd slept horribly last night and the night before. You didn't eat well this morning either and you had cried all through the car journey to training. The happiest you'd been was in the locker room with Keira.

Aitana knew it wouldn't last.

But she couldn't work out what was wrong with you. You're weren't hungry. You didn't need a change. You weren't hurt.

You were just sobbing when she picks you up, hiding your face in her neck and wiping your runny nose with her training top.

"What's wrong, estrella?" She coos," What's wrong? What's happened?"

You sniffle a few more times. "Ta-Ta."

"Hmm." Aitana runs a soft hand over your hair. "You just wanted me, huh?"

"Ta-Ta."

"I understand." She sways you side to side until your sobs have turned into little hiccups of emotion and you're looking up at her with wide, teary eyes.

"Just Estrella and her Ta-Ta," She coos," This is very different, isn't it?"

Aitana sits down on the grass, digging around in one of the bags she brought for your bottle. Your parents had begun to try to wean you but the past week has been so stressful already and she doesn't want to do more to unsettle you.

You suckle aimlessly, one of your hands moving to cover the one of Aitana's that's holding your bottle.

She stares ahead as a familiar face sits down next to her.

By now, she knows that her strange behaviour has spread all over the team. Paredes and Alexia both hover uncertainly nearby like they want to offer help again but don't want to wind her up further.

Across the pitch, Aitana can spot Marta and her Conejita doing arts and crafts together.

It sends a stabbing pain into her chest and the words spill out of her mouth before Keira can even ask.

"She's not mine. I mean, she is but not really."

"Aitana, I don't understand."

"Her parents...my friends..." Her throat closes up. "I was babysitting last week for date night and they...A drunk driver hit them."

"I'm sorry. Are they-?"

Aitana shakes her head. "They're in comas. They put me down as Estrella's guardian. I...They...I'm trying my best."

"I'm sure you are. You must love her a lot."

"She's mine," Aitana chokes out," Biologically. She's mine. They-They couldn't get pregnant and I offered to donate an egg and we agreed I'd be fun Tia Ta-Ta..."

"Oh, Aitana..."

The tears are running down her cheeks now and she's can't stop them.

"They were going to have date night with her last week. They said that they'd find something baby friendly but I insisted. It was so close. She could have...Keira, she could have died."

Keira glances at you. You're so comfortable in Aitana's arms and, now that she's really looking, she can see the similarities between the both of you.

You both have the same crying face.

"But she didn't," Keira says," You were looking after her, Aitana. You had her. You kept her safe."

"Ta-Ta?" Your tone is questioning and your little pudgy hands come up to touch her cheeks.

"I'm fine, estrella," She says to you as her phone rings. She already knows who is calling. Somehow, she already knows what they're going to tell her. "Why don't you hang out with your fun Tia Keira? I'll be back in a second."

"Ta-Ta!" You whine as you're shuffled from Aitana to Keira.

"Just a minute. Then it's Ta-Ta and Estrella time."

As she answers the phone, Aitana knows that's it's going to be Ta-Ta and Estrella time forever now.

#woso x reader #aitana bomati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

[throneofsapphics]

Hello how are you Irene??? I hope you’re well you amazing thing!

If you’re a still taking requests, could I please ask for Rhyzriel and a sick or injured reader? Gimme that hurt/comfort trope badddddd 😂😂😂

Love you and your work!! ❤️❤️

horrible timing

Rhyzriel x Reader

Summary: Rhys and Azriel come home, finding you injured. 

Warnings: injury, mentions of blood 

A/N: thank you so much <3 I’m doing well! I hope you’re having a great day !

It was stupid, really, how you ended up in this situation. Falling up the stairs, mother above. You’d deserve any teasing coming your way. Gritting your teeth, trying to drag yourself up and yelping. Something was broken, but you couldn’t figure out what. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

You chanted as many curses as you could, like that might alleviate some of the pain currently shooting up and down your leg. Daring a look down, you saw - nope, and tilted your head back up to the ceiling. 

Running the stairs in the House of Wind. Cassian’s idea. Now, you were stuck on step one-thousand something, both Rhys and Azriel out in Illyria, and Cassian upstairs. Maybe he’d come looking for you if you didn’t return. 

After a few minutes of careful breathing, you realized you’re the only one who can get yourself out of this situation. Miserable, this was misery in it’s prime. Given the situation, you figured some dramatics are acceptable. 

Palms pressing against the stone, you winced as your upper body took on the brunt of your weight, alternating each push with a yell - as if someone might hear. 

Maybe twenty stairs, and you were already exhausted - your head swirling, nausea creeping in. You pinched your cheek, now is a horrible time to fall asleep. 

-

Rhys couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but he knew something was wrong. Off. He and Azriel were due back that night, and the only thing getting him through dealing with the Devlon was the knowledge you’d be waiting there for them. Maybe awake with a book, or a cup of tea, waiting for them, cuddled in a blanket. 

Rhys, Cassian’s panicked voice came through, faint with the distance. 

What? He questioned, panic starting to rise in him. It took minutes for the reply to come back. 

She’s hurt. Fuck. Devlon was still pattering about something insignificant. 

“There’s something we need to deal with,” he said coolly, hiding his panic, and held an arm out to Azriel. “We’ll be back.” 

Azriel followed his lead without question, and he dropped them into the sky just above the house of wind, flying the rest of the way in. 

The first thing he scented was blood. Your blood. Then your fear, and a hint of your pain. 

-

Apparently someone heard your yells, or realized something was wrong, because you awoke laid out on a couch, Cassian crouched next to you. 

“Don’t look,” he advised. “Mor’s getting Madja. They’re on their way.” 

Relief filled you, mostly that they, meaning Azriel and Rhys, were on their way. 

“I’m an idiot,” you grumbled. 

“We've all been here,” he chuckled, “how did this happen?” 

“Will you keep it a secret?” 

His mouth tilted up at the corners, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I promise.” 

“I fell up the stairs.” 

Laughter, and then rapid footsteps. Cassian backed up, clearing the way, and Azriel and Rhys were there in seconds, a blink and they’d crossed the room, even though they couldn’t winnow in here. 

Rhys’s hands ran over your face, panicked, and paled when he saw your leg. “I wouldn’t look,” you said a bit weakly. 

The pain started coming through again, the tiny relief of adrenaline wearing off. You vaguely heard Mor telling them Madja’s on her way, but pain encompassed every inch of your being. Flaring through your nerves, flooding your senses, vision, screaming at you, taking over every sense, and black greeted you, unconsciousness tugging you back under. 

Complex break. A week to heal. Take it easy. 

Fragmented phrases came in, your vision blurring in and out. Head tilted, a tonic poured down your throat, your body too weak and limp to try and protest. Gods, it was nasty. 

When you came into full consciousness, you were awake in your bed. Clean, changed, and tucked into cozy blankets and pillows. A hum of content left your throat, not unlike a purr. 

Clattering against wood. Peeking your eyes open, Azriel had dropped a dagger on the dresser, a sharpening stone still in his other hand. You gave him a weak smile, and he crossed the room in a few powerful strides, sitting next to you on the bed, clutching your hand like a lifeline. 

Cold, your hand was cold, even in the absolutely boiling room. His was warm against you, scarred skin brushing the cold away, his thumb running soothing strokes over the back of your hand. 

Azriel didn’t say anything, only looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time again, memorizing every inch of you. 

“Hello,” you said quietly, giving his hand a small squeeze. 

“Hello,” he replied, brushing some of the hair away from your face. 

The door quietly opened, Rhys sliding in. 

“You could’ve told me she’s awake,” he hissed at Azriel, shoving him off the bed, taking his place next to you. The other male grunted, pinning Rhys with a look that promised vengeance. He didn’t notice, only running his hand up and down your cheek. 

“How do you feel?” 

You wiggled your fingers, and they felt heavy, like you were trying to push against something. The same thing with your toes, but … there was some kind of hard bandage wrapped around your left shin and calf. Kicking your other foot, you started trying to push down the blankets. Rhys picked up on it, and much more gently tugged them the rest of the way down. Sure enough, thick bandages covered the entire area. But … you couldn’t feel any of the pain, everything was numb. 

“Numb,” you’d come across the right word. 

“That would be the tonic,” he said dryly. 

Azriel was still glaring at him, and you caught his eye, patting the mattress on your other side. They could share. Still silently seething, he settled on your other side, looping his arm around your shoulders. 

“How did this happen?” 

“Cassian didn’t tell you?” 

“He refused,” Rhys answered. “Said you asked him to keep it a secret.” 

A small laugh, “I forgot about that.” 

“How did this happen?” Azriel repeated himself, not seeming quite happy to do it. 

“Your shadows didn’t tell you?” you teased. It was rare you knew something he didn’t. 

Put him out of his misery, Rhys said to your mind, he’s been trying to figure it out for days. 

Days, you’d been out for days.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me?” 

“Never, darling.” 

A slow exhale, and you leaned into Azriel, his arm tightening around your shoulders. 

“I fell up the stairs,” you mumbled, burying your face into his side. Neither replied, but you felt his chest moving - a barely concealed laugh. You pinched his side, but he didn’t react. “I told you not to make fun of me,” you said a bit louder. 

“We haven’t said anything,” Rhys moved closer, voice laced with amusement. 

“You’re laughing.”

#azriel x y/n x rhys #azriel x reader x rhys #acotar drabble #rhys x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar imagine #rhys x y/n #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhys x azriel x reader #rhyzriel x reader #rhyzriel x y/n

[girlgenius1111]

sweet dream was over

chapter 1

r struggles in the aftermath of her breakup with alessia. until a certain brown eyed spaniard makes her chest go from heavy to all fluttery. it was just the breakup talking though, right?

Waking up was painful. Your eyes were swollen from crying, and your chest ached, the cause of which was not physical.

You'd known that you and Alessia weren't doing well. In fact, you were fairly sure you were going to break up the next time you saw her. Things had been different with her since the world cup, and it seemed to you that the relationship had run it's course. It made you sad, of course, because you loved Alessia. You were just no longer in love with her.

Maybe it would have been easier if you didn't love her anymore, maybe it would have hurt less. When you picked up the phone 2 nights ago, the last thing you were expecting was for her to be on the other end, in hysterics. It had taken you a while to piece together what she was trying to say, her sentences fragmented.

I didn't mean to.

I just got caught up in the moment.

You're so far away, and I never see you.

It was a one time thing, it didn't mean anything.

You weren't even mad at her, not really. Because cheating, even once, was so unlike Alessia. She was a fiercely loyal person, and this behavior was nothing short of alarming. You'd known she'd been struggling, and you'd hoped her move to Arsenal would help. It had, you think, but only so much could improve when she refused to take the time to care for herself and her mental health in the way that she should. Her actions were a red flag that she wasn't doing well, but it didn't mean you felt any less betrayed.

It didn't matter that the relationship was clearly on it's last leg, you hadn't broken up yet. Alessia had made you feel loved, really loved, for the first time in your whole life. More than that, she'd made you feel worthy of her love.

Perhaps that's why you were so upset- in an evening, she'd undone all the progress you'd made with yourself, completely destroyed the confidence you'd had in yourself. It didn't make complete sense to you, but you didn't have time to dwell on it. You had to get up, get dressed. Hopefully do something to hide the fact that you'd been crying and get to practice. You wished you'd tried harder to pull it together yesterday; you'd had a few days off, which ended up working well for you. You'd had time to be upset, but clearly, you hadn't stopped crying soon enough.

-----

No amount of makeup could hide the puffiness around your eyes, and you knew your efforts had failed when you walked into the locker room and hour later, and felt several pairs of eyes on you right away. If there was anything you were sure of, though, it was that you absolutely did not want to talk about it.

Your locker, though, was set right in between Alexia and Irene's. They liked to keep an eye on you, which was normally fine, but today, you didn't want your captains' attention on you, not at all.

You kept your head down as you pulled on your training kit, lacing up your boots carefully, pretending not to feel the stares of the girls on either side of you. Your attempts to become invisible didn't work.

"What's up?" Irene said, sitting down next to you. You didn't turn your head to look at her.

"Nothing. Why?" You asked. Alexia responded from your other side.

"You don't look so good, amiga. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," you said, doing your best to keep your voice emotionless. You didn't have to look at the older Spaniards to know they were exchanging disbelieving looks. Before they could say anything else, you stood up, heading out to the pitch without another word. You would have made it without any extra conversation, too, if you hadn't almost knocked Ona down when you came rushing out of the doorway.

"Shit, sorry Ona," you said, steadying her with a hand to her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" she asked, instead of responding to your apology, as soon as she got a look at your face. You rolled your eyes, annoyance with yourself for crying so hard only growing.

"Long weekend," you told her, for some reason unable to lie to the inquisitive brown eyes looking back at you. You watched as they crinkled in concern, and inexplicably had to blink back a couple tears that gathered in your own eyes. Something about the way Ona was looking at you, full of care and worry really got to you. It completely surprised you, how concerned to seemed to be.

"What happened?"

You paused for a moment, seriously confused where you insistence that nothing had happened had disappeared to. The truth was suddenly itching to get out.

"Less and I broke up," you told her quietly. Ona had obviously played with Alessia in Manchester, and she'd known you as a couple well. You'd decided this morning on your drive that when people inevitably found out about the break up, you wouldn't mention what Alessia had done. She wasn't herself, and she shouldn't have to deal with the entire team suddenly hating her guts.

"I'm sorry, y/n. That's really tough. We're all here for you though, okay?" you nodded in response, and she smiled at you, before continuing on into the locker room.

You thought about the conversation all the way onto the pitch, waiting for the rest of the team, and through the first round of drills.

Why had you told her? You and Ona got along well, were friends, but you were friends with Alexia and Irene, too. That hadn't stopped you from lying to them.

You couldn't stop thinking about the look on her face, just briefly, after you'd told her it was over between you and Alessia. It was... excitement, if you weren't mistaken.

You managed to shake off your confusion 20 minutes into practice. You were just upset about Alessia, the breakup. Your brain was all over the place, not to mention your emotions.

-----

You should have known Keira and Lucy would find out. It was a testament to how scrambled your mind was, that you didn't think to factor in Leah.

You were just about to leave after training, just tying your shoes, listening to the lively conversation around you. The locker room was still pretty full, and you didn't think much of it when Lucy and Keira came to stand in front of you. You looked up expectantly, expecting them to ask you to get lunch or something.

"What happened with Alessia?" Lucy asked, not quietly. She seemed upset, and your teammates around you both didn't miss it, conversations fizzling out at the way Lucy was standing, arms crossed, in front of you. If you hadn't known her so well, you would have thought she was mad at you. You knew, though, that she was just being protective.

"What do you mean?" you asked, looking between her and Keira.

"Leah texted me and asked if I knew why you guys had broken up." Keira said, looking closely at your expression. Your teammates began to chime in.

"You and Alessia broke up?"

"When?"

"Why?"

"What'd she do?"

"What'd YOU do?"

Pina got a smack to the back of her head from Patri for that last one. Sighing, you decided to give them as few details as you could before making a break for it.

"Yes we broke up. It was a few nights ago. She didn't do anything, no one did anything," you said, wishing you were a better liar. Everyone clocked that one, seeing how your eyes dropped to the ground, and then back up as you continued talking. "Sometimes relationships don't work out. It's fine, I'm fine," you finished.

"Is that why you walked in looking like you cried yourself to sleep last night?" Keira asked and you pulled a face.

"Thanks, Kei. Seriously, I'm fine," you insisted. Everyone in the room looked like they had multiple more questions, but someone else was calling your name before any of them could.

"Y/n, the social media team has a scheduling question for you," Ona said, peaking in through the door. She'd stopped training early to treat a sore muscle, and was already showered and ready to go. You bid your teammates a goodbye, walking out of the locker room as fast as you possibly could, ignoring the questions that followed you out the door.

You walked with Ona down the hall, turning to head down to the social media office.

"Oh, they didn't actually need you. I just figured you could use an escape," Ona told you, stopping you with a hand on your arm. You turned to look at her, picking up on the way her eyes were fixed on your face, as if worried you'd be mad.

"Thank you, Ona. I appreciate it." She nodded. It was quiet for a minute as you resumed walking to the parking lot, before she spoke again.

"Why'd you lie to everyone?"

"What do you mean?"

"I texted Tooney, to ask if Alessia was doing okay with the breakup," Ona said, blushing slightly. "She told me Alessia was really torn up about it. Because she felt guilty. For cheating on you."

You always forgot to factor in Ella Toone and her big mouth. You couldn't be too mad at her, though, because you'd woken up to a text from her the other day, telling you she was furious with Alessia, promising you that if she'd known it had happened, she would have told you.

Now, though, you had to deal with Ona knowing what had really happened. And the way she was looking at you, like she wanted to give you a hug. And the way the freckles splashed across her cheeks; briefly, you wondered if you could count them all.

You'd clearly gotten distracted, because Ona took your lack of response as annoyance.

"I didn't mean to find out anything I wasn't supposed to, I just wanted to make sure-" Ona rushed out.

"It's okay, it's not your fault. I just didn't want anyone to be mad at her, she's having a hard time. It's complicated, and everyone would have been insanely protective, and I don't need that," you explained.

Ona only raised her eyebrows at you in response.

"What?" you asked, upon seeing the look on her face. She shook her head, blushing again. Did she always blush this much?

"Only you could defend someone that cheated on you," Ona said.

You tried to defend yourself, thinking it was an insult. "I'm not defending her, I'm just saying-"

"No, I didn't mean it's a bad thing. It's just a you thing. You always look for the best in people." Ona explained casually, as if she hadn't just made an incredibly kind judgement of your character. You did try to do that, but you hadn't realized she'd been paying close enough attention to notice.

"Anyway, I won't say anything, but if you want to talk..." she trailed off, suddenly looking insecure.

"Thank you, Ona. Really. I might take you up on that," you told her, suddenly overcome with appreciation for the girl walking next to you. The incredibly pretty girl walking next to you. You pushed the thought away as you reached her car.

"Bye, y/n. See you tomorrow," she said, flashing a real smile, a big smile, at you this time.

"See you, Ona." you replied, continuing to walk to your car. You felt the familiar return of sadness to your body, settling heavily over you. You hadn't realized that it had disappeared while you were talking to Ona. You found yourself looking back at her car, before you caught yourself, shaking your head.

What the hell was that? You and Alessia had been broken up for half a weekend, and suddenly you were acting like a lovestruck teen around one of your teammates. What was wrong with you? You didn't need this, not now, not with a teammate. Still, as you drove home, your thoughts were filled with the kind words of a certain Catalan woman.

-----

let me know if you guys like it / want to see what's coming next :) i'm honestly not super sure if people will want to read this, or are interested at all, so tell me if you are!

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle

[alexiabae]

SIDELINES; alexia putellas x fem!reader

Summary: spain won the world cup. but she didn't care about it, she cares about the happiness that it brings to someone else.

Warnings: fluff. insecurities, brief mention of what happened last year with the Spanish federation. I wrote it a few weeks ago and I'm not sure if I want to update it. So before I regret and delete it, I give it an opportunity. Hope you like it, x.

Note: English is not my first language.

It's over.

The referee whistles the final, indicating that Spain proclaimed the winner of the World Cup.

Y/N stopped running, her breathing accelerated by the intense 90+ minutes played. She put her hands on her waist, looking briefly at the stands where people started to celebrate their victory.

"¡HEMOS GANADO!" Jenni shouted happily while she wrapped her arms around Y/N's waist and lifted her, making the girl squeal a little.

"Put me down!" Y/N demand immediately, moving her legs on air.

Jenni laughed, putting her down again and kissing her head a few times. "We won kiddo." The brunette whispered, before she let her and went to another part.

Y/N rolled her eyes by her antics and soon her gaze found her England teammate devastated and walk towards the player, wrapping her arms around her waist from behind and leaning her head on her back.

"I'm really sorry..." Y/N muttered, hugging the woman more.

Lucy let out a watery laugh, looking briefly at the girl behind her. "I know... But it's football, you all deserve it." She said between tears, bringing her right hand to Y/N's head, caressing affectionately. "Why don't you go and celebrate with your team?" She asked, knowing internally why because the girl confessed to her a few months ago.

Y/N let out a tired sight. She looks to where most of her teammates are, and her eyes watered, shaking her head. "I regret it, Lucia." She admitted in a low voice, using Lucy's full name.

In another moment, Lucy would scold her for using her full name, but she knew that right now wasn't the moment. Then, she turned around and wrapped her arms around her neck, hiding both of them on the hug.

Lucy wants to say something comforting, but she can't. She said it in the past though. So the British separated a little from the hug and grabbed Y/N's face between her hands, she kissed her forehead.

"Go." Her teammate whispered, signaling with her head the side where Y/N's teammates are. When saw that she didn't move, Lucy pushed her softly. "Go, we will see soon. Celebrate and enjoy your holidays, I will text you and call you." She promised before walking to some of her teammates, knowing that Y/N doesn't walk to go over there.

Y/N looks again to where they are and she sees the beautiful sight that brings her in the first place. She started walking slowly towards there, consoling briefly some of the other team, she took a mental note to go to talk to Keira.

Irene was the first to notice her and run to hug her, lifting her from the floor. Why does everyone do that? Thought Y/N.

"Where were you? ¡SOMOS CAMPEONAS DEL MUNDO, Y/N!" Irene, like every teammate, shouts happily. She started spinning, making Y/N once again squeal.

"I was with Lucy. Please, put me down!" Y/N explained, begging her to hear her and put her down.

At the mention of their common friend, Irene put her down. For Y/N's relieved. She raised her gaze towards Lucy would be. Y/N saw how Irene has red eyes for crying. Happy tears.

"Shit, I'm going to search for her." Irene let her know, kissing the side of her head while putting a hand on her head, before she let go.

Y/N briefly sees Irene walk to the other side of the pitch, doing what Y/N did on the walk toward there, until her gaze moves again to the group next to her and sees the guilty, smiling, her cheeks stained from the tears. The Barça player bit her bottom lip, biting the involuntary smile that wanted to escape.

Then, the other noticed her. The woman made a gesture with her head, asking why she is standing on the spot while they are jumping and chanting. Or that was supposed Y/N she asked with a simple move of head.

"Come here, idiota." Alexia called, stretching her right arm towards her, moving her fingers in the air, still smiling.

Y/N couldn't resist anymore to be near her and accepting the hand that the other offered, intertwining it a few seconds. It saddened Y/N when the Catalan left her hand, but Alexia made her change the opinion when wrapped her right arm around her waist, a firm grip on her hip.

She was over the moon. She doesn't care what was the reason if Alexia could do that frequently. Y/N would do it if it was the award. She knew that it was another moment to remember the many times Alexia hugged her while Y/N lay on her bed while the sleepiness came to her. She would write it in a diary, but her mind was the replacement, she can vividly feel it.

Alexia turned her head towards Y/N, their head very close. "I'm proud of you." She said loudly, trying to be heard from the loud noise that their teammates are doing.

"I'm proud of you too." Y/N doesn't bother to raise her voice, if the brunette doesn't hear her, she reads her lips.

Alexia's dimples show up, showing more of her teeth for the reciprocal compliment. Y/N feels how the grip tightens briefly on her hip.

"That dribble was scandalous." Alexia inevitably said, leaning briefly on Y/N's ear to be heard.

Y/N shakes her head, smiling. "Can you please stop for a moment thinking football and enjoy?" She asked rhetorically, chuckling. She reposed her left arm on Alexia's shoulder, giving a soft pat.

"Sorry, you know how I am." The brunette apologized, shrugging.

It takes Y/N for surprise what Alexia made after. She knew that the Catalan is someone affectionate with people she cares about, but she always has the power to surprise her.

Alexia leaned again and kissed her cheek. It would be a few seconds, like one or two. But it remained for more seconds that it was obligatory for only two friends. Even she made a little pressure before she separated, starting to chant again.

But Y/N just looks at her distracted, not caring if someone sees her. She is enjoying Alexia, that's all that matters to her in that moment.

•••

After taking as many photos as possible with the trophy. They walked to the changing room, where the real party started.

Y/N doesn't mind it and goes to the showers. She felt strange, she remembered the last time she won a trophy, just two months ago and it didn't feel the same manner. Y/N celebrates it until the next day, not bothering to do the necessary personal things immediately, she just lives the moment. But right now... It's different and she knew it.

She knows that she didn't would accept it in the first place. But then, a person interfered with it. Explaining the reasons to why they all, need her on the team. And Y/N accepted. She was very conflicted, nights where she spent it crying with a lump on her throat.

"Stop thinking, I can hear you from here." Ona muttered on the other shower.

Y/N turned to look at her and saw how a reassuring smile played on her lips. "Why are you here and not celebrating?" She was confused, noticing Ona's wet hair.

The young Catalan leaned her arms on the wall and put her chin there. "I can ask you the same." She hummed, chuckling when Y/N threw her some drops of water with her fingers.

Ona watched her carefully while the other continued to shower. She knew that something happened to her, because from the start, Y/N was acting distant, light conversation and always on her mind.

"Something to say? Since you are looking too much." Y/N teased her, letting out a playful smirk.

"Why are you acting holding yourself?" Ona directly asked. She saw how Y/N froze on the spot, not waiting for that question.

Y/N's eyes watered, not caring anymore hold her tears in front of some teammates. Her demeanour changed, something that Ona noted immediately.

"Hey... Sorry. I shouldn't ask you..." Ona interrupted herself, grabbing her towel and after wrapping it on her body, she got out and went towards Y/N, grabbing the tower for the girl.

She wrapped it around Y/N's body and turned off the shower. "Let's go." Ona muttered, bringing the girl outside and sitting her on a bench. Soft sobs starting to escape from Y/N's mouth. The Catalan frowned, feeling a little guilty for probably being a hard topic for her. Even if she didn't really know what the problem was. She decided to put on the clean clothes that she brought before.

"Look at me." Ona whispered once she had her clothes on. She bent down and removed Y/N's hands from her own face, wiping with her thumbs the many tears rolling for her red cheeks. "I'm here, Y/N. If you don't want to talk about it right now, I understand. But please, you are holding it for many time that it is consuming you." The brunette whispered, passing an arm around her neck and leaning towards herself to hug her, while with her free hand caressing her back.

Y/N thought that Ona was right and for once, she decided to share her fears. After she relaxed a little and the hiccups remained from sobbing.

"I shouldn't come back to the national team." Y/N muttered, her head still on the crook of her neck, feeling a little brave since she can't see Ona's face.

Ona frowned and still caressing her back, she asked. "Why?"

"Because from the start, I wasn't coming... But-." Y/N stopped abruptly, fearing if she said too much, her secret would be out. But she trusted Ona.

"But?" Ona pressed softly, putting her chin on her head.

"Alexia talked to me." She finally let her breath out, the one she was holding.

"She talked to me too. I don't understand." Ona said confused.

Y/N let out a sigh. "I accepted even knowing that everything would be the same as before." She explained.

Ona's frown disappears slowly conforming she thought about it. "If I don't understand bad this time... The reason you are here is Alexia." She said it carefully, noticing how Y/N confirmed it with her head. A low sight escaped from Ona's mouth. "Since when?"

Y/N swallow. "I lost count." She whispered.

The Catalan felt shocked by this answer. She was waiting for a clear number. Not for her friend confessing to her that practically she is in love with Alexia from all the time they met.

The young defender separated herself a little and with both hands, she grabbed her face, looking directly to her eyes. "You will do everything for her, didn't you?" Ona guessed quickly, understanding now.

Y/N bit her bottom lip, nodding. "And for the first time I regret it. I failed my friends, Ona. It hurts." She started to cry again.

The other girl feels her pain. It's like if Y/N could pass her from her body and show her how she is feeling. And it is sad and scary.

"They understand, Y/N. They will not hate you." Ona tried to reason with her.

"Even though I don't deserve being here... There are a lot of better players than me. It's stupid." Y/N rants out, letting her walls down and showing how truly she feels.

"Don't say that!" Ona scolded her, looking at Y/N seriously. "You deserve it. You are one of the best players we have. Damn, you came from winning a Champions League. And you played every minute of this tournament, something I don't agree with because you aren't a robot." She made her point, a little mad with Y/N for saying that, better say, for believing that she isn't a good player. She knew that it was her insecurities talking for her, but she can't contain her madness. "You deserve it. Just like them." She says it this time in a sweet and caring voice, kissing her cheek repeatedly.

"Y/N! You are losi-," Alexia came to the shower room. The gold medal is still around her neck, a happy face adorned by a big smile that turned soon in a half open mouth and in her eyebrows installed a confused frown. She cleared her throat after recomposing a little. "Sorry to interrupt guys..." She awkwardly said, forcing a smile. Then, the woman tried to go but Ona called her.

When someone else entered the room, Ona separated from Y/N and put herself quickly in front of her to cover her. Clearly she knew that Alexia caught them in a compromised position, but a wrong one.

"Ale! Wait." She looked briefly at Y/N, who was wiping her cheeks fast and with her eyes begged at her friend to let it go. Ona sighed, a little conflicted but wanting the best for her friend. Maybe she didn't have to know everything, just the part she is struggling with right now. So, the Catalan raised her head to look at a serious and confused Alexia and spoke. "Y/N is bad. She needs you." She whispered, looking guilty at the floor.

After hearing these words came out from Ona's mouth, Alexia instantly worried. She decided to continue the way that she decided before to leave and closed the door, walking decisively towards the pair, stopping in front of Ona.

"I don't want to overstep because I know you. But I'm staying here until you're ready." Ale murmured, worry installed on her voice. She looks at Ona, their eyes meeting. With a simple gesture of her head asked her, but the answer was shrugging.

Y/N sniffled and stood up. She knew that Alexia would stay here until she knew everything. So she decided to put on the clothes, go to an empty shower and put it on quickly, matching Ona's wet hair down and after wiping some dry tears from her cheeks, she went outside, meeting the begging ones from the freckled girl. Y/N can't look at Alexia, it's like the brunette intimidated her right now. She can feel her eyes on her, watching every move she makes.

"I hate this..." Y/N muttered, letting aside her towel and sitting on a bench, putting both hands on her knees, a tired sigh escaping from her mouth. "I shouldn't pay you attention and stay with my decision. I spent two months with anxiety, sleepless nights, crying without anyone knowing and fighting the urge to call the girls to ask for their forgiveness." She explained in a low voice. I hate the act of whatever you say, I would do it..." She trailed off, more tears rolling for her cheeks, this time not caring.

Alexia was speechless, noticing how much in pain her friend is and she didn't notice. It hurt her. Her watery eyes wandered towards Y/N, seeing her small form on the bench. She was hugging her knees, hiding her head there. It broke Alexia's inside. Maybe her heart, or her soul. Or something else that she doesn't describe.

"I'm going outside." Ona whispered at her, biting her bottom lip and passing her arm for her eyes, grabbing her things and kissing Y/N's head before she went out.

The midfielder walked slowly towards the bench and sat down next to her, wrapping her left arm around her shoulders and pushing her softly toward herself, leaning her head on hers. Inevitably it was the first thing she did, because Y/N in pain or sad Alexia needed to fix it. It's a sentiment that she always did from their early friendship that remains until today. Alexia could fight the world only for Y/N giving her a tiny smile.

"You could say no. I would never be angry with you." Alexia whispered, looking at the white cold floor. "If I insist much it is because I wanted to play my last world cup with someone important to me." She confessed in a small voice.

Y/N sniffled, raising her head to look at her, making Alexia separated to meet her red eyes. "It's not your last world cup." She muttered in a hoarse voice.

The childish voice made Alexia paint a lipped smile. "Maybe." She opted to say. She leaned her head aside and brought her fingers to Y/N's face to put away a strand of hair. "Lo siento." She let down the first tears roll for her cheeks. It's weird that Alexia cried in public, it needed to be something really big to make her cry.

"Don't cry, please." Y/N begged, a pout on her face.

Muffled music was heard in the background, alongside many of them singing.

Alexia sniffled and shook her head smiling, looking at her. "I'm sorry for be blinded all this time..." She murmured, grabbing with both hands Y/N's ones, not intertwining, just holding it while she caress her palms. "But I'm here for you. I will always be for you." She whispers, passing her tongue for her bottom lip.

"Ale...?" Y/N calls her. Maybe this wasn't the right moment, but she has something to say right now. Even if the other rejects her. When Alexia looks at her expectantly, squeezing her hands to let her know that Y/N has all her attention, she takes a breath and speaks. "I feel things that I shouldn't have felt for you. When I look at you, whether you are paying me attention or not, I'm calm and nervous at the same time. I did things for you even if I don't wanted to do it, I'm not talking about this case, but from other occasions. I found myself remembering every little detail you have with me every night. I have been selfish to me and I shut up because you seem happy. I can't describe all I feel for you. But I'm in love with you, Alexia." Y/N finished to say.

For Alexia, there isn't a best description of it. Maybe it was a little messy, but it's real. She was taken by surprise, she can't deny that. Right now in her eyes, if Y/N pays the right attention, she could see the pure love on them.

"Sorry to be a distraction to this amazing moment. Maybe I needed to say it on another occasion..." Y/N whispered, standing up.

Alexia frowned, grabbing her wrist, standing up too. "Kiss me." She just simply said, firm.

Y/N opened her mouth, taken aback for what she said. The Catalan gave the few steps that separated from her, letting out her wrist to wrap both hands on her hips. "Don't make me repeat it."

It's when Y/N put both hands on her cheeks, looking at her mouth wishful but afraid if it is a joke or a product of her imagination. She leaned slowly, closing her eyes. Alexia leaned down, she was a little taller than Y/N, and met her lips.

A soft whimper escapes from Y/N's mouth, not believing that she is kissing Alexia. Her hands made pressure on Alexia's cheeks, bringing more towards her while she put herself on tiptoe. It's a chaste kiss, meeting the mould of their lips.

When they separated, Alexia opened her eyes and saw how Y/N was still with hers closed. A loving smile painted on her face, inevitably brushing her nose with hers and not letting time to the other to react, she captures her lips with hers, biting softly her lower lip.

Soon, their tongues met, deepening the kiss. Alexia tightened her grip on her waist, pressing her more into hers.

The foreheads are pressed against each other after they need to breathe again, silly smiles on their faces.

"Why do we stay here and keep kissing? I don't mind celebrating." Alexia whispered in Y/N's mouth.

Y/N intertwined her hands on her back of the neck. "I love that idea. But unfortunately, if they notice that we are missed, soon they will all start research for us."

"Right." The Catalan sarcastically said, rolling her eyes, already annoyed with her teammates. Y/N chuckled, adoring her reaction. She couldn't resist it and kissed her, making Alexia humming gladly.

They kissed a little more until they decided to come back with the team. Y/N watched with a loving smile how Alexia walked to the door, not believing anything what happened for a few minutes. Then, the midfielder turned around to look at her. "Are you coming?" A raised eyebrow accompanied the question with a knowing smirk.

Y/N grabbed her things and walked towards the door too, stopping to her side. "Thank you." She said sincerely and put herself on tiptoe, kissing her cheek for a few seconds.

"For?" Alexia whispered, seeing her separating from her. Y/N shrugged and gave her a lipped smile, walking out.

This time it was Alexia who watched how Y/N let her things on her bench and walked towards Ona and Tere.

"ALEXIA! Come here!" A happy Misa calls her with a beer on her right hand and another on her left, stretching it towards the brunette.

Alexia walked towards her, an involuntary smile on her face.

She won twice that day. And maybe she won every day that Y/N permitted her to pass by her side.

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

[zwedexx]

"No ets una càrrega"

Barca Femeni x Teen Reader

Summary: request

TW: none

WC: 899

A/N: None of it is proof read and im am really sick rn so there will probably be alot of mistakes. Also I took some creative liberties ig with the request. I'm sorry if you don't like it. I can always rewrite later on.

You are draped in the familiar stripes of your Barca jersey. It was everything you wanted, everything you work so hard for and you were blowing it. You kept missing passes or being a second too late on your runs. You could hear the collective sighs of the crowd after each mistake you made. 

It all came to a head when you execute what should’ve been a routine pass. The pass was short and was intercepted by an alert opposing player. In a sloppy attempt to halt the opposition, you kick the back of her legs, sending her tumbling. The ref immediately blowed her whistle and showed you yellow. 

“Are you fucking serious. That’s not a yellow! She fucking dove. You can’t be- ” You spat at the ref before being pulled back by a pair of strong arms. 

“Calmat! No val la pena.” Mapi’s words were strong but weren’t enough to bring you out of your rage.

(Calm down! It's not worth it)

“Let go of me Mapi. I’m not a fucking child. This ref is blind as shit and needs to fucking hear it.”

The ref without hesitation reach into her pocket. Alexia and Irene had run in at this point, pleading with the ref to reconsider. You knew you had fucked up when you say the second yellow then red. Not only had you harmed your team with your horrid performance but you’d just burdened them to finish a game a player down. 

After being escorted off the field, the weight of disappointment settled on your shoulders, and as the door closed behind you, a wave of frustration and tears overwhelmed you. You couldn’t believe how stupid and useless you were. Nothing seemed to make sense, you had trained so hard but it wasn’t enough. You weren’t good enough. You needed to be better.

You found yourself in gym, it was the only thing that made sense. If you trained harder, you’d be better. It was straightforward, clear cut. 

Unbeknownst to you, Alexia, Mapi, and Ingrid observe from a distance, concern etched on their faces. After the match they went looking for you, worried because you were no longer in the locker room. In a way you were lucky they were there. You had been sprinting on the treadmill as fast as you could. After a couple of minutes you felt dizzy, your legs were starting to give in but you kept going. And you kept going. 

‘Keep going, keep going.” You muttered to yourself

As the treadmill relentlessly propels you forward, your breaths become ragged, and your legs wobble beneath you. In a sudden, unexpected moment, your knees buckle, and the world tilts. Just as the gym floor rushes up to meet you, someones arms wrap around you, preventing a painful collision. 

Ingrid's firm grip supports your weight, preventing a full collapse, while Mapi and Alexia rush to your side. Concern etched on their faces deepens into genuine worry. Ingrid, with her characteristic calm, reassures you, “Relax elskling, I’ve got you.”

It must have been a few moments when you woke up again. You were no longer in the gym, you were lying on a couch with your head laying on Mapi’s lap. 

“Oh Pequena, you are okay.” Alexia says in her best English

You sat up. You didn’t know what to say. 

“Què està passant? Per què et vas empènyer així?” Alexia asks gently, reverting back to her native Catalan

(What's going on. Why did you push yourself like that.)

You avoided their eyes, unable to say respond, your words choked by shame and frustration. 

“You don’t have to carry this alone. We’re here for you, no matter what elskling.” Ingrid adds, while grabbing your hand.

With a shaky breath, you finally open up, your voice tinged with frustration and vulnerability. “I just.. I want this so badly. And tonight, I felt like ai was letting everyone down. I felt useless, and I thought if I train harder, push myself, I could make up for it and get better.”

“Entenc-“

(I understand-)

“But you don’t understand Alexia. You’re la Reina, you are the best and you deserve to be here. I don’t, im a liability out there. Every misplaced pass, every late run, it felt like I was letting the entire team down.”

“You deserve to be here too. Jonatan picked you for a reason.” Ingrid adds

“You don’t get it! No matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. I’m sick of feeling like a burden. Sick of failing when it matters.” 

“No ets una càrrega. Estem aquí perquè creiem en tu i en el que ets capaç.” Mapi chimes in while wrapping her arm around your shoulders, her touch grounding.

(You're not a burden. We're here because we believe in you and what you are capable of.)

“I just… I don’t know how to fix this.”

“No cal que arregleu això sol. Estem aquí per a tu.” Alexia calmly tells you.

(You don’t need to fix this alone. We are here for you.)

#woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #women's football #women's soccer #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #mapi leon #mapi león #ingrid engen

[magics-neptunes-things]

Motherhood (2)

Hi guys!

Another one with Alexia, but it's Alexia so I hope nobody would mind! This come from this request and I made it to be a second part of Motherhood.

I hope you will like it :)

TW : None, pur fluff

______________________________________________________________

Santana being now four years old, she understand well Alexia's job as a footballer. She's a dynamic, playful, smiling and curious little girl who needs to let her energy go out of her. Needless to say, she was registered with FC Barcelona even before her birth. Despite Alexia’s passion, you made her swear not to push Santana in the same path as her if it didn't please your daughter. It's clear that this is not the case and that Santana is the first to complain when she cannot attend Alexia's game. Seeing her running in the bleachers with the jersey and the number of your wife has always been one of your weak points. Not to mention that it increases even more the resemblance between the two.

However, you are now five and a half months pregnant and it's with barely masked relief that you see Mapi join you in the bleachers. She's slightly injured, nothing serious but she cannot play today. However, this doesn't prevent her from heckle with Santana between the seats, causing the girl to laugh out loud.

"Careful Mapi, continue and you will end up with one like this sooner that you think" you tease the blonde seeing Ingrid's tender look far away on the field.

Mapi looks away from Santana for a few moments, time to follow your eyes and smile gently before shrugging her shoulders. Your daughter doesn’t give her time to be thoughtful any longer, quickly demanding the attention of her godmother.

At the end of the game, Santana hurries to climb the barrier to sit on the edge, waiting for Alexia to pick her up to play on the field. You hold her by her t-shirt so that she doesn’t tumble a floor lower, Alexia finishing signing some jerseys and taking some pictures. It's finally Ona who arrives at your height first, talking to Santana with a big smile.

"You want to go down, Nena?"

Santana hurries to answer yes frantically, until the defender gently slides her to the ground. Santana doesn't lose a single second to rush into Alexia’s legs and hug them, taking Alexia by surprise. And this makes you smile tenderly.

"Thank you Ona" you say to the brunette, who answers you with a wink and a smile before returning to her signing session.

At first you were a little afraid to let Santana play on the pitch in this way, but you quickly realized that every single one of the players on the team was there to make sure nothing would happen to your little princess. Also, you allow yourself to observe the scene from afar, your arm leaning on the barrier and your face in your palm with a big smile displayed on the face.

"You’re drooling" Mapi gives you a little elbow push.

"Who can blame me? I have the two most beautiful women in the world at home."

"Mh. I prefer brunettes. Come on."

Mapi’s mocking smile makes you laugh and you follow her when she takes the stairs to join the players on the field. You can see Santana leaving Alexia to play with Mateo, Irene’s son, whom you greet with a wave of hand. Interrupted in your quest to join Alexia by Lucy, you find yourself caught in a conversation for a few minutes when you feel two hands resting on your hips.

"Here you are, Señora Putellas" Alexia whispers, putting her chin on your shoulder.

You smile softly and turn your head to put a kiss on her cheek, taking advantage of the position to let you go against her. Without really participating in the conversation, Alexia stays with you in this position for a few more minutes. Until she caught Cata putting her gloves on Santana’s hands.

"Catalina Coll you have two seconds to take off this gloves from my daughter!"

You laugh softly when you see the scene, Cata defending herself by explaining that it was Santana who asked her. Ingrid arrives at your side at this moment and you greet her too with a little hug.

"You look good" smiled the Norwegian woman affectionately.

"Thank you. I must admit that this pregnancy is going better than the first one, I didn't vomit once. If my belly didn’t grow, I’d really wonder if I was pregnant"

"Maybe because it’s a boy?" Lucy said thoughtfully

You can’t hold the big smile coming on your face. You learned the sex of the baby at the baby shower you organized last week. For Santana, you managed to keep the surprise until the end, but not this time. Curiosity eventually prevailed. You would obviously have been delighted to welcome a new girl, but Santana asking you before you were even pregnant to have a little brother, it was almost a relief.

"Maybe" you just answer with your smile.

In the distance, you can see that Santana was placed in front of the goal alongside Cata while Alexia and Ona take turns shooting the ball in her direction. Finally, the fact that Santana wanted to test the goalie spot didn't bother Alexia for a very long time. You cannot resist the temptation to immortalize this moment with photos and videos, eager to keep a memory of this moment.

As always, it was necessary to talk with Santana to agree to leave the field, negotiating a second story before sleeping tonight. Except that apparently she won’t need it since she seems to be dead asleep in her car seat in the back seat. You’d be surprised if she woke up when you pulled her out.

Alexia insisting on driving despite her game and training, you find yourself watching the landscape while singing the music on the radio.

"Can I ask you something?" Alexia gently does after a few minutes.

"Anything you want" you answer without hesitation, turning to look at her.

"Be careful, these types of answers can be dangerous"

You bow a brow amused by hearing her playing tone. Seeing her so relaxed and spontaneous with you causes you palpitations every time, despite the time that has already passed well since you met. You don’t need to add anything, a little laugh escapes from Alexia’s lips that you would kiss right now if you weren’t afraid to cause an accident.

"No, it’s pretty serious actually" adds your blonde, tickling your curiosity.

"Okay?"

"I was wondering" begins Alexia, swinging nervously in her seat "if you would agree to give my father’s name to the baby? Maybe not for his usual name but at least for his middle name?"

"Of course Ale"

You don’t have to hesitate for a second. You know perfectly well how difficult it is for Alexia not to have her father at her side every day. If you can honour him that way, why not? Plus, the smile on Alexia’s face is worth it. She’s bending over you this time, taking advantage of a red light to kiss you.

"I love you so much" she whispers against your lips.

"Not as much as I love you"

"Oh yes."

You smile again and steal her a kiss back before letting her back up, the light having gone green for a few seconds already. Fortunately, in your residential area, there are not many people on the road at this time. Alexia restarts the car and turns in your street, putting the car in your underground parking lot.

You let Alexia take Santana out of her car seat to go to bed, taking care of storing your wife’s bag and throwing a dirty laundry machine. Then, you are surprised in full snack in the kitchen by Alexia who returns to you.

"I thought we said no Nutella at home" Alexia whines as she looks at the sandwich you just made with envy.

"Sorry mi Amor. I don’t know how it ended up in my bag"

"Yeah, of course" laughs Alexia and you hurry to make amends by laying lot of kisses on her cheek.

After a few, Alexia turns her head in your direction to put a kiss on your lips.

"You taste like Nutella" she smiles softly. "Did you have a good night?"

"Yes and I think Santana too. Ready to see her become the greatest goalkeeper of all time?"

You tease Alexia who rolls her eyes without being able to hide her smile. There is a child goal in your backyard, but Alexia’s obvious goal was for Santana to want to shoot in it, not try to stop the balls that want to get in.

"Don’t pout, you can always make our son a great midfielder. Unless he wants to play basketball."

Alexia looks at you while squinting a few seconds while you keep your big smile, proud of your little joke. Until your wife grabs your sandwich and decides to run away into the living room, a devil little laugh escaping from her lips.

"Ale!"

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

[sleepinghypnos]

ITZY Lia x Male Reader x Red Velvet Wendy ft. Irene

Tags: Smut (EDITED)

Genre: Facefucking, Deepthroat, Anal, Dirty Talk, Female Idol x Male Reader

A/N: Dialogues will be color coded

Black - Reader

Pink - Lia

Red - Wendy

Violet - Irene

Green - Other people

It's been a week since you started working for ITZY. The famous idol group has also been busy because of their recent comeback.

The admiration of people truly is a wonderful source of energy, especially for the artists who just finished their song for the fans.

Being able to withstand such burden makes you adore the group more and more.

You are on your way to the ITZY's waiting room. When suddenly a familiar hand grabbed you and pulled you into the corner of the backstage. There is no one here but sound and light equipment.

"What are you doing?" You said while looking at the girl in front of you. A wide smile greets you as she put her finger on your mouth to shush it.

"Oppa, don't make any noise they might hear us." Said the girl with a blonde hair named Lia. "I can't wait any longer, you said if we want to we can ask you right? Let me suck your cock now please?" Her pleading eyes is what gets you. How can an innocent looking person be this needy for someone's dick? You are here to do bodyguard related work but you always ended up fucking your clients.

You don't dare to say you regret it because many fans would kill just to sleep with their idols and here you are getting what they want for free and the idols are ones asking for it.

You nod your head to answer Lia. She immediately fell to her knees and helped you unbuckle your belt and pull your pants above your knees.

She whipped out your already throbbing cock. "It's bigger than the one in the video! How can you be so big?"

"Genetics i guess? Or maybe i'm blessed by the heavens." You answered while slapping your tip to her tongue.

"Well, if you're blessed then maybe that is the way of the heavens to make people kneel just like what I'm doing now."

You slid your cock in her mouth with very gentle rhythm, carefully testing whether the idol can do what the other can or not. She planted her nails into your legs and she starts throat fucking herself with your cock.

Watching the idol ruin herself because of lust, as you let her be consumed and devoured by her sexual desire. You moaned reflecting the pleasure she gives you, your length isn't even fit in her whole mouth.

A popping sound can be heard when she let your cock out off her mouth, she let it rest on her face as she realize that your member is bigger than the length of her head.

"Your throbbing hard cock really is huge, it's yummy Oppa." she said and continued to suck your rod once more. Lia looks at you with that lustful and needy eyes, you can't resist any further and you take control of everything.

Starting to thrust like no other, you held the back of her head to support your furious plunge making her gagged. Tears had formed in her eyes, the sound she makes and her tiny stature will make someone seriously think that you are doing something inappropriate with her.

"Your mouth is not only good at singing but also sucking dick, you slut!"

She tried to answer your remark but you didn't let her and fucked her mouth even more. Not thinking about the idols image any longer, using her as a mere tool for your own pleasure. She bobbed her head in-sync with your thrusts making the experience more ball draining.

Her pretty face is already ruined because of your vigorous fucking but that didn't make her less attractive it's quite the opposite.

"You're still beautiful even if your mouth is full with my dick." your compliment made her head bob up and down even more and continued to choke herself with your cock. Lia has a high possibility of having a 'Praise Kink'

"Shit! I'm fucking cumming Lia!"

With that, the idol prepared herself to received what the other girls have been addicted to lately, your cum. They all say it's sweet maybe because of your diet.

Your due approached and you grabbed her head, pushed her down to your cock, she didn't reach the base of your rod because of how big it is. You hold her there until you emptied into her mouth, coating her needy throat with your ropes of generous load. Her eyes were rolled back as if she attained enlightenment.

You rest your cock in her mouth for few more seconds till your last drop. She's looking at you while she plays your dick with her tongue. Lia let you see how much cum have been accumulated in her mouth and swallowed it.

"I now know why the two girls are addicted to you, your cum is delicious it is kinda sweet and you don't care if we are idols or not. You'll fuck us until we surrender to our sexual desire. I love it, Oppa!"

You patted her head. "It felt good Lia, your mouth is something else i must say. it's really good." you assured the idol and helped her stand up and gave her a kiss on her forehead, making her blushed and flustered.

"What did I just witnessed?"

Both of you looked at the one who spoked, Lia was shocked to see a Senior idol in front of her and you... well you do not care. She's Wendy a member of already established k-pop girl group called Red Velvet by SM Entertainment.

"He's our bodyguard, Sunbae!" Lia tries to explain to her senior what happened.

"I know who he is Lia-ssi, I've met him multiple times in the past. I just can't believe I'd see you here doing what you're good at again." She looked at me and Lia many times and attempts to leave but the younger idol stopped her.

"Sunbae it is consensual, so please don't report it. He didn't force me to do anything." she said while holding Wendy's wrist.

"Silly girl, of course i know it's consensual. I told you i've met him so many times in the past." Wendy slightly hugged Lia and patted her head.

Wendy left the spot that we're in and only Lia and you remain. you guide her to their waiting room and saw all of the ITZY members are inside. you just greeted them and stayed outside the door for security.

While waiting for the next schedule. You saw Red Velvet's Waiting room few doors away from you and reminded you of Son Seung-wan again, she is the only member of Red Velvet that you didn't have any physical connection with because the time you've spent with them doing bodyguard duties. The job only lasts for two weeks.

But you've been tirelessly messing with her other members almost every hour, especially Joy and Irene. The combination of the two made you a vegetable, it's like Yuna and Chaeryeong but sluttier. Meanwhile Seulgi is much more tamed and obedient. Yeri on the other hand had a boyfriend that time and don't want to cheat on him which is what couples must abide into.

For Wendy she didn't like the idea of you messing around with her co-members and stayed away from you, but you know that she also wanted what others was having.

She might say she don't but her actions betrayed her. Wendy and Seulgi share the same room and it's the same for Irene and Joy while Yeri is like a queen in her room because she's alone there and she can do whatever she wants.

Every time you fuck Seulgi senseless, Wendy will remain in their room while pretending to watch a movie and she really is watching but not the movie but you and Seulgi.

There's that one time when you and Seulgi is being intimate, she didn't even realize that she's been caught cause of how focus she is on how you plowed her roommate until she passed out. You even stood up and went to her side ordering her to suck your dick which she almost did, her tongue is already sticking out but she woke up from the trance and rushed out of the room.

Hours passed by and an SBS staff request all of the idols to go the stadium. ITZY decided to pick the ones in the higher floor and so we did. The managers didn't go with you and stayed at the staff rooms.

Lia invited you to sit beside her and so you did. The area is safe and no one will have the nerve to go on higher floor seats aside from other idols.

The music surrounds the whole place, this is a private party for idols and cameras are not allowed. Even the fans who owns fancafe's can't enter inside the premises.

Everyone is partying to the music when a group of girls came to your spot. it was Red Velvet.

"I told you he is here." Wendy said in a smug face, it looks like the other members didn't believe her. You stand up to greet them and so is ITZY.

"Hello seonbaes!" ITZY greets the senior girlgroup and they greeted them back.

"Oppa! I thought you'll stay abroad, i didn't expect to see you here." A woman suddenly hugged you and almost got out-of-balance because of it. Familiar scent envelops your sense of smell, her perfume is still the same. It was Joy.

You felt her chest rubbing into your own, still the same naughty woman. She let you go to for you to greet the other member, you gave each one of them a hug.

Seulgi is always the one who is quiet and waiting for her turn. Your mouth went for her neck and you marked with a hickey. Which she received well.

Yeri on the other hand became much more assertive on things. The moment you went in for a hug, the idol hugged you and she put her hand on your crotch. It's quick and impressive she whipped out your cock and started stroking it.

As far as you know she is still with her boyfriend but this is what she want so you let her.

She knelt down and put your cock in her mouth. Sucking it so passionately.

All of the girls were shocked and immediately blocked the two of you. Well, because of your height you are still visible.

"Kim Yeri what are you doing?!" Said Irene. Even she was shocked.

"I just want to taste it. All of you are addicted to this big fucking cock unnie. I want to know why, i already got my answer." Yeri continued to suck you off and stopped cause her jaw hurts.

"Seonbae you guys know Oppa too? In that extent?" Ryujin tried to pry why they didn't seem to mind that much what happened.

All of the Red Velvet members nod in unison. After Yeri had her unexpected FUN, you put your erected cock back in your pants which is not easy.

You proceed to greet the remaining people and hug them.

Your hug to Irene is much longer than the others. "Why did you let that brat do that? Pervert!" You just chuckled and act like its not your fault. "Still tall and handsome as ever huh?" Irene spoke.

"And still beautiful as ever huh noona?" as you lean back to see her face.

"I told you don't call me that, You are my Oppa. I belong only to you remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know baby." You gave her a kiss on her lips and proceed to hug Wendy.

She flinch because of the unexpected hug and she also felt your boner that isn't subsided yet but she return it eventually. "Hello Gorgeous!" you said while still hugging her.

"Gorgeous my ass! You are still the same."

"Your ass? I think they are gorgeous too!" your hands travelled from her back to her bottom and the moment you found the treasure you caress it gently, she whimper trying to hide her face on your chest.

"Once a pervert, always a pervert!" her hug tighten and it looks like she won't let go.

"So, you two got very close eventually huh?" Joy's voice interrupted your most awaited physical contact with Wendy.

"Yeah! So what?" You replied and let go of the woman in front of you and lean towards her ear to say something to her. "Should we continue what should've happen that day if you didn't run away from me?"

No words came out of her mouth but she nodded as an answer. Looks like she also looking forward in meeting you one day.

The other girls already finished their own personal greetings and now we are seated here in the higher floor and a less crowded side of the stadium, it's dark but not totally.

Lia is on your right and Wendy to your left. the younger idols are enjoying the party like it's their last day on Earth.

"Wendy, can you suck it for me please?" You are bold to your request. Your boner is already hurting. she look at you for a few seconds and she stand up from her chair to kneel in front you.

"Oooh! Looks like someone is eager to try the huge snake hiding beneath the clothes." Joy got the attention of others because of her remark. they proceed to watch what's going to happen. Even the ITZY members are waiting for it.

"Just make sure not to get caught." Irene added.

Your cock is already out and it's still wet because of Yeri. Wendy is now stroking your cock, her pace is not unbearably slow nor fast. It's perfect! Then she licks your shaft up and down. The girls reacts when Wendy sucked not just your dick but also your balls. You don't know where she learnt any of these but it makes your dick even harder.

"S-shit Wendy! Where did you learn to do that?" you said while moaning because of pleasure. Wendy is not the type of person that sleeps with just anyone.

Wendy sucks your dick with more intensity, she's starting to gain a pace and confidence, her drool is covering your shaft as she vehemently bobbed her head to your cock. You grabbed her head and starts violating the poor idols mouth like giving her a punishment.

"So it begins, hehe!" Joy patiently watching as i fuck her friend's throat like i did to her and the other idols.

"gawk... gawk... gawk" is the only sound that you can hear coming from Wendy. The Stadium's music don't matter to you or any of you.

You let Wendy's hands rest on your thighs while you fuck her face, her eyes are glued to you and her make up slowly getting ruined each time the tip of your cock touches the back of her throat, making both of you moan out of pleasure.

"Baby i'm cumming!" her eyes sparkles the moment you utter those words. She grabbed your thighs tightly as you pushed her head towards your throbbing and raging cock.

She blinked multiple times when your thick cum starts gushing out of your cock into her mouth. You can feel her tongue moving and trying to taste your load but no avail because your liquid is directly flowing to her stomach. All she can do is continue gulping.

You gave her a chance to at least taste your baby batter, the final three spurts landed in her mouth. Just like the rest, she showcase your cum and swallow all of it.

Your still erected cock lies on Wendy's face and the idol is just there letting it rest and looking at you.

"That's was so hot not gonna lie!" Joy and Yeri said in unison.

While the others are busy taking photos in a low light to prevent other people to actually see what transpired in your location. They giggled because of how the photos came to be.

Lustful yet passionate.

"Your mouth felt good, baby!"

"And your dick is so big you perverted bastard. I thought i was going to die. You keep choking me!"

"We are not done, come follow me outside." the other girls reacted wildly because of what you said. holding Wendy on her wrist pulling her. You walk through number of floors and doors ended up in an isolated room with basic furniture such as couch, tables, and other chairs.

You already know the layout of the stadium because this place is your typical work field when you're doing bodyguard duties.

Irene followed you to ensure that no one else in tailing you. "This is a nice spot, Oppa!" Irene said while looking around the room.

You didn't waste any more time and let the two of them kneel down to suck your cock once again. Wendy is kneeling to your right and in the opposite side is Irene.

Both of them were traversing your long shaft with their tongues to the top of your cock, they are moving in unison passionately kissing and licking both of your length and balls.

Wendy is now more daring in her assault. While the oldest choke herself from your big hard cock, the younger one find her way into your back entrance and started licking you there.

"Oooh, you are so daring Wendy! I like it! Irene deliberately stopping her onslaught on your cock just to compliment Wendy for her boldness.

You jolted because Wendy is performing a rimjob. "Now i-aahh, shit! i'm really curious on h-how and where did you l-learn any these." making yourself a bit more horny by the second.

"I didn't do anything with anyone, i just watch porn and learned how to do it. i barely even contain myself earlier when i saw you fucking Lia's face. I learn it for you, pervert!"

You stopped Irene from devouring your hard rod any further and carry Wendy into the couch and put her on a missionary, Irene spit on your cock again and again so that it will slid inside easily.

"I tried using dildos in our room, but i didn't order oversize ones cause i want your dick to destroy me and not those toys." Wendy confesses and it made you happy. "Please use my tight little pussy as you see fit, Daddy!"

You took Wendy's and Irene's clothes off and now of them are naked, flaunting both of their treasure. Irene's tits is much bigger than Wendy and yet both of them are reasonable in size. They are both firm and delicate. They both possess such flawless silky white skin in contrast to your slightly tanned yet firm skin.

"Daddy? I didn't expect that you had it in you Wendy, i'm so proud of you! Should i call you that too? Daddy." Irene said teasing you with her alluring voice and vexing body as she watches you preparing yourself to indulge into something so exquisite. Irene grabbed your head and pushed it against her tits making you suck her nipples.

She moaned like a total slut while caressing your head. Meanwhile Wendy is massaging her clit watching the two of you be intimate.

Irene stopped and let you devour the feast in front of you, she knows Wendy is still a virgin for a huge dick like yours.

"I'm going to put it in now, baby. bare with it." as you slowly slid your cock into her virgin cunt, her face starts showing a sign of pain when your cock is already half through.

"So fucking tight!" making sure she won't get hurt that badly.

"F-fuck, it's so big! it's all in finally!" she said.

"Oh not yet, little bitch. It's only half of it." Irene replied while hiding her laughter.

"What? There's more?! Gggh~ ahhh! FUCK!!" she gasped when you thrust suddenly and let her tight little cunt devour your rod completely.

"It hurts? Should i pull out?" you asked.

"No, please! Uh.. Let me adjust and get used to it first. I don't want to ruin this moment, ruin this for the three of us."

You're kissing Wendy and Irene one after the other, you can feel Wendy's passageway to loosen up a bit as you continue to stimulate her.

"I'm okay now D-daddy, please move!" Wendy said and you did what she asked. Few minutes of testing the waters and you started thrusting in more powerful way.

"Fuck Daddy your cock is so huge. such a big fucking cock! you are stretching me out aaah!~" Wendy began cursing and talking such vulgar words. She's getting fucked by a huge dick that even she couldn't imagine of receiving.

You changed position while your dick is still in her. You're plowing her in the back now and you are going deeper because it.

"Daddy you're so deep! Sh-shit! I think you are in my uterus. Fuck! you're going too deep! I can feel you in my stomach!" her moaning still sounds angelic like her singing voice and it's making you to fuck her more.

Her height and stature is small compare to you so it's easy for you to lift her up. You position her into full nelson, your favorite style even your clients in the past up to present still can't get over how you fuck them senseless in that vulgar position.

Irene saw through your intention and brought her phone out and ofcourse to start recording. She already knows that it's a trophy for another conquest, she has multiple videos of your past client getting plowed in that manner.

Wendy is surprise because of how easy for you to lift her, you placed each one of your arm to the back of her knees and your hands are already locked behind her neck.

You started plowing her again with more intensity, her moans become louder and louder. You are fucking her so hard that sound your body colliding as you thrust into her keeps echoing in the room.

Irene finished her little recording and dialed the girls to let them watch.

"Oooh! She's getting fucked real good there Unnie!" Joy has amazement in her voice and the other girls with her seems to be excited too. You can hear their voice cheering you to fuck Wendy more.

"Daddy! Please please please! You are so deep in me. Fuck! Use me! SHIT USE ME DAAADDDYYY!" Wendy squirting so much but you didn't stop pounding her, she's now half awake. the sound of her rich ass colliding with your body filled the room and made it look like a porn studio.

"I'm cumming you squirting slut!" you rammed her yet again waking her up.

"Yes! Breed me daddy. Fill me up! S-shit! i want your seed flowing inside me please please!" With that, your cum gushed out from your cock filling her up. You pulled out your still erected cock from her and you saw how it overflow, it's leaking.

Wendy passed out without realizing that the other girls are watching her getting railed so intensely, she changed into a different person whose instinct in to breed only.

"It's my turn now right Daddy?" Irene can't contain herself anymore. You can see how wet she is, you made her wait for so long.

"Of course come here baby, spread your legs for me in the couch!" and she did what you asked. she immediately position herself in the couch, legs spread and waiting like a total slut.

You didn't bother with the foreplay cause she's so wet and her ass is already lubricated so you straight up rail her in the ass and thrusting your whole length inside of her.

Wendy's moans were replaced by hers and it equally pleasing to the ears. You didn't hold back and showed her how much she deserved to be fuck hard because of her patience.

"Yes daddy! Fuck yes. I missed your huge cock so much! Please keep fucking me like this even if i eventually get married." She moans relentlessly saying such triggering words only makes you go even harder.

"I thought you hate men you slut!?" you're choking her neck with a normal grip of your hands, she seems to like it every time you did this to her.

"Yes i hate men, but not you. You may aaaah~ may be fucking so many women but you didn't do anything bad to us, instead yo- FUCK RIGHT THERE! RIGHT THERE!!! SHIT!! instead you protected u-us and gave us a sense of security. i'll let you fuck me everywhere even we are in public. Fuck! SO PLEASE USE ME MY ASS! DESTROY ME DADDY!" She is taking your huge cock in her ass like a champ. You've been fucking her ass ever since your first day of being their bodyguard. You basically molded her insides to the shape of your dick.

"Spit in my mouth please! Please! Daddy! I want you to violate me please! FUCK!" She kept on begging you to spit in her mouth so you did while here eyes were rolled back and her tongue is sticking out.

"I'm cumming now baby! Where do you want it?!" your hands stopped choking her to let her breathe then you proceed to slap her face to asked her again. "Where? Tell me!"

"Cum in my ass daddy please! It's your personal fleshlight, fill my ass with your thick load aaahh~"

And with that signal, you release a series of generous amount of load into the ass of one of the beautiful or the most beautiful k-pop artist of all time. Bae Joo-hyun

Both of them are were completely ruined and yet they are happy, you saw Irene's phone still in the videocall with the girls they all saw how you fucked the two them. You decided to bid them farewell and end the call.

It's time to clean up this mess before anyone came in here.

"What the fuck is this?!"

You were picking their things when you heard someone yelled in the door, you saw her figure and you were stunned to speak.

"IT'S YOU!?" Both of you shouted in unison

#itzy smut #lia smut #red velvet smut #irene smut #wendy smut #kpop smut #male reader #female idol x male reader #smut #kpop fanfic

[httpswritings]

Can't Remember To Forget You — Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso

Warnings: a small mention of irritated skin, i guess some people may find skin harm triggering.

Word count: 2076

Summary: Alexia and Jenni have to share a room for the World Cup.

A/N: I love reading Alexia x Jenni's fics and I got inspired to write this. I don't know if there'll be a second part as I'm currently working on other fics' second parts and writing new stories.

When Jenni got told that both Alexia and her were going to share a room, she knew she had to mentally prepare herself for having Alexia so near. It had been a while since they both broke up, but the older woman knew that «it was always going to be Alexia.» On the other hand, Alexia was aware of the situation being a bit uncomfortable, but it didn't seem to bother her more than expected.

Jenni was one of the first crushes Alexia had ever had. Everyone was always laughing when they got near her. She was caring, tender, and had great humor. Plus, there was a four-year age difference between them, making Alexia feel intrigued by the older woman. It took Jenni a couple of years since meeting Alexia for the first time to be interested in her.

The Spanish National Team entered the hotel; players were divided into pairs, except Irene and Ivana, who were going to stay in a room with their wives and children. Alexia was waiting for Jenni until the older woman suggested Alexia to head to their room without her without any worries. Jenni stayed chatting with Misa and Laia, who were partnered up. “I don't know how things are between you and her, but if you feel like it's too uncomfortable, you can call us.” The Real Madrid's goalkeeper felt a little lost in the ex-couple's situation but still offered some support along with Laia. “It's weird, but it'll pass with the passing of days.” Jenni waved goodbye at the pair and headed to the room, where she found Alexia placing her hygiene products in the bathroom.

“It's nice. The room, I mean...” Alexia nodded, looking up to face Jenni. “I've chosen the bed nearest to the window. Let me know if you want to switch them. I have no problem.” Jenni shook her head and proceeded to unpack her things. Neither of them said a word until Alexia asked Jenni if she wanted her to wait for her to go down to the lobby to reunite with the team. Jenni shook her head again, and Alexia couldn't help but roll her eyes. «This is going to be really hard», she thought.

After having dinner, Alexia went earlier to the room. She tucked herself into the bed. The room was dark and silent, but her mind was loud enough to create the illusion of the room being filled with a crowd. She kept hearing people going in and out of the rooms. A particular laugh caught her attention. She heard Jenni and Misa, accompanied by Laia, who was rushing to sush them. “She's probably sleeping, Misa. Leave her alone.” But Misa insisted on visiting Alexia. “C'mon! It's the first day, and tomorrow we only have a stretching session at midday. It's barely half past nine!” Alexia closed her eyes as she felt some light intruding the room when the three girls entered the room. “See! She's already asleep! Let's go to our room.” Laia dragged Misa out of the room, gaining some whines from the goalkeeper. Jenni couldn't stop the soft giggles from listening to Misa and Laia argue in the hallway as if they were children, their voices only silencing when they closed their room. 

“I was not asleep. I'm curious about what you three had in mind.” Jenni jumped, as she didn't expect Alexia to talk. “Jesus, Alexia. I thought you were already asleep.” Alexia got on her elbows, looking at her ex-girlfriend. "Misa wanted to hang out in our room, and Laia, well, she was trying to make sure you didn't wake up.”

Jenni changed into her pyjamas in the bathroom, and when she got out of the bathroom, Alexia couldn't help but appreciate her body. The way Jenni's long legs adjusted to her pink pyjama shorts, and her breasts were perfectly defined by the t-shirt she was wearing. She blushed when she noticed that Jenni had caught her staring, so she rolled over and wished Jenni goodnight.

 “Goodnight, Alexia.”

-

Alexia woke up before Jenni. It was still dark, but she could see Jenni's figure going up and down as she breathed. She remembered the mornings when she would wake up with Jenni sleeping next to her. She loved waking up to a naked Jenni sleeping next to her. Sometimes she would wake her up in between kisses to end up making love to her, «waking you up as you deserve», that was what she always told her. Most of the time, she would admire Jenni's beauty. Alexia was a woman of few words, but Jenni's figure made her feel inspired enough to get into detail, describing every mole, every scar, and every redness. It was more than pure sexual desire. It was love. Pure love.

As the minutes passed by, the room started to lighten up, making the vision of Jenni's figure more clear. She was facing Alexia. Her black hair over her face. Alexia laughed thinking about the days where she would wake up with a tingling sensation on her face, being Jenni's hair interrupting her sleep. Alexia's eyes moved to Jenni's slightly parted lips.

Jenni knew how to kiss, depending on the moment. She could give her the most delicate kiss ever, as a sign of «I'm here with you», «I love you», «You are safe». But she could also give Alexia the roughest and filthiest kiss as a way of saying «I need you», «let's go to the bedroom» or «let's make love». For the very first time in a long time, Alexia felt the need to feel Jenni's lips against hers.

She became aware of that feeling. «Alexia, you're ovulating. Quit this nonsense thinking.» The voice in her mind was trying to convince her of the opposite of what she was thinking. She felt a tingling sensation below her core. The need to wake Jenni up and beg her to touch her, to kiss her, to let her make love to her. She looked at the time on her phone. There were still twenty minutes until the alarm would go off. She closed her eyes. All types of memories of her past relationship with Jenni came back to her, hitting her like a truck.

Jenni helped Alexia experiment back in the day. With her, she explored different areas of her sexuality. When they got together, Jenni was more sexually experienced than Alexia, but that was never a problem. They decided to wait some months until they made love for the first time. Alexia smiled as she remembered how well it went. Jenni couldn't stop holding her. She had never felt that loved, even if she had had good experiences before Jenni. But with her... It was different. «Ale, if you feel the need to stop, tell me. No matter how far we've gone. Tell me whatever you need to make you feel as good as possible.»  

Alexia felt overwhelmed the first time Jenni gave her an orgasm, finishing with some giggles. They shared a precious moment of intimacy. The Catalan woman couldn't forget the first time she gave Jenni an orgasm. Seeing her blissful face as she called Alexia's name out was something Alexia couldn't even describe to this day. Every time she made Jenni orgasm, she felt more addicted to her and the sounds she made. «Ale! Right there, mi vida. Right there...»

Alexia was so induced by her memories that she didn't realize Jenni was waking up. “Good morning.” 

The Catalan looked over Jenni's bed, seeing her with a timid smile, so sweet if it wasn't because of the way Alexia was feeling right now, which had nothing to do with sweetness but pure lust.

“Good morning, Jenni.”

«This can't be happening to me!» Alexia couldn't think properly. She didn't know how to act. All that was on her mind was the image of Jenni's butt perfectly shaped by her underwear. She pressed her legs against each other, gaining a pleasant sensation below her core. «Is she playing games with me?», Maybe that's not a big deal for her. It's not the first time someone from the team is in her underwear in front of me. This happens in the locker room many times. It's not a big deal. It's not a big deal. It's not a big deal.»

Actually, Jenni didn't do it on purpose. She realized what she had done when she entered the bathroom. Her body stayed completely frozen in front of the mirror. She didn't know how to get out of that situation. Thankfully, Misa and Laila knocked on the door. “Good morning, girls!”

«I don't know why I was grateful for them coming over, because this is even weirder. How am I supposed to get out of the bathroom like this?»

Misa called Jenni from the bedroom. The older woman decided to give some naturalness to the situation. «If it gets weird, just joke about it.»

She got out of the bedroom, and silence filled the room. “What? Does my morning face scare you or what?” She pretended to be as unbothered as possible. “Were you hot last night?”, Misa asked, gaining a hit on the shoulder from Laia. “Yes, very hot. I couldn't sleep.” The goalkeeper felt a little lost. «Yesterday she was uncomfortable with sharing a room with Alexia, and now she gets out of the bathroom almost bottomless.» Misa knew Jenni never felt weirder out by showing skin around people she trusted. It was normal to be topless on Spain's beaches, and no one really cared apart from tourists. Plus, they all got changed in the locker room. It was the fact that Alexia had stayed immobile on her bed, playing with her hands and gluing her hands to them, unable to look up since Jenni had left the bathroom.

Laia and Misa eventually left, leaving Jenni and Alexia alone. “Sorry, I didn't remember I had taken my pants off. Maybe it was because of the jet lag, but I couldn't sleep, and the sheets started to be itchy without any reason because they are clean, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I understand that—”

“No. It's fine.” Alexia finally looked at Jenni, gaining a smile from the older woman. “Why didn't you tell that to Misa instead of agreeing on you being warm?”

“Because I actually was. As I scratched my skin to stop the stitching, or at least to try to, it left me with a warm sensation on my skin, especially on my stomach. I'd have to put some lotion on, I guess, because I'm still getting some reaction from it.”

Alexia frowned. “Still from last night? May I see? If it's not too much for you.” Jenni pulled her shirt off over her stomach, only leaving that area visible, and Alexia jumped off the bed to get near her. “Jenni! It's red. You need to put some lotion on. Did you do this just by scratching? Are you sure it's not an allergic reaction?” Jenni melted at Alexia's preoccupation. It reminded her of how Alexia behaved when she was her girlfriend. Caring, clingy and funny.

“Can I touch it?” Jenni nodded, tensing to the contact of Alexia's hand on the irritated area of her stomach, trying to be as delicate as she could. “Jennifer, I'm serious. If you don't go to get that checked, I'm dragging you towards the medical team by myself.“

Yeah, that was also Alexia. She could be the most easy-going person in the field, but as soon as something happened, she would remain stoic about her position and do whatever she thought was right. Jenni loved that side of her, too. She would usually tease her, «Okay, Captain!» and Alexia would not give any answer back, still focused on whatever happened.

But now it was different. They had that tension around them. Still sexually attracted, they were cautious around each other, not wanting to make the other one uncomfortable.

“Don't worry, Ale—Alexia. I'll get it checked, but probably after having breakfast. I'm starving.” Alexia still had her hand on Jenni's stomach when she noticed her hand tremble, accompanied by a sound from Jenni's body, indicating how hungry she was, making the two of them laugh as they forgot for a few seconds all the tension they had been holding.

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso imagine #jenni hermoso #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader

[chocotonez]

skz putting their jacket over your lap

a/n: hiii, merry Christmas Eve if you celebrate!! I hope you all stay warm and enjoy your winter <3 also I forgot to put a read more on this one so sorry about that lolol

warnings/genre: gn language but y/n wears skirts, shorts and dresses and stuff, fluff, mentions of food and slight cat calling/harassment in seungmin’s (guys stare at u and whisper shit), discomfort in revealing clothing in hyunjin but that’s a really bad way of explaining it so see for yourself if u want

chan

-he always keeps his arm around you at public events, so when you were at a dinner party to celebrate the release of his new album he could feel how cold your skin was

-the dress was suggested to you by a stylist since you didn’t really know what to wear, but someone call irene cuz…

-you were constantly pulling down the skirt, and he could feel you shuffling like every five seconds because just breathing made the dress ride up

-“are you okay?? wanna go home?” And you, who’s literally eating the best fucking food you’ve ever tasted and having the time of ur life supporting ur boyfriend obviously shot down his offer

-so he took the coat he came in with because suddenly this takes place in the winter and puts it over your lap, before kissing the top of your head.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, okay? We can leave any time.”

lee know

-lovingly already giving you shit about it before you even leave the house

-“baby, I love you and all and I think you look amazing but those shorts are gonna be uncomfortable as hell”

-“hoes never give up their clothes”

-he didn’t wanna be overbearing so he was like “whatever nerd let’s go”

-you guys were sitting outside and you were already pulling your shorts down, minho only noticing when you entered a grocery store because wtf why r they so cold

-gives you the “I told you so” look and forces u to take his jacket :>

“wrap it around your waist idiot, tell me if you want to go home.”

changbin

-ur probably gonna have to ask him bevause dawg doesn’t realize

-but when you do tell him he’s like !!! “Oh my god I’m so sorry, of course you can have my jacket!!” and he’s holding ur hand all reassuringly and apologizing n ur like “it’s ok I was literally just unbearably cold”

-feels so bad that he didn’t notice how u were literally freezing to death :,)

-bonus is you get to see him roll the sleeves up of his collared shirts + he gets to see you comfortably enjoying yourself so everyone wins

“I’m so sorry again!! Tell me if you need anything else, okay?”

hyunjin

-your supporting your boyfriend at a little formal party, and it was an indoor event at a familiar location that has never been uncomfortable ever in your life

-and then it was uncomfortable, you were just rubbing your legs and the feeling of leather on bare skin was weird and why the hell was it so cold??

-but you looked so hot in this dress ?? so what can someone do. you didn’t mind dressing up, but being in such a weird environment made you dream of the pajama pants you’d put on when you got home

-hyunjin takes his suit’s blazer off and casually slides it over to you without even blinking an eye, as you look up like ??? dawg I didn’t even say anything and he’s just like “I know~~”

-he just knows you very well and he also likes the trope of u wearing his suit jacket after a party, so he insists you keep it because u look so cute

“I can just tell when you’re uncomfortable! I’m a psychic, hehe >:]”

han

-“eeee i don’t like this dress, I feel weird in it”

-“omg babe no!! u look so good :>”

-“no my legs r just cold”

-feels like a superhero and the coolest boyfriend ever to put his coat over your lap, he’s so proud of himself :,)

-he feels like he’s the protag of some romance drama, n he loves it!! and you’re no longer freezing ur ass off so thank goodness

-pretends to forget his coat so he can see you wear it on the way home or something like that

“hehehe, you look cute! do you need anything else? aren’t I just the best?”

felix

-idk he’d probably forget a jacket too so you’d both be awkwardly freezing at a restaurant so we’re gonna put you in an award ceremony

-you were his +1! so you dressed up extra nice for the evening, and you sat next to him as winners came up with their thank you speeches

-I think he’s very attentive to you if you guys go out together cuz he wants you to enjoy every moment with him!!

-so he notices v quickly when you use the table cloth as a blanket for your lap or shake your legs, and he hurriedly gives you his suit jacket so you don’t feel so uncomfortable

-kisses your cheek after, and when cameras catch this cute asf moment you two go trending on twt for 24 hours :,) you guys are just so cute together!!

“Does it feel better than the table cloth? I thought so, I can ask staff for something more accommodating, just let me know <3”

seungmin

-you guys are taking the train home after a day out, and you’re just scrolling on your phone before he leans over

-“the guys across from us are looking at you, do you wanna move?”

-you decide to just stay as the only free seats were reserved for others who needed it more, so you just say like 180 degrees away from them

-you could hear them whispering, and you subconsciously pulled your shorts down, not even knowing if that’s what the problem was

-you tried to ignore the gawking before you saw a grey hoodie fly over your lap, seungmin gently holding your waist to turn you back forward and giving the guys across from you the most uncomfortable eye contact until they stop

“Weirdos. Don’t feel insecure or anything by them, probably just never seen someone as hot as you before…”

jeongin

-trips over his two feet to get to you

-you guys planned for lunch at a cafe, and while you were waiting for him you texted “omg this skirt is so uncomfortable lolol” and next thing you know someone’s sprinting at you full force while holding their jacket

-it’s your loving boyfriend who broke into a sprint the second he read your text

-“h-here, put this over your lap if you want” “how far did you run??” “bro just take it I beg”

-you can’t help but laugh because he’s so out of breath and didn’t even mind the eyes staring at him because he was just running in a panicked frenzy

-boyfriend mode: activated

“I’m not a simp, shut up. Just want you to feel comfortable you loser. (lovingly)

#stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader

[ttoddii]

nsfw sub irene hcs pleek 🙇‍♀️

nsfw sub irene headcanons

pairing(s) – dom mean reader x sub bae joohyun

genre – smut, headcanons

warnings – MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI, oral sex (reader giving), fingering, bratty joohyun, pillow princess joohyun, overstimulation, messy description, lowercase intended, bad grammar, not proofread.

a/n – this is very sloppy, and i have to apologize for it before you read it ;-;. first request ever, thank you nonnie for sending this in, and i hope this is to your likings (i really do hope so cause i am not proud of this myself)

taglist (OPEN) – @missminho; @taniio; @vvsbada; @krissysays (comment under my posts to be add/remove)

⊹₊ ⋆ joohyun as a pillow princess in your shared bedroom, and the bratty type too.

⊹₊ ⋆ she could be all tough and strong outside of bed, taking care of you, but once you two are alone, she would be your baby, and you have to provide the service.

⊹₊ ⋆ she doesn't like rough treatment, she would like the soft intimate tender sex that would make her melt under every touch of yours. or at least, she pretend to not like the rough treatment.

⊹₊ ⋆ she is very demanding in bed, asking for you to kiss her, touch her, please her.

⊹₊ ⋆ "can't you do better? this is all you've got?"

⊹₊ ⋆ she would tease you, a bit too much, and it would end up with you ignoring her needs and do what you please.

⊹₊ ⋆ she doesn't seem to care how rough you treat her though, not with all the breathy moans, the whine, the quick breath she give you while she scratch your back, the way her hair would spread out as she hopelessly look at you.

⊹₊ ⋆ she is very sensitive, and easily overstimulate, so you could go at it for 2 rounds and she would already want to give up, her fuck out body is basically jelly as she let you do whatever you want with her.

⊹₊ ⋆ of course, it never end that easily, especially when she asked for it with how pretty her eyes look.

⊹₊ ⋆ she would have teary eyes while she look up at you, being overstimulate with how your fingers work its way in her cunt, your thumb circling her clit as your eyes stare intensely to hers because how can you not when she look so prettily undone by you.

⊹₊ ⋆ she is very vocal about how good she feels, moaning your name, whining, crying as you fuck her senselessly.

⊹₊ ⋆ she can't lie about how good she feels, especially not when her body squirm under your touch, she cannot stay still at all.

⊹₊ ⋆ she would get all shy when you tell her how good she's doing, a complete contradiction to her bratty behavior when she tease you at the beginning of your fucking session.

⊹₊ ⋆ she would expect some very nice aftercare from you when you two are done.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ bonus ~ !

"please, please no more", joohyun whine, her eyes teary as you look up at her.

your hands are placed on her thighs, spreading it apart as you work your way in between her legs. your tongue circling around her clit, somtimes flicking it at the tip of your tongue to tease her as she squirm, her legs closing on itself before you push it down to the bed again, forcing her to take the feeling from her core.

it's not long before she can't take it anymore, her back arch as her body shake violently from the overstimulation you gave. her hand raise up to block her face, hiding it from you as one of your hand press down softly to her lower belly, making her squirt as she moan loudly.

"you shouldn't hide your pretty face, darling. you're pretty when you cry", you said softly, chuckling as you move up from your position, lifting her hand out of the way to stare at her fucked out form.

joohyun is sniffling, her cheeks stained with tears as she look back at you. her hair spread out messily, you could see her chest rise up and down with how she try to pick up a steady breath. her body covered in her own sweat with how you had bullied her.

the bed sheet stained with joohyun's juice, and you smirk proudly at how she had been put in her place.

"now let's get you clean up"

#red velvet #red velvet x reader #red velvet irene #irene x reader #bae joohyun #joohyun x reader #irene smut #kpop gg #kpop smut #⟢ tod's chaos

[nanawritesit]

Playing Truth or Dare with Red Velvet (NSFW/ 18+/ MDNI) 🔞

Trigger Warnings: making out, groping, undressing, kissing body parts, lap dances, grinding/dry humping, hickeys, mentions of handcuffs, fingering, use of vibrator, master kink, lingerie, kissing while asleep, nipple sucking, nipple play, oral sex, getting walked in on, cursing

Irene:

She was one of your best friends in the entire world. Things had only ever been platonic between you. Sure, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have the tiniest crush on her. But how could you help yourself? Your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat anytime she grabbed your hand or flashed a smile at you. But, there was always so much doubt that she’d felt the same way about you. That was, until tonight.

You were having one of your usual sleepovers at her place, lying next to each other in bed as some movie played on the TV in the background.

“Y/N, this movie sucks.” she suddenly exclaimed, rolling over to face you. “Let’s do something fun.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you asked, doing the same.

She flashed you a mischevious grin. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

“Okay, you go first.” you instructed, sitting up.

The two of you went back and forth for a while, asking simple questions like “what’s your most embarrassing story,” or “what’s your biggest fear.” The dares were pretty tame as well, being things like “break dance for one minute,” and “do an impression of your favorite celebrity.”

“Alright, we broke the ice. Now it’s time to take things up a notch.” she proposed, leaning forward expectantly.

You raised an eyebrow. “Fine, I was getting bored anyway. I pick dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me.” she demanded.

A light pink blush spread across your cheeks, and your mouth fell open the slightest amount. You swallowed the hard lump that was forming in your throat before looking back up at her. “A-are you sure?

“I absolutely am.” she replied with a cheeky grin. “I’ve been dying to know how good of a kisser you are.”

You exhaled to release some of your nerves, then got up on your knees and scooted closer to her. You flipped her hair over her shoulder and tucked a strand behind her ear, gazing into her eyes affectionately. For a second, she looked really flustered. You glanced down at her soft pink lips, running your thumb over them delicately. You put both hands on her cheeks, then leaned down to press your lips against hers. It was soft and sweet, your lips just barely ghosting over hers, but with enough firmness that she knew you were there. She seemed to freeze underneath you. You pulled back slowly, and both of your eyes fluttered open. You looked at her with an apologetic gaze.

“Irene, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

That was all you got out before she had pulled you back down by your shirt and devoured your lips in a much rougher kiss. Your eyes sprung wide open at first, but soon you turned yourself over to the pleasure of kissing her. Your lips were crashing against each other desperately, and soon her tongue was pressing its way between your lips as if asking for an invitation. You granted it to her by sliding your own tongue along hers, now totally enmeshed together.

As the kissing grew more heated, you slowly pushed her down against mattress. She began to tangle her legs with yours and run her hands up along your lower back, tugging up your shirt to run her fingers delicately across your skin. You brought a hand up to her breast, groping it lightly until she pushed you off so she could sit up straight.

“Oh I’m sorry, was that too mu-“ you were cut off once again when she whipped her shirt off over head, now clad in just a tiny pair of pajama shorts.

Your mouth fell wide open at the sight of her bare chest. “Irene… you’re so beautiful.” You told her, leaning back in to kiss her again. She grabbed a fistful of your hair and fell back down onto the mattress, wrapping her legs around your waist to pull you closer.

You momentarily pulled back to take off your own shirt so you could have skin-to-skin contact, then went back down to kiss her lips once more. Soon, you began trailing the kisses down to her jaw, then her neck, then her chest, and then her stomach. You finally stopped right above her clothed core, gripping the waistband of her shorts. You looked up at her with a playful smirk. “Well I think it’s safe to say our friendship is ruined.”

“Tch, we were never really ‘just friends’ anyway.” she giggled, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Now why’d you stop? I was just getting excited.”

Seulgi:

“Baby, I want to play truth or dare.” your girlfriend told you while you were both sitting on the couch next to each other.

“Okay, we can do that Seul.” you told her with a chuckle, setting down your phone to turn towards her. “But let’s only do dares. We pretty much know everything there is to know about each other.”

“Sounds good to me.” she replied with a mischievous grin. “But I want to add a rule to make it more fun.

“Oh?” you asked, curious as to what she was planning in her head. “And what might that be?”

“Every time one of us refuses to do the dare, they have to take off a piece of clothing.” she challenged. She bit her lip at you as if she was imagining the outcome, and you had to admit, you were doing the same as you raked your eyes over her body.

“Okay, you’re on.” you responded. “I’ll go first.”

The two of you started throwing the worst possible dares at each other. Things that neither of you would do even if someone paid you. Before long, you were both in your underwear, sitting across from each other laughing.

“Was this your plan all along? Just to get me undressed?” you giggled, grabbing her hand and shaking it playfully.

“No, absolutely not!” she laughed back at you, slapping your hand away. “I only want to give you one more dare though.”

“Okay, what is it Seul.” you asked, settling back down.

She held back the huge cheshire-cat grin that threatened to creep its way onto her face. “Let me give you a lap dance without touching me for five minutes.”

You gasped in surprise, but you were smiling nonetheless. “Fine, but that means I don’t have to take off another piece of clothing.” you teased.

“That’s fine by me.” she chuckled, shifting to straddle your lap. You put your hands underneath your thighs in preparation. She quickly set a timer on her phone before gripping onto your shoulders tightly to begin her dare.

She began grinding down against your core, rolling her hips back and forth in a mesmerizing way. You bit your lip at the sight before you, gripping the couch cushion beneath you in restraint. She tousled her hair a bit, then reached her hands behind her back to unhook her bra. The straps slid delicately down her shoulders before revealing her breasts.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of them. “God Seulgi, this is harder than I thought it was going to be…”

“Hang in there, you’ve only got two and a half minutes left.” she giggled, running her hands over her breasts to grope them. She squeezed them against each other and pinched her nipples between her fingers, still grinding down on your lap in perfect rhythm.

“One minute left. You gonna make it?” she asked, glancing down to the mess of your lower region. You gulped and nodded, throwing your head back in frustration. She leaned forward at your gesture and began nipping and sucking at your neck, leaving a few hickeys. You moaned in desperation, squinting your eyes together at the immense pleasure. Just when you thought you were going to break, the timer went off.

“Well, you win Y/N.” she sighed, sitting up straight. “I suppose I should-“

You cut her off by pinning her down on the couch beneath you, kissing her ravenously. “You like teasing me that much? You like getting me all worked up?” You looked down at her with a dominant glare and a devilish grin. “I get one more dare too you know. And mine is to put you in cuffs for five minutes while I do whatever I want to you. Let’s see if you can handle your own game, Kang Seulgi.”

She looked up at you with doe eyes and a shocked expression. But it was soon replaced with a satisfied smirk that let you know she had accomplished what she originally set out to do. She had already won. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun too.

Wendy:

Irene was hosting a small birthday party for Wendy at her place, and you were one of the guests. Everyone in the group knew about your enormous crush on her, except the birthday girl herself. Similarly, everyone in the group also knew about her immense crush on you. But you were totally oblivious. With neither of you ever daring to make a move, your friends decided to take matters into their own hands.

It was late at night, and the party was winding down. Wendy had already opened up all her presents, the dinner had been served, and now everyone was strewn about the living room finishing their cake.

“Everyone done? I’ll throw away the plates.” Irene chirped, getting up from her seat.

“Yeah, I think so. Thanks Rene!” you replied, handing your plate to her with a smile.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Seulgi asked.

“Well, Yeri and I were talking about playing truth or dare!” Joy exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Wendy clicked her tongue at the suggestion. “You maknaes. At every get together you two say we should play truth or dare, and every time, it ends in disaster.”

“Oh come on, it doesn’t go that badly.” Yeri whined, hitting her on the arm lightly.

“Really? I’d say having to apologize to the entire apartment building for pulling the fire alarm in the middle of the night was pretty bad.” Irene huffed, returning from the kitchen.

“I don’t know, I think it could be fun.” you suddenly chimed in.

Wendy glanced over at you, her eyes twinkling. She thought for a moment, seemingly fixed on the hopeful smile you had on your face, then sighed in defeat. “Alright, but just for a little while. And no one can leave the apartment!” She shot a glare towards Joy.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry? You know I’m too proud to turn down a dare!” the younger girl cried out.

And so the game began, and things were going pretty much as expected. You all found out who Seulgi’s mystery girl was, Irene sent a risky text to her crush, and Joy and Yeri had kissed once. Finally, it was the birthday girl’s turn.

“Alright Wendy, truth or dare.” Joy asked.

“I feel like I’ll be screwed either way, but dare I suppose.” the older girl said begrudgingly.

Joy smirked evilly. “I dare you to go in the closet with Y/N for seven minutes.”

“Ah, a little seven minutes in heaven action?” Yeri teased, clapping her hands together.

“Hey, that’s too much Joy.” Irene scolded, crossing her arms. “We don’t know Y/N would feel about that. They might be uncomfortable with-“

“I’ll do it.” you interrupted, a little too eagerly. Everyone whipped their heads over to look at you. Seulgi and Irene looked shocked, Joy and Yeri were grinning like little devils, and Wendy had that same twinkle in her eye from earlier and a rosy pink blush dusting her cheeks. You coughed at the sudden awkward feeling of everyone staring at you. “Uh, that is, as long as Wendy wants to.”

Wendy blinked, snapping out of her daze. “I mean, I’m okay with that. After all, it’s only seven minutes right? How much could happen?”

“Alright, let’s go!” Joy shouted, jumping up from her seat. She grabbed both of your hands and tugged you up, then led you over to the closet at the end of the hall and shoved you inside.

“Okay, one of you set a timer on your phones! Don’t have too much fun in here.” she winked, then slammed the door in your faces and scurried back to the living room.

Wendy sighed, turning towards you. “I’m so sorry about her. I hope you’re not too miserable in here.”

“Oh don’t worry about me, I’m good!” you reassured with a chuckle. “After all, I’m with you aren’t I?”

She glanced at the ground bashfully, letting out a small giggle. “That’s true, we rarely ever have bad times together…”

“You look beautiful tonight.” you told her, glancing at her outfit. “I mean, you look stunning all the time, but I just meant that this outfit looks really cute on you.”

“Oh thank you so much!” she beamed, straightening her blouse. “I don’t really wear skirts too often, but I wanted to be bold for once.”

“Well you’re rocking it.” you bit your lip, trying to contain your lust for her. “I don’t know how you could ever be insecure.”

“Oh come on Y/N.” she rolled her eyes with a small smile. “I’m not that pretty.”

“Are you insane?” you exclaimed, turning to face her completely. “You’re absolutely gorgeous Wendy, everything about you is. Your hair…” you reached forward to fiddle with some of the strands falling over her shoulder. “Your eyes…” you gazed into them, realizing how her pupils had dilated. “Your skin…” you brushed a finger along her cheek delicately. You felt her breathing heavily in anticipation at where you would go next.

Somehow, in this moment, you felt brave enough to make a move. Maybe it was the dim lighting in the closet, or your forced proximity to one another… actually, it was the way she was looking at you. She seemed to be pleading for you to take things further, titling her chin up a bit as if to push her lips forward.

“And how could I forget, your pretty lips…” you finally concluded, in a voice barely above a whisper. You leaned in painfully slow, then after what felt like ages, you kissed her. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and after a few seconds, her arms came up around your neck to push you closer.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” she confessed as she pulled away from you panting.

“You have no idea.” you laughed, shaking your head before crashing your lips against hers again, much stronger this time. Her tongue slid into your mouth eagerly, wrestling with yours as you began to run your hands up along the curves of her waist. Her own hands were sliding into your hair, gripping and tugging at the nape.

Suddenly, the alarm on your phone went off. You groaned, pulling away from her to silence it. “Well, I guess our time is up.” you sighed, reaching for the door knob.

She hastily grabbed your wrist, making you freeze. “Y/N, can I ask you for something?” she inquired.

“Anything, birthday girl.” you smirked.

She seemed nervous all of a sudden, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. “Could you… could you please put your fingers inside of me?”

Your jaw dropped open in shock. Wendy was always so shy and reserved, at least when it came to you. You never in a million years expected her to initiate something so dirty.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s too much. God I really ruined this didn’t I- ah!” she ended her thought, clasping a hand over her mouth to contain her moans. You had slid a hand up her skirt and began rubbing the pad of your thumb in circles against her clothed clit.

“Well of course I can, since you asked so nicely.” you practically purred into her ear, pressing her up against the wall. “Gosh, you’re so wet already, this won’t take long at all. I’ll just set another timer real quick. I mean, it’s only seven minutes right? How much could happen?”

Joy:

“Oh come on Y/N, it’ll be fun!” your girlfriend whined, tugging on your arm. She had just come back from a bachelorette party where she had won a dice game of NSFW truth or dare, and she really wanted to try it out.

“It just seems kind of silly Joy…” you chuckled, looking at the box that had tons of cartoon kisses and hearts all over it.

“Please honey? Don’t you want to play with me?” she asked, running a manicured hand over your chest and looking up at you with huge doe eyes. She was pushing her chest forward, cleavage on full display in her tight black dress that hugged her hips and waist, leading down to her long legs clad in sheer black tights, and ending with her highest black red bottomed heels. She was absolutely irresistible right now.

“Okay honey, we can play.” you gulped, shaking your head to regain your composure.

She squealed, then opened the box excitedly. The game was pretty simple. You would each take turns rolling the dice, which would either give you a truth or a dare. Then, you’d pick a card from whatever category you rolled which would tell you what to confess or do.

“I’ll go first.” she declared, rolling the dice. “Dare!” she exclaimed, drawing her first card. She cleared her throat before reading it out loud. “‘Put on your sexiest lingerie.’ Well, that’s easy, I already have it on.” she giggled, standing up. She unzipped her dress and slid it off down her legs, revealing the black lace teddy and garter set you had bought her for valentine’s day.

Your eyes went wide at the sight. Other than the lingerie, the only other thing she was wearing was a choker. If you weren’t turned on before, you certainly were now. Her ample breasts and perky butt looked ungodly good in that set.

“Y/N? It’s your turn.” she chuckled, waving a hand in front of your face.

“Right!” you exclaimed, reaching for the dice. “Truth.” you announced before grabbing a card. “Let’s see… ‘what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to try but never suggested to your partner?’” you set the card down, thinking to yourself for a moment. You bit your lip hesitantly.

“Come on baby, you can tell me. I won’t judge.” your girlfriend reassured you, grabbing your hand.

You looked up at her. Her smile was so warm and comforting, and her eyes were sparkling with intrigue. You exhaled, then sat up. “Well, I know you like to get off with your vibrator… I was wondering if, well, you’d let me use it on you?”

Her lips curled up into a devilish grin. “Oh yes, you can absolutely try that on me baby. Wanna do it now?”

You nodded eagerly. She snickered at your actions, then got up to get her vibrator out of her dresser. Once she had retrieved it, she laid down between your legs, back flush against your chest. “I’m all yours honey.”

You turnt on the vibrator and began running it lightly along her slit. The only thing separating her core from the device was the thin layer of black lace decorating the teddy she was wearing. Her head fell back into the crook of your neck. You glanced down at her pale exposed skin, and impulsively began nipping and sucking at her neck. You knew it was one of her weak points.

“Oh shit, honey…” she moaned, pushing her hips forward to get more friction from the vibrator. “You’re gonna give me a hickey!”

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you honey?” you teased with a cynical chuckle into her ear. “You just love getting marked up by your master, don’t you?”

She nodded frantically, grabbing your wrist to press the device further against her core. You swatted her hand away, then placed it on her chest. “Let me take my time. Get those pretty titties out for me.”

She huffed in frustration, but did as you asked, sliding down the straps of the teddy to fold over the cups, revealing her breasts.

“Oh, look how pretty you are…” you growled, groping one with your free hand.

“Please honey, let me c- ah!” she was cut off by you tearing the vibrator away from her core.

“Hey, you know what my name is baby.” you said sternly, waving the device back and forth as if shaking your finger at her.

“I’m sorry master! Please, please, I need to cum!” she pleaded, tears prickling at her eyes.

“Okay, but you need to be a good girl for me, okay?” you instructed.

“I will, I promise!” she cried, laying back against your chest.

“Alright. Strip down for me and we’ll keep going. Get the dice.”

“You mean you want to keep playing while getting me off?” she asked, perplexed at your boldness.

“Oh come on, you were the one who wanted to play so badly. I know you can take it.” you praised, putting the vibrator back against her clit as soon as she was nude. She had no idea what she was getting into by winning this game. Well, maybe she did. But was she disappointed? Hell no.

Yeri:

You didn’t know how Yeri convinced you to come to a sleepover at Nayeon’s, but here you were. You hadn’t been to a sleepover since you were 16. You forgot how tiring they were, and decided to take a quick power nap in Nayeon’s guest room. Yeri, Nayeon, Sana, Chuu, and Suhyun all pouted jokingly when you left, but told you to sleep well and rejoin them when you were reenergized.

After a half hour or so, you felt well rested enough to rejoin the party. As you were walking down the hall, you heard something that made you stop dead in your tracks.

“We should play truth or dare!” Nayeon proclaimed. You could hear in her voice that the girls had busted out a bottle of wine shortly after you left. Go figure.

“That’s a great idea!” Chuu agreed enthusiastically, clunking her class down on the table.

“Ugh, didn’t we do this at the last sleepover?” you heard Yeri ask.

Your ears perked up at the sound of her voice. You hadn’t told anyone, because you knew none of the girls could keep a secret, but you had a massive crush on her. No one knew you were awake yet anyway, so what would be the harm in eavesdropping a little bit?

“Yeah, but we didn’t get to ask any juicy questions then!” Sana whined. “We just talked about our lame feelings and stuff.”

“Yeah come on Yeri, it’ll be fun.” Suhyun debated.

“Fine, let’s do it. This is what i get for being the only sober one tonight.” Yeri grumbled. “I wish Y/N was here so I wouldn’t be stuck with all you drunkards.”

You blushed and smiled at the floor at her mention of your name. Part of you wanted to go out there and comfort her, but you were too far into this eavesdropping mission to drop it now.

“Well since you’re so thrilled, how about you go first Yerim?” Nayeon teased. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Yeri grumbled.

“BORING!” Chuu chanted, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Yeah Yeri, don’t be a stick in the mud.” Sana pleaded, tugging on her arm.

“Fine! Give me a stupid dare!” Yeri huffed, throwing her hands up in surrender.

Nayeon smirked evilly. “I dare you to go into the guest room and wake up Y/N with a kiss.”

Your heart stopped. You couldn’t see her, but you knew Yeri was frozen too.

“… are you serious?” she asked meekly. Nayeon must have nodded, because everyone else erupted into applause.

“This is your chance to finally make a move on them!” Suhyun said, encouragingly patting her on the back.

“While they’re asleep? Guys that’s creepy.” Yeri replied nervously.

“Oh come on Yeri, just a little peck on the lips!” Nayeon compromised. “You’ve had a crush on them for MONTHS now. We all know they like you back. Someone has to get the ball rolling.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Yeri liked you? And the girls knew you liked her back? Perhaps they were smarter than you thought.

There was a moment of silence before Yeri slapped her hands on her thighs. “Alright,” she said, “I’ll do it.”

You sprinted back to the guest room with the lightest footsteps you could possibly manage, doing a swift tiptoe run as sound of the girls cheering drowned out behind you. You quickly darted back under the covers and resumed your sleeping position.

You got comfortable just as Yeri clicked open the bedroom door, peering in to see if you were still asleep. You heard her footsteps padding closer to you, until the mattress next to you sunk down a bit.

“Y/N?” she asked quietly, “Are you awake?”

You gave no response.

“Alright, well, here goes…” she sighed, grabbing your shoulders lightly. Once you felt her weight pressing down on you to lean in and kiss you, you sprung up and met her halfway, clamping a hand behind her neck to deepen the kiss.

She pulled back in shock. “Y/N? You’re awake?” she questioned.

You clicked on the bedside lamp so you could see each other. “I like you too Yeri.”

It suddenly clicked in her head that you must have heard her conversation with the girls. She open-mouth laughed at you, feigning disbelief.

“You’re such a little eavesdropper!” she scolded, poking at your sides playfully.

“Shut up and kiss me again.” you demanded, pulling her back down.

Her hips shifted to straddle you as your lips met once again, slowly and softly at first but getting rougher and deeper by the second. Her tongue hesitantly entered your mouth as if asking for permission. You hooked your own tongue right under it, granting her that permission. Now more confident in your intimacy, she began rolling her hips over your core. You matched her rhythm and pushed your hips up for more friction.

She was wearing a thin cotton nightgown, so thin that you could see her hardened nipples pressing against the fabric. You brought a hand up her thigh and trailed your way up to her chest hesitantly.

“You can touch me, Y/N.” she reassured, grabbing your hand and placing it over her breast.

You cupped it and rolled her nipple between your fingers, making her moan at the sensation.

“Do you want them in your mouth?” she asked suddenly.

Your eyes widened. “Well yes, but you don’t have to-“

She cut you off by whipping the nightgown off and over her head, tossing it to the side quickly. Now just clad in a simple pair of white cotton panties, she moved further up your body until her chest was hovering over your face.

It was hard to think logically when the hottest girl you knew was practically naked on top of you, positioning her plump breast towards your lips. You lost all reserve, and took her nipple in your mouth to begin sucking on it.

“Fuck, Y/N…” she groaned, eyelids fluttering shut. Her hips began rutting against your abdomen, obviously trying to get off.

You could feel your own arousal leaking through your pants, but your main focus was pleasuring Yeri. You lifted your hand up to grope the breast you weren’t currently suckling on, flicking the nipple lightly.

“Y/N, please…” she begged, “I need more.”

You released her nipple from your lips, making a “pop” sound. You looked up at her with bright eyes. “Can I taste you then?”

She nodded, and in an instant, you sprung up and pinned her to the mattress underneath you. Now on top, you began trailing kisses down her abdomen until you reached her panties. You tugged them down with your teeth, then dove straight for her clit with a flat tongue. She cried out as soon as the contact was made.

You were interrupted by the sudden opening of the bedroom door.

“Hey are you guys alright in here? I heard screaming and, OH MY GOD!” Nayeon screeched, slapping her hands over her eyes.

“Nayeon!” you both yelled out, scrambling to cover Yeri’s naked body.

“Nope, it’s my fault!” the older girl sighed, turning around. “I should’ve knocked. Continue.”

She shut the door behind you and sprinted down the hall. “Guys! Guys! Y/N was totally just giving Yeri head! Our plan worked!” you heard her chant, causing all the girls to cheer.

Yeri slapped a palm to her forehead. “Why do we have to have such stupid friends?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna have to thank them one day.” you chuckled, taking her hand. “But since we were interrupted anyway, I think we should go on a few dates before this goes any further. Not that I didn’t love all of it, trust me, I did.”

She giggled, rubbing her thumb along the back of your hand. “I agree. I really loved it too, but I didn’t want this to just be a hookup. I really like you.”

You nodded understandingly. “Great, that’s settled. Now let’s go face our nosy, idiot friends.”

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