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capslocked · 2 months

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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

2K notes · View notes

sumirhatos · 2 months

Text

Exposed addictions

Red Velvet - Irene x Male reader

7.6k words

TW: foot fetish, feet worshiping, squirting, fingering, facial, slight humiliation.

This is chapter 1.

Chapter 2. With Joy you can find here https://www.tumblr.com/sumirhatos/743226946594504704/photoshoot

It was a simple "Idol Room" filming day as always, or at least you thought so until you finished the day.

"Good job everyone; I'll see you all next time", you said to the whole filming team and to the Red Velvet girls.

Everyone started to gather their belongings and equipment, and the Red Velvet girls were leaving. But not her.

"PD-nim, can you give me a minute in my dressing room? I need to have a word with you", Joohyun said, looking at you with a cold face. Then she turned around and left for her dressing room.

"Sure, I'll be there in a minute", you answered, finishing the discussion with one of the filming crew members.

"Joohyun, may I come in?", you asked, knocking on the door and pressing the handle.

"Yes", she replied with the cold voice that she's famous for.

You enter the room and see her sitting on a couch, dangling her heels, presumably waiting for you. She still has that judging but cute face, or more like a concerned-uncomfortable face; that's how you would describe it.

"Joohyun, you did a great job today; it was a pleasure to work with you as always," you said with a respectful smile.

"Actually, I don't know if I can say likewise, to be honest. I'm not sure if you know, but I've noticed some weird tendencies today", she stopped for a second and then continued.

"Your crew was taking so many close-up shots of our asses, thighs, and boobs today when me and the girls were trying really hard to do those Pilates poses. I don't know about you, but it made me really uncomfortable", she added.

You were speechless... You are exposed. This never happened; nobody gave a shit how or what you and your crew filmed; the only thing that mattered was their whole image and screen time. You tried your best to break the silence with something, but it didn't matter.

"Umm, I'll talk to the crew", you replied to her, a noticeable nervousness replacing your smile. "I'm pretty sure it's just some misunderstanding."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no», she interrupts you mid-phrase, "talk to the crew? Misunderstanding?", "Are you shitting me?" she exclaims.

"This is YOUR crew, and YOU are the director", she continues, raising her voice even more.

" YOU are to blame here; either you don't have any fucking authority over your own people, so they do whatever they want, or you are just a sick fucking pervert who films the idols and their body parts for perverted use, both of which are fucking disgusting and pathetic."

You have nothing to say in your defense here because you know that you are guilty. She is correct. You are a pervert and a disgusting human...

"I can get you fucking fired for shit like this and make sure to end your fucking career; I can make your little life miserable," she said aggressively.

Realization hits you like a fucking train; you can lose everything. Everything you have worked for for years will vanish like thin air.

Panic starts to get all over you. "Please, P-please, J-Joohyun, I'll do anything in the world, I-I'll give you all my money", you started to stutter, "Please, Joohyun, what do you want me to do? I can have a word with other producers to-"

"Silence!", she interrupts you; she's definitely angry.

"On your knees!", ordered Joohyun. "And don't you fucking dare to speak until I allow you to", she added.

You obey her order, kneel on your knees in front of her, and go silent.

"Such a pathetic loser. How dare you talk to me like that? I hate it when people get too comfortable with me; who said you can use my name?" she said.

"M-my apologies, Miss Bae-", a very hard slap on your left cheek interrupts you. "Ah, what the fuck?", you exclaimed. There comes another slap on the same left cheek, but no words leave your mouth this time.

You have never seen her like that, even when she was off stage or filming for TV shows. What is this? Is this the real Bae Joohyun? Was all of the bully Irene's rumor true? Is she really rude in person? And that cute, loving mother image is just an act to get more fans? She was scary.

"Who allowed you to talk? Was I not clear enough?", she asks with an evil grin. "Be quiet, and I might not slap you again, but if you fail to obey, I will throw you out and report to the police that you tried to rape me. Have I made myself clear this time?", devil smiles at you from above.

You don't say a word; your response is just a nod. You learned the lesson and are ready to comply.

"Good", she smiles. "So, where were we? Oh right! You said you were going to do anything in the world to save your ass, right? I was thinking about a personal toy-dog for my own use. Sounds interesting, right?", she giggles, that evil woman...

You nod again.

"Awesome, first of all, let's see how well you can follow your owner's commands, dog", she says with a smirk on her face. "Get on all four", she adds.

You obey by getting on both your palms and knees, like an obedient dog...

"Bring me my bag; it's on the table there", she says, pointing at the table near the mirror.

You crawl to the other side of the room, get that expensive Miu Miu bag in your teeth, and crawl back to the couch.

"Wow, very good. Plus points for the effort", she says, appreciating your actions and opening her bag, starting to look for something inside.

"Oh, here it is", she says, getting some bottle out of her bag and throwing it to you. "There, I think you know what this is for. It was an exhausting day today, and I feel stiff", she says, smiling with that evil smirk again.

Confused, you start reading into what kind of bottle she threw at you. Soft moisturizer, foot cream, wait what? Foot cream??? You are shocked and stunned at the same time by the task you were assigned. A few minutes ago, she scolded you and threatened to ruin your life, but now she wants you to apply foot cream to her feet? What the fuck is wrong with her?

Still shocked by her command and trying to realize it, you began to sweat profusely. It takes you a minute to get out of the stupor she's gotten you into.

Joohyun noticed that you were surprised by her order and thrown off by her command, so she took initiative into her own hands. To shake you up, she took her left shoe off her foot and brought the shoe an inch to your face.

"Sniff it, dog, ha-ha", an evil laugh escapes her pretty puffed lips.

Little does she know that you're going to enjoy this. So, without hesitation, you put the shoe in your face and took a whiff without her noticing that you were actually enjoying it and prolonging this.

You don't get a chance to distinguish much of the scent; it's just a smell of new fabric, sweat, and some sweet smell.

"Very good, take another sniff, deeper this time, like a good boy you are", she playfully smirks with excitement on her face. I bet she enjoys the show.

Following the order, you take a deeper sniff this time. The combination of scents that pierce your nose gives you enjoyment: the smell of shoe fabric, a sweet rose scent, supposedly from her shower gel or something, and a little bit of the scent of her sweat, indicating that she was wearing these shoes for a while today.

You just realized that you are smelling the shoes of one of the prettiest and most desired idols out there. This is unreal. Your dick is ready to rip your pants apart already...

You give it another big whiff, and it completely brings you back into reality. Yeah, it's not a dream.

"That's enough", she commands you, taking her shoe from you and removing another one from her right foot, placing her heels near the couch. Even though she's ordering you around right now, it's an absolute heaven to have the feet of the goddess presented to you on a golden plate.

She's wiggling her toes in front of your face with that dark polish on her nails, sort of saying "get to work", but you wait for her to allow you to proceed because you don't want to get punched or slapped again, even though you don't mind if it's Bae Joohyun slapping you.

"What are you waiting for, dog? For an invitation? Your master needs a good fucking massage", she says. "Get to work, now!", she exclaims with a slightly higher pitch. Is she losing patience?

Not wanting to keep her waiting, you open a bottle of foot cream and are about to pour some of it out, but she immediately stops you.

"Nah nah nah, doggie, you know that before applying cream, the skin should be cleaned?", she says, smiling at you with that freaking devilish smile that makes your cock twitch in your pants. "Oh no, I don't have any wet wipes left. What do we do? I think we will need you to improvise", she teases you, almost bursting into an evil laugh.

Not only did Bae Joohyun let you sniff her shoes, but now she wants you to clean her petite feet with your mouth? Is it really a punishment?

Wasting no time, you put the bottle of cream aside and got to the main course. You gently take her right foot by the ankle and bring it to your face. Even though Joohyun ordered this, she reflectively tried to jerk her foot away from you, but you pulled it a little bit harder and placed her sole on your mouth with her toes right on your nostrils.

Joohyun had been surprised by your assertiveness; you could see that in her eyes, but she lets it slide.

Her saying nothing is the green light for you, Starting with the kisses on her arch under the ball of her foot, a few kisses on the right and a few kisses on the left side of the foot, at the same time you give her toes huge sniffs, taking in the scent that you could remember from the shoes. Again, rose scent, her body odor, sweat, but right from the source, a slight shoe fabric smell — such a sweet mix. Simultaneously, you massaged the bottom of her sole, right above the heel. This moment will be imprinted in your memory forever.

"Mmmm, yeah, that's nice; yeah, right there, that's the sore spot", she says. "But I think I said cleaning, not kissing", she says, staring at you with that cute face of hers.

"You asked for it, Miss Joohyun", you think to yourself as you insert her toes into your mouth. Once again, she's absolutely shocked and tries to get her foot away from you, but yet again, your grasp is stronger than hers, and you keep her feet in place.

Concentrating on licking, sucking, and slurping on her delicious toes, you tried to gather as much flavor as possible, moving your tongue over her toenails and between the toes. The taste of her toes drives you crazy; you have to be blind to not notice the bulge underneath your pants, but you don't care about it. It's Joohyun's fault you are that horny.

After bathing her toes for a few more seconds, you take them out of your mouth and begin to lick the ball of the foot, going down to the sole, arch, swinging your tongue left and right to not miss any spots.

"Ugh, ah! It tickles!", she says, not stopping your worshiping.

Getting down to the heel of the foot, you give it a few licks on the left and right sides, and then you give a lick to the whole sole from bottom to top, finishing the act with a kiss to her cute little toes.

"Good job, my dog, that was actually interesting and amusing to watch; you've done much better than I expected, maybe too well", she says with a smile on her gorgeous face.

"I think she's satisfied with my work", you think to yourself. "Is she not angry anymore?"

"Well, Mr. foot fetishist, I think we both know this is merely a punishment for you", she smiles and taps you on your chest with her foot.

"I think we need to do something about it, don't you think?", she asks with that evil smirk again...

"What's on her mind this time?", you think to yourself, but you nod in agreement.

"Undress, pervert", she smiles and wiggles her toes in anticipation.

Surprised by her order, you hesitate for a few seconds but obey. There goes your hoodie, your jeans, your socks, and your t-shirt; the only piece of clothing that can't hide your massive bulge is your boxers. She checks you out and nods in approval.

"Oh no!", she giggles. "What's that?", she asks, pointing with her foot to a wet spot on your underwear.

"Take it off; I want to see my pet fully", she commands. But you don't want to do that. "I said, take, it, off", she says in a little bit higher pitch and continues, "Right, fucking now. Or do you want me to call the police and report you to them?"

Fuck... You have no choice... There goes nothing; you yanked the underwear aside, trying to cover yourself...

All of a sudden, she snaps a few photos of you, laughing at you.

"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!?", you ask angrily, trying to cover your face and your erect dick.

"Oh yeah, this will do; I bet she's going to like it", she says, completely ignoring your question. "And, send", the "click" sound comes out of her phone, and a laugh of evil Joohyun escapes her mouth.

You are getting even more angry at her. "What the hell? Who the fuck are you sending those to?!"

"Your girlfriend, or should I say ex-girlfriend?", she says, laughing at you.

"YOU SENT IT TO WHO AGAIN?", you raise your voice. "Are you fucking crazy? Who do you think you are?", you ask her.

" No, who the fuck do you think YOU are, to raise your voice at me?", she replies. "You are a fucking nobody, just a small director of a filming crew for a big ass entertainment company; you have no authority or power; nobody knows you; you are a fucking noname", she says with a huge smile and pride in her voice.

Even though you think she's evil and has no right to abuse you here, you know that she is correct. You are a nobody; you have no power. She, on the other hand, does have the power, and she's loved by the media, so nobody will believe you that you've been bullied or offended by her... There is no way you can win this...

"You are evil", you say...

"Yeah, I know that", she says with a calm voice. We are done here."

She puts her shoes on, gathers her things, and walks to the door.

"Don't be sad about your girlfriend's dog; you have a master now; wait for my call", she says with a smile on her face and leaves the room...

"How did she even know my girlfriend's phone number? Did she plan all of this shit?", you ask an empty room, but obviously there is no answer.

"This fucking bitch", you say, punching the desk with all your anger.

You put on the clothes that Joohyun made you take off and leave the room. The filming set was empty.

"I guess everyone left. Well, at least there was nobody to witness your defeat", you think to yourself.

You check your watch, and it's 11:38 p.m.

You go to the elevator, downstairs into the hall, through the security gates, and leave the building.

You catch the taxi and go home. By the time of your arrival, you have played all of the scenarios in your head about how to explain to your girlfriend what the fuck she just received on her phone.

You arrive at your apartment building in 15 minutes, then go to the 11th floor, fishing for the keys while on the elevator. All of your good memories with your girlfriend are flashing before your eyes; those good times are gone...

You get into your apartment, expecting the worst scenario to play out.

"Hey honey, you are late today. How was work?", she asks you with a smile on her face.

"H-hi", you reply, confused. Why is she not mad at me? "If I were her, I'd have scolded myself or killed myself."

"Fortunately, Miss Bae messaged me that you were going to be late, so I prepared a late dinner for you; she's so nice! I'm so glad that the rumors on the internet that she's a bad person are all false!", she exclaims happily. "Food is on the table; I'm going to bed", she continues, yawning at you.

"O-okay, thank you. G-good night.", you reply to her, seeing her off to the bedroom.

"What the actual fuck is going on?", you ask yourself in bewilderment. "Did Bae Joohyun trick you? What a fucking psycho!"

In the blink of an eye, you munch on all of the food your girlfriend prepared for you and go to the bathroom to take a cold shower and clear your mind.

"What a tricky little bitch this woman is..." Bae Joohyun, the woman who makes you angry and horny at the same time Thoughts about her made you rewind all of the things that happened this evening: her scent, the taste of her feet, her hot, evil face... In a second, you find yourself rocking hard again... Thinking about her, you furiously jerk off, moaning her name a few times.

Getting down from your orgasm, you wash yourself and get out of the shower.

After wiping yourself with a towel, you dress in your pajamas, go to the bedroom, and lay down next to your girlfriend. That night you didn't get much sleep, thinking about Bae Joohyun, thinking about what happened and what you had done... "I'm a cheater", you think to yourself...

For two days straight, you were not able to get her out of your mind for a second — her smell, her voice, the look on her face when you were worshiping her feet...

Another two work days fly by with boring shootings with some boring idols. All your thoughts are about that day; this was the most memorable thing that ever happened to you, even though your career and your relationships were at stake.

"Shit, I think she really could've reported me to the police, and I might've ended up in jail or something", you exclaim.

Even in bed with your girlfriend, you have imagined Joohyun. "Am I obsessed with the person that actually almost ruined my life? Why is this happening? I need to visit a psychologist", you think to yourself. "I might be crazy..."

It is 10:30 p.m., and you are back home from work having a meal with your girlfriend.

**BZZ BZZ**, your phone buzzing all of a sudden. A message notification from some unknown number appears on your screen. Without stopping to munch on your meal, you open the message.

"Missed me, doggie? ;)", the message said. Surprised by this message, you goggle your eyes so much that they almost pop out.

"Missed you? Of course I fucking did, you've been on my mind for almost a week, and I can't stop fucking thinking about you, your scent, your smile, how you talked to me, your teasing-", you stopped typing your response and erased your message.

"No, if I send her something like this, it will only mean that she won and that she really got to you..."

**BZZ BZZ**, another notification: "Hotel apartments in 30 minutes", the message says.

"What am I supposed to tell my girlfriend? It's almost 11:00 p.m.!

**BZZ BZZ**, and another notification; it's a video this time.

The message contains the video; you open it up and... You almost choked on your food and started to cough.

It's you, worshiping her foot... Sniffing her toes, sucking on them, and licking every part of her sole.

You rewinded everything that happened that day in details, and you immediately have a boner because of it, "How the hell did she even film this, that sneaky bitch..."

**BZZ BZZ** "I'm pretty sure you don't want to know what is going to happen if you don't show up, right? (^_^)", another message says.

"Yes...", you send your reply to her.

"Good, Four Seasons Hotel, room 317, and don't be late :)"

**Sigh** You put down your phone and go get into your clothes, you get the keys and put on your shoes.

"Hey, are you going somewhere?", your girlfriend asks you with a sleepy voice as she gets out of your bedroom.

"Y-yeah our editing crew hasn't completed the episode of a show we are supposed to air tomorrow, so they need all the extra hands we can get", you lie to her. "I'm not sure if we're going to complete this fast or not, so don't wait for me; go back to sleep, honey."

"Oaaaah-kay", she says, yawning. "Don't overwork yourself, please", she says, reaching for your face for a kiss. You give her a fast peck on the cheek.

"I'll try not to", you reply to her with a smile, and then leave.

"What the fuck am I doing with my life?", is the only thought that crosses your mind.

The time is 11:04 in the Four Seasons Hotel hall at the reception desk.

"Hello, sir, how may I help you?", a cute receptionist girl asks you.

"Umm... Room 317, please", you say nervously.

"Here is your key, please", she says, handing you the keys. "Please have a wonderful night, sir", she continues, giving you a bright smile.

"Yeah, if only that was possible", you mumbled under your nose.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't catch that", she says, confused.

"N-nothing, what floor was it again?", you reply to her.

"Top floor, sir", she said with a smile again.

Then you head to the elevators; getting to the 29th floor was quite easy, and then you go to the doors of room 317.

You get the keys out of your pocket and are about to open the door. "What the fuck am I doing with my life?!?! It's not too late to go to my girlfriend, tell her everything, and beg for her forgiveness; maybe it's still possible to salvage our relationship?", you say.

"I should leave...", you continued, "It is absolutely wrong!", you turn around and are ready to leave when the door opens and you see her...

"Mmm, my servant has arrived", she says with a seductive voice and a smile on her gorgeous face. "Well, come in then", she says, turning around and getting back inside. Your mind goes blank on the spot, and you just obey...

She's wearing a tight black dress with an open back; it also barely covers her thighs. On her feet, she has some black shoes with a strap going over the top of her feet.

"Wine?", she asks, pointing at the half-empty bottle resting on the expensive table near the massive couch.

You reply with a nod, sitting down. She picks up the bottle and pours the dark red liquid into two glasses, putting one on one side of the table for you and taking one for herself.

She then sits on the left side of you, defiantly putting both of her feastworthy legs on the couch.

You try to distract yourself by looking around and checking out the whole apartment. "This must be a fortune to get this room at least for one night", you say.

"Yeah, that's one of the perks of being a top idol at our agency; I can stay here whenever I want thanks to the connections our top managers have", she comments, sipping some wine, and then continues.

"So, how are things with your girlfriend? Was she mad at you when she saw the pictures of you licking my foot?", she asks with a devilish smile, the same smile that got you going a few days before.

"You tricked me; you haven't sent her anything; you just wanted to torture me; you wanted me to feel terrible, to feel like a cheater and a total dick!", you exclaim, taking a big sip of wine from your glass.

"Ironic, but you are dick", she says with an indifferent voice. "If you were not a cheater, then you would not have come here", she continues, taking another sip of wine.

She is correct, though... Why DID you come here? If you were not a cheater, you would have been at home with your girlfriend... Fuck... Idiot...

Getting mad at yourself, you downed a whole glass of wine...

"Wow... That's not how you drink expensive wine, you peasant", she says with a disappointed face.

Weird silence comes to the room; only the sound of the air conditioner can be heard. Joohyun is drinking wine, and you are just staring at her like an idiot.

She puts her glass down on the table, stretches her arms and legs, then gets comfortable resting her elbows on the back of the couch.

"Why am I here, Miss Bae?", you spill the obnoxious question.

"Give it a guess", she replies with a cute smile.

"I don't know? Torture me again? Make me do things that will ruin my life?", you ask her with some anger and impatience in your voice.

"You know exactly why you are here, you want to continue what we started last time", she said.

"N-no, I'm here to save my life and career; in order to do that, I have to comply and do whatever your fucked-up mind comes up with", you answer her, thinking how annoying she is.

"Is that so?", she asks, pouting, putting her legs on your thighs. Her feet are very close to your dick.

This gets you off guard. Just her legs in your crotch start to give you an erection.

"Y-you blackmailed me, so did I even have a choice?", you ask her nervously.

"I think you already know the answer", she replies, reaching for her shoes and slipping them off, revealing her cute little feet to you once again and wiggling her toes.

She has bright pink polish on this time, and you notice that her feet are quite veiny, not too veiny though, a slight indication of her feet bones adding some texture to it, just perfect.

When she lifts her feet on her heels, her tendons become more prominent, which looks even sexier.

Worried that she might notice your forming boner, you started to sweat a little trying to shift on the couch, and kind of spaced out.

She shoves her foot right into your face, slightly kicking your cheek with her toes and ball of the foot.

"Hello, anybody home?", she says, still kicking you with her little foot.

Immediately, you regain your strength and gently grab her cute little feet. You massage her soles, between her toes, heels, and balls of the feet.

"Ooooh yeah, just like that, oh yeah, it feels so good; how are you so good at this?", she asks, appreciating your skills.

"I've taken masseur courses and had—", she didn't let you finish your sentence.

She puts her toes on your lips, "No talking, Mr.", she says with a smile.

You got the hint by enveloping those toes in your mouth, sucking on them one by one, licking between them, and sucking again.

"Oooh, Mmmm", she gasps. "Yes, yes, my sweet boy, worship my feet; do you love them that much?", she asks you with a sweet yet seductive voice of hers.

You don't say anything, switching to another foot performing the same act with her toes licking and sucking it.

She starts to moan a little, so you switch to her smooth soles.

First, you put both of them on your face, embracing their softness and elegance.

Her feet have the same rose scent as the last time, but it is much more distinctive this time, with almost no sweat scent, as if she just took a shower before your arrival.

Then, after sniffing her soles for a minute or so, you start to swing your tongue left and right, up and down, licking every spot.

But why does it feel different? There is something wrong with her behavior. She is not trying to take her feet away from you; she lets you worship them as much as you want.

Sweet moans distracted you and made you look at what she was doing. While you were concentrated on sucking on one of her toes, Joohyun slipped her fingers in her underwear and started to play with her pussy, stimulating her clitoris, which was already wet because of you. The view of Joohyun masturbating in front of you made you stop completely.

"Uhh... Fuck", she whines, "wh-why did you stop?", without stopping the motion with her **burried** hand, she moans.

With the grace of a cheetah, you shifted your position to face her, gently grabbed both of her butt cheeks, and dragged her ass closer towards you, slipping off her underwear. All of this happened so fast, leaving her no window to react to it.

"W-what are you doing?!", she exclaims, trying to hide her dripping wet pussy crossing her legs, but you don't let her do that, grabbing them and putting them both on your shoulders. You take both of her petite hands off her entrance; she does not really put up any fight, letting you look at her lower bottom in all its glory.

Pinkish-red color of her lips, clean shaven or even lasered, slim, and dripping with woman juices.

Her face has changed in anticipation of your next move. And who are you to make your queen wait?

You start off by just rubbing her pussy with the palm of your hand up and down, but it was enough for her to produce a sweet moan. Then you do a circling motion on her clitoris with your fingers, forcing her to squeal a little.

"N-no p-please I'm too sensitive,", escapes her mouth. She does not resist though; it's a sign that you shall proceed. You insert your middle and ring fingers into her, making her moan loudly. You start the in and out motion, which makes her moan even louder with each motion, the best music to your ears.

It has been nearly half a minute, but she's already dripping profusely all over your hand. "What a dirty slut", you think to yourself.

With your free hand, you did something she would never expect you to do: you rubbed it on her rear entrance, teasing the areola with your middle finger, and then you inserted it inside, which almost made her scream.

"W-What the f-fuuuuhhhhck", she couldn't contain herself. "Aaah f-fuck, not my butt, i-it's not right", she can't stop moaning and screaming; attempts to muffle her own screams and moans with her hands are unsuccessful.

This doesn't last long, though, and you completely stopped the motion by withdrawing your fingers from her.

"Hey! I was almost done!", she exclaims with a lewd pout on her sweaty but gorgeous face.

"I know", you replied with a grin, leaning forward. Diving in between her milky thighs, you start to lick her pussy while inserting your middle finger inside of her asshole once again.

"FUCK! OH MY GOD!", she screams in protest, but you already know she enjoys it.

You nimble her clitoris with your tongue, making circle movements around it with each motion. With each motion, you anticipate what is about to come. A little bit more stimulation was more than enough.

"Oh my god, I'm going to... fuuuuuck", she groans and squeals. You speed up your pace, licking and sucking her whole entrance while fingering her butthole. "I'M CUMMING!", she screams, crossing the line of no return.

A gush of excitement escapes her core, and she clasps her thighs tightly on your head, almost crushing it. You don't waste any time embracing all that she has to offer; those female secretions are going all over your face, in your mouth, and under her, staining the couch.

After what felt like eternity, she eases her thigh grip on your skull, coming down from her high.

Wow, that was unexpected; I didn't know you would be such a squirter, Miss Bae", you say, getting up.

"I-I didn't expect it to be so good either", she replies to you with an exhausted, stuttering voice. "I think I've never had an orgasm like that".

She picks up her phone from the table, browses through it for a second, and shows you the screen. "Your due is paid. Look, I've deleted all of the videos and pictures I took of you that day..."

"I don't know if I should believe you; you tricked me the last time", you answer to her.

"That is why I will let you have some pictures of me instead, to prove to you that I'm not mad at you anymore", she says, giving you the phone. "Go ahead, make some shots".

You take the phone and start to snap pictures of her naked pussy that you just feasted on, some shots of her feet that you just worshiped, and some of her ass that you just fingered.

When you are finished, you hand the phone back to her, and she sends all of the photos that you just took.

"No way, is she for real right now?", you think to yourself. "She actually sent me those pictures.

"Are you going to blackmail me or report me to the police for the possession of these photos?", you ask her.

"No? Why would I do that? It doesn't really make sense to me to report you now and lose the best worshiper I ever had?", she says with a huge smile on her face.

"I guess?", you give her a cold response, "Now that I've **repaid** you, I should go home".

"No, we are not finished", she says, getting up, grabbing you by the arm, and throwing you back on the couch. She's fully recovered.

She's getting on top of you, grinding her wet pussy on your bulge.

Staring right into your eyes, she is everything right now, the most beautiful woman in the world and she is yours now.

After a few more seconds, she dismounts. You let her lead, waiting for her next move. She gets on her knees, positioning herself between your legs.

She drags her palm up and down on your bulge, feeling the rock-hard erection; this makes you shiver. She does not tease you for long, though; she unbuckles your belt and throws it away, unbuttons, and unzips your pants.

Grabbing both your pants and underwear, she yanks them past your knees, releasing your erection to the world.

"Wow", she says, admiring the length and hardiness of your shaft, "are you so hard just because of me? That's not good; how can I let you go home with a boner like this?", she continues, "I think we should do something about this", she smirks at you.

She grabs your cock with one hand and your balls with another. Starting slowly with moving her small, delicate hand up and down your shaft, in the meantime, massaging your balls pent up with a few days of unreleased semen.

"Do you like it?", she says with a smile. "I can be a very good girl, you know?", she smirks and speeds up the pace, making you throw your head back and enjoy what she's doing.

"Fuck, of course I do", you groan a little. "I wonder how you learned these techniques".

You're gonna like this then, she says, and she starts to lick your balls, adding another layer to the act. She jerks you off even faster with one hand, rubbing your head with another.

Louder groans escape your mouth, indicating that she's doing everything right.

Then comes a complete stop... "What- why-", you were about to start to protest missing the friction on your cock, that's when she replaces her hands with her mouth sealing her puffed lips around your head and almost with the same pace she starts to bob her head up and down your shaft.

Slurping your precum, she swirls her tongue all over your cock, giving you probably the best head of your life.

"FUCK, J-Joohyun, I'm gonna fucking cum if you don't slow down!", you exclaim, but you started to move on your own helping her with the pace she chose to blow you with, chasing the orgasm that you were looking for.

She slows down the motion, keeping only the head of your cock in her mouth for a few more seconds, swirling her tongue around the tip. Then she removes her mouth from your cock. "No, no, no, we can't let that happen right now", she says, gasping and almost running out of air.

She gets up and yanks your sweaty hoodie and shirt off you and then mounts you again, "I need your cock in me so bad!"

You grab her gently by her ass cheeks to help her aim, positioning your cock head on her front entrance. She couldn't wait much longer, so she took the initiative and sank on your rock-hard rod, making both parties produce groans caused by the friction.

"Holy fuck, you are so fucking tight!", you manage to say.

"Fuck, yes, you are so big in my pussy", she compliments you back.

Impatience-impatience, you do not let her decide what to do next, so you take the matter in your own hands, literally.

Grabbing her by the hips, you impale her on your dick with all your might, reaching the depths of her core.

"Fuck, so deep inside of me", she moans, picking up the pace. "Yes, fucking destroy my pussy, ravage me, big boy".

In the act of euphoria, her hands are wandering all over your chest and stomach, scratching you here and there and leaving marks.

"Fuck, Joohyun, your pussy is so fucking good, the tightest one I've had in my life!", you exclaim, grabbing her voluptuous thighs even stronger.

Both of hers and your moans and sounds of sex can probably be heard from miles away... But who the fuck cares? People should expect something like that to happen in hotels.

All of a sudden she kisses you, the first ever kiss between you two. Her tongue is getting into your mouth... You don't resist her at all; instead, you join her with your tongue, taking the ""fight"".

Seconds become hours; you don't want this to stop, ever... Grasping for some air, she's breaking the kiss.

"Fuck, I'm cuming again; this cock is too much for my little pussy, FUCK!" - she screams, releasing a small portion of her female juices: "Ah fuck, p-please slow down; you are gonna break me", she continues with another moan-squeal.

But you have other plans; you don't even think to slow down the motion; instead, you increase the pace, hugging her tighter and pistoning your dick in her with a high speed.

"F-f-f-fuuuuuck! Ah! Stop!", she gasps and cries out loud. "I'm cumming", she moans.

Yes, Joohyun, cum for me, cum on this cock", you demand, squeezing her.

Right that instant, she surrenders to the pleasure. For the second time of the night, she's releasing her woman fluids. Her liquids are gushing on your cock, adding more lubrication, and her pussy contracts, squeezing your dick much harder, bringing even more resistance to the motion.

"Fuck, Joohyun, you are too tight on my dick; I'm not gonna last long", you say to her, getting ready to deposit your cum into her womb.

"N-no", she gasps, trying to catch some air. "D-don't you fucking dare", she tries to make a mad face, still high from her own orgasm.

"B-but-" - you were about to start to protest.

That's the moment when you hear the suite bedroom door opening, taking you by surprise. You stop completely.

An extremely gorgeous girl gets out of the room and heads towards you.

"S-Sooyoung? What the fuck are you doing here?", you ask her, pulling out of Joohyun and sitting down and covering yourself with one of the pillows.

"Hello oppa", she replies with a big yawn, sitting down on the couch next to you two as if nothing is happening.

"Jesus, Did you hear everything happening in here?", you asked her.

"Well, not everything; I was asleep until unnie started to scream", she said, smirking at Joohyun.

"And yeah, nobody is allowed to cum inside her, not even a cutie like you; she hates it", Sooyoung decrees. Me, on the other hand, I let my man blast my pussy with all they got", she adds, lifting her lingerie and trailing her panties with a few fingers, giving you a lustful wink.

Then she gets up and comes closer to you, running her hand on your arm, going to your chest, your abs, and then trailing down to your dick that was inside Joohyun just a few moments ago. Joohyun has been silent for now, still panting from the orgasm she just had.

"Here, let me help you", she says, giving you a kiss on your chest and starting to pump your cock.

Her hand is so soft, but her grip is very firm. She starts her handjob slowly, but in a few seconds she goes full throttle, bringing you close to the edge.

"F-fuck, so good. I won't last long, Sooyoung...", you moan.

"It's okay, where do you want to finish?", she asks with a huge smile on her face.

So many options: feet, tits, abs, thighs, face... "Face, y-yes I want on your face", you produce half a moan, almost going beyound the edge.

She gets beside Joohyun on the couch, bringing her left cheek to Joohyun's right cheek. Joohyun still remains silent.

You take your dick in your hand, furiously jerking to the sight of two women laying down on the couch in front of you.

"Give it to us, cum sweet boy; blow that fucking load on our gorgeous faces", she says, looking right into your eyes.

"Fuck, Sooyoung! Joohyun!", you scream their names...

The first streak of white goo lands on the bridge of Sooyoung's nose, and with a few splashes on her left eye, she shuts her eyes. The next one you aim at Joohyun, trying to mirror the same thing that you did to her friend, but on the right side of the face. The third streak lands on Sooyoung again, this time a little bit higher on her forehead and with a few drops on her bangs. The fourth streak is less powerful than the other three, so you aim it at Joohyun's ripe lips.

Fifth and sixth are landing between Sooyoung's right cheek and Joohyun's left cheek, adding to the mess that you already made.

After finishing all of this, you were going to peck your dick on their lips, but Sooyoung is already on it, taking your cock in her hand and putting the head in her mouth, sucking out the remaining cum from your shaft. This brings pleasing shivers to your whole body. Feeling the lack of strength in your legs, you collapse on the couch beside Sooyoung.

Tired but satisfied, you look at two gorgeous women covered in your cum.

Sooyoung scoops your load from her own face, immediately putting all of it in her mouth.

"Mmm, you are tasty, oppa", she says, licking her lips and giving you a cute, sexy wink.

After that, she does not waste time; she pounces at her unnie and starts to gather your cum from her face, licking her cheeks, lips, and nose bridge.

Eww, Sooyoung...", Joohyun finally says after being quiet for a while. "What the fuck? Stop that", she adds with a note of disgust in her voice.

Sooyoung ignores her unnie, finishing everything in a few seconds, and when she's done, she engages with Joohyun in a hot, passionate kiss, swapping all of the gathered cum into Joohyun's mouth.

To your surprise, she did not spit it out immediately; instead, she gulped it down, giving you a cute smile. "Fuck, that's hot", thought crosses your mind.

"Well, that was nice, oppa, but you better invite me to the party in the future", she said with a cute pout. "Next time, you better put that load inside of me", she adds once again, trailing her pussycat with her hand.

All of a sudden, the other girl jumps up from the couch. "you should leave", she says, catching you off guard.

Joohyun, but-", you were about to complain to her that it's late and that you are tired.

"NOW!" She interrupts you, raising her voice. She gathers your clothes from the floor and throws them at you, leading you to the door.

"I'll call you when I need you", she says, kicking you out of the room and slamming the door behind your back.

...

"What the fuck was that?", you say out loud. "Well, that was weird..."

You put your shirt and hoodie on and, with a sigh, head to the elevator...

**BZZ BZZ** new message notification on your phone. It's from Joohyun.

The message contained just a simple "thank you" and a cute picture of her and Sooyoung.

You smile, feeling relieved that she's not mad at you or something, and head home.

#bae joohyun #red velvet #red velvet irene #irene smut #red velvet smut #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #Irene

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theesasssyunicorn · 1 day

Text

BARCELONA FEMENI SQUAD

Please do not repost w/o my permission

Wallpaper version is also available just send me a DM ❤️

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imbored1201 · 3 months

Note

Can I request a teen barca reader high on meds or wisdom teeth being taken out ...she is being funny and chaos and causing trouble ??

I Want Ingrid

Barcelona Femeni x Teen Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

You whined as you rubbed your cheeks again. The pain in your gum was getting worse every day. You had complained to Alexia way too many times, as now you were sitting inside a dentist's office waiting to get your wisdom teeth out.

Alexia signed you in and filled out all your papers. You always refused to go anywhere on your own, and she still had to make your doctor appointments too.

Unfortunately for you, Patri and Mapi were coming too. Mapi was bored with Ingrid being gone, so she needed entertainment, and Patri just wanted to go to get videos of you embarrassing yourself.

————

You sat anxiously in the lobby, waiting for your name to be called. "You'll be fine; they're going to drug you up anyway; you'll be asleep." Patri tried comforting you.

"What if I die from blood loss?" Patri rolled her eyes. "Stop making more stuff up; you're scaring yourself."

"Y/N," you jumped hearing your name. You remained stuck in your seat, Alexia having to pull you up and guide you to the room. "You'll be okay," she tried comforting you as you sat down in the dental chair.

"I'm scared," you admitted. "You'll be okay; think of it like this. You get out of training for a week, and I'll even convince Jonatan to let you choose the drills; you can make Patri and Pina run extra." You smiled at that.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Carino; don’t bite the dentist,” she warned you. “I’ll try."

————

Patri and Mapi ran like little kids to see you when they were called to get you. "Hello, Amiga," your eyes lit up seeing Patri. You tried getting up to pull her into a hug but almost tripped.

“Por favor, mantente sentada,” the lady told you. You found her very attractive. "Yes, ma'am,” you immediately said. Mapi’s eyes widened. You didn’t even listen to Alexia, and for some reason you were listening to a random lady.

"Patri,” you ‘whispered’ when you were practically yelling. “Your yelling,” she pointed out. “The lady is attractive,” Mapi bursted out laughing quickly getting her phone out.

“Is she?” You nodded. “Miss lady,” you said to the woman who found this very intriguing. “Si?” “Eres muy bonita”

“That’s enough,” Alexia stepped in, gently grabbing your wrist to help you up. “You ruined my rizz,” you muttered. Alexia didn’t understand what you just said, but she just let it go.

————

As Alexia did the final forms, Patri took you and led you outside. You giggled as you tried getting out of her grip. "Away," you mumbled. Patri smirked and shook her head. "If I went away, Alexia would kill me."

You grumbled angrily when she held the back of your shirt to make sure you wouldn't run away while her and Mapi talked and waited for Alexia to come out.

"Stop," Mapi said sternly. You glared at her and smacked Patri's hand; she pulled it away, wincing in pain.

"Ay!" She yelled as you started running. Well, you tried to run, but she easily caught up to you and grabbed your shoulder. You tried bending over to flip her over your shoulder, but that just turned into you falling forward and taking her down with you.

You both fell down, with Patri landing right on your back and quickly rolling off to check on you.

"Y/N!" Alexia yelled, helping you up to make sure you didn't land on your face. "What the hell was that?" Patri mumbled as Mapi helped her up.

"Patri, you have to be careful; what if she landed on her face? She was going to have to go back in when she barely came out," Alexia scolded her.

Mapi held in her laugh. "This is the only reason I came," you looked at her confused, "Didn't you come because you miss Ingrid?" You asked innocently, not thinking those words would hurt the older woman. Mapi frowned and went silent at that. You frowned, noticing her demeanor change.

"I miss Ingrid too, Ingrid!" You yelled her name, acting like she would just magically appear. "We can call her later, Chica. Come on" Alexia put an arm around your waist and led you back to the car. She decided it would be better to put you in the front.

————

After having to fight you about putting on your seatbelt since you didn't want it, she was finally able to start the car.

Patri was texting everyone updates about you while Mapi was calling someone. "Hola amor!" She said joyfully when that person answered. You looked at her weirdly, ready to yell at her if she was calling someone else other than Ingrid Amor.

"Mapi, where's the baby?" You gasped upon hearing the voice. "Is that Ingrid?" You reached out for Mapi's phone, tearing up when she refused to give it to you. "I want Ingrid!" You started crying.

"Mapi, let me see her." "But-" "Mapi. We can talk later; let me see her before she throws a tantrum." Mapi sighed but handed you the phone. You snatched it away from her.

"Ingrid!" You yelled again. "Inside voices, Nina," Alexia said softly, smiling at how your eyes lit up seeing Ingrid.

You decided to take out your guazes that the lady had told you to keep inside your mouth. "No!” Alexia shouted, about to grab them, but quickly restrained herself, remembering they were bloody.

“Put them back in your mouth,” you pouted at her, then at Ingrid. “Listen to her,” Ingrid said strictly, so you listened.

"How are you feeling?" "My mouth hurts, and Alexia doesn't want to give me a milkshake." Ingrid shook her head with a laugh, making you tear up.

"Are you laughing at me?" You cried, everyone's eyes went wide, and Alexia quickly parked again and took the phone away from you. "Carino, she's not laughing at you," she said, trying to come up with something.

"I'm laughing because of a funny video of Mapi falling. Want to see it?" You quickly nodded, and Mapi scowled, knowing she was about to be teased by everyone in this car and everyone on the team later on since Patri was for sure going to tell everyone and somehow get that video.

"Okay, why don't you give the phone back to Mapi, and I'll send you the video, yeah?" You nodded. Alexia gave the phone back to Mapi and wiped your tears as you got your phone out and clumsily went to yours and Ingrid's contact.

————

You spent the next 10 minutes giggling over and over again at Mapi's fall video. Mapi was grumpy in the backseat; she even hung up on Ingrid.

"Amiga, send me the video, please." You nodded at Patri's words and did it. "I hate you," Mapi told Patri. "Ay, were teammates; we can't hate each other," Patri teased. "Plenty of teammates do," Mapi countered.

"Y/N! You sent it to the team group chat!" Mapi yelled as she got the notification of the video. You teared up at the fact that she yelled at you again. "Mapi, don't yell at her," Alexia scolded her.

"But-" "it's not her fault you decided to be clumsy and fall." Mapi scowled. You turned to her and laughed right in her face.

"Can we get milkshakes now?" You asked Alexia again, who sighed and shook her head. "No, now both of you stop talking or you're not getting milkshakes at all for the next week," you and Mapi quickly shut up. The only sound in the car now was Patri's laughter at the video and your guys phones going off with everyone reacting to it.

————

"Come on, Amiga," Patri huffed as she tried dragging you out of the car. You decided to curl up in a ball and kick at her every time she tried grabbing you, though. "Please," she tried again, grabbing you by your shoulders, making you kick her again.

She groaned when you got her right in the stomach and bent over. "She's your job," she told Mapi, walking inside. It was the only job Alexia had given them while she went to start the soup for you.

Mapi huffed and tried now, and you did the same thing you did to Patri, she sighed in relief when she saw Irene's car pull up.

"She's yours," she said, standing aside. She had never seen you misbehave around Irene, and she knew it would never happen because you were terrified of Irene.

"Come on, Bebe," Irene said gently. You quickly raised your arms to be picked up. She laughed, shaking her head before, lifting you up. You rested your head on her shoulder and let yourself be settled on the couch.

"I don't know why she's so bipolar." Mapi mumbled, "Mapi!" She heard you yell, and she found how you sounded funny considering your words were all mumbled.

"Yes, Pequena," she said, quickly making her way over to you. "Where's Ingrid?" You asked, "Norway with her family." "But I want her."

"Me too," Mapi simply said, ready to go outside to cry over Ingrid being gone. "I want her though, please, Mapi," you whined. "I can't do anything; I don't get why you're so obsessed with my girlfriend."

"She's tall, comfortable to lay on, smells good, and speaks like 3 languages, of course I'm obsessed with her," you said.

"Do you have a crush on Ingrid?" Mapi asked suspiciously, you gave her a look of disgust, then bursted into a fit of giggles.

"Who else is tall on the team?" You asked Patri, starting to think of everyone. "Salma, Irene, Caroline, and Fridolina," Patri listed out. Your eyes lit up at Fridolina's name.

Tall, speaks 3 languages, comfortable to lay on, and also smells good. "I want Fridolina," you whined to Alexia, who sighed and grabbed her phone.

————

Poor Fridolina didn't know what she got herself into. Right when she stepped in the door, you ran and jumped on her.

"Frido! I love you!" Alexia watched, amused, as Frido tried to put you down, but you held on to her tighter. "Bebe, sit down and leave the poor girl alone; the soup is ready, and you're allowed to eat now."

"Finally, they starved me, Frido," you whined to the tall girl. You were in some pain, but Alexia promised she would give you painkillers after you ate.

You finally let Frido set you down on the couch and pushed Patri away so Frido could take her spot. Patri huffed and moved to the other couch beside Mapi.

They all watched as you struggled to use your spoon properly. Patri and Mapi were trying to hold in their laughs, knowing if you saw them laughing at you, it would end in you crying and Alexia kicking them out.

"Carino, do you need me to feed you?" Irene asked, Patri snorted and quickly got up to use the bathroom when you looked at her.

"No, I'm not a baby," you whined when you spilled some of the soup on your shirt. "Dang it, this is Aitana's shirt," you mumbled.

Mapi sighed in frustration at your stubbornness and got up to snatch your plate away and feed you herself. "Want me to do the airplane?" She asked teasingly.

"If someone is going to feed me, it's not going to be you." "Fine, who do you want to feed you then?" You were lucky you were hurt, or else Mapi would have shoved the soup down your throat by now.

"Keira," you answered, "We are not calling anymore people for you." She looked to Alexia for support, but the midfielder was already on the phone with Keira, asking her to come over.

Mapi sighed; it was going to be a long week.

#woso x reader #woso #barcelona femeni #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen #mapi leon #alexia putellas #patri guijarro #irene paredes

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pitchsidestories · 1 month

Text

familia II Irene Paredes/Barça Femeni x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1991

a/n: based off this lovely request here. Thank you for sending us so many great requests !

You loved training camps with the FC Barcelona. They were always loads of fun. The players seemed happy and the weather was great. But this time, you were also painfully reminded how exhausting camp life could be. As the team doctor, you had to be there for their medical needs at all times and the past few days, the players had kept you quite busy. So busy, in fact, that you barely had time for your girlfriend.

In a quiet moment during your lunch break, your girlfriend snaked her arm around your waist and whispered into your ear: “Let’s do something tonight. Only us two.“

There was something impatient in her eyes as you turned towards her. You were glad to hear that she missed your alone-time as much as you did.

“Yes, that sounds great.“, you smiled.

The two of you did not even have the time for a quick kiss as another stumbled into the treatment room.

Patri stopped right in front of you and heaved an annoyed sigh: “Hey, Doc. We need an ice pack.“

“An ice pack? Patri, tell me quickly what happened.“, you urged her sternly.

As a response, the young midfielder rolled her eyes: “Claudias finger got trapped in the door. Nothing happened but she is pouting.“

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.“, you promised and took an ice pack out of the freezer.

“Thanks.“, Patri said while leading you and Irene to the injured player.

Claudia stood in front of the dressing room, holding her finger. Her brows were furrowed and for some reason, she reminded you of an oversized toddler.

“Claudia. I heard about the accident with your finger.“, you started and held out your hand so she would show you her finger.

While you examined her hand, she complained: “That was Patris fault.“

The older player took a deep breath in an attempt to protest but one look from Irene made her close her mouth immediately.

Her finger seemed fine but still, you could not stop yourself from hugging her: “Oh, Claudia. Do you need some ice?“

She nodded, her big blue eyes widened: “Yes.“

You handed her the ice pack: “You’re welcome.“

“I told you it wasn’t that bad.“, Patri scoffed, slightly annoyed.

“It’ll be alright.“, you promised them both before the two players disappeared into the dressing room.

Irene should have followed but instead her arms wrapped around your body once again. With a fond smile, she said: “Can’t wait for tonight.“

“Me neither.“, you replied happily but someone else quickly caught your attention.

Mapi was on the pitch and tried to do some tricks with the football. One of her knees was still in a brace after her meniscus injury.

Your heart sank for a moment, watching her rather reckless moves: “Mapi, be careful!“

“I’m fine.“, she answered nonchalantly, keeping her focus on the ball.

“Think of your knee, Maria!“, you yelled back at her.

As you had suspected, this got her attention. She stopped and grimaced at you: “Maria?!“

“So, you know I’m serious about it.”, you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

With a smirk on her face the defender tried to reassure you:” Calm down, I’m fine.”

“Please be careful with your knee, okay? It needs a bit more resting time to properly heal.”, you sighed.

She couldn’t help but to roll her eyes at your protectiveness:” Yeah, mum.”

“Don’t mum me, Maria. We’re only two years apart!”, you reminded her.

“Then stop acting like a mum.”, Mapi countered.

Quickly you corrected the football player: “I’m not, it’s my advice to you as a doctor.”

“Sure, mum.”, Mapi responded in a teasingly tone.

You groaned and demanded from her to stop it.

Grinning Irene who you haven’t noticed while having your talk with the younger player joined the conversation:” But our children would behave better.”

“Lies. They would do the same.”, the heavily tattooed Spaniard disagreed.

“I strongly believe they wouldn’t be as annoying.”, you joked as you exchanged knowingly looks with your girlfriend. You were able to communicate with each other without words which was helpful on and off the pitch.

The peaceful moment between you two was interrupted once again by a player, this time it was Mapi: “Yeah, they would.”

Afterwards she promised to be more careful with her knee. You knew how much you asked of her, as an athlete all they want to do is play with a ball at their feet. Every injury was a reminder that their time as football players was short and could end at any moment.

A bit later the rest of her teammates arrived in their training clothes. Watching Keira, you gasped out loud:” Oh my god, Keira. Have you forgot your sunscreen again?”

“Why? What do you mean?”, Keira frowned at you.

Frustratedly you pointed to the sky, the sun was still intense even in the afternoon:” It’s so sunny outside, you need to protect your skin.”

“Your nose is already getting sunburned.” Lucy stated matter-of-factly.

“You English always underestimate the sun here.”, you chuckled before handing Keira the sunscreen which has been in your bag for emergency cases like this.

The dark-haired defender who was half Portuguese protested smiling:” Hey, leave me out of this.”

“You need that sun protection too, Lucia.”, you remarked.

“Here, take it before you get in trouble.”, Keira whispered.

“Ugh fine.”, the older of the English players mumbled.

Satisfied you turned around only to be face to face to Barcelona’s captain who smirked at you:” Happy madre happy life.”

“Alexia not you too.”

“Just here to steal your girlfriend for the gym session.”, she winked at you.

“Alright, I’ll see you both at dinner. Time for me to look at the injured players.”, you announced.

With a warm smile Irene said:” Have fun.”

“You too.”, you answered. Although fun was a difficult wish to fulfil considering you had to take care of the women who were currently out of the game and they needed extra care physically as well as mentally.

“Come on, Irene, you need to work on your muscles!“, Alexia teased as they walked side by side to the gym.

Irenes jaw dropped open: “Excuse me?!“

Alexia grinned back at her: “You heard me.“

“Go work on your knee instead.“, Irene laughed and playfully pushed her teammate in the direction of the gym doors.

Alexia rolled her eyes: “You sound like your girlfriend.“

“Someone has to tell you.“, Irene shrugged while starting with her workout plan under the supervision of one of the physios.

Her teammate followed suit: “Yeah, I know.“

The two football players worked in silence for a while until Alexia gave Irene an inquisitive look: “Were you serious about the children earlier?“

Surprised by the question, Irene paused her exercise and laughed: “About actual children? We already have you.“

“And?“, Alexia shrugged.

The defender continued to feign cluelessness: “And what?“

“Just letting you know that we’d be there for you two when you decide to have actual children.“

“Thanks. We appreciate that.“, Irene replied casually.

Alexia just smiled knowingly and focused on her workout again: “You’re welcome.“

Dinner was one of the few regular moments in camp when you and Irene had some time for each other. Her hair was still damp from the shower when she sat down next to you. She had the same satisfied expression her face that she always had after a good workout.

“Hi, how was your gym session?“, you greeted her while filling her glass with water, making sure she was adequately hydrated.

Irene gratefully took a sip before answering: “Good, really. But Ale was weird.“

“Weirder than usual?“

She softly chuckled: “Yes.“

“What did she do?“, you asked curiously.

Irene lowered her voice so the other players on your table would not hear her: “She said something about supporting us if we’d actually wanted to have children one day.“

“Wait, that doesn’t sound like Ale at all.“, you joked.

“No, it doesn’t.“

“Strange.“, you commented. Subconsciously, you looked at Alexia on the neighbouring table. A tablet was propped up in front of her while she ate. You assumed that she once again looked at video footage of games and training sessions. “Ale?“

She looked up in surprise: “Huh?“

“It’s not a match day tomorrow. Take a break, you don’t need to overwork yourself.“, you gently reminded her.

“I’m not.“, she protested, her eyes darting back to the screen.

You raised an eyebrow: “Promise?“

She gave a you a small smile: “Promise.“

“Okay.“, you sighed and turned back to your dinner.

Irenes elbow bumped against yours just as you were about to finish eating. She pointed outside the dining room window: “Y/n, want to go to the beach now? The sun is about to set.“

You carefully put your fork down and again glanced over to Alexia who was still focused on her screen: “Sure.“

“Come on, she’ll be fine.“, Irene smiled comforting at you.

After one last look at the captain, you admitted:” You’re right.”

With that said your girlfriend stood up, holding her hand out for you take it:” Let’s go.”

“Coming.”, you reassured her.

Silently you walked to the beach, enjoying each other’s company after a long workday. The sand was still warm underneath your feet even though the sun was about to set. The sky was pink and purple shaded.

Irene was the first to speak again:” It’s nice here.”

“I agree, also the calmness feels nice after such an eventful day.”, you replied, admiring the scenery in front of you.

The defender smirked at you:” Quite busy with our children, right?”

“Yeah, but I’d not change a thing about it. I love them.”, you confessed smiling fondly while thinking about the players.

“Me too. Mostly.”, she responded.

Amused you lifted an eyebrow:” Mostly?”

“They can be annoying.”, Irene shrugged her shoulders.

Slowly you agreed:” Yes, sometimes.”

“But I’d not swap them for anything else.”, your girlfriend replied in an honest tone.

Thoughtfully you nodded to her remark:” Me neither, they are family.”

“They are.”

As the waves crashed to the shore your lips touched for a heartfelt kiss. Afterwards you two still leaned your foreheads together, eyes closed, enjoying the moment.

“If we ever have real children, we’re well prepared.”, Irene whispered.

Hearing her saying this out loud made you yearn for a family of your own:” Yes, they would welcome them in immediately, I’ve no doubt about that.”

“I’m sure.”, she sounded sincere.

“Are you thinking about starting to try for children?”, you cautiously asked her.

Nervously the defender licked her lips:” I mean it’s a nice thought to have children one day.” For a moment Irene paused before adding, would you want that too?”

“I do, yes.”

Your girlfriends face lit up with giddy excitement:” So we’re trying it?”

“Yeah, we’ll.” Suddenly you were interrupted by her teammates who were running towards you.

“What?”, startled Irene looked at them.

Equally confused you wanted to know from the other women:” Girls, what’s going on?”

“It’s time to celebrate.”, Patri declared grinning.

Curiously you continued: “To celebrate, what?”

“Just to celebrate.”, Alexia waved it off beaming.

Baffled Irene turned to the midfielder who she has been friends with for a very long time:” Ale, were you guys listening to us the whole time?!”

“Maybe.”, she answered with an innocent smile.”

“So, yes. God that’s so embarrassing.”, you groaned.

Empathically Marta padded your shoulders:” We especially loved the family part.”

“Agreed.”, Alexia said.

“It’s simply the truth.”, you told them, your cheeks burning red.

“Guys that was private.”, Irene huffed at her teammates.

This made Mapi roll her eyes:” Oh please, nothing stays private during training camp.”

“Maybe we hate you now.”, you teased her.

“No, you love us.”, Patri shook her head.

With a sigh you gave in:” Yeah, fine, we do.”

Because those women were more to you than just people you worked with, they were family.

#irene paredes #irene paredes x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso #woso community #barca femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #espwnt #patri guijarro #claudia pina #mapi leon #keira walsh #alexia putellas #lucy bronze

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zwedexx · 3 months

Note

Hi I’m the anon that asked for the Barca x injured teen reader. Maybe you could do one where she is at a game and she breaks her wrist but no one else notices it so she keeps playing and after the game she leaves quickly and no one really thinks anything of it. So when she comes to practice the next day after she had taped her wrist they see her take medicine for the pain and they all ask why she took it but the coach calls them to the field before they can get it out of her. And then during practice she avoiding gõing shoulder to shoulder with anyone and anything related to her wrist. And when she tries to leave alexia grabs her wrist tõ stop her and then that obviously is painful for her and then she tries to say it’s just a bruised but they make her take the tape off and it’s clearly broken. So then they all scõld her and then take care of her.

Sorry if any wõrds are misspelled English isn’t my first language Portuguese is:)

Barcelona Femeni x Injured Teen Reader

Summary: request

TW: injury, pain medication

WC: 1,535

A/N: All the Catalan is google translated so sorry if its all wrong.

As you stepped onto the hallowed pitch of Camp Not, the atmosphere was electric with the anticipation of El Clásico. The sun had set behind the iconic stadium, casting a warm embrace on the sea of passionate fans draped in the famous Blaugrana. The buzz of excitement echoed through the air as you felt the weight of the historic rivalry pulsating through your veins.

In the 56’ minute, a breakaway opportunity unfolded before you. The crowd’s roars intensified as you sprinted past defenders. The rhythmic pounding of your heart echoes in your ears. The goal was within reach and there was no defender left.

BANG.

It took you and the crowd that had gone quiet a hot second to grasp what had just happened. Just as you prepared to unleash your shot, Misa had lunged forward with a desperate tackle. The impact was fierce, sending a shockwave through your body as you hit the ground, left arm first. You knew you had done something to your wrist, you could feel an odd sensation but the adrenaline hadn’t allowed the pain to kick in yet.

As you began to rise, a familiar and reassuring hand touched your shoulder. It was Alexia. She had a concern etched on her face. Alexia had taken you under her wing since the moment you joined Barca.

“Estàs bé?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

(Are you alright)

You nodded yes not wanting to worry her.

“Estàs segura, necessites tractament?” she asked once more, clearly not convinced.

(Are you sure, do you need treatment?)

“I’m fine Alexia, prometo.”

(promise)

Alexia, though still not fully convinced, helped you up from the ground.

While you were down, Misa was sent off with a red card, and Barca was granted a penalty. Although you had anticipated Alexia would be the one to take the shot, she placed the ball on the spot and walked over to you.

“Llança el penal, et mereixes el gol." Alexia whispered to you.

(Take the penalty, you deserve the goal.)

You stepped up to the spot, the taste of adrenaline lingering on your tongue, as the weight of the moment settled on your shoulders. The stadium had seemed to hold its breath, and the intensity of this rivalry hung in its air. The replacement goalkeeper eyed you with a mix of anticipation and defiance as you took your stance.

Time seemed to stretch, and then, with a powerful strike, you sent the ball soaring into the back of the net. The roar of the crowd erupted and your teammates rushed in to celebrate. A surge of endorphins flooded your body, allowing you to completely forget about the painful feeling of your left wrist.

The deafening cheers echoed for a final time around Camp Nou as the the final whistle blew. The elation of the win washed over you, the exhilaration of success mingling with the exhaustion of the 90+ minutes.

However, as the adrenaline began to subside, the sharp pain in your leg wrist amplified. The celebration continued around you, teammates hugging and supporter chanting but the physical toll of the game lingered. Even the throbbing discomfort in your wrist, you soldiered on, smiling through the festivities, each handshake and hug causing you to wince. The pain continued to become more pronounced until you couldn’t take it anymore. You had completely ignored everyone during the group huddle, your only wish was to escape and find something to soothe your pain.

As your teammates continued their celebration, you quietly excused yourself, slipping away from them. The adrenaline that once fuelled your every sprint and kick now transformed into a quiet determination to reach the sanctuary of the changing room.

Sitting in your cubby, you cradled your wrist, wincing ever so slightly as you attempted to examine it. There was already a numbness in your fingers and a dark purple bruise forming around.

You didn’t want to tell the girls, you justified it as you not wanting to rain on their parades, so to speak but you were afraid of their reactions, and how’d they blow it all out of proportion.

With a deep breath, you carefully peeled off your jersey, feeling the residual warmth of the game against your skin. Even as you gingerly worked your way out of the uniform, the pain hadn’t subsided.

The next morning, the broken wrist made its presence known as you got ready for practice. The bruising had gotten worse and you had practically no sensation in your fingers.

You knew you couldn’t skip practice but you weren’t sure how you’d be able to hide your injury and practice with it. You had at least made the right decision to tape it, wrapping the across the palm, and snaking up your forearm. You’d also chosen to take a couple of paracetamols to mask the pain.

As you stepped into the locker room, the intricate tape job on your broken wrist didn’t escape the notice of your teammates. Their eyes flickered towards the your heavily wrapped-up wrist as you rummaged through your bag for medication as the dose you’d taken earlier began to wear off.

A curious silence fell over the room, broken by Mapi’s concerned voice.

“Una mica dur ahir a la nit, eh?” Mapi’s eyes focused on the tape, her expression a mix of worry and curiosity. Irene, Marta and Ingrid exchange glances realizing something wasn’t quite right.

(Bit rough last night huh?)

You dismissed it with a nonchalant shrug, hoping to not bring anymore attention. “Oh, just a knick, nothing major.”

The raised eyebrows and exchanged glances continued as your teammates weren’t convinced. Lucy leaned in, her voice both playful but concerned. “That’s some serious tape artistry. You’re practically a mummy.”

Attempting to defect, you chuckled, “Yeah, just want to be safe. No big deal.”

“Potser hauries de fer que el fisio t'ho revisi, només per estar-ne segur". Irene chimed in.

(Maybe you should have the physio check it out, just to be sure)

"Ignoring injuries doesn't help anyone elskling. We need you in top form for the next match." Ingrid added.

Alexia, who had been quietly observing, narrowed her eyes. She didn’t press the matter but her gaze lingered on your taped wrist.

Jonas saved you from further interrogation. His voice echoed through the locker room, calling everyone to the field. You seized the opportunity to divert attention and escaped.

During practice, you found yourself instinctively avoiding any situation that could potentially jeopardize your wrist. When Lucy threw ball at you, heading for your left side, you skillfully used your other hand to intercept it, earning a few puzzled glances from your teammates, especially Alexia.

In a passing drill, you subtly adjusted your positioning, ensuring that your injured wrist wouldn't bear the brunt of any unexpected tackles or collisions. The awareness of your own vulnerability cast a shadow over the otherwise routine exercises, and Alexia's concerned gaze intensified as she observed your every move.

Later, during a scrimmage, a teammate passed the ball to you with a bit too much force. You managed to control it with your good hand, but the wince didn't escape Alexia's watchful eyes. The unease among your teammates grew, their suspicions fueled by your efforts to shield the injured wrist.

As practice wrapped up, you made a discreet attempt to slip away hoping to avoid any direct confrontation about your wrist. Alexia, not done with questioning you, reached out and gently grabbed your injured wrist to stop you from leaving. The sharp intake of breath, small shout of pain and the involuntary flinch betrayed you.

"Què està passant? Has estat evitant el teu canell durant tota la pràctica. Deixa'm fer-li una ullada" Alexia asks with a strong authority.

(What happened? You've been avoiding your wrist the entire practice. Let me take a look at it.)

Still desperately trying to downplay the severity, you attempt a reassuring smile, “it’s just a bruise, really. Like I said, no big deal. Prometo.”

(Promise)

But Alexia was less than unconvinced.

“Deixa de mentir-me. Treu la cinta i ensenya'm el teu canell.” she demanded

(Stop lying to me. Take off the tape and show me your wrist.)

Reluctantly, not seeing a way out of it now, you began unwrapping the carefully layered tape. As the layers peeled away, it became ever more glaringly evident that it was far more than just a cruise. The visible swelling, discolouration and the cautious way you handled your wrist spoke volumes. Alexia’s expression softened immediately.

“Està trencada.” She stated with a gentle but stern certainty, her hand resting on your now exposed wrist. Alexia’s initial concern transformed into a mixture of disappointment and frustration as the reality of your broken wrist became undeniable.

(It's broken.)

“Per què no m'ho vas dir?” She questioned, her tone carrying a mix of hurt and anger. The weight of her disappointment was palpable, and it hit you harder than you’d expected.

(Why didn't you tell me?)

Caught in the crossfire of emotions, you couldn’t find the words to explain. The attempt to protect you teammates from worry had backfired, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. As Alexia’s frustration lingered, you gelt a torrent of emotions overwhelming you. The facade you had maintained crumbled, and you broke down.

Alexia, not intending to hurt you with her words immediately softened. She pulled you into a tight embrace, making sure you wrist was in a safe place.

"Anem a arreglar-te el canell. D'acord?” She guided you to the medical staff, her presence a silent reassurance amid your mental turmoil. The anger was replaced by a quiet understanding and her arms wrapped around your shoulders, offering comfort.

(Let's get your wrist fixed. Ok?)

#woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #women's football #women's soccer #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #mapi leon #mapi león #ingrid engen #irene paredes #aitana bonmati #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine

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seullovesme · 3 months

Text

cockwarming w/ irene bae

pairing ⥬ g!p!irene x reader

genre ⥬ smut

warnings ⥬ sex, slight innocence kink

(nsfw under the cut btw)

just cuddling with irene, listening to her rambling away about her day and how much fun she had because she knows you'll listen to her even if it was nonsense. you discover her love for sudoku and you ask if she could do some with you.

she gets excited and brings out the sudoku book she started, telling you about how easy the first few levels were for her, trying her best to impress you which worked. she begins doing her thing as you compliment her, saying that you're so proud of your smart girl.

but because your girl is skilled, she finished the entire book with some of your help. she's so happy and wishes that you could do more together. this obviously results in you buying a ton of sudoku books because what the bae wants, the bae gets!

irene seated at her desk located in your room, innocently going through her new sudoku book in her sweats with a thin long-sleeve shirt on, when you spot her. she's adorable and you couldn't just stand and admire from afar.

you sit on her lap facing the desk and kiss her cheek, telling her to continue playing. she complies and goes back to filling the boxes with their designated numbers though she's curious on what you're planning to do.

you pull her sweats to her knees, shushing her when she gasped, telling her to put all of her focus on her game. she was trying to stay focused, but your hand on her now hard cock was definitely not helping in the slightest. she stopped and put down her pen when you began to sink down on her, grabbing your waist to guide you.

she was drowning in pleasure from feeling your velvety walls engulf her whole length like it was nothing, and she couldn't hold in her pretty sounds 😵‍💫😵‍💫

you took her hands off of you and put them onto the table. "come on bae... be a good girl and finish up your game. i told you to focus on it didn't i?" you shifted a little to adjust your sitting position, making the sensitive girl under you whimper. she can only obey your command as she took the pen and studied the puzzle carefully, trying to work as fast as she could.

despite her efforts, you could tell she was working slower than she normally was, only spotting a few mistakes that she had made due to her being so distracted. it was cute hearing her struggle to refrain from moving around.

eventually, she completed the whole board and hugged your back, hoping you'd allow her to start railing the shit out of you. her hopes couldn't get very high as you interrupted her thoughts.

"good job! shall we start another?" you grinned and flipped the page, revealing a new one for her to do.

sorry it took a while to post i didnt realize i hit save to drafts instead of post LMFAO also i didnt edit 😞

#seullovesme » posted!#irene x reader #bae joohyun x fem reader #bae joohyun x reader #joohyun x reader #irene fic #irene bae #bae irene #red velvet smut #red velvet joohyun #irene smut #red velvet x female reader #red velvet x reader #g!p irene #kpop gg #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines

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sleekswosobession · 4 months

Text

teasing

barça femeni x teen!reader

request: here & here

A/N: I bought FIFA23 today cuz i found it for $34, like damn. YES. PLEASE. In the basket 😌 I can now play other games other than hogwarts legacy and forza

TW: coarse language

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As soon as you saw the message, you knew it was over. Your phone was in the hands of Ona who was looking at edits of herself on TikTok with Pina. You attempt to take the phone back, but it’s too late and they’ve already run out of the recreational room to the field where some of the other girls kicking are kicking a ball around.

“Y/N’S GOT A GIRLFRIEND, Y/N’S GOT A GIRLFRIEND!” Ona screams running and kicking the ball out of the way.

Jana and Bruna immediately rush over stealing the phone and opening messages.

“Guys, it’s nothing. Please stop.” You plead, hoping they’ll drop it. Jana looks up and narrows her eyes at you.

“It’s not nothing if this mystery girl has a HEART next to her name. We will not drop this until you tell ussss.” She drags out. You shake your head, before ultimately giving in.

“Fine, it’s just a crush ok? Now please, give me back my phone.” They seem satisfied and you thought it was over until Salma walks over.

“Careful now, don’t push us to the side when you get the girl.” You groan, walking away and flipping them off in the process. Noting that the next time you give someone your phone, to put it on do not disturb.

You look down at the message, finally being able to read it.

‘I just asked my mum and she said I could go! Could you send the ticket through please ;)’ You find yourself blushing as you walk through the doors back into the building, ignoring the curious glances sent your way.

- - - - -

Over the next couple of days, the teasing became more and more, and you only got more and more frustrated. Even Patri and Asisat joining in. The Nigerian didn’t really comment though, only some remarks and laughing, but it was more funny to you than the pestering of the others.

You didn’t realise that the girls had in fact read the message, you thought they were only focused on the heart next to her name. How wrong you were.

It was after warming-up, everyone was in the locker-room awaiting the speeches from Marta and Jona when Ona came and sat next to you, Claudia on the other side.

“Will we see mystery girl with a heart next to her name today?” Ona says, smirking. You groan.

“You two better not do anything I mean it.” You warn, wanting to be done with everything.

“Come onnn.” Claudia drags out. “I want to meet her.”

“And I don’t want you guys to meet her. Simple.” You say, standing up and walking towards where the tactics were about to be said.

- - - - -

The game is a good one, a 6-0 win and you play for about 30 minutes. It was comfortable and you laugh to yourself, thinking about how the team only had six subs, and got six goals.

You walk around, greeting and signing things for fans when you see her. The one the girls have been teasing about all week. You smile and hug her.

“Sorry… I’m a bit sweaty.” You blush looking away.

“No, no, it’s ok.” She laughs.

“So uhh, how did you like the game?” You look back up smiling.

“It was a good one, nice assist by the way.” Again, a blush crawls up your neck and to your cheeks. Then, out of nowhere Jana and Bruna are next to you and you look back to see Ona, Patri and Claudia looking at you.

“Maya, this is Jana and Bruna. My teammates and friends.” You introduce, nervous.

“So this is the one with the heart next to her name?” Jana says smugly, before you can object Bruna speaks.

“Found yourself a good one Y/N!”

“Please… not right now. Go away.” You sigh, looking apologetically at Maya who looks slightly uncomfortable.

“Fine, but if you need ANYTHING we will be right over there.” Jana points to where most of the girls are cluttered together, in the cold. She starts to walk away while Bruna stays.

“Bruna what do you want-“ You’re cut off as she manages to lift up your shirt and runs away with it. Back to where you see the other girls are laughing.

“I’m sorry for that, uhh” I look down and feel goosebumps forming all over my body.

“I think I will go. You should probably get warm, it’s cool out here.” You nod slowly, embarrassed by how this turned out.

“Thanks for coming though, hopefully we meet again?” You ask.

“We’ll see.” She smirks. “Bye Y/N.” Maya then turns around and leaves as you sigh for what felt like the millionth time this week. Feeling deflated, you walk back and don’t watch where you’re going.

You bump into Irene out of everyone.

“Lo siento.” You mumble.

“It’s alright- hey what’s wrong?” She grips your forearm assessing your face.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“Nena, don’t lie to me. What happened? Where’s your shirt? Aren’t you cold?” She says looking around.

“Just Bruna and Jana being annoying again, don’t worry.” You half-smile.

“What did they do this time? I know they’ve been teasing you about some crush. What is it?”

“Well, that said crush was here and I was talking to her and they came over. I told them to go away then Bruna took my shirt off of me and ran. They completely embarrassed me! I really like her and I just…” You don’t finish the sentence, tears welling in your eyes as your voice breaks.

“I’m gonna go home, bye Irene.” She tries to call out for you but you ignore her retreating to the change rooms and take a hot shower, to ease your thoughts.

Immediately afterwards, you notice the sympathetic looks from your older teammates, but choose to ignore them walking out of the room.

You get in your car, and drive away back to your house where no one can bother you. You were only 17, still finishing school and you live right next door to Irene. Who makes sure you have your shit together, despite objecting to it many times.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a lengthy conversation going on in the locker room after you had left

- - - - -

Irene’s voice blares through the room startling nearly everyone.

“Claudia, Patri, Jana, Bruna and Ona. You are all staying behind and we are going to have a little talk, got it? Salma you can also stay.” She says, everyone else goes back to doing their thing and immediately the girls know they’re in for it.

Everyone has filed out of the room, bar Alexia, Frido and those told to stay.

“I’m guessing you all know why I have you here, sí?”

They nod their heads.

“So, enlighten me why our teammate and friend has gone home very upset.” Irene makes a point to look at Bruna. But, it’s Salma who speaks up.

“They embarrassed her? I would just like to say I thought it was a stupid idea, I was right since we are standing here right now.” She folds her arms, trying to look tough.

“You may not have been this time, but you ALL have been teasing her all week. She had tears in her eyes and couldn’t even look at me. So each one of you will apologise.” Then Claudia speaks up.

“What about Asisat?” Frido answers the striker.

“She did much less damage, you will apologise and that’s it. That’s all you have to do.” The girls nod their heads meekly and then Alexia speaks up.

“Jana, Bruna. I expected better from both of you. Let this be a lesson for when things go too far. Patri, aren’t you old enough to not mingle with a teenagers love life?” Her jaw drops and solemnly nods.

“Ok then, if anyone is going to apologise. The best time is right now. Follow Irene and get it over with so she can’t hold something against you for a longer time than necessary.” Alexia finishes and then walks out with Frido.

- - - - -

You’re interrupted from your movie by knocking on your door. It’s 10pm, so options were limited. You find out when you open it that it’s Jana, Bruna, Ona, Salma, Patri and Claudia.

“What are you guys doing here?” You ask skeptically.

“Well we felt bad, and after a scolding from Irene we thought we’d come apologise. Sorry that we embarrassed you in front of if your crush, and I’m sorry I took your shirt off.” Bruna says with an apologetic smile.

“It’s ok, thanks for stopping by.” You knew it was genuine, so you felt better now.

“We got you a little something though.” Ona states, matter-of-factly. Then she gives you the bag she’s holding which has 2 Winnie the pooh plushies (one of Eeyore and one of pooh reading a book to piglet), along with different snacks.

“This is… thanks guys. Thanks a lot.” You take a look at the plushies, staring at how cute the one is where Pooh is reading to piglet. (i have this irl if anyone wants a photo 🤷)

“So, did you get the girl amiga?” Jana asks. You nod.

“We’re gonna go out some other time, not sure when. But yeah should be fun.” You don’t know why you told them that but you have a little feeling that they won’t tease you about it this time. Not if Irene can stop it anyways.

“Well, we will get leaving. See you at recovery then Y/N.” Salma says.

“Bye guys, thanks again!” They all walk out and Irene walks in.

“Looks like my plan worked huh?” You smile.

“Thanks but really, I was fine.” She quirks an eyebrow.

“Really? Because you were almost crying Cariño. I just came to make sure they stuck to their word, and they did.” You nod.

“As for those chocolates, no eating until cheat day alright?” You rolls your eyes.

“Fine, can I finish my movie now?” She laughs.

“Sure, I’ll get back now, be safe. I love you, the team cares and if you are ever feeling down again. Or feel sad because of what teammates say. Do not hesitate to tell me.” You nod and whisper and thank you as she kisses the top of your forehead and leaves. You love this team, you really do.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #wlw #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #irene paredes #jana fernandez #claudia pina #ona batlle #bruna vilamala #salma paralluelo

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entername322 · 5 months

Text

Obsession

Irene (Red Velvet) x Male Reader

Length: 12860 words

Next part

Cool, calm, and collected, that's the three main thing Irene always remind herself to keep.

Navigating through the idol life she has to keep herself from losing hold of her emotions.

Keep a facade, use a mask, make sure nobody sees what she feel or think. These are the main thing she always try to do when it comes to interacting with other people off camera.

She hates men, it's not because they've done something to her. It's just that she find all the men that have tried to flirt or make a move on her has been thoroughly pathetic and frankly, disgusting.

After years of navigating through the idol's life she's been very adept at hiding her feelings.

The nickname ice queen doesn't particularly mind her by any means. However she would also be lying if she said that the nickname doesn't hurt her sometimes.

She does have feelings, she just finds that showing it off would be a bad idea.

That being said, the name has done nothing but skyrocket her popularity, and help her build an image for herself.

Her cold expression and attitude has help her deter some people from coming on to her.

Although that just means the people that do came on to her is the stupidest or the most arrogant of the bunch.

"Unnie come on, Yun is a great guy"

That didn't stop her own friends and member to try and hook her up with someone though.

"Seung-ah, I'm thankful, I really do, but I'm really not looking for anyone right now"

Her own member, Wendy has tried to hook her up with some people recently. Irene hates this, she despise people who try to do that for her.

Wendy however, is her own member, so her motherly and loving side for her and the hatred for such actions leave Irene in turmoil on how to escapes this situation.

"Come on, one dinner, if things goes bad then I'll swear I'll never pester you about this ever again"

Irene's mind raced quickly, on one hand she's afraid accepting it would enables her other member to do the same. On the other an unpleasant night for a life time, well, a few months or year of peace isn't so bad.

"Fine"

She concluded that if others try to do the same she'll just bring up this incident. After all, if Wendy, one of the best at judging characters and the most sociable of them all, can't find someone who could match her taste, who else would?

Despite the consent she has gave her, on the night of the dinner, she felt a little regret.

This is gonna be a bad dinner

Of course, she tried to keep an open mind. She wouldn't want to ruin her own friends effort with prejudice.

She did her research, looking at the man online. His social media, his occupation, okay maybe it's a little to creepy, but she can't help herself.

On paper, everything is fine, he's an accountant to a big law firm. Late 20s, been in a few relationships. He keeps his exes photo on his Instagram, and seeing his recent post he seems to still hangout with them.

Most of the pictures is group photo so it most probably means that he still hangout with the circle of friends without any issue.

Looks wise, he's average. Irene doesn't have a high standard by any means, she just hangout with some of the most beautiful idols around her work. Compared to them, he's average, which means he's pretty good looking for the general public.

So what's the red flag? Irene doesn't know herself, it's just, she doesn't have any interest in him.

Most of the thing she find about him just leave an 'oh' in her mind. Not bad 'oh' or a good 'oh' just 'oh'.

Nevertheless, she went to the dinner, a reservation at the 2 Michelin star restaurant. She enjoys this kinds of food, not that she's materialistic, she just have a taste for expensive things. Okay she might be a little materialistic, a bit more than what she would admit.

"Hello, I'm David, it's nice to meet you"

The man was waiting for her at the reserved table already.

Quite and secluded place at the corner of the room, away from the windows that the paparazzi could use.

This is a two Michelin star restaurant, even the worst seat is better than the one in most places.

"Hello, Seung talk alot about you"

Give a little smile, shake his hand, sit at your seat. Don't try to be hostile or too friendly. Observe him.

"I must say, I'm a big fan of your work, it's very surprising that Wendy would offer me this opportunity"

A genuine smile, no signs of nervousness. Irene, doesn't have any strong feeling about that confidence, but it does leave some impression for her to note.

"Well, Seung is, very social, she likes introducing her friends to each other"

Perhaps that trait of her have left Irene in some awkward and uncomfortable situation. Of course Irene would never say this out loud.

"So, should we order?"

Chatty, this man is chatty. It does bring a little relive for Irene. She prefers someone who would take over the conversation and alleviate some burden from her.

It also means he might slip up and say more than what he meant, which is perfect for her since she's observing him.

"..... And it was pretty funny actually. How about you? Did Wendy ever brought you to an awkward situation like that?"

He was talking about how Seung once tried to hook him up with a distant cousins of him.

"Not really, although I'm not really good at meeting new people"

"Well, I used to as well, but being dragged into a lot of social gatherings I've been.... Forced to adapt. There's this one time...."

The dinner was fine, things has been going well, Irene was surprised herself that he was pretty charming.

"Sorry if I talk alot, I tend to do it if I was nervous"

"It's fine, sorry if I didn't talk much either"

"Of course, it's my pleasure to, you know, have a chance to sit here with you-"

His phone buzzed.

"Sorry, just a moment"

Picking it up, he opened his newly received text. It was a nude picture of a woman.

Irene saw it and raised her eyebrow, how does she saw it? Well, the little painting behind him gave a little reflection.

Not a noticeable one, but her eyes is one of a hawk, never missing any small detail.

He answered the text, something Irene can't see, before looking back at her.

"Sorry, work stuff"

Hmmm, off putting, but since she doesn't see his response she wouldn't mind putting the benefit of the doubt, slightly.

"It's fine, you were talking about your first year at the law firm you're currently working on?"

The conversation continues smoothly, almost like the little hiccup from before never happened.

In fact, Irene was throughly surprised that things went well.

"So, that was a nice dinner"

"Yes, it was"

"It's been nice talking with you Irene"

"Me too"

The two gather up their thing and ready to leave. As they walk out, David did the sinful and unforgivable act in Irene's book. He put his hand on her shoulder, almost leading her.

"How about we continue our talk at my place, it was fun, and the night is still young"

Confident, so much so he thinks that he could bring me to his place after the first date? On a blind date on top of that?

"Sorry, I have an early schedule"

Irene smiled again, unlike the others one she gave ro him during the dinner, this one is an annoyed smile. Not that he would notice it.

"Oh come on, you're a senior already, just break the rule a little bit"

"I'm, really sorry, it's an important meeting"

"Come on, not even a kiss?"

Men.

The next day Irene came to work in a bad mood.

"So, how does it go?"

Wendy said the moment she saw her leader.

"Morning Seung"

"Come on, spill, I told you he's great"

"He was, until he tried to talk me into spending time in his place"

"He did?"

"Things are fine until the end of the dinner"

"Oh shit, sorry unnie, he's not Korean, things are, different in the-"

"Seung, I don't, I don't like the vibe he gave me at the end"

Wendy frowned, from disappointment, although she's not sure it was directed to Irene or David.

"I'll.... Okay, I understand"

"Sorry Seung, he seems like a great guy, but he's too aggressive for me"

"Yeah, I get it"

"Anyway, what's the plan for today?"

"Well, beside the photoshoot at noon me and Seulgi-unnie is going to meet some of the trainee that we have. There's some promising people our produce said"

Checking in on the trainee is something a lot of the idols do in SM. Even Irene has done it a few time before.

"Can I come with you?"

"Sure, come on"

The two of them went to meet up with Seulgi at their designated dressing room.

"Unnie is coming too?"

Irene nodded.

"Well let's go, I'm gonna be the dance instructor for today"

The group of three went to the trainee practice room.

As soon as they got in the rowdy buch of kids got quiet. Entranced by the three women.

"Morning everyone, I'm Seulgi from Red Velvet, today I'll be your dance instructor"

Seulgi's word cause a wave of panic between the trainees face.

"Don't be nervous, I'll try my best to help you all. As you may have know these are my members, Irene and Wendy, they will be watching us today. Don't panic, they are simply watching us"

Irene's eyes scanned the room,watching and observing the expression. None seems to stand out for her, until she saw you.

You, were not by any means an outstanding person. Not the most handsome, not the prettiest or the cutest. You do standout a little due too your absurd height, not that it shown when you sit down.

Was she looking at me? No, come on now man, don't get your hopes up, that's Irene.

But she did in fact, looking at you. Long enough for her to get into a trace, short enough to where nobody's watching pick on it.

Irene was, stunned, she wasn't sure why. Her eyes was just locked in place as she saw you.

Thankfully Wendy nudges her, waking her up from her daze. Wendy pulled her to the side, a nice place so they can watch the trainees.

"Okay, come on, stand up, let's start"

Irene's eyes is locked to you, watching your every movement.

Tall

That's the first thing she thinks about the first time she saw you stood up.

Her heart was racing, what are you doing to her? You didn't say anything, you didn't even acknowledge her more than you should.

Yet, somehow, you caught her attention.

She was too entranced to hear the instructions Seulgi is giving.

She did realised it when you started dancing along the others. Your movement was stiff, not unsalvageable. Your expression is one of full focus, something that does nothing but daze her even more.

"That's great, now, let's do individual test"

While others are panicking you were looking straight at Seulgi with contemplative gaze.

You looked away for a second, to gaze on Irene. Just a second, but it's enough to cause Irene's heart to skip a beat.

"Now, let's go, who want to start first?"

One particular trainee seems excited and enthusiastic, he raised his hand.

The others moved back, now facing Irene and Wendy, watching one by one getting called out to do a dance routine.

Wendy was cheering and giving words of encouragement every now and then to each participant. Seulgi gave a polite yet stern comments.

Irene was, well, she's busy watching you.

Enough for you to feel a little uncomfortable.

"What's up blue?"

"I don't know, I'm just nervous, that's Irene bro"

"Fuck I knew, I'm gonna embarrass myself in front of my favourite idol"

"What about me man, I was in the zone before and I still look like a dancing stickman"

"You'll do fine man, just, be confident"

"Yeah, you too bro. Do you, do you feel like Irene is watching at us?"

Your friend took a quick glance to Irene, however she was watching the trainee that's dancing right now.

"Nah man, but I know what you mean, she's definitely watching all of us"

That's, not what you mean at all. You look back at Irene, seemingly busy watching the one being tested right now.

Was it just your imagination?

It wasn't, Irene read your lips, realising you might caught up with her intense stare she looked away to make sure you didn't get suspicious.

She still watch you from the corner of your eyes. Not until you look away did she turned to continue watching her.

Suddenly, this becomes a cat and mouse game where both of you tried to look at each other without being noticed by the other.

You, failing miserably, there's like 6 times in 5 minutes where you were looking at her only to find her gaze at you back before you could look away.

Irene was cool, calm and collected, even in the event of stalking someone. Not a single time you realise that Irene was watching you. Even though she has watch you more than you watch her.

When your time is up, anxiety and fear take over you. Nervously you walked to the front.

"Let's go blue"

Your bro have your back thankfully.

"Don't be nervous"

Seulgi smiled to calm you down, doesn't help.

The music kicks in, and you start your dance.

While you were haphazardly dance, Irene was having a little joy in her heart. She now can watch you throughly without having to avert her gaze every now and then.

Your movement wasn't terrible, just bad. That doesn't seems to bother her the slightest. In fact, she find it cute.

Wait, hold on, cute?

Really?

Irene ws confused, how those those words come up at her mind. During her confusion you managed to finish your dance.

"Well, that was a good effort, but I can see you're still a little awkward at dancing. Is it perhaps due too your height that you are less flexible?"

Irene decided to put it at the back of her mind so that she can focus back on you.

"Y-y-yeah, it was, a bit hard for me to do those delicate move"

Your stuttering seems to sent a rush of alien feelings in Irene.

"It's okay, you memorize the dance already and you seems to know when you messed up yet you still have the clear mind to continue on with your moves. Do a little more flexibility training and you will fix it"

Seulgi's word of encouragement put a smile on your face. A smile Irene is not enjoying.

"Yeah, you did good, keep up the hard work"

Having two encouragement from your future possible senior put you in a good mood.

"Thank you for the instructions and the encouragement"

You bowed, again giving smile to Seulgi who returned it beautifully. Irene does not like your smile. You then glanced at Wendy and her. Irene loves that smile.

As you sat back, stunned by the newfound motivation. Irene is stunned, having your smile imprinted in her brain and memory.

"Hell yeah blue"

Your bro gave you a fistbump before getting ready for his turn.

You glanced back to Irene, this time she wasn't hiding her gaze.

Your eyes meet, at that moment, time seems to stop. Both for you and Irene.

Your mind raced at a few million miles an hour, your heart stopped alongside the time. Irene, is looking at you, with a..... Best described as longing look.

Holy fuck she's dangerous, how did I managed to stay focus during the dance? Gosh she's pretty, is she prettier then when you saw her on screen? I should look away now

Why am I not looking away?

Irene was having the similar thoughts. Enthralled by your gaze, your eyes seemingly to be a bottomless abyss that drawns her. Her breathing got heavy, her heart thumping faster than she ever felt before.

What are you doing to me?

Then, just like it never happens, you two both look away.

You stare blankly to the wall, trying to keep your brain from coming up with impossible imagination.

Irene was staring at the floor, trying to keep her heart from going wild and burst.

In your stuppor, your friend managed to finish his dance and got a compliment by Seulgi and sat back with you.

"Fuck I thought I was gonna faint"

Yeah, you too, you stood up and went to the exit. You need to wash your face.

Irene was in a panic as she saw you leave. A weird unknown panic.

She stood up, following you soon after.

While you were washing your face and try to clear your face, Irene was waiting outside the practice room.

Your steps and heavy and loud, it's given due to he fact of how tall you are. Despite your lean stature your body still weights enough to make some loud foot steps.

The moment Irene hears your footsteps she slowly walked to the bathroom. Trying to make it look like she's going to the bathroom as well.

You were stunned again the moment you walk out, seeing Irene walking to the bathroom from a distance away.

Awkwardly you walk back to your room, once you were close enough Irene took away her eyes from her phone and look at you.

With a nervous smile you bowed to her. However as you wanted to continue walking Irene stop, next to you, looking at you.

Subconsciously, you stopped as well, again, meeting your gaze with her.

Irene wasn't sure herself why she stopped. She even put her hand behind her, hiding her phone and her nervous finger that keep jolting around.

"Blue? Is that your name?"

Her mouth moves before her brain can think.

"Ehmmm, y-y-yes, that's what everyone call me"

Your attempt to smile only made you look like a grimacing in pain.

"Don't be so nervous"

Irene however find this cute, your nervousness is amusing to her.

"I'm sorry, it's just that....."

"That?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's just that, I was a big fan of you and Red Velvet, so seeing you here feels..... Surreal"

The smile on Irene's face seems to grow even larger.

"Really? A big fan huh? So who's your bias then?"

Is she crazy? How could I say anyone else but her at this moment?

"Ehm, it's you"

Oh god, your nervousness, your shy smile, your blush, your words. It dragged Irene, deep into a dark place that she doesn't know she have in her heart.

"Really?"

Her voice raise a few octaves, not that you realized, you're busy trying not to faint out of embarrassment.

"Yes"

She loves it, she loves your demeanour.

Irene has met countless idols and fans that stammered and stunned the moment they see her. She have grown accustomed to it. Yet you, above thousands of encounters that she has, managed to leave such an impression to her mind, forever.

"That's good to hear, don't be so nervous, I'm not gonna bite"

She wants to, she really, really, really wants to do it, but it's not like she has lose control of herself.... yet.

"Oh sorry, I'm just, not good at handling my nervousness"

You reached to the back your neck. There was, a small, feeling, barely noticeable. A voice saying this nervousness is not just a simple nervousness.

You didn't realise it, it was barely noticeable in the first place. With the ice queen herself standing in front of you there could be a fire happening and you wouldn't even react to it.

Irene, was watching you, as you bring up your hand, the long sleeve of your sweater falls down.

Your exposed forearm made her eyes locked to it. Of course working out a little you have a decent body, but looking at your, somewhat impressive forearm, Irene was enamored.

"I'm sorry, thank you for spending your time to check in on us, it really means a lot"

You smiled again, and for Irene, it broke her heart to a million pieces before it brought itself back together and got inflated so big that it burst.

"It's fine, I'm sorry I didn't put in any comments. I.... Have a lot in my mind"

You, you were in her mind.

Irene tighten her grip on her phone, thankfully her slender and delicate fingers is not strong enough to break it.

"Oh, no, not at all, don't be sorry, it was more than enough to have you, spend some time to watch us. It was an honour for us"

You raised both your hand in front of you waving it to make sure it's okay. This cause Irene to watch both of your forearm. Remember that thing about self control? Yeah, it's slipping away slowly.

"Really? You mean it?"

Irene stepped forward causing you subconsciously stepped back.

"Y-y-yeah"

Irene felt her heart thumping so loud it might cause her to be deaf.

"Then, do you mind if I watch you again so I can help guide you?"

Just like a black hole you keep pulling Irene to come closer. Unlike a black hole you stepped back again. This time your feet meets the wall.

"O-o-of course, if it w-w-won't bother you"

Not wanting to look like a weirdo you try to stand straight.

"Oh, really? Are you sure?"

Irene coming even closer doesn't help though.

"Yeah"

While you were trying to keep your wits, Irene is trying to keep her self control.

Getting closer she smells the slight body odour you gave off from doing those dances. Your body heat seems to radiate to her, giving off warmth that she never felt before.

"Then let's exchange number, so I can give you a time and place for tutoring"

Your brain short circuit for a little. Along with your heart, and your lungs, and your, well, your whole organ.

This is Irene, of course you're having a full organ failure when she ask for your number.

"Sorry?"

You managed to squeak out.

"Your number, for tutoring"

Irene pulled out her phone from behind her before quickly opening her contact.

She then leaned forward while offering her phone to you.

Despite being a head taller, you felt like a little mouse in front of her.

You glanced at the phone, ready to take it, then something else caught your eyes.

She was wearing a loose sweater today, her little forward lean is enough for her to expose her clevage.

You, might stare longer than you should. It is mind boggling that she didn't say anything.

Irene didn't say anything, becuse she likes it.

That's right, Irene, one of the idol, maybe the number one idol who hate being sexualised, is enjoying your eyes.

He's checking me out? Oh yeah, the sweater is loose. Is he watching my clevage? Don't react Irene, don't let him realise that you realized his gaze.

"Of course"

Quickly you take her phone and put in your number. Double, no, triple, no, quad checking the number you put in is the right one before giving it back to her.

"Thank you"

Irene smiled happily, one for your number, two for your eyes that's showing your lustful desires.

"Y-y-yeah, thanks sunbaenim"

No, that's not quite right, she doesn't like that name you have for her.

"Don't be formal, call me Joohyun-noona"

Call me that, now.

"I, okay, thank you Noona"

Hmmmmm, Irene's heart has stopped yet again.

"Well go on, you should go back"

She doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly scurry of the the practice door.

Irene watches your back, even from the back she can't help but be enticed by you.

I want you.

You can't believe it, you simply can't believe you just gave Irene your number. In fact, you can barely believe Irene is here watching you.

Take a deep breath. Calm down. Focus on the lesson.

"You seems happy unnie"

Nothing can escape Wendy, as soon as Irene walked back in, the little smile she had on her face has not escape Wendy.

"Oh? It's nothing"

Irene glances back at you, who is busy watching your fellow trainee performance.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just found something interesting"

"Someone?"

"You could say that"

Irene would love to stay here watching you the whole day. Unfortunately she has a schedule that she need to follow.

With a heavy heart, she followed her friends to say goodbye before leaving the place.

She has send you a text so that you would keep her number. She also knows that you can't use your phone until lunch.

That doesn't stop her from checking her phone every few seconds, hoping for you to answer her text.

When lunch come around Irene can't focus on her food. She keeps wondering what you were doing, and why you're not answering her.

Of course the answer is simple, you forgot.

Only until around the sun down when you finished your training for today did you saw she has sent you a message.

With a little hesitation you answered it.

Surprisingly for you, she read it instantly. Of course, Irene has been locked to her phone every since she sent you the text.

Despite all the anger that she have for you, there's still a glimmer of happiness seeing you answer.

She asked you what took you so long to answer.

You panicked, hurriedly saying sorry and told her it's been a long day and you were busy working out.

"Working out? Does he use the companies gym?"

"Companies gym? That's off limit for trainees, if only I can use it, I don't have to spend money for gym membership"

"I want to see him workout, I can give him an allowance to use it"

"She's giving allowance? But why?

"Why? What should I say here? Oh right, I just want to help him build up his flexibility"

"My flexibility? Is it so bad that she has to oversee me herself? Is she overseeing me?"

"Yes, of course I'm overseeing him, who else?"

"Whoa, that's, I don't know what to say"

Stunned by the message you took a minute to digest what she is offering you.

Unfortunately for Irene that minute is one minute too long.

"Why isn't he responding"

"Oh shit, what do I say? Thank you for the offer? I don't deserve it?"

"Why did he say that? Stop saying that, just take the offer and workout with me"

"Oh shit, did I piss her off? Sorry, I'll take it if she insist then"

"Good, I want to see him again, I need to ask his schedule"

"My schedule? I guess I can send her the screenshot for it"

"That's too restricting, ahhhh, I don't think I can just ask them to change it"

"What do you mean it's too restricting? Doesn't she went through this"

"I did, but I don't like it. Can he workout in the morning?"

"Morning? Like 5 AM? She wants to workout that early?"

"5 AM is too late, he starts at 8 AM. Can he starts at 4 AM?

"4 AM? Bruh that's like my unemployment schedule when I can just workout before sun rise and chill for the rest of the day"

"Too early? How do I convince him? Oh right, it's for his stamina"

"Ahhhh, she really want me to start at 4 AM? Fuck it, I don't get any more chances to do this"

"Good, I'll see him tomorrow morning, I wonder what I should wear tomorrow"

While Irene is filled with enthusiasm and struggle to find the best outfit for tomorrow you went to prepare 5 alarm to wake up early tomorrow.

The next day, you went to the company building, the security seems to have been informed for your arrival and send you up to the gym.

In the gym, there's nobody, except for Irene. Sitting there waiting for you.

Her ethereal beauty made you hold your breath, her gaze that's locked on to you made you feel uncomfortable, as if she's dissecting your whole body with her eyes.

Irene was struggling to keep herself from running to you. She held her breath, dug her nails into her palm, doing everything that she can to stop herself.

"Come here, don't be shy"

Too caught up in her beauty, you didn't realise her voice crack.

"Good morning Noona"

Irene love it when you call her that, the name, the tone, the deep raspy voice you have.

As you get close Irene felt the warmth that rejuvenate her yesterday, the warmth she never realised how much she enjoyed your presence.

"Good morning, so, let's start with a little briefing, how do you usually workout?"

You started of with some stuttering, but you did managed to smooth out your words and eloquently tell her the details for your workout.

Irene is happy, you didn't use much weight lifting at your workout, she prefer a lean body type in a person.

"Well, let's go, do a warmup, I'll follow you for now"

Do you feel nervous working out with Irene around? Yes, definitely yes.

"Come on now, go all the way"

It was when you do some stretching, opening your leg out in a split while trying to lower your body to reach forward as far as you can did Irene see an opening.

She went and put her hand on your shoulder. The touch cause a sudden thrill for both of you.

"Relax your back, take a deep breath"

Irene managed to keep her composure as you were panicking. You did managed to calm down and follow her instructions as she pushed you further.

Unfortunately for Irene, the move doesn't last forever and she reluctantly take off her hand off your shoulder. Feeling somewhat contempt for feeling up your back.

"Now, go start your workout routine"

She doesn't like your routine as much as before. That is simply because she doesn't find any more opportunities to touch you.

She craves it, she craves you. It's slowly driving her mad, the sight of you has become a full feast for her desires. The touch that she felt still lingers in her hand. Your warmth, it's comforting, so much so she can't help but get close to you during the whole workout, never letting herself further than one meter away from you.

As the workout progress your body start sweating up, your body odour is something you've been self conscious about. A source of insecurity that forces you to wash yourself multiple time a day.

For Irene, the smell is addicting, it was something she want to turn into a candle and light it up all around her house.

Needless to say she got more and more restless, she wants to touch you.

She wants to run her hand through your sweat stained t-shirt, she wants to dig her face to your neck and inhale your scent so it will imprint itself in her mind.

"That's enough, now we need to work on your flexibility"

She snapped, she can't hold it any longer.

"Go down on the mat"

As you sit down she walked behind you, putting both hand on your shoulder.

You felt, scared, intimidated. You wrote it off as a normal feeling, one of a junior when their senior is watching them very closely. If you were in the right mind you would've notice it was much more than that, it was the feeling when a prey felt when they have been caught in the hand of their predator.

"Now, let's start with the basic"

You have fail the basic, much to your dismay. Feeling the shame and embarassment rise in you, you grit your teeth and look up to her.

Only to find her faint smile while her eyes is filled with imagination and, hunger.

Irene is happy, you're terrible at this, so much so that she can spend alot of time teaching you for it.

"It's okay, we can still improve"

Her words of encouragement felt like pity for you.

"Now, it's my turn to workout, help me for a second"

Once again, anxiety fill you up.

"Come on, hold my leg"

She find a few manuvers where she could force you to held her close.

She felt fulfilled after feeling up all your body from before. Now she wants something else, she wants you to touch her.

Your big rough hand can be felt clearly through her tight thin outfits. She ejoy the gentleness you put on your touch.

She ejoy your meek expression as you held her.

She enjoys your shyness and attempt to look away from her only to fail and check her out every now and then.

Once she's satisfied she ended the training.

"That's was good, it is a productive first day. It's still 7 AM, why don't you get a shower so we can enjoy breakfast together"

Of course, that doesn't mean she's done with you.

You slipped off to the shower, taking a bath and clean up every inch your body.

Irene sneaked into the locker, she heard the shower noises so she ran to your gym bag. Taking out your t-shirt.

It's wet from your sweat, although it's not drenched like before since you had time to cool down as you help her stretch.

As she took out you t-shirt, the smell attacked her nose. Without thinking she stuffed it to her face, taking a deep breath, inhaling the scents.

"Oh god~~"

Moans escaped her lips as her pants is slowly developing wet spots. She doesn't wear panties, hoping that you would be brazen enough to get a feel of her ass.

Of course, you were to scared for your life to do so.

Then the shower stopped, Irene was woken up form her daze, she ran to the exit before escaping to her locker room.

She pull out a plastic bag from her gym bag, carefully putting your t-shirt in it before zipping it close. Your t-shirt will be out to good use for the next week or so.

You waited for her at the gym, she has make it clear that she wants to eat breakfast with you.

Not long Irene walks out, looking fresh and proper. She wore a white shirt along with a black pencil skirt. Awakening the teacher links you have in you.

"Come on, let's go"

Her smile is blinding you.

She took you to her office, seemingly already ordered a breakfast for two from the two take out box on her table.

"So, this was fun"

Irene is never been the one who started a conversation, however, it's been established that you, are different for her.

"Y-y-yeah, thanks for today noona"

You nervously look at her curious gaze.

"Of course, I have a question, why did your friends called you blue?"

"Well, it was during the audition, there was a little written test. Well not a test, there was just a few questions about me and my dreams and they want us to write it on paper. They gave me a pen, but then, it broke, somehow. Spraying blue ink all over myself and my hand. So, I finished the whole audition with a blue staint on my hand, face and shirt. The interviewer doesn't really think much of it, it was an error for their part. I don't mind it much either since they said it won't be a problem. The confidence u show even though I looked silly with the ink made them accept me. Some of the trainee was there as well, they called me blue man. I find it funny and just roll with the nickname"

Irene frowned for a second, noting to get to the bottom of this. Finding the person responsible to humiliate you like that.

"Where do you audition in?"

"Japan, Tokyo, I had a few Korean friends and have been, well somewhat talented in singing. So I just took the audition and got accepted"

Irene's warm smile and friendly demeanour distract you from finding out it was an interview by her.

Needless to say, you pass with flying colours. In her eyes, you went from an object of desires and lust to a perfect icon for her ideal type of men.

"Well, thank you again for today Noona, I'm not sure how to repay you"

You've grown accustomed to her presence, which is something Irene noticed and took joy in.

"It's okay, go work hard today okay? I'll see you tomorrow"

"Tomorrow? We're doing this again?"

"Hehehe, of course, we'll be doing this until you pass my standard"

"O-o-o-okay then, see you tomorrow?"

She smiled and nodded. As you walk out of the room, Irene is staring at your back.

Slowly she cursed you, making her feel this way. She's Irene, the queen of kpop, the one who have rejected many men, all of which is much more accomplished than you.

Yet now, somehow, she's in love with you.

That's right, she can no longer deny it, she loves you, and she wants you. Whatever she wants, she get it.

Irene doesn't hate men, she knows that now, she's helplessly in love with you.

This new routine has drained you slowly.

After the first week you felt like you want to die. You're probably dead actually, you just didn't realise it.

Every morning you will find Irene waiting for you in the gym. You could've sworn she keep picking the most revealing outfits she have.

Everyday, Irene is getting bolder and bolder. She would start to caress your back as you were doing your early stretching.

When she made you stretch your leg on the floor she would openly feel up your chest, disguising it as a way for her to keep her balance.

When you help her with her stretches she will keep suggesting for you to touch her even more, much to your dismay.

You kept your respectful, touch though, much to her dismay.

At day 4 or 5, you realized she's not wearing any panties. Her white tight yoga pants has show her perfect ass to you when she was facing away from you.

This doesn't go unnoticed by Irene, which excite her even more.

Unfortunately for her, you never do anything more than staring when you think she wasn't watching. She's always watching.

You did realised your shirt occasionally went missing, only to find it the next day.

Organized is not what you are, so you just wrote it off as your clumsiness or lack of attention to details, which is ironic.

The things you hate the most, is Irene keep buying you breakfast. Everytime you always insisted for her to let do that.

Everytime she will win the argument, a gentle smile, a little caress on your hand, and then you'll be a blushing mess, to shy to say anything else.

The new routine is perfect for Irene, she loves it, but slowly, she realised it's not enough.

Every night she would suffocate herself using your used gym outfits while masturbating.

The first time she did it was heavenly, the best orgasm she ever had.

Irene is not a pure girl, she has her own sexual needs. She knows how to keep it down though, never realising that her drive, is way too high for normal people.

All those years of controlling herself is out of the window now, because of you.

She have your pictures, she took photo of you time to time during the workout.

She has videos of you, masking it as a way to explain your form to you.

Every time she got the chance she would open this pictures and videos. Revering your body, your movement, all of you, is something she can't get enough for.

She wants more.

She needs more.

She needs you.

"Hey blue, you want to get some ramen"

Your friend invited you for a lunch.

"No bro, I'm poor"

The life of an unemployed, well, technically a college student.

"Come on, I'll pay"

You felt yourself cringe for a second before quickly hiding it.

"No, I can eat at the cafeteria, they have nice chicken"

Nobody like the cafeteria food, they felt, bland. Not that you care, they tasted better than the trash food that you used to eat.

"Ahhh, fine, we'll buy you something nice"

They quickly scurry off leaving you alone in the practice room. For a few moments you were contemplating should you go out and eat or should you continue practicing.

However, the choice was made for you, by a beautiful pale beauty walking in the empty practice room.

"Oh Noona, good afternoon"

You hurriedly stand up and bowed to her.

"I was looking for you, why didn't you go out to eat?"

She managed to hide her aggravation with the tone of curiousity.

"Oh, I was thinking to practicing a bit more. Beside I'm not hungry"

Irene looked at you, with the cold, angry eyes. Silently she started walking to you.

"Noona?"

Her aura seems to grow so much so you felt your whole body shivering.

She didn't say anything until she got in front of you.

"You, are, eating, lunch"

She crossed her arm and the coldness in her eyes is gone, leaving nothing but anger.

"I, I'm really fine Noona, I don't nee-"

Your argument is sound and flawless, unfortunately she shut you up by grabbing your shirt and pulling you out.

"Okay, Noona, can you let me go now?"

Seeing no way out of this, you sighed and compromise with the current situation.

She stare at you for a second before letting go of your shirt. You sighed with relief but then she grabbed your hand. Interlocking her fingers with yours before she continue walking.

"Noona? I don't need to be held-"

Yet again, your argument was indisputable, but do you really want to finish it? Especially when Irene turned around, giving you a glare that could pierce your heart and slice it to a perfect 1 cm³ cube.

You shut your mouth, wisely. Irene continue walking in front of you, hiding her bright smile from your gaze.

Without caring she pulled you to the elevator and clicked the basement floor.

You felt nervous, what if someone sees you? Subconsciously your hand start to press on Irene's and your finger start caressing her hands.

Irene loves it, your grip was hard, so much so she felt bone being squeezed together. Your rough fingers also sends tickling sensation to her heart everytime they grind themselves again the back of he palm.

Then suddenly the door opened, and an employee walked in.

Your anxiety went through the roof, in an instant you squeezed Irene's hand even harder. The pain was intoxicating for Irene, she had to bite her inner cheek to remind herself not to squeal right there and then.

The employee looked at your intertwined fingers, then they looked at your nervous face, then to the glaring Irene.

They slowly stepped backward as the elevator door closes again. Much to Irene's joy her little paradise is kept pure.

The basement was empty, Irene immediately dragged you to her car, putting you on the passenger seat.

"Where are we going Noona?"

"Some place nice"

"I, I don't have much money Noona"

"It's okay, I'm paying"

You grimaced feeling uneasiness well up in your body.

"You, really don't have too Noona, you already payed for all our breakfast earlier. I can eat at the cafeteria, I promise I'm gonna eat"

Irene saw your face contorted for a second, something she will throughly research later in the day.

"No, I insist"

She turned on her car and start driving. You swallowed your uneasiness and tried to focus on something else.

Her perfume is nice.

Okay, not that one please.

The car is cool.

You, don't like cars.

Her fingers seems so hot.

Okay this not working at all.

Irene on the other hand, has embraced your presence. She is struggling to drive while her body keep screaming to throw herself on to you.

She wants to hold your hand, she wants to run her fingers through your fluffy hairs, she wants to taste your lips.

The 15 minute drive felt like an hour for both of you.

"Come here"

Irene once again held your hand to lead you to the reserved seat.

"You like French food?"

If I say no I feel like she still wouldn't let me go eat in the cafeteria.

"I never tried it"

"Good, this is the perfect place to start"

Lady, I can barely afford to buy water from this place, don't make my food palate become higher than my own financial capabilities.

"Why do you not like being treated?"

"You mean getting people to feed me out of pity?"

"Is that what you think I'm having? Pity?"

"I mean, no offense, I don't think I have much selling point to make you feel anything otherwise"

"That's not true, I like you"

"I.... thanks Noona, that's very kind of you"

"You don't get it"

"Yes?"

"I like you, romantically"

So, remember that little organ called heart? Well it's a very important organ to help your body functions, and keep you alive. Well, you lost it, unfortunate.

"Yes?"

You managed to squeak out after god knows how long.

"I like you"

"Yes?"

"I want to go out with you"

"Yes?"

"This is our first date"

"...... Yes?"

"Good, from now on we're going out"

"Uhmmmm...... Yes?"

Your timidness has grown Irene's interest in you, thankfully you kept quiet after this or else she would pounce you and start kissing you all over.

Everything else felt like a blur for you, things just went pass you, without even thinking you start eating the food.

The confusion you had overpowered the taste the food has given you.

"Be my boyfriend"

You stare at her in a catatonic state.

"Good, we're official from now on"

Do you even speak Korean? That language seems alien for your since you can't understand a single word coming out of Irene's mouth.

Irene left you to your demise, as she was enjoying the sight of a lost bunny right in front of her.

Even as you finished your lunch you didn't say anything. Not when Irene grabbed your hand and wrapped her arm around it. Not when Irene put her head on your shoulder as you got in the car. Not when Irene got to your company building and pulled you to her embrace and start playing with your hair.

"Baby, do you want to stay with me for the whole day?"

Her whispers in your ears woke you up. Her tone is so cute yet also, lustful. Her breath tickling your ear making sure you know how close she is to you right now.

"I-i-i-i need to go"

You stuttered trying to get off her hug.

"Ssssshhhhh, let's leave you a memory, for today's date"

She yanked your collar down, exposing your chest.

As you were frozen she leaned in, giving your peck a kiss, long enough to left her lipstick imprint on your chest.

"Aghhh, Noona don't do that"

Irene pulled herself back, leaving a thin trail of saliva between her lips and your chest.

You glanced down to see the red imprint on your chest was contrasting to your pale white skin.

As you tried to wipe it Irene grabbed your hand while glaring at you.

"Leave it"

"What? Noona, I can't just-"

"Leave it"

Her eyes is stern and firery, her grip is weak, but since her nail is sinking to your flesh you can only winced in pain.

"Okay"

You can only sighed in defeat, Irene nodded happily before pulling your hand. She watch the faint mark of her nails on your hand before gently caressing it.

"You're my boyfriend now, so I have to make sure you don't get preyed upon by others. Just do as I say okay baby? Then I won't hurt you"

Everything suddenly flood back to you, all those feelings in the back of your head all banded back together telling you it's too late.

You can't run.

"Okay Noona"

She smiled again before grabbing your chin.

"I've wanted to do this the moment I met you"

She leaned forward, your head screams to run, but your instincts screamed back that it would only lead to your death.

You leaned forward as well, taking her lips with yours.

The kiss was, pleasant for you, she seems to be more driven by lust making it one of the most aggressive kiss you've been in.

For Irene, the kiss was heavenly, she wants more, she wants your lips, your spit, it all taste like the sweetest nectar made for the gods.

Her whole body tensed up as she tried her best to stop herself from devouring you, yet your godly taste was just too enticing for her.

However, she's not a god, she got reminded of that by her own lungs screaming for air.

"Haaaa, Haaaa, I love you"

Between her panting she gaze into your eyes, her iris is dilated, in a shape of -it's impossible but you swear you see it- a heart.

Her lips is twisted to make the widest smile she has ever had in her life.

Her tongue slitehered out, licking her lips trying to take more of your taste.

She's drunk out of you.

"I, love you too"

If you can hear her organs you will go deaf from the squeak they just let out. Irene can't let go of you, unfortunately for her, she have to.

"I'm picking you up after your practice okay baby?"

Her gaze leave a chill in your spine, yet it also arroused you.

"Okay, babe"

This time, she let out a happy squeal while her hand is shaking.

"I love you"

She leaned in again to give you a peck on your lips.

Just a peck, she still have some self control so she knows if it's any longer than a peck then both of you won't be able to leave this car with your clothes on.

She escort you back to your training room, this time there's other people in the elevator.

You're happy you are off the hook from the hungry wolves that's holding you by the arm right now.

They gave you a weird and surprised look, but Irene doesn't mind, why would she? She have her eyes to one man, and one man only.

She escorted you to the front of your room.

"I want you to call me once you're done, and I want you to wait here until I pick you up"

Is she my mom or my girlfriend? Why the fuck am I asking this question about the Irene of Red Velvet.

"Okay.... Babe?"

She squealed again before kissing your cheek.

"Keep up your hard work"

You can't, how could you? You're having a relationship with Irene. God damnit you just made out with her in her own car 5 minutes ago.

Thankfully for you, nobody notices the red lipstick mark on your chest.

"Blue you're zoning out a lot"

"Oh yeah, sorry, I, don't feel so good"

"Is it the kimchi again? That's it dude, you're not eating in the cafeteria again"

"No, I'm fine, I...... Got a text from an old friend....... He took me out for lunch today"

"Oh? Your friend take you out on a lunch is okay but we're not"

"Come on man, I haven't seen him in so long, and I payed for my lunch"

"That's the thing dude, we don't want you to, we know your situation so just let us help you okay?"

"I, listen I am grateful for your help, but, I don't like owning someone something"

"Just, take it as a debt, you can pay it back once you debuted"

"I, thanks, but, I think I have a way to get lunch from now on"

"Fine then, but if I see you in the cafeteria again I'm dragging you to the McDonalds"

You almost die. By that it means you almost forgot to call your..... Girlfriend....?

Your call didn't get picked up, because you saw Irene waiting for you by the elevator.

Stern pose, angry glare, crossed arm, she's furious.

"Come here"

She pulled you the elevator, her aura is enough to deter any of your fellow trainee to jump in with you.

"I, sorry Noona, I was just about to call you"

"Oh is that so? Do you want to wait until you walk home to call me?"

"No, I was just tired from today's practice. I'm still adjusting to the new sleep schedule remember? I feel tired"

"You can't be tired, we need to do our second date today"

"T-t-t-today?"

"Yes, do you have a problem with that"

Irene is furious, she is holding herself from jumping you right now and you know it.

"I, just think we should rest for now"

"No, I'm having a second date with my boyfriend right now"

Her roar could probably be heard from outside of the elevator.

"Then, what if, we have a date, in my place"

Immediately you see her whole body relaxed. Her furious expression turned to one of happiness and relief.

"Okay, then, good"

More than good, I can go to his place. I was trying to take it slow and go there tomorrow but he jumped in to offered it for me himself. He really does love me. We are meant to be babe, we will be the greatest couple to ever live.

She can't contain herself and gave you a kiss again.

"I love you"

Her whispers is almost as deafening as her roar from earlier.

"I, love you too Noona"

Irene can't decide if she loves Noona or babe more, but again as long as it's from you she will love it either way.

She dragged you to the car, practically sprinting to it before she drive to your place. How does she know where you live?

"Come on, move"

She even knows your apartment number.

Fear is enveloping you as you slowly unlocked the door to your apartment.

She hops in the moment the door is opened, you walked behind her before locking the door behind you.

Suddenly as you turn Irene slam you to the door, she grabbed your collar and pulled you to make out with her.

His fragrant is so addicting, his taste is heavenly, what's a 3 Michelin star food compared to this. Even his little moan- Haaaa, he's moaning, oh my god, I'm getting wet. He's so perfect, and even more than perfect now, he's my boyfriend.

She practically dry humping your leg that's between hers right now.

"Noona"

You pulled away, making her frown deeply.

"We should, move to the bedroom"

Her eyes lights up again, she dragged you inside, holding you by your collar.

The destination is the bedroom, the pit stop is everywhere.

She pushed you to the wall and made out again.

She pushed you to your couch and dry hump your crotch while sucking on your tongue.

She draged you to the door only to jump up and kiss you again, as you held her by the thighs.

Finally she got to your bedroom, pushing you down before taking off your shirt.

"Noona, you're so.... Hot"

Fuck your mind, how can you say no to Irene. Fuck the logic, fuck the instinct, fuck survival, you want her.

You craved her, as much as she craves you. Within just a few minutes you've fallen with her, deep into the abyss.

She dives to her favourite meal, your mouth. Her hand is practically feeling up every inch of your torso and arms.

You let go of your primal instinct and grabbed her ass.

"Ahhhh, squeeze it babe"

That's your intent, giving some firm squeeze making her let out a moan. Raising your hand, you then drop a slap on her ass cheek.

"Aghhhh, again"

She stopped kissing you and held you by the back of the neck. Her head is digging deep into your neck while bitting it.

"You're. Such. A. Succubus"

With every word you deliver a hard slap to her cheeks.

"Baby, I'm cumming, I'm cumming"

She moans as her teeth is holding on to the skin on your neck.

"A slut"

You slapped both of her ass and grabbed it, hard.

"Babbyyyyyy"

Her screams was loud and the pitch was enough to make a dog deaf. You didn't care, you bite into her neck.

Her body that's squirming is going in to a full on seizure as she reached her climax.

"I love you, my slutty, beautiful Noona"

You whispered in her ears as she was fighting for her life in your embrace.

After what seems like hours she stopped spasming, her breath got heavy as she seems to lose her energy.

"Tired already?"

"Never"

She sat on your lap before taking off her own outfits.

Her pink bra seems so cute enveloping her breast. Almost like an invitation for you to drown yourself in it.

An invitation, that you take.

Sitting up you used both of your hand to take it off and started bitting her already erect nipple.

"Baby"

Her moans and squeal sounds so defenseless, the polar opposite of the image she always gives off.

She put both hand around your head, hugging it and pushing you to dig deeper to her.

Her leg is locked to your stomach, hugging you like a baby koala hanging for it's life.

"Baby, I'm cumming"

Your hand grabbed her body, pushing her on to you. Your mouth is sucking on to her nipples greedily.

Her hand and leg tightened themselves on you as her climax came again.

This time, it's much shorter, but not less intense than before.

"Tired?"

You can't help but to tease her.

"Never"

She got off your lap before taking off your pants.

Your already erect member was mesmerising to her.

Your tip was leaking precum, using her hand Irene wipe it before licking it.

"You taste so good"

Her body shake before she took your member into her mouth.

Jesus her lips is so attractive. The way it wrap itself around your dick, the red, plump lips was a vacuum to your dick.

She can't take it all in, but that doesn't matter, because even with half inside you still feel her magic is working.

Then she took it our of her mouth before jerking it with both hands. Her mouth then travel down to kiss your balls and suck on it as well.

"Are you coming baby?"

Her high pitched whine push you even harder. She kissed your balls, and the bottom of your cock.

Your cock and balls was ridden with red lipstick smudge all over, something that arouse you even more.

She put your dick back to her mouth, this time, by the power of sheer will she managed to take all your member in her mouth and throat.

As her lips reaches the base she turned it in to leave another fine red imprint on it. She read your mind, she knows how to push you over.

"Noona I'm coming"

Hearing your moans she stopped giving you a deep throat, leaving only your tip in her mouth.

With the help of her saliva she used both of her hands to jerk you off.

Your cum sprayed into her mouth, undoubtedly turning all of it's inside to a white mess.

Her eyes rolled behind her eyes as she took a deep breath with her nose.

Then, as your climax ended she took the tip off her mouth.

She look at you with pride, then she opened her mouth and sticks out her tongue, showing your cum pooling inside her mouth.

Her lips is smudged all over, her mascara is runined with her tears, her mouth is practically over filled by your sperm.

A sight even the gods can only dream off, is right in front of you right now.

She closed her mouth back and then gulp it down. You can hear the sickening yet arrousing swallowing sound from her mouth. She opened her mouth back and sticks out her tongue to show nothing remains in her mouth.

Her eyes is filled with pride and happiness, almost, pure, a pure happiness of her own accomplishment.

You grab her by the thighs before picking her up and put her in the bed.

"Take it off baby, I can't wait for you anymore"

Pulling down her skirt you see her panties is practically drenched and even dripping some of her juices.

You pulled it down as well, giving you sights for the main course.

"Put it in baby, I want to feel you inside, make me yours, fill me up, pleaseeee"

She's whining and begging you like a spolied kid.

Any other time you would slow down and teased this ice queen, but not now, now, there's only one thing you wanted to do.

"OH MY GOD~~~~"

She screamed as her body convulsed yet again as you put the whole length of your member in.

You waited as she was orgasming. Wanting to remember this view for the rest of your life.

As it ended you realise there's a red stain coming out of her vagina.

"You're a virgin Noona?"

She nodded, without any shame.

"I'm waiting for you"

God she's a psycho, I love it. Wait, what?

You started thrusting, slow and hard, making her breat jiggle everytime you sink your dick deeper into her.

Moans and moans keep escaping her lips.

"Baby, I love you, I love you so much, baby faster"

She let out a high pitched whine as you continue thrusting into her.

"Oh god you're breaking me baby"

"Aghhhh, so deep, you're so deep inside me"

"Faster baby, break me apart, tear me into two GODDDDD........"

"I can't hold it anymore, please, faster"

"Baby, I'm cumming"

"You can't cum yet"

"Baby pleaseeee"

Oh god, the sight of Irene whining and begging in front of you is to hard for you to resist.

"I'm coming too"

You grunted and lay forward to be on top of her.

"Inside baby, fill me up, fill me up with your seeds"

She whisper before she kissed you again.

Your thrust is getting faster, her walls is getting tighter. Then, you felt your dick squirmed, she must've felt it too since her leg went to lock you in place.

"I'm cumming"

She screamed into your mouth as her body was sent into another seizure.

You're drained, your breath was heavy and slow. As you finished depositing sperm in her untouched womb you got off her and lay next to her.

"I, love you"

Tears starts to pour down her eyes, a joyful tears.

"I love you too, my ice cold Noona"

You kissed her again, and as you do, there's only one thing in her mind.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

You're fucked mate.

"Baby, hug me"

Irene whined as she envelopes her limbs around you.

"Okay, babe, let's, get in the right position to sleep first okay"

She grunted as you drag her so she can lay on the bed with you. Irene nuzzled up close to you, her nude body is pressing up against you, making you feel every inch of her perfect skin that has become sticky from her sweat.

"I love you, I love you so much baby"

Irene's small whimper is the devil's whisper that keep pulling you deeper and deeper into her.

"Okay, Noona"

Why would you say that?

"Say it back"

She spat as she pinched your neck.

"Awww, I love you to Noona, I told you earlier"

She doesn't seems satisfied.

"I want to hear it from you every moment in my day for the rest of my life"

Fuck, what do I do now? Why the fuck did I succumb to my own dick?

"O-o-o-okay Noona"

She smiled again, letting go of your neck.

"I like it when you stutter like that, you're so cute, my baby boy is so perfect"

She rubbed her face all over your cheek.

"Let's go to sleep Noona"

She squealed.

"I love you, good night baby"

"G-good night, Noona"

It's been a long day, you went through a lot. The moment you closed your eyes you feel your consciousness slowly sleep away.

The next morning you woke up with the heavy weight of someone on top of you.

"Morning babe"

You were still blinking your eyes trying to wake up when you felt Irene's lips pressing up against yours.

"Noona"

You pulled back, making her let out a growl.

"I-i-i-i need to w-w-w-wash my teeth"

Opening your eyes you see Irene is looking at you with dissatisfaction.

"I don't care, I want to kiss you"

She tried to kiss you again but you close your mouth making her face turned to anger.

"Noona please, let me wash my teeth first okay? You can kiss me all you want after"

She frowned but nodded anyway.

You stood up, trying to get out of bed, which is hard when Irene is clinging on to you.

"Noona, I can't move"

She just looked at you with a cute puppy eyes.

"I, love you?"

She smiled and kissed your cheek before letting you go.

"I love you too babe"

You went to your bathroom, with Irene following close behind you.

"Noona, I need, to take a shit"

She frowned yet again.

"Once you're done, I'm making out with you for an hour"

Was it an ultimatum? A promise? You decided to not think about it before you locked the bathroom door.

"Fuck"

You went to wash your face.

"What the fuck just happened"

You were hoping that your reflection would answer you, thankfully it didn't.

You do your morning duty before washing your face yet again hoping you would wake up in this weird dream.

When you go out you see Irene is waiting for you in your couch.

Crossed leg, crossed arm, cold eyes, she returned to the old Noona you know. Although, it was only for a moment, she smiled to you, a warm yet sinister smile.

"Come here honey"

You, awkwardly sit next to her.

"I love you"

She grabbed your hand, both of them.

"I love you too Noona"

You tried your best to be earnest.

"I want you to be honest with me"

"Okay"

"Do you have any relationship before me?"

Her eyes turned cold and sinister, you felt her hand pressing up harder against yours.

"I.... Do"

A few bones in your hand might broke off from the sheer force of her ire.

"You...."

Her growl made your body tremble.

"They're, just in the past"

She grabbed both of your head before pushing you to lay down on the couch.

"I don't care, I've waited so long for you and you can't even do the same? You're even a decade younger than me but you don't have any patience? For me?"

What? What is she talking about? What am I walking into right now?

"Noona, we just met, a week or so ago"

"I don't care, you should've waited for me"

Your face was wet, from her saliva and some tears. That's right, she's crying.

"I-i-i-i'm sorry Noona"

Good news, you felt her hand lower down from your face. Bad news, it's resting on your neck.

"You, fucking, cheater"

It tightened around your neck making let out a choked gasp.

"Noona"

You gurgled out.

"I hate you, I hate you so much"

Is this it? How you gonna die? Was it worth it for a night with Irene?

"Who's the bitch"

She suddenly let go of your neck and grabbed your head again.

"WHO WAS IT"

She screamed at you as you were coughing hard.

"My ex?"

You managed to squeak out.

"Yes, the bitch who seduced my man"

How do I get out of this? Fuck it, let's flirt our way out.

"Baby, it's nobody important, I already forgot about them"

You slowly wrapped her arm around her.

"They're bitches who almost succeed in getting you from me"

She's still mad, but her body atleast responded to your touch.

"They didn't, and even if I met you while I'm still dating them I would still choose you. We were made for each other right?"

Your forced smile is enough to calm her down a little.

"I don't want you to ever meet them again"

You nodded, obviously.

"And I want you to marry me"

You didn't nod, obviously.

"Say yes"

Fuck how do I get out of this. Uhmmmm, think fast brain, think.

"I, want to be the one who proposed"

She looked at you with discontent.

"Then propose to me"

What now smart guy? You felt your leg started to shake nervously.

"I need to buy a ring"

She snorted.

"I don't need a ring, I need to hear you say it"

Go all out? Fuck it I don't want to die.

"I, want to buy it, for you. I want to make it, romantic"

She frowned, cutely this time.

"You don't need to do that"

She can blush?

"I have to, we only get to, well I only get to propose once right? And we get married once, so I want to put all my effort on it"

Oh my god, Irene is blushing, hard. She looked away from you shyly, a very cute view, if only she didn't try to strangle you to death earlier.

"You're such a flirt"

You were stunned by her words, but recover quickly.

"For you, I have too, because..... I love you, and only you, forever"

She dug her face to your chest before letting out a shy shriek.

"Baby?"

She immediately attacked your mouth. Her hands is holding you from behind and work as your head pillow.

You felt your cheeks getting wet, her little moan and squeal also tells you, she's crying.

"I love you, oh god I love you so much it hurts. Hold me tight babe, don't let me go, never let me go"

She pulled away showing her tearful face.

"Okay babe, I love you too"

She took of your shirt.

"I want you, I want you again inside me babe"

She whined as she took of her's as well.

"I, am tired"

She kisses your cheek.

"I know, I'll do all the work this time. Just lay there okay baby?"

She pulled down your pants before ditching her panties and start grinding her already wet pussy on your dick.

"Hold my hand baby"

She reached out to you. You pulled up your hand and she immediately took it, interlocking your fingers with each other.

With the support from your hand she continues her grinding until your dick became hard.

Without waiting any longer she put it inside her.

"Aghhhhh, baby"

Her hands squeezed yours as her leg was quivering.

"You're, so tight Noona"

You can't help but groan feeling her inner walls is squeezing your dick, ready to milk it until it ran dry.

"I'm the best right baby, I'm better than those bitches? I have the best pussy you ever tried?"

Her eyes is filled with madness and a crave for your praises.

"You're the best one Noona, nothing come close to you"

You let go of her hand and reached to grab her ass.

"Yeah baby, my pussy was molded for your cock, it's perfect, we're perfect, I love you, I love you so much"

Losing it's support she drop down to you and start to nibbling on your neck as her hips start to pick up the pace.

"I love you too Noona"

You moaned feeling her teeth is biting on to your collarbone.

"You're so big, I'm breaking baby, do you want to tear me into two?"

Fuck this succubus is insane

Your hand starts to spank her ass making her moan louder and louder.

"Break me baby, fill me up, I want to feel your cum inside again. Come on, fill me up baby, fill up your Noona with your cum"

Your hip started moving, matching her pace. Every thrust you send made her thighs and ass wiggle. Her moans and screams start to shake matching her body's trembles.

"I'm coming baby"

She moaned as she sinked her teeth to your chest.

"No Noona, you don't get to cum"

You have to do it, how can you pass up the opportunity to dominate Irene?

"Baby please"

She raised her head showing her teary eyes and begging expression.

"If you cum, I will hate you"

You see her face was riddled with shock and fear, those two expression was then mixed with arrousal and lust as you start thrusting her faster and faster.

"Baby pleaseeee"

Her tears ran down her cheek. You almost feel sorry, almost.

"You cum when I cum, understand?"

She bite her lower lips, her tears running down her face.

"Babyyyyy"

Thankfully her whines help pushed you over the edge.

"Cum with me babe"

Your dick start to twitch, then as she felt your cum tainted her inner walls she let out a deep guttural groan as her body went to another seizure.

You felt, tired, drained, you lay on your couch panting as Irene was having an orgasm.

Finally it passed and she dropped to your chest. You hear her sobbing as her tears wet your chest.

"I'm sorry baby"

You decided to caress her head, she let out her cries as she hugged you.

Do you feel sorry for her? Maybe

Do you regret doing it? Fuck no

Finally she stopped crying and raised her tear stained face and her red eyes is looking at you timidly.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry, I just can't.... Stop myself when you're.... Being so cute"

Her tears falling again as she start to kiss you.

Her hands is hugging your neck, her leg is resting quietly between yours.

The kiss was, actually you're not really sure, probably 30 minutes or more.

"I love you baby, I really do"

Finally she finished and just whimper weakly in your ears.

"Okay babe, fuck it's already 7, I need to go"

She shake her head and just lock you in place.

"You're free for the day baby, cuddle me"

Even though her voice sounds so weak and tired you know resisting her now will only make your suffering greater tomorrow.

"I, need to contact my trainer at least"

She shake her head again.

"I don't want you to talk to other woman"

Fucking hell lady.

"Please?"

She then raised her face, it looked tired, but her eyes have some cold fury in it.

"Did you have her number in your phone"

Oh shit, here we go again.

"Yeah, I nee-"

She slapped my chest, it felt weak, but the emotional damage, well it's also weak since you're not that into her yet.

"Delete it"

You felt nervous, trying to make some excuses in your head.

"Why are you hesitating? You want to cheat on me again?"

You winced as she say that, knowing full well, what's gonna come for you for the rest of this relationship.

"I need her contact in case something happened"

She shake her head again.

"No, I don't care, delete it. If you want to say something then tell your friend to relay your message to her"

"Baby please"

"No, I lose you before I'm not losing you again to some scrawny whore who's going to seduce you. No baby, I'm not losing you again, not when I already have you in my arms"

What now? What will your brilliant mind come up with?

"I need it for my career"

She snorted.

"You only need me, if you want to debut just say it and I'll make you debut"

Sugar mommy is a pretty rare thing to have, especially someone this hot.

"Baby, I, need to earn it"

She growled again.

"You, can let me ask her right? I'm just telling her I'm sick"

Her face contorted as she grabbed your chest.

"Fine, but I want to see your chat history. In fact, I want to see your phone and check every single girl you tried to cheat on me with"

Well this is it, it's your life now.

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