Bob-Ryan

You almost feel like a vampire when you sink your teeth into it, licking the sweet skin that she loves to give everyone a glimpse of. And although you'd hate to admit it to her, with the way the dress hugs her figure and shows her milky arms and legs, you actually do like a good show.

So you take the opportunity to show yourself more of her. You slightly pull down the top of the dress so that you could capture those pretty breasts for your own. Swirl your curious tongue around one nipple and she lets out the first gutteral cry of the night, a sign that what you are doing is one of the things that succeeds in getting her there. Chaeyoung tugs your head closer while her head throws back, eyes closed and her fingers pulling at the blunt strands on your scalp. Her wetness begins to make a mess on the leg of your pants, but you don't mind at all; you even flex your thigh further, aiming your knee for her clitoris to keep her stimulated.

"Hmm, daddy."

She purrs these words as you steadily rub the core of your knee on her sensitive nub. Grateful for the ministration, she makes her own by raising her hips and settling back down onto your leg needily, all while her fingers trail down from the back of your head to your broad shoulders.

Then Chaeyoung looks you straight in the eyes in a way that almost intimidates you if she weren't pleading. "Please," she says, "I need it."

She squirms herself onto the mast struggling beneath the fabric of your pants. She whimpers quietly as the wetness in her core increases and drips down onto your lap, indifferent to the fact that more heat is beginning to develop in your core because of the sheer friction her pussy causes.

Her whines and begging only rile you up further to give it to her. Unable to hold back anymore, you pull her closer and start viciously attacking her lips. The taste of her lips is lovely enough, but even a sponsored expensive lipbalm could never come close to how delicious Chaeyoung's mouth is. You love how you could feel her moans vibrate against your lips and her tongue curl around yours, but you take a break from that to press kisses to her jaw and neck.

You nibble softly at her jaw. One of your hands rests behind her neck while the other caresses her squirming thighs. While you watch her sigh and moan, you lick the back of her ear and whisper to her: "You know, Chaeyoungie, I've always loved this perfume."

"That's why I wore it today, daddy," she answers cheekily. God, that accent of hers never fails to turn you on.

"Well, I like it, baby. But what you shouldn't be wearing right now is this dress of yours."

Corny, you know, but it doesn't sound like that at all to Chaeyoung's ears. She giggles even, giving you a kiss before caressing your cheeks with her thumbs.

"You know I can't, daddy," she tells you patiently, closing her eyes as you begin to caress her collarbone and neck with your lips in hopes of convincing her otherwise. "You know that… hangh, I have a concert to do. And it took a long time putting on this dress."

"Hm, fine."

"It's alright, daddy, I'll make it up to you after the concert, okay? But for now…" She pulls up the lavender dress and winks at you. "The dress stays on."

"And I stay in."

You surprise her with a quick thrust of your dick inside her. With all the talking she has done, she gave no mind to you springing out your rod and giving it a few quick pumps to prepare yourself for her. So now after a high-pitched gasp of surprise, she buries her face in your neck, squealing in its crook while her contracting walls fail to properly adjust to your length and size.

Rosé is still as tight as ever. Her sultry moans may be hot, but they don't distract you from how slick and tight she is. Her walls squeeze you tightly, the velvety feeling massaging your cock while you slip it in and out of her.

"Hangh! Oh my god!" Chaeyoung cries out as your rod penetrates her continuously. While there is pain because of the way you stretch her out, she can't deny the heavenly feeling of your mushroom head rubbing at her sensitive spots. Each stimulation of one of them guarantees a rush of juices, making it easier to thrust into her.

Is it inappropriate to fuck your fiancé before her concert? Yes. Oh, and while in the presence of the poor driver who probably wants nothing to do with this? Definitely! But you can tell that it's the boldness, the danger that makes this so arousing for her.

You can see it in the way her eyes constantly dart to the driver, as if wanting to know his reactions; the increasing volume of her pretty moans, the hardened force of her bounces on your erection so that the obscene sounds of coitus can be heard more clearly.

Park Chaeyoung loves a good risk, and you are about to aid her in this particular one.

Grinding into her delicious wetness, you raise your hips to meet her steady bounces. Her cunt tenses but her mouth parts to let out a well-needed scream. It continues—a string of curses and cries riddled with a moderate Australian accent—till you partially silence it with your lips pressing against hers.

It's all tongue and scream and teeth. Your hands curl through Chaeyoung's blonde strands while your teeth gently bite down on her lower lip. Meanwhile the bounces of your thigh assist her in her own riding. With it, your cock is able to slide into her tight hole from tip to base, filling her up completely.

"Almost there, almost there!" she cries out loudly. Chaeyoung slams herself down on your lap, urgently grinding herself onto you and clenching as hard as she can. "A-Almost there, daddy, please!"

Your mind is too dazed by sex and lust to wonder if she is talking about the nearing location of the concert venue or her own orgasm. But what it registers is that, either way, you have to go faster.

Eyes fixated on Chaeyoung's face slowly being overcome by pleasure, you pound her even faster till it becomes difficult to do so because of how hard she is clenching around you. Even so, you push and pull out furiously, the two of you becoming two sinners in the night, whose selfish, dirty minds are set only on reaching your highs.

The air-conditioner does a poor job of cooling the heat that envelops the two of you. Another coat of slick covers your dick, and soon all you could sense is the loud sounds of Chaeyoung's shrill cries, the subtle bounce of her boobs from behind her dress, and the dizzying smell of her perfume.

Lavenders and roses are always a good combination.

There's a certain thing in the way Chaeyoung cums that has you hooked even as your own climax hits you. Is it the look on her face—wide eyes, parted lips letting out screams? Hm, maybe, but not quite! Or is it how her pussy becomes the tightest you have ever felt it hug around you as she milks you of semen, urging you to paint her walls white as a secret not even her concert-going fans could know?

Perhaps.

Either way, you diligently fuck the wetness dripping out of Park Chaeyoung's cunt back inside her. She whines a little, the waves of her orgasm still crashing onto her. But what also adds to those waves is a creamy white color as the vice-like grip of her pussy around your member forces you to spray yourself inside her.

The flower shivers in the night, covered by both the showers of rain and snow. But she never withers, not once—and her sweet smell will linger in your mind forevermore.

That is why you love her, after all.

The car comes to a pause beside the sidewalk of the venue. Outside, flashing cameras and adoring fans wait almost impatiently to see their idol, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rose in lavender.

It is a good thing the limousine windows are covered by a curtain; if they had not been, Chaeyoung's fans would probably have been horrified at the sight of her post-orgasmic state, all while seated on the lap of a mysterious lover.

But they don't get to see that; only you do.

Chaeyoung makes a heavy sigh. The sound from her is caused both by nervousness and the pleasurable feeling of your flaccid cock still tucked inside her, but the former seems to be the overbearing reason.

The driver turns to you and Chaeyoung. Although the neutrality of his face makes him seem unfazed by what has just violated his poor ears and eyes, the redness in his pale ears gives it all away.

You chuckle a little; you've got to give it to him for keeping himself focused on the road and not on the moaning lady reflected in the rearview mirror.

His unfazed demeanor doesn't fade even when he glances at Chaeyoung. You expected him to break character upon speaking with the Park Chaeyoung, Golden Voice of Korean and global popstar. But seeing that he did not, you begin to have some sort of respect for him now.

He bows his head slightly to Chaeyoung, before politely inquiring her, "Ready to go, Ms. Park?"

Chaeyoung turns to you with slightly turned-down pink lips and scrunched eyebrows, showing you the answer to the question instead to the driver, the one who made it. And in her face you can see every question running in her mind: "Can I do this?"; "What if they notice something wrong?"; "What if I do something wrong?".

And with a stroke of her hair and a soft smile, you give her the answer to her own questions:

"It'll be alright, Chaeyoung-ah. You'll do great."

You wrap her in a tight, loving hug. And you like how now there isn't any lingering lust or obscenity in it; just concern and unbridled love for the one in between the other's arms.

Your hand rubs her back for what seems like eternity. But the wait is worth it, for when she lifts her head and looks you in the eyes again, you see a renewed confidence in her face, a renewed belief that your words are true.

This girl is not any different from who she truly is, but by the smug smile that settles on her lips, you come to know that Rosé has arrived at the scene.

Blackpink's all-rounder and reknowned soloist Roséanne Park faces the driver and flashes him that same smile she gave you, but this time, wider. "Ready when you are."

The scent of sex and Jennie’s sweet perfume was a familiar comfort, a heady perfume that Jisoo had come to crave over the past month. Exactly one month. Thirty days of stolen moments, of secret glances across crowded rooms, of midnight trysts that left them both breathless and aching. They were insatiable. Like a pair of hormonal teenagers, they’d fucked in every conceivable semi-private space—the dressing rooms, the back of the van, the cramped bathroom of the private jet. The constant risk of being caught only seemed to fuel the fire, making each frantic coupling more intense than the last.

Right now, though, there was no rush. They were nestled together in Jennie’s bed, the sheets a tangled mess around their naked limbs. Jisoo spooned Jennie from behind, her chin resting on the younger woman’s shoulder, one hand cupping a soft, perfect breast. Jennie wiggled her ass back against Jisoo’s pelvis, a satisfied hum vibrating in her chest.

“You know,” Jennie murmured, her voice husky from sleep and their earlier activities. “It’s our one-month anniversary today.”

“Is it?” Jisoo nuzzled her neck, placing a soft kiss on the rapidly purpling mark she’d left there the night before. “I guess it is. My babygirl’s been with me for a whole month.”

“Mhmm,” Jennie turned in her arms, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I got you a very special gift, Mommy.”

Jisoo’s eyebrows raised in interest. Her hand slid down Jennie’s stomach, fingertips tickling the sensitive skin just above her pubic hair. “Oh? And what kind of gift would that be? Should I be worried?”

Before Jennie could answer, the sharp, insistent ring of the doorbell echoed through the quiet apartment. Jisoo groaned in frustration.

“Are you expecting someone?” she asked, already pulling away.

“Not really,” Jennie said, a sly smile playing on her lips as she scrambled out of bed. She quickly pulled on a pair of silk pajama shorts and a matching camisole top. “Must be my gift delivery.”

Jisoo watched her go, a curious frown on her face. She settled back against the pillows, listening as Jennie opened the front door. She expected to hear the muffled voice of a delivery man, but instead, a familiar, melodic tone cut through the air.

“Jennie-unnie! Thank you for inviting me, I was so bored I thought I was going to die!”

Rosé.

Panic, cold and sharp, shot through Jisoo. She was naked in Jennie’s bed. The room smelled like a fucking brothel. She launched herself from the bed, snatching her own discarded pajamas from the floor—a simple t-shirt and shorts set. She could hear Jennie’s voice, calm and reassuring, leading Rosé down the short hallway towards the bedroom.

“She’s just bringing her here,” Jisoo hissed to herself, scrambling. She dove for the bathroom just as the bedroom door swung open, pulling it shut with a soft click and leaning against it, her heart hammering against her ribs.

“Unnie, your place is a disaster zone as usual,” Rosé’s voice drifted through the door, laced with fond exasperation. “Were you hibernating? And what is that smell? Did you burn a candle or something?”

Jisoo cringed, pressing her forehead against the door.

“Yah! Stop insulting my sanctum,” Jennie shot back playfully. Jisoo could hear the smile in her voice. “And it’s my new essential oil diffuser. It’s supposed to be ‘sensual sandalwood’. You’re just jealous of my sophisticated lifestyle.”

“Sensual, huh? Smells more like you forgot to take out the garbage,” Rosé teased, the sound of her bouncing onto the bed echoing clearly. “I was just lying on my couch staring at the ceiling for two hours. I think I was starting to mold. I had to escape.”

“Well, you escaped to the right place,” Jennie said. “I was just about to figure out what to do with my evening anyway.”

Jisoo took a deep, steadying breath and emerged from the bathroom, trying to look as casual as possible. Rosé, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the rumpled bed, looked up in surprise, a cracker from the bedside table already halfway to her mouth.

“Jisoo-unnie! What are you doing here? I thought you were having your weekly ‘I’m an old lady, I need to go to bed at 9 PM’ night.”

Jisoo shot a pointed look at Jennie, who was busy trying to smooth the worst of the wrinkles from the duvet. “Very funny, Chaeng. I was bored, so I just barged in. I didn’t know you were coming. Sorry if I’m making you feel like a third wheel.”

Rosé snorted, popping the cracker into her mouth. “Please. You two are practically attached at the hip anyway. The more the merrier. If Lisa wasn’t in Thailand, I would have dragged her here, too.”

“Good, because that gives me an idea,” Jennie announced, finally getting the bed to a somewhat presentable state. “We’re having a movie night. Right now.”

Once the bed was deemed suitable, they all piled on. Rosé, as if by some unspoken, devious design, ended up in the middle, nestled snugly between Jisoo and Jennie. Her long, coltish legs stretched out in front of her, completely at ease.

Jennie grabbed the TV remote and brought up the familiar red interface. “Any recommendations?”

Jisoo and Rosé both shrugged in unison.

“I don’t care, as long as it’s not another one of Jisoo-unnie’s boring historical documentaries,” Rosé said, earning a light shove from Jisoo.

“Hey! Those are educational!”

“How about…” Jennie’s voice was pure suggestion, laced with a wicked delight. “*The Handmaiden*?”

Rosé physically choked on a cracker. The title hung in the air, heavy and thick with unspoken meaning. She knew of the film, of course. Everyone did. She’d even, in a moment of lonely curiosity late one night in her own apartment, furtively searched for a few of the more… infamous scenes online. The memory of those clips—of the raw, desperate intensity, the pale skin flushed with desire, the soft, breathy sounds—sent an involuntary jolt of heat straight to her core.

“Whoa, really?” Rosé stammered, trying to regain her composure. “Isn’t that a little… intense? Maybe we could just watch a rom-com or something?”

Before she could form a coherent protest, Jisoo spoke, her voice a low, smooth purr that Rosé felt vibrate right through her own bones. “I’ve heard it’s a masterpiece. A work of art. And we’re all adults here, right? No problem with a little cinematic brilliance.”

The trap was sprung, and Rosé could feel the jaws snapping shut around her.

“R-right,” Rosé managed to squeak out.

Jennie smirked, a triumphant little quirk of her lips, and hit play. They settled in, the three of them a tangle of limbs under the covers. For the first hour, Rosé tried her best to focus on the intricate plot, but it was a losing battle. The heat radiating from Jisoo on one side and Jennie on the other was overwhelming. Then the film shifted, the on-screen tension growing as charged and palpable as the tension in the bedroom. A scene began, one that was undeniably, beautifully, and explicitly erotic.

Rosé felt herself squirming, a restless, aching heat building low in her belly. She pressed her thighs together, a tiny, useless gesture for a relief that seemed miles away.

Then, she felt a wisp of air on her ear as Jennie leaned in. “You’re quiet, Chaeyoung-ah,” Jennie murmured, her voice a low, seductive whisper. “Movie too slow for you?”

“No, it’s… it’s good,” Rosé replied, her eyes glued to the screen, refusing to look at either of them. “Just paying attention.”

A soft, knowing chuckle was her reply. Jennie’s hand, which had been resting innocently on the blanket between them, moved, settling with deliberate weight on Rosé’s thigh. “Is that so? Because your face is getting a little red. Are you sure you’re not feeling hot, Rosie-posie?”

“I-I’m fine,” Rosé insisted, her voice coming out as a squeak.

Jennie pressed her body closer, the soft, full weight of her breast molding against Rosé’s arm. Her lips brushed against the shell of her ear, her voice dropping even lower, laced with pure, unadulterated sin.

“Are you sure about that?” Jennie murmured, her thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her thigh. “Are you getting all worked up by the movie… or is it something else?”

Rosé’s breath hitched, a sharp, audible sound in the quiet room. Her mind was screaming at her to push Jennie’s hand away, to laugh it off, to do *something* normal. But her body, traitorous and starved, had other ideas. A fresh wave of heat bloomed under Jennie’s touch, spreading up her thigh and pooling in her core. She could feel the dampness soaking through her panties, a shameful, thrilling evidence of her own desire.

“I…” Rosé started, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat, trying for a light, dismissive tone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The movie is just… very artsy.”

“Artsy?” Jennie’s voice was a low chuckle, a puff of warm air against Rosé’s neck. Her thumb, which had been making idle circles on Rosé’s thigh, stilled, then pressed down firmly, right over the pulse point. “Is that what we’re calling it now? I think you’re getting turned on, Rosie. I think you like watching them. I think you’re imagining what it would feel like.”

As if on cue, the scene on the television intensified, the soft, breathy moans from the speakers seeming to mock Rosé’s silent turmoil. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands fisting the duvet on either side of her. “Jennie, stop,” she whispered, but it sounded more like a plea than a command.

Just as she felt like she might combust from Jennie’s teasing alone, another hand settled on her other leg. Jisoo’s.

Rosé’s eyes flew open. She had almost forgotten Jisoo was there, a silent, imposing presence on her other side. But she was very much there now. Her touch was different from Jennie’s—firmer, more deliberate, her fingers longer and more possessive as they wrapped around Rosé’s thigh.

Jisoo’s voice was a low, dark rumble, right beside her other ear. “She’s right, Chaeyoung-ah. Your heart is beating so fast I can feel it.” She leaned in, her body a solid wall of heat against Rosé’s side. “There’s no shame in it. It’s a beautiful film. And it’s even more beautiful to watch in person.”

Trapped. She was completely trapped between them, their bodies a cage of soft skin and simmering heat. Jennie’s hand slid higher, her fingertips teasing the hem of Rosé’s sleep shorts. Jisoo’s hand mirrored the movement, her thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. The dual stimulation was maddening.

“Look at you,” Jennie purred, her lips now ghosting along Rosé’s jawline. “So caught in the middle. Do you like being the center of attention, Chaeng? I think you do.”

A strangled whimper escaped Rosé’s lips. She was losing control, fast. Her resistance was crumbling, eroded by the relentless assault on her senses. The movie, the hands, the voices whispering filthy, wonderful things in her ears. She felt Jisoo’s other hand move, her fingers gently tilting her chin, turning her head until she was forced to meet Jisoo’s dark, unreadable gaze.

“Tell us what you want, Rosé,” Jisoo commanded, her voice soft but absolute. There was no room for argument. “Be a good girl and tell Mommy what you need.”

The word. *Mommy*. It landed like a spark on dry tinder. All of Rosé’s defenses, all her pretenses, went up in a puff of smoke. A tear of pure, overwhelming sensation slid from the corner of her eye and traced a path down her temple. She let out a shuddering breath, and her body, finally, gave in. Her legs, which had been pressed tightly together in a futile attempt at self-preservation, slowly, involuntarily, parted.

It was all the invitation they needed.

A triumphant, beautiful smile bloomed on Jennie’s face. She leaned forward and captured Rosé’s lips in a searing kiss. It was soft at first, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened, becoming hungry and demanding. Rosé melted into it, her months of pent-up loneliness and desire pouring out into that single kiss.

When Jennie finally pulled back, she was breathing heavily. She turned her head, her eyes locking with Jisoo’s over Rosé’s shoulder. Her voice was a reverent whisper, a devoted offering.

“Mommy… look what I brought for you.”

Jisoo’s eyes, dark and feral, burned into Jennie’s. A slow, predatory smile spread across her lips, a look of pure, unadulterated approval. She shifted, her body moving with a liquid grace that belied the raw hunger in her gaze. She reached out, her hand not touching Rosé, but cupping Jennie’s cheek, her thumb stroking the soft skin there.

“You did so well, babygirl,” Jisoo praised, her voice a low, possessive rumble that made both Jennie and Rosé shiver. “You brought Mommy such a beautiful gift.”

Then, her attention shifted, her gaze locking onto Rosé’s wide, anxious eyes. Rosé felt pinned, transfixed, like a mouse caught in the hypnotic stare of a snake. The fear was still there, a fluttering in her chest, but it was drowned out by a tidal wave of lust.

“Don’t be scared, Rosie-posie,” Jisoo whispered, her voice softening into a velvet caress. She leaned forward, her hand leaving Jennie’s cheek to trace the line of Rosé’s jaw. “Mommy’s going to take such good care of you.”

With Jisoo’s distraction, Jennie’s hands grew bolder. She hooked her fingers into the hem of Rosé’s sleep shirt and began to pull it upwards, slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Rosé lifted her arms without thinking, her body operating on pure instinct. The cool air hit her skin, raising goosebumps on her arms and stomach. Jennie tossed the shirt aside, her eyes immediately zeroing in on Rosé’s breasts, which were heaving with each ragged breath. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“So pretty,” Jennie breathed, her hands hovering just above Rosé’s tits, as if afraid to touch.

“Touch her,” Jisoo commanded, her voice firm. “She wants you to. Look how her nipples are begging for it.”

Jennie didn’t need to be told twice. Her palms settled over Rosé’s breasts, her thumbs brushing against the already-hardened peaks. Rosé cried out, a sharp, broken sound as bolts of pleasure shot straight to her clit. Jennie leaned in, her mouth replacing her hand on one breast, her tongue swirling around the sensitive nipple before she took it into her mouth and sucked.

“Fuck! Yes!” Rosé gasped, her hands flying to Jennie’s hair, holding her close. Her hips bucked off the bed, seeking friction she couldn’t find.

While Jennie was occupied with her tits, Jisoo’s hands moved downwards. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of Rosé’s shorts and panties, pulling them down in one smooth, decisive motion. Rosé whimpered as she was bared completely, her legs falling open in a silent offering. The scent of her arousal, thick and sweet, filled the air.

“Oh, my,” Jisoo murmured, her gaze fixed on Rosé’s glistening, swollen cunt. “Look at that, babygirl. She’s soaked. All for us.”

Jennie released Rosé’s nipple with a wet *pop* and looked down. A low, appreciative moan escaped her lips. “She’s so beautiful, Mommy.”

“Taste her,” Jisoo ordered.

Jennie eagerly obeyed. She slid down Rosé’s body, settling between her trembling thighs. She looked up at Rosé, her eyes dark with desire, before lowering her head. The first touch of her tongue was electric. A long, slow swipe up Rosé’s slit that made her entire body arch off the bed.

“Ah! Jennie!”

Jennie began to eat in earnest, her tongue exploring every fold and crevice. She was hungry, her movements greedy and unpracticed but full of enthusiasm. She found Rosé’s clit, a hard, straining nub, and wrapped her lips around it, sucking hard.

But Jisoo wasn’t content to just watch. She moved up the bed, positioning herself so she was kneeling beside Rosé’s head. She reached down, her fingers tangling in Rosé’s hair, turning her head to the side.

“Open your mouth, Rosie,” Jisoo commanded.

Rosé obeyed instantly, her lips parting. Jisoo leaned down and kissed her, a deep, possessive kiss that tasted of Jennie’s lip gloss and her own dark desire. At the same time, she brought her other hand to Rosé’s chest, her fingers finding her abandoned nipple and pinching, hard.

The dual sensations were too much. Jennie’s talented tongue lapping at her cunt, Jisoo’s dominant kiss and the sharp, sweet pain on her nipple. The coil of heat in Rosé’s stomach tightened to an impossible degree.

“Mmph! Mommy! I’m… I’m gonna cum!” she cried out against Jisoo’s mouth.

“Cum for us, babygirl,” Jisoo growled, breaking the kiss. “Cum all over Jennie’s pretty face. Show her how much you love it.”

The command was her undoing. With a strangled scream, Rosé’s orgasm tore through her. Her back arched into a tight bow, her thighs clamping around Jennie’s head as waves of intense, overwhelming pleasure crashed over her. A gush of fluid coated Jennie’s chin and chest as her pussy convulsed.

Jennie didn’t stop, lapping up every drop, prolonging the pleasure until Rosé was a sobbing, boneless mess beneath her. Slowly, Jennie lifted her head, her face shining with Rosé’s essence, a triumphant, wicked smirk on her lips.

“She tastes so good, Mommy,” Jennie purred.

“I bet she does,” Jisoo said, her voice thick with lust. “Don’t worry, Rosie,” Jisoo whispered, her voice a soothing balm. “Mommy’s going to make you feel even better. We’re just getting started.”

Rosé’s mind was a blank canvas, wiped clean by the force of her orgasm. She floated in a hazy, blissful sea of sensation, her body tingling and limp. She was distantly aware of Jennie moving away, of the mattress shifting, and then of a new presence. Jisoo was lying beside her, her dark eyes filled with a possessive fire that made Rosé’s breath catch.

Jisoo shifted, maneuvering their bodies with an easy strength. She swung one leg over Rosé’s hip, then the other, until they were pressed together, core to core. Rosé gasped as their slick folds met. It was an intimate, electric contact.

“Have you ever done this, Rosie?” Jisoo asked, her voice a husky whisper.

Rosé could only shake her head, her eyes wide.

“Then hold on,” Jisoo smirked.

She began to move, a slow, deliberate roll of her hips. The friction was immediate and overwhelming. Their clits brushed, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through both of them. Rosé cried out, her hands flying to Jisoo’s hips, her nails digging into the firm flesh.

“Ah! Jisoo…”

“Call me Mommy,” Jisoo commanded, her movements becoming faster, more forceful. She ground down, establishing a rhythm that was both punishing and exquisite. Their bodies moved together, a slick, pistoning motion, the wet sounds of their joining filling the room.

Just as Rosé thought she couldn’t take any more, Jennie reappeared. She had a look of pure, unadulterated hunger on her face. She crawled onto the bed and straddled Rosé’s head, her knees on either side of Rosé’s face, her dripping cunt hovering just above Rosé’s lips.

“My turn,” Jennie purred, looking down at Rosé. “Be a good girl and make me cum while Mommy fucks you, Rosie-posie.”

Rosé didn’t need to be told twice. She tilted her head back, her tongue darting out to taste Jennie. The sharp, tangy flavor of her arousal exploded on Rosé’s tongue. She wrapped her arms around Jennie’s thighs, pulling her down, and began to eat her with a desperate, hungry fervor.

The world dissolved into a symphony of overwhelming sensation. The relentless, grinding pleasure of Jisoo’s cunt against her own, the taste and feel of Jennie’s pussy on her tongue, the sounds of their mingled moans and cries. She was the center of their universe, the conduit for their shared pleasure.

Jennie was the first to shatter. “Oh, fuck! Rosie! Yes! Right there! Don’t stop!” she screamed, her body convulsing as her orgasm ripped through her. She ground down against Rosé’s mouth, riding out the waves of pleasure until she collapsed forward, gasping for breath.

The feeling of Jennie cumming on her face, combined with Jisoo’s relentless pounding, sent Rosé over the edge again. She screamed into Jennie’s pussy, her own body bucking wildly as a third, devastating orgasm tore through her.

Jisoo followed them a moment later with a deep, guttural groan, her body going taut as she ground out her own climax against Rosé’s trembling form.

They collapsed in a heap of tangled, sweaty limbs. For a long while, the only sound was their ragged breathing. But Jisoo, ever the insatiable Mommy, wasn’t finished.

“Babygirl,” she murmured to Jennie, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Our Rosie needs a lesson. I want to feel her tongue on me.”

Jennie’s face lit up with a wicked grin. She rolled off Rosé, moving to lie beside Jisoo. “Your turn to be the student, Chaeng,” she said, her voice playful and commanding.

Jisoo lay back, spreading her legs wide in an open invitation. Rosé, still trembling, crawled down the bed. She felt a surge of nervousness. This was Jisoo. *Mommy*. She wanted to do it right.

As if reading her mind, Jennie knelt beside her. “Hey, look at me,” Jennie said softly. Rosé met her gaze. “Just follow my lead. We’ll do it together.”

Jennie leaned over and took one of Jisoo’s hard nipples into her mouth, sucking and teasing it with her tongue. At the same time, she guided Rosé’s head down between Jisoo’s legs.

“Start slow,” Jennie instructed, her voice a low murmur against Jisoo’s breast. “Just soft licks. Taste her. Get her ready for you.”

Rosé obeyed, her tongue tentatively flicking out to taste Jisoo’s folds. She was soaked, her cum mixed with Rosé’s own, a heady, intoxicating flavor. Rosé moaned, her confidence growing as she explored Jisoo’s cunt with her tongue.

“Good girl,” Jennie praised. “Now find her clit. See that little hard button? Lick it. Gently.”

Rosé found the nub and circled it with her tongue, just as Jennie’s fingers found Jisoo’s other nipple, pinching and rolling it. Jisoo gasped, her hips bucking.

“Fuck… yes…” Jisoo breathed, her hands tangling in Rosé’s hair.

“Now suck it,” Jennie commanded. “Gently at first, then harder. Take it into your mouth and suck like you’re trying to pull the cum right out of her.”

Rosé wrapped her lips around Jisoo’s clit and sucked. The reaction was immediate. Jisoo cried out, her thighs clamping around Rosé’s head. Emboldened, Rosé sucked harder, her tongue flicking against the sensitive nub in her mouth.

Together, they drove Jisoo wild. Jennie’s mouth and hands on her tits, Rosé’s hungry mouth on her cunt. The dual stimulation was overwhelming.

“Fuck, I’m close! My good girls… don’t stop… make Mommy cum!” Jisoo chanted, her voice strained with the force of her impending orgasm.

With a final, powerful cry, Jisoo’s body arched off the bed. Her orgasm ripped through her with the force of a tidal wave, a violent, convulsive explosion of pleasure that left her shaking and sobbing. Rosé held on, lapping up every drop of her release, prolonging the pleasure until Jisoo was completely spent.

They collapsed together, a breathless, sticky tangle of limbs. The air was thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction. After a long moment, Rosé lifted her head, a shy, proud smile on her face.

“Did I do good, Mommy?”

Jisoo pulled her up into a deep, loving kiss. “You did perfect, babygirl. You were both so, so good.”

They stayed like that for a moment nestling into Jisoo’s sides, their bodies a tangled, sticky, sated mess.

For a long time, no one spoke. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat. It was Rosé who finally broke the silence, her voice a shaky, disbelieving whisper against Jennie’s shoulder. “What… what just happened?”

Jennie shifted, propping herself up on an elbow to look down at Rosé, a lazy, triumphant smirk on her face. “You, my dear Rosie-posie, just had your mind blown. And then you helped us blow Mommy’s mind, too.”

“No, I mean…” Rosé struggled to find the words, her mind still foggy. “You two… Jisoo-unnie calling you ‘babygirl’ and you calling her ‘Mommy’… And this whole thing, the movie… Was this planned?”

“Your one-month anniversary gift, Mommy,” Jennie said proudly, looking at Jisoo.

A slow blush crept up Rosé’s neck. “So… I was a gift?”

“The best gift,” Jisoo confirmed, her voice a low rumble. She reached out and stroked Rosé’s hair. “This all started a month ago, Chaeyoung-ah. On that last tour stop. And Jennie and I… we haven’t been able to keep our hands off each other since.” She explained, her voice candid and matter-of-fact, how their stolen moments had become an addiction, how the constant risk had only fueled their desire. “And we talked about you,” Jisoo added, her eyes meeting Rosé’s. “We both wanted this. We both wanted you.”

Rosé’s blush deepened, a mix of shock and a slow, dawning arousal. “You’ve been… all this time? And I had no idea? I can’t believe you two kept this from me!”

“We wanted to make sure you were ready,” Jennie said, leaning in to kiss Rosé’s cheek. “And it looks like you were very, very ready.”

A slow smile spread across Rosé’s face, the shock giving way to a sense of belonging, of being let in on a delicious secret. “Well,” she said, her voice gaining a playful edge. “Now that I know… I feel a little left out of the past month’s shenanigans.”

“Don’t worry,” Jisoo said, her eyes glinting with a new, conspiratorial light. She tightened her arm around them both, pulling them close. “We have plenty of time to make up for it. But…” She paused, letting the word hang in the air. “Now that you’re one of us, Chaeyoung-ah, it’s your turn to help.”

Jennie picked up the thread, a wicked glint in her eyes. “We’re not a complete set yet. There’s still one person who doesn’t know about our little club.”

Rosé’s eyes widened as the unspoken name filled the space between them. “Lisa.”

“Mhmm,” Jisoo hummed, her tone a low, dominant purr. “And since we brought you in, Rosie… it’s only fair that you help us with the final piece. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to help us claim our Lalisa.”

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A look over her shoulder, furry scarf encapsulating her neck. The flash with her eyes sends you reeling, pulling your heartstring to the thinnest strand, nearly tearing it. She’s playing her role so innocently: the heartbreaker, your antagonist, a divine sin. It’s a losing game; one where you know very well, the kind of game where it was deemed unwinnable from the start. 

But when you’re holding her close, feel her face buried into the space of your neck, all of the memories come flashing back - each one feeling more right than wrong. 

“Maybe in another life,” Rosé tells you, and you’re shushing her, because the break in her voice is already destroying you on the inside, whatever she says next doesn’t even register in your ears; since she’s said the same tale before, and you’re agreeing with her regardless. 

To you, Rosé is a lot of things. A scrapbook filled with endless memories. The person to sit at your doorstep late into the night just to have a meaningful conversation. A half that’s been ripped apart. You can go down the mental checklist time and time again, and end up in the same spot as before. 

In another life, or some universe for that matter: you and her get that fairytale ending together. 

–

The incident, quite literally, comes fast in the dead of the night. 

It doesn’t hit you on the nose all at once. What does hit you is your tossed phone right onto your face, squinting at nothing when you sit up before looking down to the bright flash of your phone screen along with the number resting at the top. 

“I thought I told you to put your phone on vibrate, you idiot,” your girlfriend huffs sleepily, clearly annoyed at the random call during these late hours when slumber is the only option. Your vision is still coming about, looking over to the window where it’s still dark outside, then over to the alarm clock on your nightstand, struggling to even get a glimpse of the time - no point in looking at your phone too since you would be seeing white well into the morning. 

Like anyone else in this particular situation (not really), you pick up: “It’s three in the morning, why would-” 

“Did you plan an anniversary trip for us?” The girl’s tone on the other end is a bit on edge, looking for answers. “When the fuck were you going to tell me and why the hell did it have to be now?” 

You’re still half asleep, half awake; but the timbre in the voice sounds all too familiar - she’s got the same drawl stemmed off from you, not to mention the flurry of questions in the opening five seconds. There’s also that sense of bubbliness you’re imagining, the way that you can easily picture her sitting with both knees up, her head tilted in a way where it shows that she’s very uninterested. Or, the other form where she’s leaning forward, leaning into her phone, constantly looking down at the ground and nowhere else. 

She hates the fact that she had to make this call, and you can easily tell. You, on the other end, are trying to put the bits and pieces of the story together to the best of your memory, scratching the back of your head, trying to rattle your slow-working brain. Hanging up would’ve been the best option to follow, save this conversation for later when you can think straight. Typically, you should’ve just ignored the call entirely. 

Tragically, that’s not your style, so you answer, “Hey Rosie, been a while since I’ve heard your voice.” 

A sigh sounds off from the speaker, “Don’t ‘Rosie’ me. I just need you to confirm my suspicions.” 

“On?” 

“Pfft, stop being stupid. I’m not gonna repeat myself here.” 

You breathe out a soft laugh, and hang your head into your chest for a second, collecting your thoughts. “Yes, I did plan that out as a trip for us. Right before we, uh-” 

Silence fills the call immediately after. Despite being on separate paths, the tension still stings like a tightening noose around your neck. Not even a simple grind of your teeth and a clenched fist can serve as the probable testament to the amount of pain you and her suffered together on the tail-end of your relationship, the hope of salvaging lost long before calling it quits. 

“Still there?” Rosé asks, snapping your attention back to her voice. 

“Yeah,” you reply, hiding a sniffle through a quick cough, “I just- yeah. Details can come later.” 

“Okay,” she says, carrying on. “I got that reminder email from the travel organizer.” And at this point you’re cursing yourself and mentally facepalming as many times as you possibly could (seriously, why would you think it was a good idea to set up a reminder through that stupid auto-email service to notify her too as well?), thinking of every contingency to weasel your way out of this conversation. Rosé, however, had no idea of your present thought process, “Went through reading the fine prints of the agreement and…well.” 

“And?” You practically prayed to God that she’d not been this quick to read into the lines and decode the information. 

“Says here that the trip is non-refundable.” That is what Rosé ends with. 

“That so?”

“We can’t cancel it.”

“Too late for us to do that, no?” 

The comforter ruffles behind you, a small hand tapping the lower back of your shirt. “Babe? Who’s that on the phone?” 

You press the switch near your nightstand to put the room into an ambient lighting setting, turning over to see the lovely ruffle of bed hair and one eye open. She then snuggles herself back into the bed, covering herself with the sheets as you’re palming the side of her face to put her back to sleep. “Sorry Jennie, it’s a-” and here is where you’re throwing caution to the wind, ensuring that you don’t trip up on your words at this moment, “late night work call.” So far it’s good, and Jennie nods with a soft hum, lazy smile at the touch of your palm. She’s a bit dazed, but one good measure for insurance, you tell her, “I’ll explain in the morning.” 

Jennie blinks once or twice, dropping her eyelids while you rub your thumb across her cheek, the soothing touch sending her away to dreamland. There’s a warmth here; one where you feel safe, at home. You’ve struck out in getting with a girl like her, and the timing of it couldn’t have been more impeccable: you and Jennie were both at low points in life when you found each other, building up until the feelings couldn’t be suppressed any longer. 

(That story’s for another time. Though, a very heartwarming memory to look back on.) 

Your name, rolling of Rosé’s tongue, drags you back down. “Hello? Oh- yeah, yeah. I’m still here. What were you asking?” 

“So we’re going? Is that what I’m getting at here?” 

The inquiry lances your heart and mind, filling it with an endless plethora of uncertainties. “Wait- what?” 

“Well for one: it’s my ticket. And two: I want to go. If you were going to morph this trip with someone else, I’d understand.” Rosé’s reason is plausible, and you’re seeing a way out of this less and less. “But considering that we had the plans under our names, we’d-” 

“Rosé-” 

“It’s my ticket.” Rosé doubles down and you wince at the fact. “I can imagine you scrunching your face right now, stop that.” 

“Okay, you win.” 

“Good.” 

“I’ll get everything arranged prior in the next few days and pick you up for the airport. Talk to you later.” 

–

At the airport, not to anyone’s surprise, there is an essential bomb rush of families on top of families arriving and checking in and boarding to their set destination. Pro tip: plan the flights ahead of time (especially if it’s during the holiday season), just to avoid any sort of commotion or potential setback on your end. If the flight gets delayed, rescheduled, or relocated to another gate, that’s not your fault. 

God forbid that any of those happen since it would only prolong the amount of time you’d have to spend with Rosé. 

Very small words were exchanged when you picked her up from her apartment, on the way to the airport, and even when you did most of the work getting all of the travel plans for this ‘anniversary gift’ finalized and confirmed. As expected, honestly. Sharing a car ride with your ex was not on your list of places to get stuck in no matter what the predetermined events or circumstances are, but all the more reason to keep your eyes on the road at the time, go figure. 

Rosé’s sitting on the opposite end of you at one of the benches near the boarding gate once everything’s been checked in and settled; along with the security wing gauntlet handled by the TSA, but you’re finally here - waiting for all of this to finally be done and over with. She’s bearing no ounce of attention towards you, mindlessly scrolling on her phone with earbuds in, hoping that you wouldn’t take notice, but you do. And when she does flash a quick look of her eyes in your direction, a millisecond is all you get to dart your eyes elsewhere that isn’t on her. 

Still, you can’t help yourself when you’re mentally rolling back the years. 

Her styling is strikingly the same as it was before. A leather jacket finely pointed at the edges and crooks where it looks like the wrinkles aren’t even supposed to be there in the first place, those flowy pants that make it look like it was ripped off of a parachute and sewed up by a designer as this one-of-one piece. Then, there are the rings, and her pair of shades resting above her forehead; she’s bundled up into the seat like a little kid, an arm holding her phone as it rests along her thigh, both of her shoes are off and she’s got these cute, pink fluffy socks leaving you genuinely confused since the choice practically contradicts the other choices of clothing entirely. Really? Out of all those socks, you chose to go with that pair?

That doesn’t stand out as much compared to the other thing: her hair. 

Maybe God’s rolling the dice on you for this one. Hell, you’re even wondering if God ever rolls dice in his free time upstairs. Purposeful or not, it isn’t doing you any good the more you look at those golden, heavenly locks; braided up and tied back into her head where it doesn’t give any issue for her neck whatsoever. Not to mention her side profile, the shape of her nose, and that jaw. 

The pout she purses with her lips. It’s anything less than innocent. 

On schedule, there’s about roughly an hour or so before your flight to Paris takes off, and you’re not willing to drive yourself insane with very few word phrases spoken. So you make conversation: 

“You dyed your hair again,” you say, clutching your hoodie when Rosé’s attention falls back to you, “Gotta say, I like the color.” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Rosé says, pulling an earbud out and sliding both feet off the seat. The phrasing alone is still good enough to pass as awkward, sighing as she turns her head to look out the window - nothing but cloudy skies for miles while a plane touches down on the tarmac. “Blonde’s been such a comforting color for me, so I thought why not roll with it again for fun?” 

“Does bring back memories.” You slide your palms under your thighs, and cross both feet on the floor. “You had this platinum shade back when we first met.” 

“Did I? You still remember that?” Rosé grins at the sudden recollection, folding her glasses and sliding them into her handbag. 

“What do you want to get out of this?” You suddenly ask again, quickly running a hand across your chest to rid of the sweat riddled along your palms. 

“By this, you mean-”

“Our trip,” you amend. Here you’re pulling yourself back a bit - the duo of your luggage and hers acting as this barrier, hoping that the bags can serve as this proximity limiter for the time being. “It’s supposed to be for a week, with an option to extend for another day or so.” 

Rosé tugs the tied bun, scratching her neck to where you notice she got her nails trimmed and done. “A week in Paris doesn’t seem that bad, but planning it during the week of-” 

“Christmas was a bit of a stretch,” you wince with a hand to the back of your head, “It’s still a nice setting to think about, though. Cold weather, snowing, the cups of cocoa we’d drink together at a cafe? What else did I not think about while planning this?” 

Rosé just blinks at you, flabbergasted. She takes a second or longer to get a better look at your face, studying the shapes and curves of your frame as if it were some long-lost art piece that she had a vague familiarity with. Her breathing also slows for a bit when she drops her shoulders a bit, the discarded earbud now hanging as her eyes finally make contact with the floor, diminishing the gaze entirely. 

“Sorry. I had everything thought out for our stay,” you say casually, defeated. “I honestly wish that-” 

“Does Jennie know?” Rosé asks, leaning back into her chair. A premonition bubbling when she shares the same raised eyebrow directly back at you. 

You nod, which you’re half-right about. 

(“A work order in Paris?” Jennie asks you the morning after the first contact via phone call. She’s well aware of your passion for artistry and architecture, so playing the white lie of being ‘assigned’ to study in an attempt to further the progress of the team’s project was an idea worth rolling with. “How long are you going to be there for?” 

“No more than a week,” you answer, confident for no good reason. “Maybe a day or two more.” 

And that’s that.) 

But you zone out for a second too long. “You’re not very convincing,” says Rosé.

“She does,” you spit out again, nodding at a faster pace. “Jennie knows the surface level of this whole thing, at least.” 

“Hah,” Rosé breathes, stretching her neck with another glance. God, even the slightest sound of her laugh sounds the same as it was before - licking the rim of her lips where it meets her teeth, treating herself to the pulled cup of yogurt she bought as a snack to kill the waiting time faster. “Should’ve been honest with her,” she tells you, “I think there wouldn’t be anything wrong if you said my name in the first place instead. Lessens the risk of the possible conjecture.” 

The audacity, it makes you scoff as Rosé carries on with her meal, fixing her lips along the plastic spoon, carelessly nodding and humming while you’re twisting your attention to the passing planes in the air and the trucks rolling along the taxiway. You’re trying extremely hard to not fall into the conscious habit of looking - when the eyes are zig-zagging their way from the ceiling and to the distance of the nearby gate. Somehow, it always falls on her. Always. She’s got her jacket off to compensate for the stuffiness, honey skin radiating, the sleeves of her shirt pooling over her arms, foot underneath her other knee, delicate and unbothered. She’s a time capsule - the kind where you bury deep into the ground and never even think of uncovering years later. 

You thought you could move on, but here she is: within arms reach.  

–

If you thought sitting across from her waiting to board was torture, being next to her was extremely worse. 

Luckily, the aisle seat opened up next to yours and hers, only for it to be taken at the last possible minute, destroying any chance of creating that space between you and Rosé. This part here gets juicy: Rosé opted for the window seat and considering that the aisle was already taken, this puts you right smack in the middle of the row. She also raised the armrest set between you and her, making your final line in terms of creating a temporary vicinity practically nonexistent. Nothing will happen in a fourteen-hour flight, right? Rosé gives you the quick rundown of what she wants for her in-flight meals when she can put her legs onto your seat while you go to the restroom (and wished to stay there for the rest of the flight, but you know damn well enough that you can’t), even when she’s saying to not freak out if her head falls on your shoulder while sleeping - also, don’t mind if I grab onto your arm if I’m watching some scary movie. Every excuse seems like a death sentence added on to prolong your suffering. 

The man sitting next to you weaves the discussion about the cold air from outside being brought into the cabin, some aerospace thing about the insulation and great air conditioning, but all you can give is a forced hearty smile and these nods of agreement as his wife says something embarrassing to butt herself into the talking bubble, rolling your eyes at the pair out of spite. 

You’re giving your two cents about how you liked cold weather (out of all things to discuss for God knows why), and the couple takes your opinion well with open arms and minds. The wife leans over to see Rosé, glancing over before turning her head back to the window, putting two and two together: 

“Are you two also going to Paris for your honeymoon?” She asks, the man also taking the hint with an ‘o’ shaped mouth. 

“Uhh, that’s a bit of a tough question to answer,” you chuckle nervously as the wife makes the quick inference, carrying on with the long conversation (which was very one-sided from this point on) about how she and the man sitting next to you are so in love, their plans for their honeymoon and anniversary. You can’t help but be intrigued and infatuated with how you’re able to see love bloom right in front of your eyes. They ask you if there are any recommendations and you being the goody-two-shoes that you are, it only gets them to keep talking still. In the midst of all of this Rosé peeks over your shoulder, hand to your elbow as a sign to shut you up, but you send the same elbow back to make her stop. 

Eventually, when the plane does move onto the runway and up in the air, the couple continue their monologue of how they met, their dreams, their occupations, what they like to do in their free time, the names of their cats, where they see themselves in the next five to ten years. Rosé then looks over again, lending her ears to listen to the lovely story candidly as you see her eyes filled with so much awe and wonder; she finds it funny too, and you’re seeing what she’s seeing: because that would’ve been the case if you and her had not split. 

All the infinite possibilities you’re thinking off, it’s spilled right in front of you, and it gets you thinking. 

–

(Midway through the long flight, you’re not even getting a wink of sleep when Rosé’s tossing and turning in the seat next to you. Some are watching assorted movies, you could hear a kid cry a few rows back, the usual experience. 

Her knee hits your thigh as you’re scooting your butt away from her, unwilling to make a shape with her body, pulling the complimentary blanket up to her neck. 

“Did you ever think of getting first class for the trip?” She asks, irritated. “My seat’s getting kicked from behind, and I can’t put my feet on the ground.” 

“I’d be paying an additional two hundred or more to get it reserved,” you tell her, making yourself as comfortable as you can, leaning the seat back. “The next best thing was econ, so deal with it.” 

She rests her head on the upper part of your arm, eye mask on and everything, falling asleep soon after.) 

–

Upon the arrival gate, you do manage to get a few hours of shut-eye, backpack in hand and a trailing Rosé behind when crossing over the inside of the airport, voice conveniently drowning out the same kid who was crying not long ago during the flight. 

“I can’t believe you let me sleep for six hours. Six hours.” you’re complaining, and rightfully so. “Look at you, who managed to sleep for pretty much the whole time. I had to take it on the chin, listening to their entire life story when I could’ve watched whatever you were watching while you were snoring away.” 

Rosé has her shades on, hiding a bit of her puffy face and eye bags. “So? What’s it to ya? I’m not the one who decided to lean over and eavesdrop on their lovely conversation.” 

“I was checking if our row was in the correct spot.” 

She chuckles. “Yeah yeah, keep coming up with the lame excuses buddy.” 

“You-” 

“Try every alibi you’ve got in the book, but I know you well,” says Rosé victoriously, sideswiping her way in front of you on the auto walk, rolling her small hand carry around to sit on, taking a breath. She rolls her neck around, stretching - an arm at a weird angle facing down, extending her leg between your feet. Personal space was going to be an issue, you’ve already drawn up that conclusion; considering that you sat with her for roughly about fourteen to sixteen hours with the occasional retreat to the bathroom and the awkward indulgence with one of the flight attendants, you dread how the living situation will be once you and her get to the hotel room. This might be hell for you, but only time will tell which circle you’re finding yourself in. 

“That should not have taken you that long to get our thing set up together,” Rosé lightly berates, handing over her luggage to you once you’ve hailed the provided ride accommodation from the travel company. “If I were the one handling this trip, I would’ve hit points x, y, and z in less time than you. Do you not know the basic cues to kill a conversation?” 

You don’t answer. Because arguing isn’t gonna get you anywhere with her. 

(Telling yourself lies was a strength, but also your curse as well. Somehow you keep getting away with it.) 

You roll your eyes at the rhetorical question, placing all the bags into the trunk of the cab. “C’mon, don’t play the bad cop here. You know damn well that I’ve always been terrible at getting myself out of situations like those. It also didn’t help that she and the couple on the plane sounded so upbeat and enthusiastic.” 

“It’s okay,” Rosé says, patting your shoulder as a form of truce. “Besides, that’s how you met me technically.” She gets into the cab soon after, settling into the backseat. 

And you take a second to internalize the said phrase, scanning the horizon of the cityscape in the backdrop. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you’re muttering to yourself, getting into the cab with Rosé, with most of the ride pretty much quiet as you’re both looking out the opposite windows. 

–

For some added context, Rosé waltzed into your life on a random Tuesday morning in the first week of fifth grade. 

It’s something straight out of a coming-of-age movie or slow-burning romance novel: up until that point, you’ve had boys as your deskmates through the grades with one of them being your close friend going forward. 

She would change all of that - a bit pathetic now that you’re looking back at it: her being the first girl that you would ever talk to let alone sit next to you for the entire school year - but you didn’t mind though, since she was easy to get along with. 

As the days turned into months and into years, you and Rosé shared everything and in between with each other. From exchanging your favorite cartoon shows on a Saturday afternoon when there was no homework, which subject was the favorable one to learn, favorite colors, why she didn't like playing sports compared to you, the blown-out-of-proportion drama over who was the popular girl in school at the time, the score you got on the last math test, what were you going to do over the summer break. There was never a moment where you or she filled in on anything worth sharing. 

Rosé knows everything about you inside and out. The same could be said for your end of the table. 

You’ve created the progressive drawn-up schematic well into high school. Her occasional gossip debriefs, the endless rants about that one teacher who would always give her a hard time, whether or not she should go to the dances (dragging you as her plus one, where she came extremely close to back in junior year), worrying about her near-perfect grades to the point she would overcomplicate every single minute detail that pops up with every last check before turning in an assignment. Then, there’s the crushes. Her occasional flings - to which, she had multiples of them, telling all of the unnecessary details of what she did with the guys on every date, sharing with you all the pros and cons of what her ideal type is. 

But here’s the thing. 

She was giving you all the signals for you to not notice. All the boxes in her list where you checked off nearly every single one of them. The realization itself came to you on a late night when she was passed out on the coffee table, papers on top of papers of notes before college admissions being submitted, turning a blind eye away from the few bottles of soju she consumed to power through even when you said that it was a terrible idea. 

The small intake of alcohol helped you connect the dots right then and there: you were in love with her. 

Playing it safe was the name of the game. And on your part, it was justified to keep yourself at a distance from Rosé, not putting any sort of risk in ruining the long friendship you’ve built with her. Why lay everything on the line with someone who occupied half of your brain already? 

“You won’t know unless the leap of faith has been made,” Lisa says to you at the time, and that's probably the only source of assurance you ever needed to hear. 

So, you make that leap.

A simple line or two is all you said where Rosé’s eyes go wide when you see her off at the front of her house, nothing else to be said when her weight collapses on top of you for an overdue hug. Talk about romantic confessions, am I right? 

Once word went around various friend groups the both of you were in, it didn’t come off as much of a surprise. Most people had already made that conclusive pairing long before you started to read into the social cues and fast glances without you knowing. What mattered in the end was that you were finally with her after all this time. 

It could’ve been written in ink right there and then: she was your first crush, first girlfriend, first kiss, first relationship, first love. 

That should have been the end of the story. The greatest score you could ever pull off in your life. Job done. 

–

(Until it wasn’t. She would eventually be the first terrible heartbreak you would ever have to endure. 

First time for everything, remember?”)

–

“You’re kidding.” Rosé deadpans, walking into the open space of the hotel room, scanning. Her first reaction then shifts once she drops her bags right where they are, walking around the singular king-size bed, showered in rose petals formed into a heart with two towels folded up into quaint but cute swans resting with both of their beaks touching at the top. “You can’t be serious.” 

Your hands go straight into your pockets, the corners of your lips pulled flat, indifferent. “Isn’t it the thought that counts?” 

Rosé bears no mind to your bland answer. Granted, she’s partial to the fact of going through this whole trip with you, patting the head of the towel swan before turning her attention to the table at the corner of the room, a bottle of champagne kept cool in an ice bath. “I’ll give you points for the effort,” she sighs, “Care to tell me how much you paid for everything in this room?” 

The cork goes flying once you lay your bearings, approaching her as she pours the golden liquid into the arranged champagne flutes, handing it over before she spills some of it over the counter on her own.

“I put in a request, that’s all.” She nods in acknowledgment while you take a nice, quick swig of the beverage, hoping to let it sting in your throat as you try to ignore the insane price tag, gazing past the window and to the nearby buildings. “Some of the stuff was extra, well, perks and all.” 

“That so?” Rosé breathes, chuckling. You watch her down an impressive amount, humming at the taste. There’s an old film happening here, impossible to ignore. Her hair’s a little messed up, eyelids dropping low. You have to stand down here, don’t get any funny ideas, tilting your head slightly when the glow of the streetlights below hit her face, radiating, see her lip pulled back between her teeth-

Snapping your attention back to the city skyline was a good mental call. Clearing your throat was even better; anything worth grabbing to consolidate. 

You look over again to see a smile from the side, “It’s so beautiful at night.” 

A pretty sweet view to turn back on, and you agree with her. 

“I’ll go shower first,” Rosé says after clearing her throat, “We’ve had a long day anyway.” 

“Yeah, go on ahead.” 

She then puts her flute back on the table before walking back to her suitcase. You keep your body forward and your feet where they’re at, looking out into the city some more until you eventually hear the shower running. The thought crosses your head again, thinking about all of the things you did to get into this position - moments where you failed to think logically, it’s a mess in your head at this point. 

(Of all people, why did it have to be her? Being practically stranded in the city of love is one thing, but, maybe this is God or the universe trying to make good for your sake - who knows, only time will tell.)

–

This journey may be an ascent to a refined sense of closure or a descent back down into hell; how you look at it is entirely up to you. 

“Do you think I’m contagious or something?” Rosé huffs out in annoyance, tossing a nearby pillow in your direction, forcing you to look up at her sitting upright on the bed - you on the couch at the other end, hoping to create some distance in whatever way you can possible. “The bed’s big enough for the two of us.” 

“I find it better to not entertain that risk.” 

“You slept on the floor in my room multiple times.” 

“Okay I- you- well,” you stutter, words bouncing all over the place as your fingers grip tight into the book in your hands, “that’s different.” 

Rosé then folds her legs up, knees resting underneath her chin. You’re lucky that the reading light hanging over your spot is enough to hide the growing heat of red rising to your cheeks. Ever since she was the one to end things four years ago, contact with Rosé had been pretty much nonexistent, and for good reason. It was already hard to lose your best friend and past lover in one go, but here she is again acting like nothing had happened between you two. Maybe she’s doing what you did: engaging in conversation - though every dreadful second has been painstakingly difficult, looking back to see her head go sideways, an inquisitive gaze written all over her face, the small quirk at the corner of her lip every time she smiles - in your eyes, she’s still the same as before, there’s no difference. 

“It’s not a risk,” Rosé says, placing her head back up against the headboard, “I’m just saying that the couch over there looks uncomfortable.” 

“I’ll manage. Thanks.” 

Rosé then grabs another pillow within her reach, and places it beneath her forearms, straightening out her legs on the bed. “Idiot,” she hisses, the tone almost as a projection. 

That catches your attention: her attitude. She looks away when you twist your head towards her again. “What was that?” 

“Nothing,” she pouts, “I was just trying to get some talking going.” 

Look, playing defensive isn’t wrong by any means. Tactically, that’s the best way to approach things that you’re unfamiliar with. Rosé’s mannerisms, her habits, the quirks she does, you have every trick from her in your personal playbook. You can try to run and hide all you want, but sometimes taking things head-on is the only way to go. 

Rosé here is just- existing. You can tell that she’s far removed from creating any sort of effort into talking; aware of the lingering tension and awkwardness she left all those years ago. Above all that, she carries on with her one-sided conversation - which is sort of relieving to listen to, just hearing her voice, rambling about anything and literally everything that she could bring up. There’s that quick recollection of all the instances, all the times where she would tell you about the countless things where shutting up wasn’t an option. Her outlook on life hasn’t changed, and you admire that she’s bright and passionate about how things work in the world. 

“It’s a bit relieving,” you tell her innocently, “you here reminding me of those days.” 

Nostalgia was something worth decoding between the lines, and Rosé knows this. There’s nothing wrong with filling in what you’ve done in the past year or two, moving on after what you originally thought was the toughest period of your life. Protecting your peace, prioritizing your health - that kind of thing. 

“I know that I left you in a really bad place for so long,” she implies, coming to terms for her actions. Hoping to not open up the old wound, sugarcoating it. 

“We were at different points in our lives,” you console. You’re not so entirely sure of yourself if it’s the alcohol talking or the foundations of your inner walls crumbling. “I just thought that-” 

“Don’t.” Rosé commands, crossing her arms over the pillow. “Don’t.” 

“Okay, but still - I just wished that it didn’t have to end that way.” 

It goes and it goes. Rosé keeps her gaze fixed on you as you’re nodding, mindful of what the words are but not saying it. Instead, you keep it lighthearted and put it in a positive perspective and it may be worthy of a few snaps of her fingers.

The late-night convos are a little relaxing, so you’ll take that as a plus. 

–

The first ‘actual’ day of the trip is pretty uneventful. 

Nothing too substantial to report other than the fact it was a mix of cloudy skies and rain from time to time. 

Rosé insisted on following the itinerary, walking around the streets, and trying out various cafes handpicked by her. Then there’s the usual landmarks within walking distance too: the Arc de Triomphe, the Grand Palais, and no point in going to the Eiffel Tower since there was zero visibility at the top, so you divert to the Notre Dame Cathedral and try again a different day when the weather clears up. 

(Without a care in the world, she runs up the sidewalk and turns around, arms wide open: “We’re not in Kansas anymore are we?

You give her a face of genuine confusion, “What?” Her face falls flat and you’re left there saying: “What.”) 

Aside from the good food and everything around you picturesque and as ‘fresh inspiration’, Rosé takes this opportunity to capture whatever stood out to her: candid pictures of you on film, other city goers doing their everyday routine, in addition to the photos she took at the different landmarks. She has you taking pictures of her, not as a possible memento. No. But you can’t turn her down whatsoever - you just can’t. 

–

(All of that is about to change, and the rain starts to pick up well into the evening. In the figurative scheme of things, you could put this as the heart of the storm; the moment where lighting can strike twice in the same spot. It could happen.)

- 

Somehow the sim card in your phone keeps bugging out every few hours or so. The reception around the city hasn’t been that bad per se, but trying to get some calls back home has been a bit of a pain - so you had to work with what you got. Texting was the second best option for reaching Jennie, hoping that you can keep the act up by keeping her in the loop of this whole getaway. So far the messages have been casual, typical fill-ins of her day since you left, missing you. 

To compensate for the international phone rates, you managed to find a payphone. An odd surprise at best and you suppose that it shouldn’t take forever in the booth, but the pitter-patter of the droplets hitting along the glass gave a small indication that this might take longer than expected. 

The line continues to ring for a second or two longer, and then- 

Click. 

The silence becomes a slight worry, fingers gripping the phone, hoping that you could hear a hum - or that lovely violet voice that sends your heart thrumming right from the first letter. 

Instead, you hear her laugh, and a sigh soon after. It might’ve been a moan as well, you know that much. 

Another voice picks up at the end of the call, one that you’re very not familiar with: “Hel- Hello? Who’s this? Jennie, I think it’s your-” 

There’s no fucking way. 

Everything around the booth starts to fade in and out of focus. Rational thought was still in play, but barely - trying to put all of the little pieces together in a short amount of time. It’s not enough. Your jaw tightens, fighting the blood simmering through your veins. There’s too many questions to be asked, but only a few answers to take. You’re not entirely sure what these wave of emotions actually are - and it could be a lot of things: anger, fear, rage, sadness? 

“Shit. Give me the- hello?” Jennie’s voice tries to calm you, but it’s already too late for that. “Wait, it’s not what you think it is, I swear-” 

“I think I’ve heard enough from you.” 

“Babe, if you just let me explain-” 

You don’t think twice about hanging up. Your mind doesn’t even register the pain being imbued into your hands when you’re punching the glass furiously in quick succession. Hell, when you leave the booth, the realization has slowly started to set in, but the tears simply won’t come out. 

I thought you were different. 

The rain falls a lot harder now that you’ve finally stepped outside and look up to the dark sky, as if the universe is sharing its sorrowfulness as well. 

You were supposed to be different.

–

If you had the chance to put all of your thoughts and feelings from your past relationships into a bottle or glass, you’d drink it down until there’s absolutely nothing at the bottom; the pain might’ve been tolerable then. No matter how many shots it’s been, it’s still not enough. 

You don’t even remember when you first walked into the bar, but you order another shot anyway. The coat next to you still needs a few more minutes to dry up as it is. 

The alcohol stings when it travels down your throat, mind working way past overtime - thinking back of all the times when you’ve been duped, deceived, exploited - but to no avail. It's a bit pathetic that the worst kinds of people show up when you least expect it, even if it's those who you hold close dearly to your heart. Relationships and commitment to you have always been complicated; an unwritten cosmic law etched into the stars. 

In hindsight, it just really fucking sucks. 

It’s gotten so bad to the point where you’re being woken up after passing out for maybe five or ten or so minutes. You don’t remember. Your memory is in these black patches - rough blots of ink with no detail underneath as your vision slowly forms. A girl is next to you; a calm, soothing voice bringing you closer to the light. Everything’s still blurry, but you can barely make out the silhouette: dark hair, fine skin, smooth palm holding your face. It’s comforting, you start to question if this was the present reality, but you take a shot in the dark:

“Jennie?” you say, mind buzzed and speech slurred. 

“No. Dingus.” 

Ah, it was worth a shot. You can see things a lot more clearer now. Instead of the shaded dark hair, it’s the opposite: hot blonde. The texture of the jacket too is also familiar, her hand is surprisingly wet from the rain, and she sounds out of breath - like she ran here. 

Rosé. 

“What the hell happened to you?” She asks, distressed, holding your face before lightly shoving it away realizing what she was doing.

You try your best to explain the situation; but considering the plethora of drinks you had on the tab along with the alcohol in your system, you don’t actually explain anything at all. 

She could only hear the sniffles coming out of your nose. 

Rosé then takes a second look, and puts another piece of the damage together. It’s all over your face: the puffy eyes, bloodied knuckles, your irises once filled with light now an empty, deep void - like something sucked the life right out of you. 

“Something happened with Jennie, no?” The name pierces your heart at the guiltless inquiry.

“Kinda,” you answer with a hiccup at the end. “It’s all the same between me and love, honestly.” 

Rosé then draws back, your face still in her hands, internalizing the present state. You think she might’ve realized a thought right then and there, an instance where she's been before not long ago. It doesn’t take that much more for her to learn what you had done to get here; let alone who managed to hurt you in the first place. Because she’s been here before, and she now knows what her mistake was two years ago. 

So instead of running away, she pulls you in for a hug. You break down a little harder for a moment. No point in hiding. 

She doesn’t say anything after leaning back. The best form of comfort she could give were both palms to your cheeks, wiping the dried-up tears off as best as she could. Somehow you barely even manage to make eye contact with her again, afraid to even look away in the first place. 

You’re not sure if you leaned in or if she pulled you back to her, but your mind clears up instantly the second she kisses you. 

Her lips are the same way as you remember them: nice and soft and undeniably comforting. Both of her hands keep you in place, the wistful inhale of her nose matches yours, wanting more of this rising heat spreading across your faces. She kisses like she missed you and- in a partly true way, for all the wrong reasons. Gripping and clutching wherever she can, afraid to let go of you again like the last time. You or her could practically melt in this little pocket created and recall sometime later and try to decipher every little individual action leading up to this, whether or not to write this off as an act of grace or an admission of cruelty - one or the other will have you sinking at the end. 

Rosé stops herself, eyes half-lidded, pulling her swollen bottom lip like some sort of warning. 

“I uh-” Crap. You should’ve known better, but you can’t help or blame the drinks for making you like this. “I-I’m sorry. You didn’t have to-” 

“It’s okay.” 

“But-” 

“C’mon,” she persists, holding your hand and nodding her head sideways, “let’s get out of here.” 

–

You’re more aware of your actions now, in the late hours of the city - where anyone could get away with anything. With that taken into account, this is the perfect time to hide away; out of anybody’s sight and the risk of getting caught is the least of your worries. 

Rosé’s nose bumps yours when you’ve pressed her against the brick wall in some alley - calming every form of impulse as you could, but it’s futile. Her arms wrap around your neck and you’re cupping her face, tilting her head up to elicit a gasp between her lips. 

“Fuck,” she rasps, and it’s pretty when she curses. Her hands go everywhere, haywire. A last act of desperation she does is dig her fingers into the back of your head, only making your arms pull her in closer, hindering the purpose of what she’s trying to achieve. You’d let her, and that’s exactly what she’s going for here. 

“I’m a bit drunk still,” you admit, feeling the tips of her fingers graze along the nape of your neck. “So don’t beat me up if I can’t remember everything after tonight.” 

Rosé’s hand shifts to your jaw, kissing you again so easily; giving you little to no time to react. Like she’s coaxing you into thinking differently that’s better than your common sense. A few more smacks here and there happen, the cool air surrounding both of you trying to flush the heat out. 

The press of her face is anything out of the ordinary, humming into your mouth that deepens the sinking pit happening in your stomach. It isn’t anything new. 

Because that’s the impending phase of her slowly coming back to light. She was always vocal and forward with how she took on the world; leaving a mark of what she had done not far either. Her hands cup your face so tenderly, and each longing touch of her lips against yours sends a tidal wave of memories flooding back - this entity that’s all-consuming where you could only handle so much, a hand to the side of her throat where the kiss deepens, surrendering your mind to hers

Maybe it was the timing of everything, a thought to theorize with once it’s all said and done. 

“You’re broken again,” she whispers between your lips. 

“Among other things,” you darted back, sighing slowly and head lowered. But it’s the truth. “Yeah, won’t say any more.” Your eyes meet hers as you slowly retreat. 

“It’s okay.” Rosé concludes, eyes filled with so much care and empathy into them, thumb grazing along your cheek, cleaning another dry trail from the tears. “You have me.” 

My god, this woman- 

“I honestly convinced myself that you’d already moved on,” her gaze goes crestfallen, pulling her lips inward. “To think that I left you there by yourself, after everything we’ve been through. It ruined me too since - it wasn’t even your fault to begin with.” 

You swallow your pride and turn yourself over on the wall. 

Most of your mind is drawing blanks - bits and pieces of the picture caricatured through a warm mouth and fingertips. The draft in itself is a bit fucked up, sketched at the last possible minute; hands ghosting your jacket, tracing a line or two into the fabric of your shirt, trailing lower along the waistband of your pants. “You’re kidding, right?” 

Rosé snorts at the whisper, lowering her eyelids when she’s peppering your neck again with kisses. “We’re not having a problem here are we?” She says that as she’s descending to her knees, looking up so innocently like some angel incarnate - contradicting the current action she’s presenting right now.  

“Look. Rosé, we really shouldn't-” 

She pays no attention to the pleading when she’s palming your length through your underwear, thumb sliding up against the underside while your other hand settles with hers set at the side of your thigh. “Okay, I mean - like this is just wrong - you don’t- god, why are you even-” 

Rosé here, doesn’t give you any chance to breathe or recuperate the fast flow of thoughts. Her eyes remain unimpressed with a tilt of her head, closing in with the newly uncovered area at your waist, and the twist of her lips brings forth a sense that’s been lost to hidden waves of time. 

She inhales, coaxing you much to the point where you’re looking up to the sky above for some safe passage. 

“Mmmmm.” 

You might as well be fucked from this point on. At least you’ll play into the game Rosé’s putting up with her mouth all over you. 

“Oh, oh fuck-” 

It’s all in the simple movements and adjustments - the hair being pulled back to the cuff of her ear, the way she bottoms your cock down to the base and rests for a second, the graze of her teeth across the topside, sending your hips chasing for more of that addicting bite. She hollows out her cheeks to the right pressure of suction, bracing her hands on your thighs as she begins to pick up a steady rhythm. Down, side to side, then up. Down, side to side, then up. You could picture her lashes fluttering with every slide down your shaft, humming right along the skin as if she’s proffering a way of reflecting, praising with little to no words but with plump lips and a warm tongue. 

“Gotta say,” Rosé starts, after reeling back for a second, “I remembered why I loved this cock so much.” 

You’ve got her hair in the grips of your fingers, thrusting your cock back past those pretty lips, hoping to shove her words right back down her throat - which works so much better than you initially expected. The brain is working triple the amount of overtime to register and compensate for the endless rush of stimulation your body is getting; the buzz of the alcohol fading with every new layer of spit lathered across the length, watching Rosé’s head continue to bob at a faster pace between your legs. She doesn’t let you off that easily when her hand coils itself at the base, the other cradling your balls with the right amount of pressure - prompting you to use both of your hands to grip her head, making the motion as seamless as possible. You could feel her throat go slack, opening up the edges to where your cock can fill in the space - the gags alone break above the audible ambiance of rain hitting the ground beneath the both of you. 

“Fuck me.” And at this point, your level of thinking is so thrown under limbo. The sounds alone are music to your ears. A lost tune waiting to be heard again. Wanting. “Rosé, you-” 

“Ummphgh,” is all you manage to get out of her, the spit and slippery slick of her mouth the only point of contact. You look down and see it in her eyes: glassy and welled up; like was meant to be used like this, a vessel to provide and clean up the mess of every lap her tongue makes to your underside and the seam of your balls. An angel like her, her wings clipped after committing a damming act, hoping to earn them back in any way she can. When you slide your cock out of her slack mouth - slap the member across her swollen lips, eyes closed and jaw lowered as you’re leaving behind the sloppy and unmarked territory that you’ll come back to not long after.  

She nods and gags. You want to make her fucking choke.  

All of this should be drawn up as a one-off, never to be spoken of again. She didn’t have to go this far, being on her knees for you like this. Neither of you owe anything to each other. Some of this might have some meaning carried with the way that Rosé speaks with her eyes, mixed with a concoction of want and sorrowfulness, opening her mouth so wide for you to take with no remorse.

And when you cum deep into her throat, it’s all in her eyebrows - the way she accepts, poisoning your morality just like that. 

The pulses do die down eventually, and Rosé tilts her head to the side to give you a better look at her swallowing your release; wiping her lip in a slight relishment, damp hair falling in front and her fingers dancing along the line of her jaw - internalizing the rewarding ache. Her eyes shimmer in the low lighting, her skin covered in this spreading glow of pale and glistening. Most of her lip gloss is gone, now mixed with the layer of smeared spit all over your cock. You’re cradling her head delicately, thumb grazing the temple and some of the ends of her hair, giving you a list of things to fix. 

Rosé smacks her lips, and runs her tongue against the upper profile of her teeth. “Well then,” she starts, “hope that was enough to calm your nerves for the time being.” 

You’re trying extremely hard to slow your breathing, watching while she brings a wrist to her face, wiping up the damage. 

“We’re so fucked up,” you barely say, clearing your throat. 

“Between us?” Rosé implies, finally rising from her knees and patting your shoulders down as an out-of-touch way to comfort, “That’s old news, buddy.” 

You pull her in a bit again, placing the distance of her face to yours a little over the double digits. There’s no point in ignoring her gravity, the way that you find yourself a tad magnetized, bringing out a side where it was for her and only her. She could be an entity of a higher being, probably God’s given gift from himself which you once had lost. A blessing and curse that’s managed to find their way back into your arms again. 

“Now that I think about it,” you’re saying, combing some of her blonde locks before ghosting your hand just above her head, “You’ve always been the same as before.” 

Rosé’s eyelids dip, peculiar, curious. That sly grin at the corner of her lip laced with the dimple trailing not far after, it’ll do you numbers. It’s happened before. 

But she puts a hand to the side of your face, a soft smile to seal the whole act up as she starts to peel away. “Think you can walk to the hotel in a straight line without my help?” 

“You’re gonna leave me outside if you get there first.” You answer jokingly. 

She might as well if she wanted to, and you won’t be that far behind. 

—

Hangovers. They’re the worst. 

Normally in times like these: you’d lie in bed facing up to the ceiling, playing back all the events and instances in your mind to the best of your ability, and then get washed by the feeling of regret or questions of why you did actions a, b, and c. Fuck around and find out they say, that’s how the learning experience goes. 

Although this would be the exception- 

“That’s all it took for you? Just the voice by itself?” Rosé asks you the morning after, tending to the wounds on your hands, easily stacked at the wrists, and caring for them with a mother’s touch. “If it were me, I would’ve hung up by the first five seconds of silence.” 

“Here’s the thing: I’m not you.” 

Rosé rolls her eyes and puts the attention back to your knuckles. She grazes them with her fingertips once the dried-up blood has been washed away and sealed with a bandage. Her hands alone may look small, but the size has been apparent compared to yours. “You broke the glass from that payphone booth, didn’t you?” 

“If I kept retelling you what I did, would you believe me by then?” You ask flatly. 

“I’m just-” she stutters for a second when she zips up the first aid kit, “-surprised, honestly - and don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen you angry before. I didn’t expect it to be that serious.” 

“Wow. Way to beat around the bush I guess.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I know you are. Slightly.” 

Rosé leans back to get more of you in view, examining the new patches to cover the temporary pain left because of your actions. The repercussions don’t have to be said when it’s already shown. Good thing you brought gloves for a reason - a proper excuse to keep your hands warm when the weather gets colder. 

“Are you okay?” She asks after a brief period of silence. 

Your head twists back towards her. “Hm?” 

“I’m being genuine. Are you okay?” she says to you again, this time leaning to place her elbows on the table. “When I picked you up from the bar, you looked wrecked.” 

“Which I was. So, you’re not entirely wrong here.” 

Rosé then curls her fingers, resting her chin on top of them. Her eyes were full of concern. She doesn’t have to do all this - the nice, good girl willing to reconnect and rekindle even though you and her both know that things ended in a rough patch prior. She didn’t have to agree to go on the trip with you, but the intentions here are good - for the most part. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” The inquiries from her keep on coming. 

“I think we should come back to this topic when I’m in a better headspace,” you tell her, and she doesn’t bother asking anymore. “What about-” 

“Huh?” 

“I was gonna say something about, well-” you clear your throat before wiping the lower half of her face before finding the right words to deliver the next topic, “last night when we-” 

“Don’t expect you to remember much. Being drunk is a valid excuse,” she tells you, crossing her arms together with a little furrow in her brows. “One-time thing. No strings attached. Got it?” 

“Are you sure?” 

She nods convincingly. “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

“Okay,” you murmur, massaging your temple. 

“Okay,” Rosé echoes, knocking on wood twice for good luck. “I say we go out then.” 

“What? Where to?” You dart back while she stands up from the seat, shuffling away to her luggage. “Uh, hey-” 

Rosé snorts a bit, lets out a hearty laugh, one full of pure mischief. “I’m hungry. And we can put off room service for another time.” 

–

“How many cafes have we been to in the past hour?” you’re asking Rosé, jaw dropped at the abundance of people waiting for their coffee orders ahead of you two. “Jesus, with this amount of caffeine, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” 

Rosé’s head turns, sipping the last bits of her beverage from the previous place you two were at, shaking the cup now full of ice. “Don’t give me that.” She laughs. “Jisoo was the one who recommended the places to me.” Her head leans back to get a few ice cubes in her mouth since the crunches are satisfying to her. “If anything, it’s your fault that you can’t keep up with-” 

“I’d rather prioritize my health than drain it all away with a lot of drinks and a heart condition.” you sigh, taking the hint of her waving the cup in front of you to throw out, looking back out to listen for the number of your order. (They’ve been alternating from counting into the high forties and low twenties. It’s all confusing how any of this is efficient.) “Though the pastries and drinks have been amazing to try, so I thank you.” 

She looks up at you again, flipping some of her back over her shoulder, flaunting a little shimmy of her shoulders. Like she’s aware of the praise, the compliments, the credit, and everything else lying underneath the verbal nuances. “Perks of having me as your foodie guide for the tour.” 

“You’re so stupid,” you say, gaze dropping down to your feet in disappointment. 

A nudge to your shoulder is all she gives before turning her body away. “Such a bitch.” 

“Preaching the truth,” you reply - a hum in the timbre, playing into the banter. “That’s why they paired both of us together: toothbrush and toothpaste. peas in a pod-” 

You flinch a bit when she raises a hand, but you can’t help yourself to laugh as she surrenders the idea of making a scene in public. It’s all good fun in the end, a breath of fresh air. 

Then the matcha order gets called up, perfect timing. 

–

You and Rosé do celebratory cheers with the clear plastic cups, swirl the tea inside before drinking a good third of it down, nod, and acknowledge the amount in addition to the taste. She then asks you to give it a rating - where you place it pretty high on the given scale. 

“That’s really good,” you say, wetting your lips for another sip. 

“What’d I tell you?” Rosé asks after, all comfy with her drink in both hands, watching you take in another swig because why not? “This place might be the best one on the list.” 

“You mean Jisoo’s list,” you tease. “But sure, you can claim this list as yours since she’s not here to protest against it.” 

“Right. I’ll do exactly that.” 

You take notice of the same gaze that she’s been holding for the past few minutes now. It’s probably too late to realize that it's a honey trap: the more that your curiosity gets the best of you, the more likely that you’ll forget about everything else. A good look at her rosy cheeks, the stray strands of blonde hair sticking out because of the fuzziness that her scarf is emitting, much to the point that you can’t even see her neck beneath all of that. 

“Sorry,” you’re saying, leaning your head sideways more to get a closer look. Nobody’s falling for it, especially not her. “There’s a stain right about-” 

Rosé keeps her hands right where they are in holding the drink, eyes glued to your hand ghosting her face, the slightest touch where you’re cupping her jaw to keep it in place. You do manage to get the small mess off but make no other move. 

She turns her head slightly towards your hand, parting her lips; and a part of your head starts to flip internally. 

“What are you thinking about right now?” Rosé proposes, you think it’s intentional like she wanted you to do that. You can see it in her alluring shade of whiskey, clouded with mystery, shrouding a burning sensation behind those irises, blinking prettily. 

“If I told you, it won’t happen later.” 

“Oh yeah?” Rosé tuts, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth, and dips her head a few inches. “I’m intrigued,” her voice is a witch’s spell. She scoots herself towards you, closing the bubble away from the world, the moment alone stretched longer than usual. 

“I shouldn’t kiss you,” you tell her, practicing caution. A last reminder thrown up in an imaginary white flag. 

“But you could, right?” Rosé says in the sheerest hint of innocence, but the message says all sorts of corruption, "Where's the harm in that?” 

Setting yourself up for the mind-meld was always a tall task, especially with a girl like Rosé. You could rationalize how the universe has managed to put you on this tightrope, with no hope of making it to the ends; the only choice would be to embrace this fall from grace, and feel every emotion. 

She inches closer, the intent clear as day. “Y’know,” the tension is already hanging low amongst the both of you, “I’d be okay with it.” 

–

(Look. Saving yourself the embarrassment was always going to be a lost cause. Consider it as a premonition, the tug of anticipation of playing things out the way they are, rewind the clip or recording to catch something new every take; a wish to alter the cause and effect. No matter how you look at it, what’s done is done.) 

–

The intimacy itself gets thrown out the window, and finding a proper hold would be a lesser worry to think about. Rosés frantically slithering out of her overcoat, biting your lip in what you assume is an accident, and pressing her into the wall catches her off guard and she bumps into your face. Your thumbs are at her cheeks, holding her face in place, and the hooded eyes get pulled away; you’re thinking, she’s thinking -  and all she can say is, “don’t start having second thoughts now.” It’s another green light from her to pick up where you left off, feel her arms have no sense of direction until they finally rest around the crooks of your neck and shoulders, quick draws of air passing through each other’s lips until you and her eventually fill in that space once more. 

Even if there’s no label between you two now, the knowledge is already present there in the low lights. 

“Let me remind you,” you’re telling her, smiling as her tongue clashes with yours, scrunching up your neck as her hands are working fast to slip you out of your top. “You started this.” 

Her chin tilts up, grazing the peak of your jaw, lips trained on yours and kissing like it’s second nature; since she exactly remembers how to wind you up, unraveling. The scrunch of your neck goes away once the top falls along the floor, making out with you for what feels like it’s been forever. 

“Maybe I did,” says Rosé, landing another kiss on the line of your chin, hand caressing the back of your head, unwilling to let go of you. “And can I be honest? I don’t hear you complaining about it.” 

“Now why would I?” 

She leans back against the drywall, arm up as if you were holding her by the wrist, but you aren’t - at least, not yet. Puffs her chest up with the help of the arch behind. “That’s the question,” she answers, hand palming the seat of your pants, fingers curling slightly, “That’s always the question.” 

A window of opportunity is here. You can see it. She could lay out all the hints in front of you and you wouldn’t need all of them to figure her out, because you know: she loves being so forward, only for her to be held down, give her little to no wiggle room where her hands can leave major damage, the teasing; you’ll shut her mouth up with a pillow to her face or your hand and watch her eyes crunch together until she breaks. There’ll be times when she wants to rush, and you’d go slow, then vice versa. The grip you have on her hip isn’t nice, and you’ll keep kissing her, be very meticulous in the approach, and make her go insane. 

Her muscles, let alone her body tense at the touch, shying a smile away as if she’s afraid to admit it herself. “But I gotta say,” Rosé whispers, her breath canvassing over your lips. “Doesn’t this feel nostalgic? Like old times?” 

And here is where you’re practicing plausible deniability: since she’s right. A brief flash of all the times; all the instances that occurred in the past. She’s got her shirt off, and it helps jog the memory a lot more too - how you’d hold her down and just revel in the whimpering noises that escape her mouth, embracing every acre of her body; it’d be so easy to mold into her, you know from experience. 

“Okay seriously,” Rosé’s saying, the rush of bliss spilling all over her face when your hands trail up and down the sides of her waist. The smile she’s bearing is a whole lot more apparent now the more your mouth is left slack open, eyes ogling without doing a single blink. “I forgot how you like to take your sweet ass time in adoring me - fuck, it’s even worse when you’re not even saying anything, like, at all, I swear to God, please, just-” 

You’re paying no attention as you’re scouting out the different pieces that need peeling away off her figure. The shirt’s already off from the start. You manage to stop your hands from dancing along the waistline of her pants, hold her leg up as you’re pulling from the cuff at the bottom, keep her second-guessing with a few kisses to her stomach, brush your nose along the lace of her panties and scrape a bit of your forehead into the line of her bra. There might be something wrong with you; but hey, she’s on the same boat as well. 

Once all of that’s off and disregarded, you’re claiming long lost territory - marking up everywhere to be examined at the scene of the crime when it’s all done and dusted: her chest, her neck, the collarbones, her nipples already primed to the point, the subtle hint of muscle in the abs, you’re finding a way back. 

Rosé’s breathing is heavy with heat over your ear now, palming her pussy folds now exposed to the open air. “Yes - okay. Okay. I get it- jesus,” she’s stuttering as the reaction starts to traverse throughout her body. Your fingers are dancing along the dangerous area, playing with fire. You can remember the nerves being so responsive, and electric, it’s beautiful to watch in real time. “Look- you win, I’ll help. Whatever you need. I’ll do it.” 

“That so?” you ask. She’s holding herself in place as best she can along with your hand, an acknowledgment, take account of the slick soaking the grooves of your fingers. You kiss her and smile against her lips - teetering on the edge of cruelty and excitement. “Jokes on you sweetheart, I knew you’d always be good for me.” 

The devil is already in the details: pinning her to the wall and burying your fingers into her cunt. She keens when you slip in one finger, then two. Her sighs, singing this harmony that urges this need for it to be silenced; so you get your lips to the line of her collarbone - or, her lips resting right above the cuff of your ear, leg curling to the backside of your thigh, rising to the end of your ass. You let it slide when she pulls you in deeper into her body with her arms, the weight of your front crushing her chest a bit, which she’s okay with. 

“There.” Rosé does a mix of a bob and a shake of her head, “yes, oh-” 

You’re building an idea. One that hasn’t seen the light in your mind ever since the preceding one was ripped apart from you so suddenly. She keeps on gasping as you find the spots - the familiar ones where you’ve killed her before, pressing deeper and deeper into the stretch of that satisfying warmth spreading into your hand. The trembling in her body is already a stark implication of your craft becoming true. A little of a wiggle here, the push of the stretch, opening her wide. Her eyes fixate on yours, and her mouth loosens with each parting breath. 

“Y-you-” 

“There she is,” you murmur, the lower half of your face twisting into a sinister smile. 

All she could do was nod, like she was admitting; almost as if she wanted this. 

“Hold still for me,” you’re instructing, and the tone in the phrase is so gentle that she agrees to the request easily. She’s surrendering herself to you. An unspoken truth in itself. You can see the twinkle behind the rings of her irises, her shoulders drop as a result of all the muscles and bones finally relaxing after being so pent up. Something shifts in you, maybe an act of desperation; a moment where your ego is fractured. It happens when you’re pressing your cheek against hers, whispering into her ear as you put your fingers back into her cunt: “You’ve missed this, so much, haven’t you?” 

Rosé winces. You can feel the clamp in her pussy and jaw. 

Her nose scrunches as well, doing everything she can to not unfold the stricken nerve, so she mouths instead. “Yes. God, yes.” She can’t focus at all when her head hits the back of the wall and you’re leaving your lips into her neck. “I regretted it - so much, so fucking much. Wanted you to forgive me, to come back and-” 

Shit. She got you there. The honesty alone might come as a shock to you. 

“I tried so hard to move on. To forget,” she barely breathes, her voice clearer than ever, like she’s ignoring the fact that you have two curling digits inside that unbelievable cunt of hers, gripping, thighs pressing together into your hand and keeping it there; a makeshift shackle. It didn't take much to push her buttons and rile her up, get her cursing and spilling out incoherent nonsense since she can’t think straight due to the rubbing from the bottom of your palm. “The apology was there, but you were already gone-” 

The more she speaks, the more she sends your common sense down into a spiraling cyclone. Your hand keeps working her leaking slit while the other hikes up her leg - let her carry the weight in holding your body as she’s mindlessly humming against your mouth; even though she’s still trying to speak, that’s fine as it is. Maybe you’re doing yourself a favor jumping face first into this hell, or Rosé herself is just helping you get there faster- 

She knows what she wants. It’s a bit pathetic, a contrast to her condescending attitude that’s been peeling away little by little. Her slick is so smooth around your fingers, twirling and sliding with no care for her responses at all. You could kind of hear her say ‘I'm sorry’. Almost, you’re not entirely sure, but the endless nods and welled-up tears prove that there’s a psychotic factor occurring in your mind. 

“Gonna cum for me?” you ask, and she puts on this faint smile before her head lolls up and back towards the wall. “Your hips are shuddering by the second.” 

Rosé doesn’t say anything except for the staggered breaths from your hand working her and giving no care to fucking with your fingers. She tries to grip onto something; a hand, shoulder, the back of your head - whatever she could try to get her mind to not focus on you. It’s pointless. The precipice and final peak of her high is there in her eyes; locked to your face, focusing and unfocusing. 

She cums. And she looks strikingly astonishing when she finally melts down. 

“Cat got your tongue?” You ask again, expression slightly satisfied as the arms around you hold her down, pinning her. “That’s too bad, ‘cause I was gonna say that you look good like this-” 

Her hips buck forward, pussy gushing a bit more on your fingers, wetting them. “God, y-you- fuck-” 

A pinch of her clit is all you give her and she’s practically not there anymore. 

The cries coming out of her reverberate around the room. Her mouth is still hung open when you relieve some of the pressure of your face on hers, eyes slowly trying to blink through the orgasm as much as possible. The front of her body falls forward, her cunt piping hot - or well, that’s just the final part of the warmth washing over with the need for another outlet to take it all in. 

“Maybe I should just let you have it, huh?” you tell her as you get your hands to her waist and thigh again. “Do you think you deserve my forgiveness after what you did?” 

“Yes, yes.” Rosé answers. You’re finding it hard to be convincing - as if she couldn’t say it any other way when you’re hovering her over to the bed and the nodding starts to become more frantic, desperate. 

When she finally lands back first on the bed, you don’t give her any room to breathe as her body naturally arches when you’re pressing your weight on top of her again. And that’s the venom working its magic through your mind and body; she’s managed to get you craving for more without doing much. 

This is her checkmate to you. She wants you so fucking bad that if you don’t get your dick inside her in the next few minutes, the damage to follow after would honestly be catastrophic. 

In all fairness, you want her. It’s that simple. You’re willing to hold her down and fuck her senselessly, give her no care until she’s a pure puddle of mush. The hand holding you is calculated, precise; palm to the side of her face as she sighs at the touch. Gentle, yes. Her head tracks yours as you admire the winding mess that’ll get worse eventually. 

“I want you to say it,” you tell her, accidentally leaning down to bump your nose with hers. “To be sure. Rosé, I-” 

“Need you-” Her body tenses while her mouth drops to a new low, the sudden shift in her body too much to bear. You manage to wrap yourself around her, sliding slowly; spreading her legs wider until that ache rests on your muscles and hers. The drag of her fingernails on your back keeps your attention on her, zeroing in on the tightness of her waist when you’re adjusting to the right angle and depth, suspending you not to think about anything else besides her. “Like this- oh, yes- right there, fuck it’s so big, holy shit-” 

“Christ,” you hiss; Rosé’s front rises to where your stomach is, squirming until you get a proper hold of her hips at the crease where the top of her legs are, putting her in place. You’re shaking your head here, trying to stay conscious; Rosé’s eyes fall to the back of her head, blinking lethargically. Her cunt’s smoothing out all the ridges and veins, clinging with a melting grip that you’d want to bury yourself in for as long as you’re with her. 

She bites down a cry, and the whines can only be covered so much when she’s eating away at your face, hips snapping up slowly. 

You use the adjustments wisely, watch as her expression carefully unravels right in front of your eyes, until you have a proper hold of her legs where it’ll hurt, pulling her into your cock. The first smack of skin and drive up her spine snaps - like a cable cut, a live wire - the thread of curses and the cauldron of praises fall out so nicely past her lips. She locks her arms around your back, get her pussy in a position where you can take it deep and wreck her like clockwork- 

“Okay, okay. I get it now- jesus girl,” you moan out, the sound partly broken, “You win. I, fuck-” 

So you manage to bury your dick inside her, saying her name and it freaking destroys her. Some of the slaps of skin match your heartbeat from time to time, the pace nice and consistent, kissing to comfort as she swallows down the first wave of sobs.

“Yeah, yeah. You know - you’ve always known,” Rosé groans. “Ugh-” 

“Talking too much,” you mutter right back at her, breath hot and all over the skin of her cheek, pressing, a slight grin forming between your lips. “You don’t sound sorry enough.” 

Her face then matches the same lazy smile, tugged at the corners. You’ve barely made a dent into her and it isn’t enough. The focus is clear; right in her eyes, lidded and glossy. But she flutters her lashes shut, nodding profusely again, when you’ve nudged your cockhead into the spot where you’ve killed her before, another move made. “Yes I- I am. I am, I am, I am.” 

There’s not much to follow up on. The pace is already set. The one-two; slide out and drop the pin right back where it belongs. Rosé pulls you in with her lips, ankles linking to the backside of your thighs, holding her by the middle of her waist. It’s a natural transaction of sorts, the opening of old terms - matching what one wants along the other. 

Maybe you’re returning the favor in a way with her - which you are. Your vision is already becoming hazy, the clamp of her cunt all over your cock the only point of focus and consciousness keeping you sane. Nothing else outside you two mattered at this moment, hidden away within these very walls of the room as Rosé’s hips started to stutter again when you bottomed her out. 

And when she whines, a high pitch rather than a lone note, the part has never been made clearer. 

You remember how you’ve fucked her in this fashion: burying your face into her chest, nails digging into the scalp of your head, holding you so close and tenderly - like she was afraid of losing you again, powering through the second time she cums all over your cock, the mixing of her sobbing and sniffles when you’ve pushed her over that edge once more, urging you to keep sinking into her willingly - even when the precision starts to lose its fine touch. 

Even when her body starts to go limp, you play the nice gesture of raising her legs a little higher, getting her ankles planted right to the small of your back, opening up the deep, melting hollow of heat underneath you. 

“Rosie. Oh, Rosie- my Rosie-” you mumble softly beneath the repeating hymn of your name on her tongue. “My god, you’re fucking crazy.” 

“I want it- want you,” she sighs, palm to your cheek as her eyes lock with yours again. Christ, she knows what the fuck she’s doing, you need to fuck her properly, get your cock embedded right in her cunt where the warmth is at the hottest, filling her up and sliding smoothly along her slick walls to the point where she’ll have to repeat in the request - will you? Please, you fuck me so well - I swear, right there, this pussy’s always been yours, nobody else’s- 

“How I’ve missed this,” you confess. The drag of her fuckhole is that lethal, and reverts you to old ways. The regret will cross your mind again soon, you’re sure of it. 

“Cum baby.” She tells you, basically letting you do so. The velvety walls are just too much for you to handle. You could feel the coil tighten in your abdomen, the grip of her legs in your hands now leaving their red marks across her pale skin, cock hitting the same spot of her cunt over and over, relentlessly pounding and grinding her lower half into a mere puddle. “I want you to cum.” 

The air within you gets sucked right out of your lungs, boiled over to a stream of strained groans and heavy exhales - two more strokes inside her creaming cunt before you grasp on the last bit of energy to tug yourself out, painting all over the fine plane of Rosé’s waist, pumping your load out. A hand gets planted to the side, holding you upright, her voice also in its high octave, begging and speaking in tongues as the ribbons of white find their place across the blush ambered skin. 

“Fuck- holy fuck,” she sighs again, eyelids lifting up as you hobble over from the sudden blood loss from your head, bumping into hers as you tap the numb of her clit with your tip once, twice, the loose sobs sounding heavenly, pulling you back to your senses. “Oh god - it feels so good all over me. Yes.Yes. It’s so good, keep teasing my pussy like that, I know you love it, shit-” 

Even after getting her brains properly fucked out, the slurs of her words spilling out are still coherent. You take a moment to breathe, calm down the irregular heart rate as best you can, and watch as Rosé takes a fingertip to her stomach and collects some of the mess left by you. She’s so shameless, tattered, reaping the reward in all of its glory. 

“Satisfied?” You ask, rubbing her lip. Her blush is amazing to look at, a slut like her owning the part as if she’s meant for it. It’s true. The afterglow makes her ten thousand times more alluring than how she was back at the cafe when she planted the idea of those dirty thoughts slowly formulating in the back of your mind. All you have to do is just look at her- 

It’s easy to read and take a step back; because giving her more would be a guarantee on the cards. Her palm lands on the left side of your chest, feeling your heartbeat. You indulge in pulling a wisp of her hair off from her forehead, those doe eyes looking up at you while she treats herself by licking up your load off her fingers. 

She hums. It’s only the two of you. Everything you or her ever needed is trapped in this space. 

Rosé teases with the tip of her tongue, showing the evidence being down into the space of her mouth - in her throat, seeing her neck bob up while her head tilts to this sultry gaze, a damming smile forming again, hinted with a small peek of her teeth. She then manages to get a hand around your length - fingers still soaked with your cum, languidly pumping without care - since the reaction could be substituted as a reflex. “I think you have more to offer for me.” 

“God, Rosé-” you say, and she just laughs; the sound alone is impossible to ignore, but her snark, the words and things she tells you from time to time - it alters your brain chemistry. She’s always been like this. 

“What? Am I wrong?” She asks, ghosting your upper profile to give you the hint that she needs some breathing room, rolling herself over where her back is now in view, and not to mention her fucking ass- 

“No, you’re not,” you answer, hovering over the nape of her neck, pressing a few kisses down the curve. “If anything, you’re doing a terrific job of keeping my mind off of certain things.” 

Her knees dig into the mattress, lifting her backside to the front of your hips, her slick still there, smothering the top of your length. You hold her down from the shoulders and slide your knees up to the proper placement. She’s giving an offer, alright - one that you simply cannot refuse. 

“Good.” Rosé chuckles, breathing low as you’re grazing the head of your cock over the pucker of her ass, teasing it around her folds. “I hope I can keep up the work for you. Make you not worry about any other thing besides me. God that would be amazing. Can you? For me?” 

“Make me fuck your brains out as my only worry,” you concur. “Doesn’t sound that bad to do again.” Her head dips down into the sheets when you’ve got your cock slowly working its way back into her creaming pussy, hips becoming flush with yours, relishing in the perfect fit - the gorgeous press of those walls, it does something to a man. 

You’re imagining the widest smile on her face, knowing that she’s won you back. It doesn’t make sense yet, the bits and pieces of your mind not lining up with the actions. Rosé’s yelp gets muffled, in response to the press of her lower half into the mattress, hands pressing both asscheeks together, tightening the noose around your length, letting the drag make your cock throb even harder. 

“I’ve fucking missed this,” she rasps, the last exhale shoved out of her once you’ve managed to nudge your cock back inside her. The latter of everything is this: the steady breaths, the audible slide of slick, and the slap of skin. 

A hand reaches out to her hair, holding her head down to the mattress along with the rest of her body, arm slithered to the underside where the waist is, a placeholder as your hips snap forward. The whimper she lets out is a clear implication that your bag of tricks is doing a number on her. 

“Taking me so well. God, Rosie. This pussy is amazing. Look at you,” you praise, growling as she continues to babble beneath your touch. 

And the innocent giggles can hide so much of the absolute pleasure she’s enjoying. She’s a real-life venus fly trap: pulling you in with her smile, her eyes, and her charisma; only for you to be wrapped around her little finger and quite literally, her leg. “How cute. You were full of shit not that long ago. For a second I figured you’d be having second thoughts.” 

You smack her ass and grab both sides of cheeks on her face. A statement. A warning. 

“Watch your mouth,” you grit, and you swear that you’ll stay true to your word. 

“Alright, just- ah, fuck me, like that. Your cock hit that same- hngh! Please, just fuck me like you mean it. Rail my ass until I’m on my knees apologizing. I promise, just dick me down-’ 

The pace picks up and you’ve lost all remorse. You’ll bounce her cunt on your cock regardless if she’s asking for it or not. In the present case that she is, giving it to her was an easy decision. Her pussy is the missing piece of a puzzle that you always wanted to complete anew, and it’s right in your hands and on your hips. 

Rosé’s face twists over her shoulder, eyes fluttering in unadulterated pleasure, tensing and unraveling each passing stroke you have on her. The secret’s already out: you missed her, and she missed you. You’ll have the desire to take this moment away and put it in a chest, only for it to be tossed to the bottom of the sea, where no one else will know of its existence. 

“Have me over and over,” she says, “if that’s all you ever wanted, I’d let you.” 

You weren’t sure what you were getting yourself into, and when you’ve made her cum the second time, and third soon after - she’s a sobbing mess, voice wrecked, you’re also there with her, she’s got you by that much. 

–

The first snowfall meets the cloudy skies when the light peeks through the drapery. Or at least when your vision is coming around while Rosé’s posture straightens when she sits up - clutching the comforter from the bed close to her body as she looks over her shoulder to you. Her friz of bed hair is apparent at the ends, not to mention her bare back, the first hint of red marks at the bottom of her neck - you’re drawing the assessment up as you go. 

“Cold?” you ask, leaning your head back into the pillow behind. “That’s a shame.” 

“Says the one who doesn’t have anything on along with me,” Rosé chuckles, swirling around facing you. You’ll be left there to just observe and stare more times than you can probably count on your own ten fingers. 

Then she lets the blanket fall; her version of a curtain raiser. 

It isn’t anything new really, but you catch yourself blinking a lot faster than usual; the blotches of red spread across her chest, mixed with the paleness of her skin. Her waist emulates this hourglass shape that almost looks unreal for one to have; there’s also neck and collarbones, and you’re looking everywhere from her face to her hips - lustful would be an understatement of her efforts. 

“You could give me one of your hoodies again,” she’s saying, sliding her hands into the crease beneath her shoulders, looking down to the crimson marks. 

“Tempting.” 

She tilts her head the other way, a soft hum reflected off her smile. The rosy blush is a highlight; the reruns of all the moments with her keep coming back, and you’re certainly here for all of them. “You can’t turn me down.” 

“And if I did, it would be a tragedy,” you say, pulling her into your embrace as she spins around again, her hand scratching the side of your head, nose buried into the curve of her neck, “thankfully, that won’t happen with you.” 

“Let’s go exploring the city today,” Rosé proposes, back arching to the adjustment of your hold. “I can put in a reservation for that one restaurant with the fancy snails and seafood.” 

“Isn’t that like-” you snort, “eighty percent of the restaurants around here anyway?” 

“Only if you’re not looking deep enough.” 

“Your call,” you agree, turning your head to put a proper kiss, tasting the sweetness of cherry or strawberries. Her fingers trail across your forearms while yours are grazing her waist, her breasts - you’re one for physical touch, a little too much for your liking but in this case is it justified? Absolutely. Who wouldn’t? “I can carry you to the shower if you’d like.” 

Rosé’s eyes close, fluttering. Lips pulled inward to a smirk. She’s enthralled with the notion - the affinity of how you treated her before. “Mmmmm. I think: yes please.” 

–

(So you do carry her. Frankly, your fingers digging into the plush skin of her ass, sinking her back onto your cock; palms holding the tile, then slipping - her back to the wall as her feet dangle past your backside. Rosé’s moaning into the shell of your ear one second, kissing you the next - like the world would end at any given moment, hands pressing your face deeper into hers in the wash of rain above, encouraging you to give in. 

She was doing whatever it took to creep herself back into the nook of your mind, and so far it’s working; rewriting your nerves and synapses, corralling with her tongue and lips in all the ways that swept off your feet before, her grin against your chin all the easier to bite down and swallow. “You swear not to tell anyone about this, promise me.” The only telltale point of accountability laid out on the table, in the space opened between your lips and hers - a brief pause, stalled negotiations, ending with an everlasting proposition that you’ll submit to when she finally says: 

“Not a soul. Promise.”)

–

You’re shrugging your shoulders up to your ears, hoping to keep in some of the heat trapped in your body. An instinct; and with the right amount of layers of fabrics, it makes the job a whole lot easier to do. Simple as that. 

Rosé eventually did manage to steal one of your hoodies from your luggage. Not that you were complaining about it. As much as you hate to admit it, the girl did have a knack for styling different articles effortlessly to the point where you can’t even tell if she’s wearing your clothes or her own. She’s got a red scarf for today’s outing, properly complimenting the other shades below while she’s fixing her appearance in the mirror of the restaurant, patting down her hair with you coming right behind to transfer some of the warmth onto her. 

You’re getting a few whiffs of her perfume. Cinnamon and something rustic, cozy, and she just gives you a beaming smile off the reflection in front of you. Her hand goes into the pocket of her overcoat: a small digicam, turns it on and points it to the mirror - telling you to act candid or cute, whichever one happens to come first. The pull of your arms brings her closer to you, a familiar movement and rhythm when you leaned over earlier while getting ready, talking all sly and prettily as she creams all over your cock. She’s thinking about it also, even while the camera clicks. 

“Would you look at that,” she exclaims, capturing the photo as a personal keepsake, and showing you the photo on the screen soon after. “We look good in this for once.” 

Rosé notices your whole body freeze, rolling your eyes, “Uh, was that supposed to be an insult?” 

Her face shifts to a quick scowl, taken aback by the question suddenly. “Why? Would you rather have me tell you that you’re fucking ugly instead?” 

“Not true. But, hah. That does sound a lot more like you.” 

Your gaze goes back to the glass, and Rosé takes another funny photo for the memories, looking over to the corner of your eyes as the snaps from the camera continue for a few seconds. “How’s my jacket?” 

She pulls the hood to her nostrils, eyelids snapped shut, and inhales. The grin she has all over her face proves to be a clear indicator that the signs are all pointing towards positive. Her figure is still in reach of you, her front opposite to yours. “Comfy, for one,” she then looks up to your chin, syrup eyes looking up with a gentle gaze. “It’s a distinct smell. A one-of-one.” 

“Corny.” 

“And?” 

“Pretty,” is what you end off with, petting her hair which earns you a nose scrunch. “Want me to add on?” 

“You could tell me that I’m special, your angel, or something. Maybe say that I look good, y’know - to boost my ego. You being my one and only, the dream guy I’ve wanted for as long as I liv-” 

“Don’t push your luck,” you’re grinning, because she’s planting the idea so well, the keywords and points of inference to decode and analyze. She’ll inflate your ego so much that you’d have to hold her down in your hands and fuck some proper sense into her - ‘cause it’ll happen again -  probably because she deserves it, which is true. 

–

Later, and by her arm linked to yours, Rosé pulls you into this music club. A jazz bar, or- just a place where they were having an open mic night, the songs having the earworm effect to the point where your feet are following hers. 

The place opens up inside where the seating arrangements are segregated in pairs in the middle from the stage and outwards with the usual booths set at the sides. Some people are sitting, others are dancing, and then there are a few who are just casually conversing and really having a great time. But the wave of nostalgia is hitting a little harder than usual as they’re all riding along with the music. 

“This place is nice,” she tells you, gently bobbing her head along to the cozy ambiance of the band playing on the stage, tugging the cuff of your sleeve towards some open seats to rest your legs and take a breather. 

When you do finally settle your bearings, the seat under you becomes a lot more comfier, taking in the sights and sounds of the live music being performed right in front of you. It wasn’t that long also for the drinks to come flowing in; only this time, you’re more in line with your inhibitions and common sense all because there isn’t any impending stress plaguing your mind. 

Once the setlist’s been played through, the main lead of the band calls out to the audience for anyone who would be interested in singing on the open floor. Pretty straightforward: just name the song for the band members to play and give them a few minutes to get adjusted to the demands of the piece; gotta say, they’re pretty good at what they do. 

“I’m gonna go up there.” Rosé snatches your attention with her spontaneous plan. “It’s been a while since I sang in front of anyone” 

You chuckle, because you remember how she was back in the high school choir years ago. “You’re serious?” The question comes off as rhetorical alone, but you sense that burning passion inside her that fuels everything in her enthusiasm. “By all means, go for it.” 

“Got a song in mind?” She asks, hand resting on your forearm. 

“Don’t have anything in particular,” you answer with a shake of your head. “Surprise me.” 

With that, Rosé shoots her hand up high into the air. The band leader spots her out instantly and calls her up to the stage. Everyone’s eyes are drawn towards her - a mix of applause and whistles to solidify the encouragement, and here you are stuck in your seat hoping that nothing goes wrong while she’s up on stage. You have faith, and it’s just enough to stick by. 

Her introduction is cute to watch; the way that she sounds sends your heart flipping for a millisecond: “Hi my name is Rosé. I’m not from here, but I’m super excited to perform for you guys tonight and I hope that you guys enjoy it. Thank you.” 

You’d have to admit, she does look good when the lights are all on her. 

She picks two oldies that you remember vividly because of your parent's music taste, and the final song catches you off guard, because of the way that she presented it- 

“I’d just like to dedicate this last song to the number one that I hold most dear to in my heart. So if you’re listening to this, wherever you are, I hope you know that I will always root for you - even from afar.” 

-being a classic Bruno Mars song since that’s been one of the few artists she’s been playing on repeat for the entirety of the trip. Her head moves and tilts in alternating directions, really just feeling out the music. 

Once the final chords of the song get played out, the club erupts with a mix of cheers and claps, congratulating her for providing a wonderful show. The gratitude comes out naturally and she gives her thanks, occasionally landing her gaze over to you before looking elsewhere. She realizes the yearning, like how she sensed it while examining the art pieces up close as you were a few steps away. 

It really gets you thinking, just how much you’ve fallen deeper back into the abyss with her. 

–

At some point, you realize that you aren’t getting enough sleep as you’d like. 

And no, it’s not because of the exhaustion of burying your cock deep into Rosé’s cunt, the slide of her folds becoming a relapse of an addiction long locked away. The lines become blurred between right and wrong, considering the incessant begging she keeps putting towards you where you give her exactly what she wants. 

She’s laid on top of you, skin touching skin. You make do by clinging onto her small body since she likes that. 

Rosé looks up, palm to your cheek, thumb canvasing the surface. She leans down for a peck - you lean up to meet her in the middle. Everything about this feels safe; your heart’s beating with a rise in tempo, every move of her hand and head an electric current across your body, the quick blitzes of craving for one another, pulling her close, wrapping her in your clothes, blowing air in the sensitive spots that get her going, whimpering. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: the ex.” She says to you, both hands now to the sides of your face, holding you like an award - a trophy. 

“First of all, ouch.” 

“Don’t take it to heart since you dicked me down not too long ago.” Her face turns over, listening to your heartbeat, legs tangling underneath the sheets. “It sounded a whole lot better in my head, so I thought why not say it out loud,” her tone filled with relief. “I’ve always spoken from my mind anyway, so how is this any different?” 

“That’s-” 

“I’m kidding,” Rosé laughs, “well- partly. I didn’t mean to hurt you again if that’s what you wanted to hear,” in a way she’s right; what also doesn’t help is her hand slithering down your front, to your hips, fingers coiling your length in record time. 

You gasp, tensing up all the muscles in your body. “Fuc- Rosie-” 

“These thoughts that I have, they’re the worst,” she’s telling this like some gospel - a fabled story or prophecy from an oracle, twisting and jerking your hardening shaft while sharing the madness of her hippocampus. “Well? What are you gonna do about it?” 

When she slides you right back into her volcanic heat, your mouth drops. “I think we can figure that out together.” 

She sighs, pressing her lips against your cheek, grinning. Her lower half has a mind of its own: grinding down and settling, where she stays. 

–

You make love with her again. And she screams; it could be heard far and wide past the walls. A guarantee, you said. A promise. It's only you and her, after all.

–

There are multiple ways for one to sign off on their death sentence: a contract, a hearing, a proclamation; where one’s resolve is pushed to the brink where everything that transpires after has to be seen to the end until the lingering thoughts and repercussions are nothing more than just a distant memory. You knew what you signed up for when this trip had its inception, what’s to come when you’re put face first with someone who was supposed to be part of the last chapter in your story. Things like these can be rewritten on a new page for starters, but still keep all the details intact. 

Rosé could be your judge, jury, and executioner for all you know - and still be the one to lure you into the dangerous pits of temptation. 

“Holy shit,” you grit, voice tattered; Rosé’s head dips down as she plants both of her hands on your waist, and adjusts her legs until her heels are rooted into the mattress, testing the angle with an unprompted thrust by you. 

“Don’t move too much,” she commands, the slide of your cock in her pussy slow enough to make you want to rush into it. “I’ll ride you like this. You don’t even have to do a thing.”

“God-” and the giggle she lets out in tandem with her devilish grin serves to be too much for you to bear. A lift up in her squatting position, and her petite ass slams on top of your balls - the deadly pin drop. “Fuck- you’re so good at that.” 

A rise and fall. A one-two in stopping and gyrating. She’s riding you so delicately - in contrast to your style of holding her close to your chest and impaling her upwards. You feel the edge of her palm at your chin - to your bottom lip - and you bite down gently into her hand. 

“I wanna feel it - all inside me,” she’s telling you, a phrase projected into existence, a claim. “Want your cum,” her confidence brightens so much when she’s the one in control, “so fucking bad.” She slides her feet out from under her, grinding harder against your hips, laying her body flat against yours, raising her ass again and back down; the angle is much more deeper than you anticipated. “Using this pretty cunt all for you. I know you like it.” 

“For fuck’s sake,” you growl, and it’s a swear in itself, “can’t get enough of you - this pussy is a dream.” 

“Uh huh,” her face crinkles when she ups the pace. “Tell me all about it. I’ll be your good little girl for you, babe.” This role isn’t her forte, but if the opportunity presents itself, she’ll own the part with flying colors. You could hear and feel the slick spread up to your waist; every gush, smack, and dragged-out moan was all part of a symphony created by you two. She effortlessly bottoms your cock out, and she whines. 

Your arms slither around her back, keeping her in place. She whispers a ‘yes’ in your ears, and licks your temple. 

“Grab me, fuck me. Make me yours,” she murmurs, happily kissing along your cheek as you spread yourself wider, getting the proper measurements right to ruin her. 

The rest of the world fades out as Rosé’s breathing fills up your brain. “Rosé- I’m gonna- fuck-” 

“Oh god- Yes! Baby, I’m close- keep going-” 

When you inevitably cum inside her - filling her up, you’re coaxing through her sobs. Driving your shaft deep where each exhale is a staccato. Your lips find her neck, marking up skin, drinking in the sweat, fucking through her orgasm to the point where she’s pliant and quivering - tiredly nodding in approval and satisfied. 

–

You’re no diplomat, but the advisable action of keeping your phone on do not disturb, limiting contact with anyone other than Rosé was entirely justified. 

(By common sense, how could anyone keep in touch with their significant other after the heinous acts that they’ve committed? Our lives are not defined by any one action, but rather the sum of our choices. Everyone has their reasons - more or less - and sometimes, some don’t even need a reason at all.) 

The messages do pile on throughout the week. Various texts at different times, all on different days. Each one is more desensitizing than the last. 

jen: can you please call me? 

jen: i’ll explain everything 

jen: i’m worried sick 

jen: pls just come home

You’ll deal with clearing out the notification bubbles sometime later when the time is right. 

Rosé’s in the bathroom, door open to slip some of the excess steam out, towel to her bust. Most of the water is soaked into the cloth; her hair is half dry - half damp, combing a little at the ends with a brush, leaning on the door frame. “You think you can help me with something real quick?”

“Hm? And what would that be?” you ask, slipping on a shirt. 

She’s in the middle of the walkway now. 

“Just need some attention in a few spots,” Rosé says, very nonchalantly. Pulls apart the towel from the two folds, lets it pool at her feet. Her being naked isn’t enough to sway you into pushing her back into the shower and well- yeah. She knows it’s gonna take a lot more than just that. “Preferably the ones where you didn’t touch earlier, to be more specific.” 

“Could’ve said you wanted more,” you laugh. “Didn’t have to sugarcoat it.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Rosé asks, deadpanning. She sways her body where her bare ass is now in view, hips moving side to side on the balls of her feet, looking over her shoulder to solidify the image. “We got a little more time on our hands and besides, it’s Christmas Eve.” 

You’re back following her in a heartbeat. 

–

You may be sloppy and shameless, but you are also very intricate in how you approach things. It’s in how your mouth moves: precise, calculated - licking down her slutty little waist, to her clit, getting everything you’ve ever needed between those glorious thighs of hers. 

On your knees like you’re in reverence, you’re worshiping Rosé’s pussy; hoping that she could give you the blessing of eating her out like it’s your one-way ticket to heaven. The insides of her thighs press inward, her fingers in your hair pulling you exactly where she wants. 

Rosé almost slides off the bathroom counter when she finally cums. She’s yelling her heart out, hissing through her teeth. Neither of you are thinking about the possible noise complaint that you’ll get for the sixth time this week. 

“Fuck, yes,” she huffs, pressing your head harder with her legs. “Yes- yes, just that.” 

You raise yourself and give your fingers the fill, nipple between your teeth while the knuckle curls inside- 

She grasps at your neck - like you’re going off to war and she’s bagging on the chance she’ll never see you again, “Baby, I can’t say this enough,” she rasps, whining a high pitch when you hit her favorite spot, “I literally need you to ruin me,” and you nod, because you will. 

Doesn’t take that long for her to cum again soon after, figuratively off the cliff face first. Her body goes limp, eyes glossy, panting as if she’s dehydrated. She keeps her legs closed, your hand caught in the crossfire, hoping that you’ll stay once the sun shines after the storm. 

Once the clouds of lust finally pass the both of you: 

“Good use of our time actually, what do you think?” 

Rosé looks up to you, hand on her cheek, wiping the dry stream of tears. 

“We can still go,” she sighs. “I just need a few more minutes because, fuck, can’t think straight when you’re staring at me while I’m like this.” 

“Saying that I went too far?” 

“No- but,” her groan makes you chuckle, “that’s not it. It never is, I-” 

“I?” you carry on with the overhanging thought. 

“I know that you have different sides, but this- this one is just- I don’t know, to me, it just feels right.” 

She manages to get herself up from the edge of the bed, legs a bit wobbly but manageable. You’re patting down her overcoat and adjusting the scarf around her neck, cupping her face. Her hands find yours stacked on top. 

“Not letting me go, hm?” Rosé asks, humming. “That’s not very kind.”

“Want me to carry you? ‘Cause I can most definitely do that, if it makes it easier,” and it comes off so casually. You’ll stay true to your good intentions, worrying about the punishment for the crime later. 

Rosé nods, and looks down, kissing the crown of her head. She’s entrapped with this spell of desire, unsure of who got it first. It’s boundless, even when you’re hugging her. Boundless, and you’ve concluded that it’ll stay. 

–

(The muddled wet-suck of her cunt. The grip. Her listless sighs and whimpers of praise plague your brain. You're having your fill; filling her up with your cock like old times. Like it's meant to be.

You fuck her again, and all it takes is one look, and she knows. It's plastered in those rosy pink cheeks at that lip bite that makes you crave her more - it's maddening.

An untethered devotion: you could give her everything she ever wanted.

If it takes the space left open in her heart, you'd pledge yourself to get her back without a second thought.)

–

The time’s ticking; the sands in the hourglass are almost at the bottom. Part of you is torn between finally getting this trip over with and stirred that you and Rosé will probably never see each other again in the coming days. Aside from the rough, raw sex, you also realize that it’s been pretty refreshing to reconnect with the girl that you shared a good third of your life with and fall into old habits as if nothing had ever happened between you two. 

You’re starting to reminisce on how it had all gone wrong. 

Rosé, without a care in the world, stares up into the deep blue sky. The Eiffel Tower still has some guests visiting, sightseeing, and enjoying the present company that they have. You have your phone in your hands, taking pictures of everything within distance. Each click that’s pressed is a reminder of what little you will have to cling to once this fever dream is all done and dusted. 

She’s a bit out of arm's reach from you, enjoying the brisk weather and the overall ambiance that’s happening with the people around her. Her digicam in one hand, phone in the other. At some point she’s recording a guy that’s playing with his accordion, going down his list of Christmas carols, happily nodding along to the joyous tunes. She keeps on snapping photos wherever she happens to see or notice first. Canvassing the area, like a lighthouse with her phone in hand- 

Until her camera finally lands on you. She’s snapping a photo of you. You’re snapping a photo of her. 

(It’s a gunshot without the smoke. Yours and her version of Halley's comet flying over you. The realization settles in: you both fucked up.) 

You stand there motionless - phone lowered and you just look at Rosé. She does the same. Time halts to a standstill as the both of you just admire one another. Your expression is stoic while her’s is filled with an expression that’s told by her glossy eyes and uneven breathing. 

She moves without fail, running towards you; before you know it, she’s jumping in your arms, clinging onto you so hard that it’s nearly suffocating. Her sniffles are a lot louder now, and you start rubbing the back of her head in the same motion that you know brings her comfort. 

“Hey-” Rosé stutters, burying her face into your collarbone. “I- I just, God, I’m such an idiot-” 

“There’s no need for that,” you whisper, “I know. I know.” 

Like always, Rosé’s face is in your hands yet again; wiping away the tears and cradling her as if nothing else had mattered. You chuckle at the sobs she lets out, and she hits your arm. “Can we-” you’re rubbing her head still to help gather her thoughts, “can we go back to the hotel now? I think we’re good for today.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll do that. Okay. Let’s go back.” 

–

(Midway on the walk back, you decide to bet it all on the line. If it doesn’t happen now, the chances of it happening later become less likely.

“I need to stop by somewhere for a sec,” you’re telling Rosé with a sudden clutch of her hand to stop her. “Wanted to surprise you with a gift.” 

Rosé furrows her brows together, but shakes her head, smiling. “Promise you’ll meet me back at the hotel?” 

“Won’t be long, I promise.” You reassure, kissing her and her hand soon after.) 

–

You’ve never been so fast to come back to someone in your life, bouquet of roses in hand like those tv melodramas that always milks the simple moment for absolutely no reason. This might feel like one of those moments, all honesty considered, but who’s really to judge when you’re preparing for the inevitable. 

The keycard slots itself in, followed by the click of the lock once closed. You notice that the lights were already dimmed - the actual preference you and Rosé agreed on after the first night, the only difference was the trail of undergarments leading to the open area of the room. 

And that’s when you see her. 

She’s knelt on the bed, a singular rose in her hands. Her outfit is uncovered by the layers of pants, hoodie, and scarf - revealing a lingerie set on her that you’ve never seen before, painted in scarlet red. It highlights her natural complexion, not to mention her hair - she’s the literal image of your long-lost wet dreams come to life. 

“Like what you see?” Rosé asks, staring while you remain motionless. 

You drop the bouquet in your hand, not for dramatic effect of course, but in utter shock at how well the fabrics meld onto her clad body. 

She takes the hint, moving herself closer to you, on the edge of the bed while your hands ghost her figure - unsure of where to even begin. 

“I’ve said this countless times before,” you say, heart rate spiking when her palms land on your chest, “but you look amazingly good in that.” 

Her hand pulls you by the neck, and gives you a quick kiss after that. “Why thank you,” says Rosé, lip caught to her teeth when your hands slide across the lower plane of her back, resting above her ass. “I had a few other options in mind, but I always knew that your favorite color was red.” 

“Aw. So thoughtful.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“I will.” 

Rosé laughs at that. Aside from the figurative meaning, she’s aware that you can back that up. 

“Do you know why? Why I broke up with you then?” Rosé asks, face shifting to a wistful gaze. Your body freezes at the sudden question, wide eyes locked with hers as open as they can be. She twirls the rose in her fingers for a few seconds, places it at your middle, finding her words. 

“Still can’t put all of that together, you know.” You’re telling her. 

“We were young back then. We still are.” She confesses, palm to your chin as you’re doing the same. “I thought that you didn’t care how we were - like you didn’t love me anymore. Even at first now, you were such a fucking dick-” 

“Ros-” 

“Shut up, let me finish. It made me realize at that moment where I- I tho-” her words are becoming more and more shaky, you can tell in the irregular breathing, “I thought you fell out of love with me.” 

The harsh sting of truth still hurts when you’re thinking back on it for a second. It wasn’t a one person show, however, but you contributed to most of the downfall of the relationship in the past. You’ll own up to the mistakes somehow, someway; if you had the chance, you’d do it without a second thought. 

“It made me realize, this whole trip, I saw the old you,” Rosé confesses, keeping her emotions at bay as best she can, “Like how did you know that I’ve wanted a dream trip to Paris for the longest time? How long did you work on this before we- oh, right.” 

You’re laughing a bit here. Could be the psyche of trying to not come to terms with the feelings. “Use your words, it’s okay.” 

“You treated me so well this past week, putting up with my shenanigans and such, forcing you to walk wherever I go but I’m just- fuck. It fucking sucks with how we are now.” 

“I’m still hurt too,” you admit, wiping a tear off of Rosé’s cheek. “I hoped that us being here would give us some closure - which is working, but I also hope that we can still be happy as friends once all of this is over.” 

Rosé nods, sniffling. “Won’t be easy, but we can try.” 

You seal your lips with hers, finally breaking the dam of longing that you’ve been holding back until now. Her mouth burns a hum down her throat, hands weaving across your shoulders, the passion instantly infectious. 

She pulls away with a heavy sigh, “Prove it.” The words match her eyes of determination and urging. “Make love to me.” 

You’re not far from her, and you’ll follow no matter what. 

Her face is hot: scorching and engulfing at the same time. She’s quick to slip you off of your jacket - your hands fiddling with the lace decorated all over her body, pulling on your bottom lip, giving you no chance to regroup and re-hit the areas that you want to take; she’s prioritizing in keeping you close, unwilling to loosen her arms once the grips have been set. 

The fingers find the small latch of her bra, feeling her chest rise in your other hand. 

She’s peeled you off of your shirt, claiming scratches on your skin. 

You’ve got an angel within your reach - from the echelons of heaven and earth above. She’s gracing her presence onto you to the point where you will do anything to prove your devotion to her, hoping that she’ll grant you your deepest wishes - and make you forget about your darkest regrets. 

Rosé’s so responsive and you love it. Her octave goes up a key when you’re fondling along lone breast; dividing and conquering in two places at once with your other hand palming the dampness of her panties. She pulls you onto the bed, a lasso of truth that you’ll always submit to. Whispering sweet nothings, begging you to keep going; telling you more, more, and more. 

Your eyes, no matter how many times you’ve dozed off into the distance, have always landed back on Rosé in some way or form. Amidst everything, you’re magnetized to the way her eyes looked now: dangerous, wanting, hooded - as if the shades of lust have completely taken over her thoughts and with her as the vessel to carry all of those bad deeds out, as if you were the only one who could control this growing feeling. 

When she finally settles on the pillows, the heat’s already become too infectious, her face flushed and lips generally parted, waiting for your return. You go for her neck, and her body tenses, back arching and heels sliding up the sheets, unsure of where to rest as you’re catering to her lovely neck. 

“How bad do we want this?” you start, fingertip to your lip before wetting it. “You up for it?” 

Rosé bites her lips as always and nods. “Fuck,” she gasps, taken off guard by your lips to her collarbone again. “I want it.” 

A press deep into the slick center of her panties only solidifies what she’s implying. 

Her hands work with yours, sliding her out of the last piece like clockwork, her tongue clashing against yours as she shuffles herself up against the headboard, but you lean down to keep her in place. The sooner you pin her down to reach her soft spots, the more likely she’ll break within minutes - it’s all part of the plan. 

Giving her a heads up wasn’t an option, and that’s proven so when your fingers slide up against her slick folds, getting a feel for what’s to come when you eventually push inside and spread her open, teasing by dipping no more than your fingernail into her cunt, rubbing her clit to up the sensitivity. 

“You fucking tease, I know- ah-” she spits, squirming at your touch, the friction becoming a necessity. Her inner thighs press together, holding your hand hostage. That only prompts you to traverse your fingers deeper into her pussy, and she moans. “R-right there.” 

She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, or her legs, let alone her entire body in this state. The pleasure is too much to bear, and the snowball effect keeps on building. You kiss her again to keep her mind off the finger fucking you’re doing to her; she digs her nails into your forearm, pulling you by the neck to deepen the lip lock. As much as you’d love to eat her out into the night, the way that she is right now is just enough for your satisfaction. 

“God, yes- fuck-” 

You know that she’s almost there; all it takes is a little push. She’s grinding her hips against your hand, the three digits inside her too much to handle. Each whimper and moan and sigh she lets out is nearly bittersweet to hear and witness - pitiful that she got herself like this for you, and there’s nothing that she can do about it. 

“Gonna make you cum so much,” you say huskily, pressing your forehead against hers as you feel her eyebrows mesh and rise, unsure of what to focus on. But you know exactly what it is, and it’s that euphoric rush that she won’t admit to having a craving for. “Can you do that for me? Be my good little girl and do as I say?” 

Her bobbing goes frantic; she doesn’t care either way, it’s happening regardless. 

“These fucking fingers,” Rosé grits, her first words that aren’t an ‘mmm’ or ‘ah’ or ‘hah’ in a while. “Baby, baby, holy shit, you’re fucking me so well with your hand, I’m so close- shit, I’m so fucking close.” 

“Yeah? Let go, Rosie. I want to see you cum for me.” She pulls you in to keep her mind off of your hand, hips bucking at an insane rate. You could feel the shake in her thighs, sliding in and out of her cunt - the press of your thumb on her clit an additional point of pressure. Her eyes open and close, lazily matching the pace of your fingers and steadying. 

All it takes is one more slide; one more press, and she’s fucking gone. 

The sight is the holy land you’ve managed to see time and time again: watching her cum on your fingers. It’s in the rosy blush spread on her face, and you’re pretty sure that she’s squirted a bit onto your arm, but you bear no mind to that. 

“There we go, would you just- look?” You’re enamored, amazed. Your Rosé is so pliant and willing to let you have control so easily that it shouldn’t be this straightforward to do. 

“God, the fucking mess. Rosé-” 

And the sigh is just heavenly. 

She’s shaking her head in disbelief. Your fingers are still inside her, hauling past the edge of her orgasm that she can’t do anything about it. 

You eventually give her a minute or two to breathe. Because she deserves it. 

Unfortunately: one thing was never going to be enough for someone like Rosé. 

Because she’s the kind of person who will always want to see things to the end. Usually, there’s a pause, a breather, probably the overhanging thought of what you’ve done to her again for the thousandth possible time on this trip - in these four walls - a glass of water would also suffice, or a bathroom break, but not tonight. 

Rosé’s fingers are fast around the button of your pants, and you get the hint right away. You can easily tell from the glint in her eyes that if you don’t take her cunt and fuck her apart the way that she wants, there’s certainly going to be irreversible damage. This is all you are doing. It’s the match of madness that you don’t want to admit but accept wholeheartedly. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insane?” You ask, hand coiling her waist, pulling her close, thumb at the edge of her belly button. 

“Hmm, I think someone has, but I might need a refresher of sorts,” Rosé replies, a sultry smile as she watches you lick up her mess spread across your digits. “Add that to the number of things you’re willing to fix.” 

“Who said anything about fixing?” You dart back, reining her in by the waist, listen close to the stack of laughs, break down with every rumple and fold you do to her arms and legs. 

She glances at your throbbing cock waiting at her entrance, slipping the tip right in as a test, the rest to follow along until the noises coming out of her are broken, relieved. 

“Okay,” she’s saying, shimmying down your length, and raising her hips. “Impress me.” 

So, you get one thrust in for good measure, her hands braced around your back and legs finding a foothold around your hips. “How’s that so far?” 

Rosé’s fucking arch. Her pussy grips around you like a fist - hot and tight. She looks up and then at you, softer, prettier, and you’re beginning to wonder if it was ever worth getting stranded with her for a week and not ending up like this. It’s in the sound, the feeling; fucking her in this fashion: sliding yourself in and out of her so nicely. Clinging. Dragging. Every night after the first has always been like this. And the things she says: 

“Bet that feels good, right?” Pulling you from the back of your head, leaning down. “Just keep- keep, fuck, baby, like that. Holy shit, I fucking can’t-” 

Here she goes again: the praising. She’s scratching your scalp, patting your back. Nails down your spine. The tempo has her gasping in a sweet tone. “Have you like this and fuck, goddamit,” you sigh, and she looks at you like she knows what the fuck you’re talking about. 

You snap into her hips a little harder the next stroke. Pounding deep in her cunt was the eventual endgame. Her stomach dips with her next breath. Sucks her lips in. 

Oh, and that whimper; that bubbling whimper mixed into a wail of some sort. She’s looking at you; deep into your eyes where she wishes to see that part of that universe she knows she should’ve never left in the first place. Her smile is lazy. She’s got that fucked-out gaze written all over her. 

“Too much?” you say, diving into the curve of her jaw to where she moans at the contact. 

“Never,” she mumbles, cock drunk at the continuous pressing you’re doing inside of her. 

“Good,” you rasp. 

“Baby, baby, baby,” Rosé purrs, nails clawing away the skin and sweat off your back, clutching, “Please keep fucking me.” 

You bite a patch of skin away from the underside of her chin. You would rather be on the back foot here - dialing it down, but she won’t utter a complaint; she wants to feel this, how hard you can be with her. She’s taken you plenty of times before, getting her so wet at the thought of fucking her raw and dumping your load until it’s dripping down her inner thigh, watch her gasp and beg for the taste when you pull yourself out and she’s almost at the edge too. 

“Not leaving you until I’ve had enough,” you’re panting, carving your dick down to the base, thumbing her clit, a twisted evil smile painted across your lips when she’s wailing out of her mind - the mere image and sound of it is obscene. 

The pace is unrelenting, it wasn’t long until she’s cumming over your cock again, and again, and again - cutting off all the tension that’s building up in her spine as you’re holding the shivers spread across her body, unable to fight back but let you take her pussy so fucking well that the noises are bouncing off the walls, mix the heat into the open air, slide yourself out and slap the head of your cock on her swollen folds before letting her walls clench around your shaft. She might be fucked out, but you know that she still wants it. 

“Please-’ she’s pleading, and you know. You can tell from her face and body alone that she’s not done yet. 

You’re leaning down on top of her again, hooking your arms underneath her shoulders that makes the upper profile of her back fold at a ridiculous curve, and fuck her down that you’re hitting all the right places-

Her chest is heaving, nothing more than just sputtering pants - something that Rosé doesn’t register in her head right away; the air gets trapped at the bottom of her throat, swallowing, her eyes crinkle as there’s no sound coming out. 

You land your lips on hers to ease her mind. “In your nose, Rosie. Like so. There we go. Leave your pussy to me. You’re so good, you’re so so good.” 

Rosé’s head knocks into yours; a fierce wail pierces your ears. You can feel the clench a little tighter when you bottom yourself out; her stomach is moving in a concerning motion. Her gaze on you is almost a mix of shock, tears welling up in her eyes. 

You’re kissing her again, swallowing her cry. “Shhhh.” you comfort her. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” you hush, wrapping your arm to her lower back so she can stay close. “You can cum again baby, I won’t hold you back.” 

Her head goes sideways, the first domino to fall. You can see her mouth shape into something coherent - probably a dragged-out wheeze, okay, fuck, just, yes. 

“More, please, give me more,” she says. “Your cock, its- fuck, baby- I-” 

“I know sweetheart,” you croon, impaling your cock deep in her cunt. “I’m working with you here. You’ll let me use your pretty little pussy whatever way you like, huh?” 

It’ll be seconds before Rosé cums again, the wear and tear your minds and bodies are having are reaching its peak. The other times of fucking were just a competition of who can get off the other first. This time it was different; now it was getting someone over the edge first over the other - no telling how far this has gone on the scales of fucked up. 

She mouths a ‘yeah’, and the situation has never been more clear. You have to fuck her. You can’t help yourself. The nodding is only prompting you to keep going, her voice completely shattered. “Just- use me.” 

Right in the clamp of her melting cunt. In the tightening of her legs. 

“Fucking-” she’s sobbing at this point; you’ve got yourself in the prime position to where your cockhead hits the deepest spot of her cunt. “s-so good. That’s so fucking good, you’re pounding me so well-” 

She shrieks when you’ve pushed her past that brink. You’re entirely certain that it was your doing. 

This was the swan song you’ve sought out to hear. A hymn played in a time of reflection - collecting your thoughts and offering them to Rosé, hoping that she can accept your blessings and absolve you of your crimes, ordaining yourself to all good actions from this point moving forward. You’ll take this liturgy for as long as you’d like; worshiping her body and listening to all the psalms that are coming out of her mouth, holding her close as she rides out the lasting remnants of her orgasm - your name as a saint’s prayer and one that she’ll keep on speaking in tongues with over and over and over until she believes it to be true. You confess, through these harsh thrusts into her cunt with your cock, choking on the vice with a vicious finesse at the angle. 

(You’d wish you stayed at the cathedral a little longer than you did that day; confessing your sins was always going to be easier than pouring a heart out for someone who ripped it right out of you.) 

“Amazing,” you praise, and Rosé does this mix of a smile and a wince when you’re wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Her hands guide yours down to the crease of her hips, enabling you to rock her cunt down like the lovely woman that she is. 

Her voice is rattled, helpless. Like she’s been chopped up, the cracks clear as day where the faults formed. “Want- want it- I want your cum, so fucking bad, please-” 

You grin when she grins, finally reaping the reward when you tug yourself up and splatter your cum all over her body. Her chest does this circular motion, arms digging deep into the mattress beneath her, wanting her skin to be soaked so well with your release. She can’t stop moaning. She doesn’t want to stop moaning. 

“Finally,” she sighs, whimpering, mouth twisting to a satisfied smile at the corners. “God, it’s so fucking much.” 

Her hand picks up the mess spread across her waist, wraps it around your cock in no time flat. The laugh she lets out when you groan is just sinister. 

Two can play that game.

She freezes when you slide your cum-soaked cock back into her dripping cunt; listen closely at the mere gush as you slide in once more. 

“Babe-” 

You push. 

“Think I can give more, just for good measure,” reassuring, and you hold her down so hard that the next load you give is caught deep inside her cunt. 

Pushing it all back in, where it stays. 

Her eyes pinch - and there’s no voice to be heard. All that’s shown is her slacked jaw, the air in her lungs passing through, soon filled with the shape of your lips pressed against hers. 

"It's so- it's so fucking warm inside me, baby-"

"Yeah?"

Rosé sniffles again as her body tries to shudder out the cum leaking from her slit. You don't let it happen though.

You keep breathing her in; she brackets your hips with what little strength she has left. It doesn’t take much, and you know. 

Because Rosé’s got you right where she wants, to the point where your bodies are so well molded into one where each heartbeat and thought are the same, feeling the suction of her pussy wrapped around your cock like it’s the missing piece. Half of ones together make a whole. Your cock fits so well. Above the soreness and debauchery. Once the mess is finally made. Where you’ll want to keep your cock warm and settled until you or her have finally had enough. She’s speaking nonsense still; and you just- keep- fucking going. Fucking into her cunt like it's the only thing you know how to do. Even when the throbbing subsides. 

Until you decide to fully embrace her. 

The heat’s still present where it stays; you don’t even make a move to clean yourself up - it’s too early for that. Instead, the sheets are pulled over you and her, take her fingers in your hands, and hold them right as they are. 

You look at the clock on the nightstand; a little before midnight. “We’re showering together, right?” Rosé pouts her lips, burrowing her head into the space of your collarbone, hand held up and over scratching your hair. 

“Yeah,” she says, nestling her head further up against your chest. “A few minutes here, please. With me. Stay with me.” The disarm is already in effect, and you wonder if you’re at the right place and at the right time; where your heart should be, it’s a brief period of pensiveness. 

–

You blacked out. When your vision comes to, there’s nothing much for your eyes to see except the endless void of darkness that stretches over the room until the glow from the streetlights below breaks through the window. Each blink you do makes you wonder how much time has passed - along with the countless questions of what’s to come next. The thrum of your heart pounds heavy against your ears, but you’re breathing, and alive. You also notice that the space on your right side is a lot lighter compared to earlier, the quick rush of anxiety plaguing your mind. 

That all changes when you look out the window again, specks of white floating down gracefully. 

It’s snowing again. 

“Oh, you’re up,” Rosé’s voice instantly reels you, towel wrapped around her neck and in some comfortable clothes. “I was just about to wake you.” She crawls back on the bed to your side and kisses your cheek. The moment alone holding your heart in limbo. “Sorry, I thought I’d get ahead and use the shower first. You looked so peaceful sleeping.” 

Only she would be the one to blame for that. 

“Why are you dressed up?” You ask, fixing your posture and leaning into Rosé’s face for another quick kiss. She draws away playfully, wagging her head a ‘no’ that makes you lean back as a result. “We would’ve saved water if we went together.” 

“It’s fine,” Rosé tuts, ruffling your hair. “Go shower and get dressed. I wanna go for a walk.” 

“Really? Why? Right now? It’s late.” 

“But it’s also Christmas,” Rosé adds, walking away while you’re finally sitting on the edge of the bed. “We won’t be out for long. And besides, what’s wrong with a little more cardio?” 

You give her a smirk at the end in agreement. Her feet are cemented in place until you reach forward with an arm, pulling her in. Once reeled she tilts her head in surrendering because she knows that you'd be clingy without explicitly saying it.

She's back on your lap. She's yours. She can be yours again. A wish that you want to make true.

"Gonna let me go?" Rosé asks, giggling, and you kiss her.

"Maybe," you answer, leaning up for another peck since it's not hurting anybody. "Just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas."

–

When the snowflakes hit your skin, part of you on the inside is jumping for joy. It’s even better as your ears are filled with Rosé’s contagious laughter, running up the sidewalk and picking up clumps of snow in her hand. 

You make sure to be right behind her, for as much as you can.

–

“This whole thing has been a blast,” she says, slowing her pace when you and she are on the edge of a bridge. In the late hours in the city, where anyone could get away with anything, it’s just you and her - five feet apart from each other, walking along, wandering wherever your feet go. “An absolute dream come true for me. For us.”

The snow starts to land on your head along with your shoulders. 

“Part of me makes me wonder,” Rosé continues, hands wrapped around her long scarf, keeping her neck warm, nodding her head side to side when her eyes eventually land on the sea of locks put on the fencing of the bridge. She knows exactly where she is. You know exactly where she took you. “Would any of this be different if we didn’t go our separate ways?” 

“It’s a pretty good thought,” you tell her. Your exhale shows your warm breath dissipating into the cold air, causing you to bunch up your shoulders to your ears to make the heat stay. “Makes me wonder if you’d put it in your old diary back in middle school.” 

“Hey. Fuck you.” 

You shrug your shoulders with a smirk and walk closer to her. “I know you. You would.” 

Her feet stop at a random padlock just underneath the railing. She slides it into her palm, examining it. It’s not anybody she knows in particular - just the fact that what stood out to her was the neat handwriting of the initials drawn up in a Sharpie. You feel her gaze on you when you approach her side, taking a closer look at what’s in her hand, slotting your palm underneath. 

She keeps staring at the lock, leaning your face into your chest. You bury your nose in her hair, thoughts trailing to someplace where you don’t want to think about anything else. 

You point at another fancy lock decorated with gems. She points out an old-fashioned one next to you. 

‘Hey,” she says once more, looking up. The lift in your eyebrows serves as the appropriate response. Silence starts to grow between you two, the gust of wind blowing through your bodies. 

Rosé tries to read into your expression: stoic and mysterious. She knows that you’re not one to vocalize your thoughts out loud - instead, you stay quiet and listen obediently, waiting for your turn to speak when it’s the right time. A soft smirk spreads across her lips, knowing exactly what’s going on in that brain or yours. 

You wrap your arms around her and rest your chin on top of her forehead. “I think you have a general idea of what I’m thinking about right now.” 

She’s laughing into your chest, unable to look up. You look down to see what was taking her so long, only to realize that she’s hiding her tears away from the world. 

Somehow, like before, you know exactly how to comfort her when the emotions are starting to boil within her. “Rosie.” You’re saying her name softly, clutching her tighter now, the grasp of your fingers reaching to where you wish for them to stay. 

“I just wished that maybe-” and her voice breaks. Composure is starting to weigh down on your shoulders; heart rate rising in uncertainty. “Maybe if weren’t such idiots back then, we-” and the sentence doesn’t even get finished there. She’s trying so hard to put her thoughts into words, “like maybe in another life we weren’t like- well, this.” 

Her face is back in your hands, the tears building and spilling all at once. You give her a look of sorrowfulness - hopelessly, desperately, longing to make her realization a reality. 

“Memories, Rosé,” you’re telling her, “they’re all just memories. We don’t need the memories. Depreciating yourself isn’t gonna make anything better because we both grew.”

The tears well up in your eyes, too. You may be broken, but she’s also the same.

"I hope you can forgive me for a lot of things; for cutting you off and leaving you in the dark," she tells you, jaw twitching - unable to make eye contact, linking her fingers with yours, "but if there's one thing you choose to never forgive me on, my dear, is the fact that I wasted all your precious years."

(I know, you’re saying to her, in tandem with a verse that you’ll recite as penance once you and her part ways. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care about any of that. I just want the both of us to be there for each other, no matter what happens in between.) 

–

As of now, you’re mentally checked out from all the logistics once everything’s been checked in at the airport, waiting to board. Rosé’s dozed off on your arm. She thought that it was a good idea to get less than the usual six hours of sleep and her current state serves to be the consequence. The scarf draped around her shoulders was yours, adamant in wanting to save another keepsake from you; she claims that it looked better on her. (Which is a bit of an insult, you think. Though it’ll do the job of covering up the bruises along her neck just fine.) 

But, things are played out differently in the final act of the return trip. 

You hear her flight announce the boarding phase and tap her shoulder to wake her up. She shoots up instantly, blinking. Everything else falls into place: gathering her belongings, rolling up her luggage to where she can grab and go, fixing up her appearance with that one pair of sunglasses that she likes so much, but doesn’t wear just yet. You walk with her to the main walkway of the gates, getting all of the last looks you’ll possibly have in these last few moments. 

The familiarity with distance affects the healthy human mind to think of it as some sort of curse rather than a luxury - depending on the situation, you’ll take it with a grain of salt. 

Her arms are folded with her handbag and jacket, staring at you so eagerly. “So, you just gonna stay quiet this whole time or-” 

You scoff, because it’s the truth - and so like you. “Uh- well, I was just wondering,” you say, scratching your head shamelessly. “Are you sure you want go forward with this?” 

Rosé bobs her head for yes. The decision’s already been made; no point in changing it. “Unless you want to create a shit storm with our friends when we get back, then by all means go for it.” 

“Right.” you deadpan. “Just for accountability.” 

“If things do go south, you know where my flight’s headed. And given the present situation that you’re in, I’m in no position to make that choice for you,” she says, looking over to the tv board to see where her boarding gate was at. “Guess this is it, " she declares, sighing, "any last things or words you want to do or say?” 

You say something. And you do something. You pull her in for a hug, get the last whiffs of her coconut scented shampoo in her hair; she kisses you. You kiss her forehead as her eyes flutter shut; you hold her a bit too long for your liking, but tells you that she doesn’t mind. Don’t be far away, okay? At least let me catch up for once. 

She tells you: never. It’s a running inside joke. The classic game of cat and mouse, an old fabled goose chase; you’ll keep going after her even when you don’t expect it to happen. She’ll lure you back in so easily that all it doesn’t sound terrible as it seems. 

–

When you do settle on the plane, you have your moment of getting the window seat. Your eyes are getting familiar with the arraignment, how cramped the leg room is, the assortment of movies you know that you’ll sleep through. There’s a lot of things circilng around your head; either one at a time or all at once. This fever dream is coming to and end, and you’re left torn to not tell the tale. 

You check your phone and turn off do not disturb, taking in all the notifications that you missed the past few days. The work messages, fill-ins with coworkers and friends; then there’s Jennie’s messages. 

“I’m so fucked.” You manage, muttering under your breath. Tongue tip to your teeth to mentally prepare youself for what’s to come. 

–

(You keep thinking about that night on the bridge, holding Rosé in your arms - in midst of the cold weather hitting you. She tells you that this getaway was everything to her, and it’s the simplicity in the delivery that makes you want to share those snap-shot moments with her even more. Nothing else mattered to you: managing to fall in love with her all over again. 

We can try, you’re saying, we can always try again, and she smiles through the tears. You and me. Together. Properly.

“I’ve always loved the idea of starting over. It’s exciting. All of these things. All of these moments we spent together, it just felt right,” and her gaze goes crestfallen. “Never really thought that I’d come back to you, and I couldn’t be more proud.” 

And once you’re way up in the sky, it does feel like some sort of whirlpool back into the reality of life, the final fade to black shot - you look out the window and ponder: a choice can be made still. All of the stars have to align at just the right time for it to happen. It can happen. You could alter the course of the story if you just made the right calls. Maybe you will. 

Your gaze falls down to the ocean below - and maybe it’s a long shot, winding into a pipe dream. 

Ever since she and Y/N had first hooked up under the guise of "working on the house", Wanda hadn't been able to stay away from him. 

By now, all her home improvement problems were resolved. She'd invited Y/N over more times than she could count to fix the rest of them, though her real goal was just to get him in bed with her. It worked every time; she couldn't get enough of the sweet boy, and he clearly couldn't get enough of her.

She supposed she was a bit addicted to him, considering her house had dozens of problems when she first met him less than a month ago, and now, it had none. Now that she didn't have the "I really need this fixed, can you come over?" excuse, she had to find other ways to talk to Y/N. 

Though it didn't compare to feeling his body against hers, Wanda had come to enjoy texting him. She felt like a teenager again, staying up late to talk to the boy she liked. 

Tonight was no different. It was nearly one in the morning, and Wanda was sprawled out on her bed, beaming from ear to ear as she texted Y/N. The conversation hit a lull, so she asked a question that usually helped reignite it.

What are your plans for tomorrow, baby?

Wanda liked knowing about his days, what he was doing, how he spent his time when he wasn't with her. The three dots popped up within seconds, dancing across her screen torturously as she waited for him to reply.

it's actually my birthday tomorrow lol. i'm probably just gonna order some pizza and watch one of my fav movies to celebrate.

Wanda perked up at that. It was his birthday tomorrow? She had no idea. And why was he spending it alone? That just sounded absolutely dreadful. She quickly typed back.

I had no idea it was your birthday, Y/N! Why spend it alone? Did my boys forget? Oh, they're going to get a talking to if they forgot your birthday. 

God. She would unleash hell on Billy and Tommy if they forgot Y/N's birthday. She thought she raised them better than that. 

no need to do that lmao, they didn't forget. they don't know tomorrow's my birthday. i'm pretty secretive about it, so feel lucky i told u :p

Wanda smiled solemnly at that. She felt honored he told her about his birthday, but it deeply saddened her that he was so secretive about it and was going to celebrate alone. She quickly thought of an idea and wrote him back.

Oh, believe me, I know I'm lucky. Everyone who has you in their life is lucky. I don't want you spending your birthday alone, and I'm sure my boys would agree. Why don't you come over tomorrow for a small celebration? It'll just be us four.

Wanda waited impatiently for his reply. She hoped he'd say yes, but she wouldn't take no for an answer even if he tried. She was going to make his birthday special. She was already brainstorming what she was going to do to him after the party, but got pulled out of her thoughts by his reply.

are u sure? u don't need to do all that for me. i'm fine with my pizza and movie :)

Wanda sighed, rolling her eyes affectionately. He was so dense, so hard to be dissuaded when he made his mind up about something, but she was up for the challenge. 

No, Y/N, you are not fine. You will be coming over tomorrow. I want to do this for you more than anything. Please believe me, darling. 

She smirked as she hit send. She knew he was probably blushing behind his screen, fruitlessly trying to figure out how to form another polite rejection. He couldn't say no to her when she got into a commanding tone like that, so she wasn't surprised when she read his reply.

yes ma'am, lol. this means a lot to me, i'll definitely be there.

Victory. Wanda knew it would be easy to get him to cave, but it was always adorable when she was reminded how truly submissive he was. She looked over at the clock beside her bed. Almost two in the morning now. She needed rest if she was going to plan a good party for him. 

Good boy. How about you come over for six? Don't bring anything, I'll cover it all. Wear something you feel comfortable in. Just don't stress about anything. Tomorrow's your day.

Wanda knew that Y/N liked the idea of a day being fully about him more than he'd like to admit, and he only confirmed that by not fighting back at all.

sounds perfect wanda :) i'm looking forward to it. 

She smiled down at her phone, already looking forward to spoiling Y/N tomorrow and giving him the best day possible. She yawned, and was reminded that, for now, she had to let this perfect man go.

Likewise, sweetheart. As much as I adore our conversation, it is getting rather late, and I must be rested to plan your party. Sweet dreams, handsome. Xx. 

She smiled down at the good night wanda <3 sleep well text she received from him before locking her phone and shutting her eyes. 

The party was going to be fun, of course, but Wanda's mind lingered on what would happen afterwards. How it would feel for him to be here, sharing the bed she was currently in alone? What sounds would he make as she had him pinned under her? The other presents she planned to get him were trivial. She was his real gift. 

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

"Get up. Now. We're throwing Y/N a birthday party."

Billy and Tommy slowly blinked awake, trying to process their mother's words. They glanced at each other from across their shared bedroom, and then back at her. 

"Huh? What do you mean? It's not his birthday." Tommy said sleepily, with Billy nodding in agreement.

Wanda wanted to roll her eyes. Did these boys know nothing? They knew Y/N was shy and closed off, why would they assume it wasn't his birthday? Wanda rubbed her temples exasperatedly, replying, "It is. He told me last night. Don't question this, okay? He planned to celebrate alone, and I couldn't stand that, so invited him over."

The twins exchanged another look before reverting their eyes back to Wanda. When she spoke this seriously, they knew it was better to just listen to her. And, of course, they cared deeply for Y/N, and didn't want him spending his special day alone.

"Fine," Billy said, rolling out of bed and walking over to his closet, "I'll get decorations and a gift for him."

Tommy got up in similar fashion, looking hungover from sleep but determined to help. "I'll deal with food and entertainment stuff."

Wanda had to stop herself from beaming. She was already planning to assign duties to each of the boys so she could focus on making herself look good for Y/N, but they'd already taken it on themselves to do that. Wanda happy exclaimed, "Perfect! I'll make sure the house is nice and tidy for when he comes over."

She walked over to each of her sons, giving them both a kiss on the forehead. "Thank you both so much. The party's at six. I'm so proud of you both for stepping up to make Y/N's birthday special."

Quicker than they could respond, Wanda left their room and went back to her own. Now that she had her sons handling the technicalities of the party, she could focus on what really mattered: how she looked.

She opened up her closet and began to sift through her options. Nothing stood out to her. Her marriage with Vision had been dead for years before they officially divorced, so she never felt the desire to dress up for him, resulting in an unfortunate lack of sexy attire.

Wanda had gotten so desperate that she dug all the way back in her closet, and that was when she struck gold. Lacy red lingerie. God, she couldn't remember the last time she had worn it. Maybe before her boys were even born. Regardless, she knew Vision hadn't appreciated it nearly as much as Y/N would.

She made sure her door was locked before she tried it on. She prayed it would fit. It took her a couple more minutes than she would have liked to admit to get it on. After all, she believed it had been over twenty years since she had dressed up sexily for anyone. After about three minutes of struggling, she had it on.

And, oh, it still fit like a charm. 

Wanda couldn't help but bite her lip when she saw how she looked in it. If anything, it fit even better now than it did when she first got it. 

Delicate lace framed her curves, making her look even more tempting than before. The tiny, floral pattern was intricately stunning, and the shade of red looked gorgeous in contrast to her pale, soft skin. The elastic pushed her breasts up, making her look even bustier than usual. The panties were practically nonexistent, just a thin, see-through strip that would barely separate her most intimate area from Y/N. The garter belt completed the look, adding just the right amount of dominance and sex appeal that would make him easily cave for her. 

Wanda twirled in the mirror, admiring her ass and curves from the back, too. She smirked to herself, knowing she still had "it". All she wanted was to look good for Y/N, and she knew this look would have him drooling.

The lingerie was only half of the outfit, though, she still had to find a dress to wear. It was always a dilemma when Y/N and the boys were together. It was mandatory to look appropriate and motherly for them, but all she wanted to do was look appealing and sexy for him. She knew that at this point she should probably just go on a shopping spree and find a closet's worth of outfits like that, but right now, she was working against the clock and needed to find something asap.

After a couple more minutes of digging in her closet, she found another archaic piece of clothing she deemed fitting for the occasion. 

It was a black dress, short enough to draw Y/N's eyes without raising suspicion from her boys. It was another piece of clothing that she swore she couldn't have worn in at least twenty years, but since the lingerie worked, she hoped it would work, too.

She pulled the dress on, being careful to not mess up the delicate lingerie underneath. Once she managed to zip it up herself, she checked herself out in the mirror, beaming at the way it fit her. Just like the lingerie, it looked immaculate on her. It went up to her mid thighs and clung to her curves like a second skin. The neck line wasn't too deep, but it was better to tease than just reveal everything, especially knowing her sons would be around. 

The dress hid the lingerie perfectly. She couldn't wait for Y/N to see it, but she didn't want him to until she had him alone. That was going to be his special gift. 

Wanda spent the rest of the afternoon tidying up the house like she told the boys she would. It was pretty much perfect already, due to how much Y/N had been coming over and helping her out with things, but she did it anyway for the sake of keeping face in front of her sons. 

When Billy and Tommy got back from shopping for what they volunteered to get, they worked with Wanda to set it up nicely. They hung up streamers and balloons, and Billy even bought letters to hang up in the living room that said "Happy Birthday Y/N!".

Tommy bought pizza, much to Wanda's dismay, but at least it would be better eating it together than alone. He also got Y/N's favorite soda, chips, and cake. Wanda smiled quaintly as he pulled the liter of Dr. Pepper out of the bag, knowing she'd be offering Y/N some of her finest wine once the boys were preoccupied. 

"Good job, boys. You managed to get it all done," she glanced at the clock. 5:35. "And with half an hour to spare! I'm proud."

As the boys went off to change into their party clothes, Wanda spiffed up her hair and makeup, and checked to make sure she was still looking good. She knew she looked like a bombshell, but Y/N was different. She wanted to look perfect for him, to give him something worthwhile on a day he appeared to hate so much. 

Before she knew it, the doorbell rang, and she was unwillingly having a party hat forced onto her head by Billy. So much for all the work she just put into fixing up her hair…

She let the boys answer the door, not wanting to seem too eager or make them think she was obsessed with their friend (even though she so obviously was). She admired Y/N from afar, looking handsome as ever. 

He wore a white tank top that showed off his muscular frame. Over it was a short sleeve button up shirt, which happened to be unbuttoned, making him look as tempting as ever. He had on baggy shorts and sneakers, looking the perfect mix of sexy and cute. She could just eat him up right this second. 

Once the boys had given Y/N their greetings, Wanda made her way over to him. To her sons, she was simply walking, but to him, she was sauntering. She looked beyond stunning, and he did his best to not just gawk at her body. 

He swallowed awkwardly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he choked out, "Hey, Mrs. Maximoff. Thanks for doing all this for me. It was really thoughtful." 

Wanda smirked up at him. He was such a big guy, but he was so easy to fluster. She leaned in, pulling his stiff body into a hug as she happily replied, "Oh, don't you go thanking me! It's your birthday! It was our duty, as your friends, to make your day special."

She turned away then to get him some food, swaying her hips as she walked, knowing his eyes were glued to her. Fortunately for Y/N, Billy and Tommy quickly pulled him out of the entryway and into the living room, distracting him with questions about his birthday and what he was going to do in the upcoming college semester. 

Wanda came back a couple minutes later with plate loaded with pizza and snacks for Y/N. She made sure to lay all her sweetness on him, knowing it made him extra flustered and shy. "Here you go, sweetie. A big boy like you deserves big birthday dinner. How old are you turning again?"

Y/N thanked Wanda quietly, opting to look down at the pizza instead of her, not wanting her to see how deeply he was blushing. After taking a bite of his pizza, he answered, "Twenty."

God. She had to bite back a moan. She loved his youth, his virility, his energy. It made her feel young again. Plus, she had to admit, she was more than a little into their age gap. It got her wet if she thought about it too hard, so for now, she just focused on the party. "My! You're growing up fast. If you're twenty now, that means my sweet boys will be also be twenty soon! My heart can't handle that!"

Billy and Tommy rolled their eyes, delving into the pizza they got for themselves instead of listening to their mother's sappy words. 

The party was perfect. Y/N didn't like a huge fuss to be made about him, so the small gathering was ideal. He shared lots of laughs with Billy and Tommy, and stared at Wanda when it wasn't too obvious. She had been subtly putting on a show for him the whole time, swaying her hips as she walked, bending and posing provocatively, and whispering and giggling in his ear. He felt his cock throb in his pants as Wanda set his cake down in front of him, but did his best to act normal. 

Once the happy birthday song and cake eating were over, Wanda was elated to see that her sons were exactly how she expected them to be. Zonked out. Since they were young, whenever big meals were served to them, afterwards, they'd fall into a food coma and be out for the next couple hours.

Y/N was sitting awkwardly next to them, trying to entertain himself with the gift the boys got him, a small Marvel Lego set, when Wanda entered the living room, took his hand, and slowly dragged him into the kitchen. She shut the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Finally," she said, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, "It's just us. This is what I've been wanting all night."

Y/N's hands instinctively went to Wanda's waist, trying to be subtle as he felt her up through her dress. He was shy as always, but he managed to mumble, "You look so beautiful. Just… drop dead gorgeous, Wanda."

She just smirked, pressing a soft kiss to his neck, making him shiver before pulling away. "I know, darling. You think I got all dressed up just for fun? No, this is all for you."

As Y/N continued to watch her every move with hungry eyes, Wanda reached down into a hidden kitchen cabinet and pulled out one of the fine wines she kept for special occasions. She got two glasses out and poured herself and Y/N some before sauntering back over to him and handing him a glass. "Tommy was… sweet buying the Dr. Pepper. But you're a big boy. I think you'll like something with a more… refined taste."

Y/N sipped the wine, trying to hide the small grimace that involuntary flashed across his face as the initial flavor hit his tongue. After letting the taste kick in for a couple seconds, he rasped out, "It's good, Wanda. Thank you."

She just laughed at how adorable he was, taking a swig from her own glass before setting it down and wrapping her arms around him again. She liked to feel his solid warmth underneath her hands. She leaned up once more, pressing some long, slow kisses to his neck as she mumbled, "Thank you for coming, baby. Thank you for letting me celebrate you. You deserve it more than anyone." 

Wanda then guided him to set his glass down and began to sway with him. There was no music, but the couple didn't need it. They had each other. The rhythm of their hearts was enough. 

Y/N's big hands slid down to Wanda's waist, steadying her. He gazed into her green eyes, feeling more love for her in this one moment than he ever did for any of the girls he was formerly with at college. He leaned down to give her a soft, slow kiss, whispering as he pulled away, "No. Thank you for having me. This is the best birthday I've ever had."

Wanda smiled widely as he kissed her, gripping onto his shoulders harder than before. She felt more cherished now than she ever did in her whole marriage with Vision. 

The pair spent the next couple minutes dancing and drinking. Once Wanda was sure that Y/N was at least buzzed from the wine, she pulled away from him. She was excited. She was about to give him his big present. She took his hand, helping steady him, and murmured, "Come with me, handsome. Just be quiet so we don't wake the boys."

Wanda then quietly dragged him from the kitchen up to her bedroom, a place he had been so many times, but she didn't let him in just yet. "Stay here for a couple minutes, okay? Can you do that for me? When I'm ready for you to come in, I'll knock on the door three times."

Y/N nodded in acknowledgement and Wanda slipped into her room. She made quick work of taking her dress off, rushing to hang it back in her closet and grabbing what hung beside it. Once the dress was off, she put on a silk robe. It came with the lingerie set, made of the same red color. 

She checked herself out in the mirror, tightening the robe's tie. She wanted the lingerie underneath to be completely hidden for the time being. She was Y/N's present, and she wanted him to have fun unwrapping her. 

Once she was completely sure only the robe was showing, she went back to the door, knocking on it thrice to let Y/N know she was ready for him. She stood back as he began to open it, wanting him to take all of her in from a distance.

Once Y/N stepped in and she saw the way his eyes widened, she knew she had won. He was frozen in the doorway, eyes wide and glued to the way the thin robe hugged her mature curves. Wanda laughed internally, realizing that she didn't even need the lingerie. This robe alone would have been enough to drive him crazy. 

As adorable as he was just standing nervously in the doorway, Wanda wanted more from Y/N than just his obsessive gaze. She slowly raised her hand, wagging her finger as a "come here" gesture. "Come on, sweet boy. Don't just stand there. Come unwrap your present."

Y/N, being unable to refuse any command Wanda gave him, quickly shut and locked the door behind him and approached her. He swallowed hard, staring at the way the robe pushed her breasts up as he mumbled, "M-my present? But I already got the Legos-"

Wanda smirked, bringing a slender finger up to his lips and shushing him. He was so earnest, it made her want to pin him down right then and there. "Shh. Your gratitude is admirable, but we both knew from when you first walked in the door that you were going to get something much better than Legos tonight."

She then took Y/N's hand, guiding it down to where the tie of her robe was. She rested his hand right on the knot and continued, "Go ahead, love. You're a big boy. You know how to untie a knot."

Y/N's eyes shifted from the knot to her piercing green eyes, bearing the hunger of a predator. He swallowed hard again, asking quietly, "Are you sure, Wanda? Do you really want me to?"

Wanda nodded, knowing he often needed extra reassurance and encouragement. She took his other hand, pulling it up so that it was also at the knot as she spoke "I'm sure. I'm your gift, and I want you to unwrap me. In fact, I'm not asking. Mommy demands you unwrap your gift."

After uttering those words, she watched his eyes glaze over. They always did when she weaponized his mommy kink against him. Just those two syllables, and he was completely weak for her. 

He mumbled a quiet noise of acceptance and acknowledgment and finally began to take her robe off. He slowly undid the knot, shyly looking up at her for more direction once that was completed. She gave him a nod of encouragement, signaling him to open the robe up.

"O-oh my god," spilled from his lips as the two sides of the robe yielded to reveal the lingerie she was wearing underneath it. He stood there, gobsmacked, as he took in the way the beautiful, intricate lace highlighted her curves. Wanda had never felt more powerful than she did in this moment. 

She pushed the robe off her shoulders, twirling around once slowly, flaunting her body so Y/N could see how every edge of her body looked. Once she completed the 360, she looked up at him again, still frozen and gawking, and spoke, "You like what you see, baby boy? You like how mommy looks when she's all dolled up for you?"

Y/N answer left his mouth before he could even think properly. "Yes! I-I love it, mommy. You look… amazing."

Wanda giggled at his eager, shy answer, and stepped up closer to him again. She reached up, pushing the button up shirt off of him, and motioned for him to lift up his arms, which he immediately did, allowing her to easily slide his white undershirt off.

Wanda stood back for a moment, admiring him as much as he was admiring her. She whistled lowly, running her nail down between his pecs, all the way to the waistband of his shorts. "You're the birthday boy, but mommy's also getting a gift tonight. You're stunning as always, darling."

She watched as Y/N turned red from the compliment, mumbling a fast "thank you" as she began to lead him over to the bed. She gently pushed him down into a position he had been in many times already, his head back on the pillow and Wanda straddling his lap. Usually they jumped right into the action, but tonight, she was taking it slow.

She took the lead, as always, guiding his hand to her lace-covered breast as she whispered sultrily, "Why don't you play with your present a little, baby? Mommy wants you to touch her."

Y/N was shy, but he knew not to waste an opportunity. He began to gently squeeze and grope her breast, the added sensation of the lace over her nipple making her moan involuntarily. He took that as a good sign, bringing his other hand up and kneading her other breast. 

The feeling of his big hands groping her made Wanda instinctively begin to grind against his lap, stifling moans into quiet whimpers. "O-oh! Oh, fuck, yeah, baby, just like that! Keep touching mommy."

Y/N continued to touch her through the lace for a couple more minutes before reaching behind her and unhooking her bra. His hips bucked instinctively as her breasts spilled out, earning another moan from her. He rarely took action like that without her deliberate direction, and she loved it. She leaned down, pushing her breasts towards his face as she whispered, "Mmm, someone's eager to get to his gift. You're hungry tonight, sweetheart. Mommy loves it."

Y/N quickly adapted to the proximity of her breasts to his face and leaned in, moaning as he attached his mouth to one of her nipples and began suckling. Wanda threw her head back, her hands tangling in his hair, pushing him deeper into her chest.

He was ravenous when it came to tit sucking, and he showed that more than ever tonight. Y/N alternated between Wanda's breasts, sucking at her nipples, leaving kisses all along her skin, and simply groaning as he pushed his face in her cleavage. The boy was insatiable, and it turned Wanda on to no end. 

As he continued to worship her breasts, Wanda slid her hands down and began to undo his shorts. She undid the button and guided him to lift his hips so she could pull him down. Once his pants were off, she began to touch him through his boxers. He moaned loudly against her breasts, causing her to shiver in return. 

"God, handsome. Just a couple touches and you're already crying out for me," she murmured, rhythmically squeezing the spot where his erectile device was, making him harder by the second. 

Y/N nodded desperately, his hands still cupping her tits, not wanting to let go of her body. Wanda thought he looked adorable like that, so needy and addicted to her. 

Once he was fully hard and out of his boxers, Wanda shifted so that he could feel the heat of her soaked pussy against his cock. Y/N threw his head back at the sensation, his hips instinctively bucking up against her, his tip rubbing against the lace. He begged, "Please, mommy, I wanna be inside you so badly."

Wanda looked down at him with a gaze of pure love and adoration. She loved having this big, strong boy so needy for her, rutting up against the fabric of her panties like it was heaven itself. She didn't have him take them off, yet, she simply instructed, "Just keep rutting, baby boy. You need to get warmed up before you fuck mommy's pussy."

Y/N let out a whine, but, of course, didn't protest. His hands went from her breasts to her waist, holding her steady against him as he began to slide his cock against her panties. The friction made him groan, and it felt just as good for Wanda. The pressure of the lace against her clit had her grinding down against him, giving him more friction in return.

Wanda let him rut against her for a little while, happily taking in the sounds of his whimpers and the look of desperation on his face. Once he began to really get into it, she stopped him, worried that he would cum just from doing this. 

She leaned down, pulling his hands away from her waist as she pressed down on his abdomen to stop his rutting, "Good boy, baby, good boy. But that's enough. You're all worked up now, just how I wanted you to be. Now you're ready for my pussy."

Y/N's eyes widened excitedly, and Wanda shifted so that he could easily slide the rest of her lingerie off, but, to her surprise, he simply slid them to the side and lined himself up with her entrance. 

She raised one eyebrow as she slowly lowered herself down onto his cock, murmuring, "To the side, huh? You think mommy looks pretty like this? You wanna fuck me while I'm all dressed up pretty for you?"

Y/N let out a loud groan as Wanda sheathed herself on his cock and clenched hard around him. His hands flew back to her waist, trying to keep his composure as he answered, "Y-yes, mommy. I think keeping it on while we fuck is hot."

Wanda giggled, beginning to slowly lift herself off his cock and then slide back down again just the way he liked. She reached up, playfully squeezing one of his pecs while speaking, "My baby boy has a dirty mouth on him today, huh? Well, it is your special day, after all, so I'll allow it."

Y/N's head was thrown back at the feeling of her tight cunt slowly sliding up and down his cock, relishing the feeling of her wet heat around him. His hands gripped her waist tightly, his hips instinctively bucking up again when he looked at her again, seeing the way the lingerie clung to her curves as she fucked him. 

The sight of his cock disappearing into her cunt was enough to make him crazy, but that paired with the lingerie had him going wild. He usually just let Wanda ride him, but today, he couldn't hold back, and began to fuck up into her in return. "Fuck, mommy, your pussy feels so good."

Wanda just giggled again, not minding it. She knew he was still completely under her spell, if anything, now he was just even more desperate for her than ever before. She continued to grind down on him as she leaned in close to whisper, "I know it does, baby boy. You just keep fucking into me just like that. Take what you need from mommy."

Y/N took that as a green light, gripping onto Wanda's hips hard enough to bruise as he began to fuck up into her heat even harder. Wanda leaned down, pushing her tits back in his face, surrounding him with her essence so she was the only thing he could think of. She wanted to break him.

As his mouth attached to her nipples again, his face buried in her breasts, she felt his thrusts begin to grow quick and erratic. She knew he was close. Her hands went up to his hair, pushing his face deeper, trying to overwhelm him until he went past the point of no return. She continued to slowly slide up and down on his cock as he thrusted, murmuring, "Are you close, baby boy? You ready to cum deep in mommy's pussy?"

Y/N nodded frantically, letting out noise that sounded like a sob as mumbled, "Yes! Yes, mommy! Please, I need to cum inside you!" He continued to thrust, his thighs slamming against her ass as he fucked her with all the force he had. He was so powerful, but so, so desperate.

Wanda could have chosen to keep edging and teasing him. She'd done it before, and she knew she'd do it again, but not today. It was his special day, and this was his gift. He deserved to feel good. Despite how hard he was thrusting, Wanda remained soothing and calm and whispered right in his ear, "Then do it, sweet boy. Cum inside mommy. You've earned it."

Her words immediately broke something in him, and with one final thrust, burying himself as deep inside her as possible, he finally came. He let out a loud cry of, "Mommy!" and soon, Wanda felt that beautiful, sticky liquid leaking out of his tip and into her pussy. 

That feeling, combined with knowing she had made him this desperate, always did it for her, and soon, she came as well. She didn't rush, she just slowly collapsed against him, still giving him a few slow grinds to rock him through his orgasm.

Y/N was looking up at her with reverence as she cupped his face in her hands, slowly leaning down to give him a sensual, sloppy kiss on the lips. More than anything, she hoped he'd had a good birthday.

After simply lying in content silence for a couple minutes, she whispered, "Happy birthday, sweet boy. I hope we gave you a good day."

Y/N nodded sleepily as he leaned his head against her chest, his big hands tugging her even closer to him. "It was the best birthday ever, mommy. Thank you so much." A pause as he yawned, and then, "I love you."

Wanda froze slightly. They'd never said that to each other before. But she had felt it more times than she could count. She leaned down once again, slowly kissing his forehead as she finally spoke the words she had wanted to say to him for months. "I love you, too, sweetie."

The reblogged works of cthulhuscurse

WANDA

Camera

The lion & the lamb

Demonic nature

Holiday delights

Leather and Lace

WandaNat

Guiding light

Surprise, surprise

Update:

More found past works

Nat fics

Night secrets

Extra credit

Let me go

Fun tonight

Sweet talk

Hopeless

Obcasio

Sweetest devotion

Submission

Late night

Suburbia

Promises

Wanda fics

Delovely

Delovelier

De-loveliest

Welcome home

Believer

Inspections

Drive you insane

Silver bells

Hold it

Doin' time

Venomous

Swim with me

Wanda's web V1

Wanda's web V2

A fresh start (webbed hearts au)

What to expect when youre expecting

Rosemary

The more the merrier

Chrome hearts

Deer in headlights

Rules and regulations

Her majesty

All over her

Birthday girl

Beneath the full moon

Angelic

The one with the farm hand

After school special

Frozen in place

Neighborly support

Nightly visits

Playtime

Working overtime

Gentle hands

Forgotten stars

Swan song

Love me dead

Kings and queens

Gravitas

Dom wanda(thinking about)

Well behaved

Once upon a time

Games

Deck the halls

Comfort

Concerned third party

Another love

Cherry waves

Wolf hybrid reader Deer hybrid wanda

Eating out

Action reaction

Keeping warm

Soft touches

Tongue tied

Stuck in time

Shorter works

Short works 1

Short works 2

Short works 3

WANDANAT

Scream

Guiding light

Eternal flames

Watching

Wanda x Kate x reader

Doctor patient confidentiality

Kate bishop

Class president

List of sytoran works

(that i can remember) that you can look up the title for on ao3

Boudoir photography

Hell isn't that far away (marvel kinktober 2023)

Study break

Heat waves

My divine goddess

Update:

Found some reblogs of her kinktober 2023 works and one chapter of my divine goddess so far, linked below to the reblogs

Kinktober works

Exhibitionist (peggy)

Breeding press (wanda)

Mermaphilia (wanda)

Thigh riding (wanda)

BJ (natasha)

Somnophilia (wanda)

My divine goddess pt1

Giddy up

Heat waves

Jailhouse rock

The super soldier theory

Boudoir photography

God you're insatiable

Taunt

Doctors orders

That's all I can really recall

Sorry if its not alot

okay so similar dynamic to my usual omega!wanda fics. You're rather soft and sappy for an alpha. since you face a lot of bullying for it, you hide your identity at work and don't really pursue a relationship because you've always been told that no omega would want an alpha like you.

for this I'd like to think Wanda and Natasha are a match made in hell. they're not dating each other yet. they have feelings for each other but both of them are really dominant and lack interest in being submissive so they're hesitant to commit

They both have their eyes on you before they even figure out you're an alpha. at first it's like a game for them. the first one to take you out on a date gets to do all the nasty and inappropriate things they want to you and tease the other for not getting you first!!

however that goes out the window really fast because they realize you're really bashful and it's just too cute to keep from the other. also you tend to turn and run the second you think you'll be alone with one of them for even a second.

Wanda is subtle. the way she touches you seems so innocent and kind that you almost ignore how close she is to your crotch. You usually don't catch on to her innuendos until much later into the conversation. She never forces you to stay but something is always compelling you to stay put and listen

Natasha on the other hand is very bold and doesn't hold back. sometimes you're literally pinned down and forced to deal with all her perverted comments. you couldn't run away even if you wanted to. her intentions are very explicit and there's little room for what she wants to do with you

it only gets worse when they find out you are an alpha. mainly because their nasty little fantasies can get really explicit now but also because they know exactly how to tease you. they never push too hard, but just enough to get you worked up

you don't know that they know but after falling victim to their coordinated attempts at courting, you assumed that they guessed incorrectly about what rank you are. in an attempt to have some peace, you make this grand reveal to them and they're so unphased. in fact, they're more focused on how good your scent is more than anything.

one thing leads to another and suddenly you're sandwiched between the two of them and fucked out of your mind. they don't even let you put up another act about how alphas should behave and keep you spoiled in bed all day until you stop pouting and promise to give them a fair chance

they do make an effort to take you on nice dates and buy you actual courting gifts. they're really expensive and have a lot of thought put into them. some of them are literally just sex toys they wanna use on you at a later date. like the first thing they buy you is a vibrator and lube. the hope was that you'd be curious but too inexperienced to do it on your own and come running to them

they're very horny romantics. so their claim bites on are either layered on top of each other to make a heart or symmetrical somewhere on your body. the choice is yours but I think it'd be the same way on all three of you.

anyways, you guys are a very practical pack I feel. the three of you would love to have everything be matching and constantly do cuddle piles but it doesn't always get to happen. sometimes it's as simple as one of you is on a mission and can't do the cuddle pile. other times it's the simple fact that Wanda likes to wear pajama pants, you only sleep in shorts, and nat typically goes without pants when sleeping.

and I think that practically carries over into sex as well. in my mind Wanda and Nat are a complementary pair. Wanda is soft and Natasha is strict. That isn't to say they can't come together and spoil or tease you though.

if it's just you and nat or you and Wanda, the whole scene was likely recorded and there's a million photos of how you looked.

Wanda prefers to get you really deep into subspace and wait until you're practically leaking through your underwear before stripping you naked and filling your ass to the brim. she'll let you cum as much as you want so long as you're good and let her have fun too

Natasha likes to tease. She'll edge you for hours before she even thinks about pegging you. Nat is not above spanking you just for fun! After she's marked up your skin and left you a sticky mess, she'll spank your ass bright red until you have a hand print

80% of the time they top you together is to spoil you. it doesn't have to be a special event, but they like making you feel good together and watching you make a mess of yourself. they'll stretch your ass out with both of their straps and go for as long as they can.

The other 20% is always a punishment and not even Wanda's pampering nature can save you. If you break their rules, then you have to suffer the consequences. Since Natasha is a sadist and spanks you all the time, they get a little more creative. They fuck each other right in front of you and make you edge yourself with a simple fleshlight.

The only time they let your top is if you're in a rut and that doesn't mean you're not subbing. most of the time, you're breeding Wanda while Natasha is controlling your hips and keeping you in check via a collar.

Natasha likes to watch while you and Wanda fuck out your cycles. Maybe she'll ride you during rut if she's really horny and wants to be knotted but she prefers to watch you try and act all dominant and tough sometimes.

also their straps are enchanted and they love fucking your face. Natasha likes actually fucking your throat but Wanda just thinks you look absolutely adorable on your knees and desperate to please her.

the aftercare is always wonderful. they follow a similar routine even if they're not fucking you together because it's tailored to what they think you need most after sex. cuddles and a bath are mandatory, even if Wanda has to drag you to the bathroom with her magic. if they've tipped you together, they prefer you just go right into taking a nap but they will let you watch TV or play a videogame if they weren't too rough.

Rae doesn’t bother to get in a room and hide away from accidentally prying eyes. At this point, you try to recall, who hasn’t caught you two yet? It’s a fucked-up thrill to now hope for, admittedly. 

She gets a hand under the hem of your shirt, ghosting around you until finding grip by the small of your back. Her nails dig into you like before. The smirk at the corner of her lips indicates she likes that, always has. See, Rae has you pinned against a wall. There’s a part of her that would enjoy being greedy and would like to bide her time, taking every sweet little second to undress, tease, caress. More often than not, however—as is the case today—she leans towards the frantic and frenzied. It’s concept versus practice. All that teasing and flirting on the phone always gets her so worked up that by the end Rae is nothing but a wet, needy mess. She’s ready to get fucked and you always find yourself at her beck and call.

Her breath clashes warm against yours while her other hand toys at your front. As her thumb plays with the elastic waistband of your shorts, she looks down. The bulge is—inevitably, dutifully—visible. Rae gets a playful knee between your legs so that her thigh brushes and incites it further. 

There’s a back and forth you play out, somewhat theatrical, and mostly for her entertainment. She starts with some fleeting kiss that’s less of a brush and more of a quick peck-and-smack before pulling back. Light and lascivious. You play it out for the sake of doing so. A you’re late from her makes you respond, simply, by looking at your watch with dramatic intent. Oh, I should apologize? You, a tad defiant (which is, as it happens, unintended, though it works out). She scoffs, of course, and pulls the waistband lower. It’s taut and at that point of no return—between your hips and the rest of your legs—as Rae still keeps those nails on your back sharp and prickling. Yes, you should. Her hand at the front runs cold down your stomach and past the yielding fabric. The base of your cock is warm, stiffening further when her cool touch wraps its commanding grip around you. 

There’s not much teasing after that. Again: Rae is needy.

However much control she may have in the circumstance, whatever say in the matter, most of it melts away with little resistance once she crouches down to face your length. With your waistband sitting comfortably around your thighs now, you assist Rae: she’s eager (see also: salivating), causing disarray in her hairstyle as she gathers it all up onto your awaiting palm. You’ve played this game before. Once you have proper grip, her lips part. You enjoy the image for a second too long when her expectant eyes gaze up, imploring. So you bring her in. The slow approach is, really, the crux of all this. She texts you, calls you. Tells you when, where, and how  she wants it. But the moment—down to the literal second—when she resigns any and all sense of control, she hands it all to you. All of that authority. All in the grip of her hair.

Yes, you’re the one against the wall, and yes, Rae’s the one with her hands on your thighs, holding on like her life depends on it, but it’s you who’s setting the pace, thrusting slow into her warm, slick mouth. Rae’s lips envelop you in full, down to the base, as her tongue runs circles under your shaft to make further mess of all the dripping spit. Every so often, a gag, accompanied by this light moan with every breath she takes up at the tip. Pulling her away, a trail of spit bridges between you and her lower lip. It falls right on her chin. Rather indecent.

Rae stands, shimmying and hiking the short skirt up her thighs and plump ass. It sits nicely atop her hips, around her waist. “Put it in me, please.” 

She’s one to put it in herself, in any case. So you bend your knees, sliding your back down the wall. Rae turns and you align perfectly. Considering the amount of spit, it takes nothing for it to slip in. One clean motion and you’re surrounded by heat; the glide is pure vice.

“Fuck—” You, voiceless.

Whichever bits of hair were previously gathered with your fist fell a tad coiled and intertwined down her back. It really is that simple. On queue—because Rae knows what she’s doing—she flips a strand over her shoulder to join the rest of her frizzed locks. Because you also know what you’re doing, your hands bide their time, knowing how desperate she can get. The way she pushes back on your light thrusts, onto your cock, is her tell. 

Your palms land on her plush and rippling ass first. You’re barely fucking up into her as Rae backs onto your hips. When her head drops back a bit—hair draped over this sinful arch of her back—Rae pats your thigh. “What are you waiting for?” Looking back and swaying her hair. 

Your hands clutch her ass harder before letting go. The makeshift ponytail that you manage is disheveled and messy, but it gets the job done. “For you to say it,” you admit. With one committed thrust, you sink all the way inside her folds. Covered, wet. The fist around her hair pulls slow, steady, as Rae further arches and bends and keens. 

The best part of all of this is how you both have it down to, largely, a routine. All of that teasing hours before while she got ready: photos and texts and short but dangerous clips of everything but her face. Then while you got ready, all because of the expectation and promise. Rae would send a photo with the phone at a dangerously high angle—could see all the way down her tiny top. You’d send something equally incriminating and before you knew it (and you knew), you’d get the call. She isn’t one to invite over text; that’s all just to start. Rae’s one to call simply because, yeah, she gets off on that vocal confirmation—on the sound of your voice falling deep and serious and saying yes, I’ll be there in a few. Implied under all that hush-toned discussion was the obvious rest.

Now, the real best part of all this is how she began taking pills, what, two weeks ago? It’s not something you’re able to pinpoint anymore. You have literally lost count. 

Some way, somehow, Rae’s the one against the wall now. Her chest is willingly pressed against it as her open palm fails to find any grip to hold on to the flat surface—at this point and in a different setting it would be the sheets, a pillow. Her other hand works the pads of her fingertips on her warm, sopping wet clit. If it weren’t for the music and noise downstairs, you figure, it would be downright audible.

And she doesn’t have to tell you that she’s cumming. Her fucked-out cunt pulses around the nonstop fucking of your cock. You also catch her free hand, fingers bracing against the solid surface, attempting to divert all of that energy onto something. 

Though she does tell you that she’s cumming, anyway. “I’m—fuck—” A  sharp inhale, followed by a relieved exhale. “I’m cumming.” Rae tenses up. It’s this high-strung, pent-up shudder that finally finds its path of least resistance—everywhere. Her whole body quivers when you push your length inside of her in full. You feel her fingers shock-still against her nub, pressing tight and firm. 

Once she subsides you realize you’re not long for it either. The pull-back out is something of an impossibility; you’re overstimulated at this stage. Your hands have been everywhere: around her waist, grasping at her hips, pulling all of that lush hair. And your eyes just get everything, don’t they? Rae’s face every time she ventures a look back, her now blush-red ass from the constant thrusts, and that desperate, telling hand that let you confirm her inescapable orgasm. There’s certainly more there but your vision turns to haze. You fuck her again and again.

Then you cum.

The thrusting is uninterrupted and messy and delirious. Hot white paints the inside of Rae’s pussy as it likewise escapes out with each and every plunge into it. You’re not even able to state it, let her know it’s coming. You just fuck and fuck and fuck. Incessant. Until your legs just about fail.

~

And they nearly give out while coming down the stairs. You’re shaky and weak. Drained. Rae takes everything—not like you’re unwilling, this has been established. But here you are: the steps lead directly towards the foyer of the compound and she’s showing you the door.

Rae gives you a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I’m busy all day.” You respond plainly.

“It’ll be late. Late late.”

“Do you really have nothing to say to me anymore?” Rosé’s voice was low, tight with something between fury and disbelief, tinged with the familiar accent that I could never get enough of. “After everything we were, you just walk away again like I’m a stranger?”

I looked down at her hand on my wrist. My pulse hammered under her grip, cheeks flushed already, ears burning just from an innocent touch. I hated how much I still wanted to lean into it, and myself for being this weak. Slowly I turned back. “What do you want me to say, Rosé? That I’m sorry I left? I am not. You did not give me a choice other than the one I had to make.”

Rosé didn’t let go. Her eyes searched mine, angry and bright. “You left in the middle of the night. Packed your shit while I was asleep and vanished. No note, no call, no ‘this isn’t working.’ Did I not even deserve basic closure? After three years together?”

I pulled my wrist free, but I didn’t step back. “You don’t deserve closure, no. But fine, I will give that to you.” I paused, trying to collect my emotions so that Rosé did not get to see how I felt. She did not deserve to, not anymore. “Every time we went out in the last year of our relationship, every single time, you’d start flirting with whoever was closest. That guy at the bar on your birthday, the one who kept buying you shots while I stood there like an idiot. The colleague from your old job who ‘just happened’ to text you at 3 a.m. about ‘work stuff.’ You laughed at their jokes like they were the funniest thing you’d ever heard. Touched their arms. Let them lean in too close. I watched it happen for months, and every time I had to tell myself it was nothing. Until I realized you were emotionally cheating on me. That’s why I left.”

Rosé recoiled like I’d slapped her, but her chin lifted in that defiant way, eyes filled with anger. “Emotional cheating? You thought that’s what it was?” Dryly, I replied, “What else was it then?”

My question hit a nerve, like she could not believe how blind I was. “You think I wanted those random guys? I flirted because you were never there. You were always at the office, always on another flight, always chasing the next deal. I was sitting in that apartment alone most nights, wondering if you even remembered I existed. What was I supposed to do? Wait around like some patient little girlfriend while you ignored me?”

I let out a short, bitter laugh, all the resentment crashing over me. “Don’t rewrite it. You wouldn’t have looked at me twice if I didn’t build the career and make the money that I did. You knew me when I was broke. Let’s not pretend you fell for the broke version of me.”

Hurt flashed across Rosé’s face, raw and unguarded for the first time. Her eyes glistened. “That’s what you think of me? That I’m so shallow that I couldn’t love you if you did not have money? It’s my fault for you to ignore me and my emotional needs and focus on your career only?”

I retorted, asking hypothetically, assuming I knew the answer, “Would you ever feel proud of your boyfriend if he didn’t have the same financial status as you, your peers and their boyfriends? Would you have ever given me the time of the day if I didn't earn much and clung to you all the time instead, seeking your attention?” Rosé ignores my gaze, the first time in the encounter. “Maybe I would have, maybe I wanted someone who looked at me like I matter, even if he did not have much money but had time for me.”

My anger finally boiled over. “Don’t kid yourself, Rosé. Both of us know you would not. It’s fun speaking in hypotheticals, but both of us experienced reality, didn't we?” I tried restraining my words, failing spectacularly. “You emotionally cheated on me for the last year we were together and you’re offended that I’m calling it what it was? I wanted stability, Rosé. Maybe it was boring to you, all the quiet nights in, how our future could look like, actually building something for ourselves that extended beyond mindless sex. I wanted a life with you. Marriage. Kids someday. The whole mundane, steady thing. And you made damn sure I knew it was boring for you, that I’d never be enough to hold your attention.”

Rosé stepped closer, voice rising just enough that a couple of passersby glanced our way. “You wanted all of me, and I could not give you that much. What the hell was I supposed to do? Just sit around waiting for you to finally look up from your laptop and remember I was a person and to give me your time and attention?” Her eyes filled with tears, but she kept going, voice cracking. “I wanted to make you jealous. I wanted you to see you were losing me. To finally fucking notice me before it was too late.”

I shook my head slowly. “And you thought making me jealous was the best way to go about it? That’s a really toxic way to get someone’s attention instead of just communicating like a normal adult. You chase the toxicity. The thrill. The proverbial “mean boys” who keep you on edge. And the second it started feeling too good, you actively fucked it up because it felt too safe, too mundane.”

Tears slipped down Rosé’s cheeks. She wiped them away angrily with the back of her hand, but fresh ones followed. “And you? You just left. Like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter enough for you to even fight for us. You were so indifferent, so cold about it.”

“You were all I needed, until you decided to drive me insane, and then, indifferent towards you.” I said, my own voice thickening with the emotions I was fighting to keep hidden. “I was a doormat. You never once asked how I was feeling while you were busy making me jealous or chasing whatever high you needed that week. I couldn’t watch you with someone else, no matter what your intentions were. I’d rather leave you completely than stand there and pretend I was okay with it.”

Rosé moved forward again, reaching out, her palm hovering inches from my chest like she wanted to press it right over my heart, feeling how hard it was pounding for her. The heat of her body and the familiar scent of her perfume made my stomach tighten with a rush of pure want mixed with pain. I stepped back before she could make contact. “You don’t get to touch me anymore.”

Rosé’s hand dropped. Pain and something darker flickered in her eyes. “This is all we have between us now? Anger and resentment?” I kept my voice low, rough. “You made your choice by flirting with other guys. I made mine by leaving. Don’t pretend you’re the only one who got hurt here.”

“I only did it to get your attention,” Rosé whispered, voice raw, trembling. “None of the guys I’ve been with in the last two years… none of them made me feel what you did. Not even close.” The words landed like a punch to my gut. I could feel my anger surging immediately, irrationally even. I knew she was dating other guys, whispers through common friends made sure I could not fully stay oblivious. But I always had one question in the back of my mind.

“Did you later fuck any of the guys you flirted with when we were together?”

Rosé went pale, lips parting in surprise. “No, I flirted, let them buy me drinks, laughed at their jokes, maybe let them touch my hands.” She grabbed herself with her arms defensively, “Not sex. Never sex when we were together. I was too fucked up and now you act like I should have just…what?"

I pressed on. “That is not what I was asking. The ones you were flirting with while we were still together. After I left… Did you sleep with any of them? Be honest, Rosé.”

Rosé looked away, speaking slowly, laced with guilt. “Yes. Just one time.” It came out barely above a whisper. “But it didn’t mean anything. I was hurt. Lonely. I just wanted… companionship.” Her tone changed immediately, a defiance masking the guilt she felt. “So what if I did? I was single. You left me, I was angry at you. Does that make me a horrible person? Because according to you, it does.”

My voice came out louder than I intended. “You were free to do whatever you wanted after I left. I know that. I keep rationalizing that to myself. But the fact that you fucked someone you were already emotionally cheating with while I was still in your life makes me feel that you wanted to fuck them when we were together, and immediately acted on your impulses the moment I left.”

My voice cracked. “It makes me feel like I was replaceable. Like you wanted them the same way.. No not the same way, you wanted them more than you wanted me since I was in your life already, and yet you felt attracted to other guys. And I can’t live with that.”

Rosé’s lips quivered with anger and frustration, “You don’t get it, do you? I wanted your attention. But instead of communicating, you disengaged, as if I was already with someone else. I just wanted to be the one for you, but to you, we were already done.” She bit her lower lip hard, trying to stop her tears from streaming down, “And you are telling me that I deserved you leaving me because I played games? Fuck you.”

I felt my own sense of betrayal be replaced with a deep seated anger, “Did you expect me to tell you that Rosé, I noticed you flirting with other guys. Go ahead.? I am not a cuck. If you flirt with others in front of me, I would consider that as a clear sign that you are not attracted to me anymore, and it is the same as you being gone from my life.”

A sense of dejection replaced Rosé’s anger, as she started realizing the depth of my frustration, “No, I did not expect you to say that to me. I expected you to notice, to get jealous, to fight for me. But instead, you let me go. You accepted losing me.”

I doubled down on my anger, but now laced with the sense of what I have lost, “I think I clearly communicated my boundaries to you when we started dating, no other guys in any romantic capacity, ever. Of course I had to accept losing you when you brought other guys into the mix. I’d fight for you with my life, but not when you are interested in guys other than me.”

I turned to leave again, chest burning, needing air that wasn’t filled with her. “You wanted absolute loyalty,” Rosé called after me, voice turning mocking to cover the shake in it. “But people are messy. I was messy. Like absolute loyalty is something I could just give you on demand. As if you were ever fully loyal to me.”

I stopped walking, feeling the need to hold back my anger, nor my emotions, any longer. “I never wanted anyone else,” I said, turning back to face Rosé. “Not once in all the years we were together. And even after you broke my heart, I couldn’t move on. I haven’t dated. Haven’t touched anyone. Haven’t even kissed anyone.” I pause, voice shaky, “You ruined me for anyone else, Rosé. You were it for me. But clearly I wasn’t it for you. And I could never accept the lack of reciprocity, I respect myself too much for that.”

I started walking away fast, muttering under my breath, “This was a fucking mistake,” as the crowd provided the camouflage I was seeking after baring how much Rosé devastated me. Behind me I heard Rosé’s heels clicking, faster than a normal pace of walk should warrant, until she darted around and planted herself directly in my path, blocking the sidewalk. She lifted her hand toward my arm, then caught herself and let it fall, remembering that she didn’t get to touch me anymore. “You really hate me that much? Did you ever really miss me? Because I missed you every day.”

‘I wish I didn’t hate you. But all my love is gone, and the hate has only grown. I wish I felt indifference about you, instead of hating you and remembering how you made me feel small and undesired.” I pause, asking, “Why would you miss me every day?”

Rosé’s tears were in full stream, not being able to hold herself back anymore. “Because I loved you, you idiot. I loved you so fucking much that I threw it all away by fucking up. I’m sorry.” The words came out small and halting. The first real apology I’d ever heard from her in all our time together. “I’m so sorry.”

I felt my face crumple despite myself, my walls crashing down. “I’ve been in therapy for two years trying to get over you. Two years of weekly sessions, rewriting my entire life around the fact that you weren’t in it. And you just undid all the progress I thought I made.”

“I know,” Rosé whispered, eyes glassy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand how badly I hurt you. How much I took you for granted.” We stood there in the middle of the busy sidewalk, the emotionally charged conversation taking too much away from our energy to keep our walls up anymore. Rosé stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her body again. Her perfect lips were parted, still glossy, trembling just slightly. My gaze dropped to them before I could stop myself. The memory of how they felt soft and demanding against my skin and the saccharingly sweet taste when they used to be pressed against mine hit me hard. I could feel a sense of desire, unwelcome and undeniable, threatening to overcome me completely.

“Did you ever think about coming back? About trying again? Because I still want you,” Rosé breathed, voice barely audible over the street noise, prompting me to move closer to her subconsciously, just to hear her voice, the voice that had control over me like a siren’s. “I want you back. I miss you. All of you.”

“I can’t go through this again,” I stammered, but my eyes stayed locked on her mouth. My heart slammed against my ribs. I could feel my thoughts becoming cloudy with lust just from the way her breath ghosted across my lips. “Are you worth wanting again? How do I know that you are worth the pain?”

Rosé leaned in until our mouths were barely an inch apart. I could feel the heat of her, the faint tremble in her lower lip, the way her chest rose and fell faster now. Her voice dropped to a whisper, for only my ears to hear and my eyes to decipher. “I won’t make the same mistakes. I promise. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

I feel my heartbeat pause for a moment at her reaffirmation, my heart not willing to hide how it really feels. “You are making me feel emotions I have not felt in a long time, Rosé. A deep rooted love for you. Hopefulness about what could be. Anxiety about what probably will be. A resurgence of pain that makes my knees buckle. Jealousy at knowing that people other than me have touched you. And a desire for you that feels overencompassing.

I looked up at Rosé’s eyes, seeing them twinkle with her tears, and maybe a bit of hope, as she asked, “Would it make you less jealous if I told you I hated every second of those touches? That I kept comparing them with you? That none of them felt right? Would it make you want to kiss me?”

The last shred of the sense of control I thought I had was gone.

I grabbed Rosé’s face with both hands and kissed her hard and desperate, right there in the middle of the crowded street. It wasn’t gentle, it was two years of grief and fury and starving want poured into one bruising clash of mouths. Rosé gasped into it, melting against me instantly, her fingers grabbing the front of my shirt like she was afraid I’d disappear again. Her tongue met mine, hot and urgent, and the familiar taste of her mouth and lips and tongue overloaded my every sense. My body reacted instantly as I grabbed her closer, my hips pressing forward against hers without thinking. She whimpered softly into my mouth with want and satisfaction, and for a few dumb seconds, the entire world disappeared except for the wet push of her lips against mine and the way her body fit against mine like we were never apart.

I pulled back first, breathing ragged, forehead pressed to hers. Her lips were swollen, glossy, parted, delectable. I could still taste her if I just pushed my lips against hers again, but I stopped. I had to stop.

“I need to think,” I said hoarsely, voice wrecked. “You need to think. Really think this time. You almost broke me last time. The fact that you still have this much power over me, that I am at your mercy, it scares the shit out of me.”

Rosé nodded, eyes glassy, chest heaving against mine. “Okay.”

I found her hands and squeezed them gently, thumbs brushing over her knuckles like I used to do when we were happy. “Three days. Then we meet at your apartment. We talk properly, consider all the factors realistically. Decide if we’re actually doing this again.”

“Okay,” Rosé whispered, squeezing back, her voice soft but laced with the same heat I felt burning under my skin. “Three days.” I let go and stepped back before I could drag her into another kiss that would make me forget every reason I should walk away.

As I turned and forced myself down the street without looking back at her again, lips still tingling with the taste of her, I reminded myself how the last time took all my resolve to leave her, and whether I actually can survive another heartbreak.

Then the realization set in, the one I have been suppressing for the last two years.

The realization that I’d happily give up everything I have just for another shot at being with Rosé again.

Three days had passed since that frenzied kiss on the sidewalk. We hadn’t texted. Not once. No “how are you?” No late-night confessions. We both knew how dangerous even a single message could be, because we realized how easily a simple “I miss you” text from Rosé could turn into something filthier, something that would cloud our judgment before we’d had time to think clearly and decide.

On the evening of the third day, I stood outside Rosé’s apartment door with my heart pounding harder than it had any right to. Everything felt both achingly familiar and brand new. I knocked. The door opened almost immediately.

Rosé stood there in a simple lacey white crop top, with a pair of blue jeans that showed off her toned midriff, a seemingly effortless allure to her that I knew I could not resist, even if the conversation did not go the way I wanted. Her blonde hair was down, wavy and loose, and she wasn’t wearing much makeup, just enough to make her lips look fuller and her eyes brighter. She looked beautiful. As always. Real. Like I could actually scoop her up in my lap. I had to actively stop myself from thinking this way, as Rosé stepped aside, and welcomed me in.

The moment I crossed the threshold, I could feel the electric pull. It felt almost tangible, now that we’d admitted we both still wanted this. But we were both trying to be careful. Mature. The kind of adults who had learned the hard way what happens when emotion overrides sense.

Rosé led me to the living room. The sofa was the same deep charcoal one we used to fall asleep on together after long nights. She sat on one end, tucking one leg underneath her. I took the other end, leaving a careful foot of space between us. Far enough to pretend we were still in control. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the low hum of the city outside and the faint tick of the clock on the wall. I didn’t even know where to start.

Rosé broke the silence first, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ve had a lot of time to think these past three days,” she began, fingers tracing the seam of a throw pillow. “And I keep coming back to the same thing. I was wrong. Not just about the flirting… but about how I handled everything. I should have told you I was feeling neglected instead of trying to make you jealous. I should have said, ‘I need more of you. I feel invisible when you disappear into work for weeks.’ Instead, I acted out like a child because I was scared that if I was honest, you’d still choose the job over me.” She let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for that. And I need you to know, if we do this again, I’m committing only to you. No games. No other guys. Just us.”

Rosé stopped and looked at me, waiting. Her eyes were hopeful, yet guarded, like she wasn’t allowing herself to imagine a future together just yet. I could see the faint rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers tightened slightly on the pillow. I wondered if she was remembering the same things I was, the way her thighs used to clamp around my waist when she was close, the soft, heavenly sounds she made when I kissed her neck, on this very sofa.

I swallowed and leaned forward slightly. “I appreciate you saying that,” I said. My voice came out rougher than I intended. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking too. And I owe you an apology as well. I didn’t communicate either. I let the hurt build up for months. Every time I saw you laughing with someone else, every late text, every time you pulled away when I tried to talk about the future, I let myself get hurt instead of talking to you. Instead of sitting you down and telling you how terrified I was of losing you, I just… shut down and left. That wasn’t fair. It was cowardly. I’m sorry for disappearing the way I did.”

My voice cracked on the last sentence. I cleared my throat, pausing for a bit. Rosé’s expression softened, but she stayed quiet, letting me finish. “The truth is,” I continued, eyes locked on hers, “I can’t resist the pull you have over me. These three days… all I could think about was you. How much I still want you. How much I’ve missed you. Not just the good parts like the way you scrunch your nose like Hank when you are really happy, or how you just sing without abandon in the middle of the night. I missed everything about you. Even the messy parts.”

A small, careful smile curved Rosé’s lips. The smile was happy, but still cautious. She hadn’t heard the words “let’s try again” yet, and she knew it. “I’m glad you feel that way,” she said softly. “Because I feel it too. Strongly. But… I can tell there’s more you want to say.”

I nodded. The sexual tension was thickening the air between us like humidity in a southeast Asian country during June, and I almost hated myself for not being able to think straight. I was hyper-aware of the way her white crop top clung to the curve of her small breasts (did I actually see her nipples harden under the crop top as we talked, or did I imagine it?), the faint scent of her body lotion, something warm and a bit like cocoa butter, that always used to drive me insane when it mixed with the smell of sex on her skin.

“Before we realistically get back together,” I said, keeping my voice even, “we need to set some clear parameters. So we don’t repeat the same mistakes. First,” I continued, “no other guys. At all. Not flirting, not ‘harmless’ attention, not even mentioning someone who showed interest in you. I know it sounds controlling or unfair, and maybe it is. But after what happened… the trauma of watching you give pieces of yourself to other men while I was still trying to build a life with you… I don’t have the capacity to handle even the suggestion of it anymore. If that ever becomes an issue again, even once, I’ll lose interest completely. I need this to be non-negotiable.”

Rosé was quiet for a long moment. She looked down at her hands, processing. I could see her weighing her old habits against the reality of what I was asking. The silence stretched, making me feel like an eternity had passed. Finally she looked up. “It’s not easy for me to hear that. Part of me wants to push back and say I should be allowed to be friendly without it meaning anything. But… I understand where it comes from. I saw how much it destroyed you. And I don’t want to be the person who keeps hurting you that way.” She exhaled slowly. “Okay. I agree. No other guys. Full stop.”

The relief that washed through me was immediate. “Second,” I continued, “our careers. We both have demanding jobs. I’m not asking you to slow down or give up opportunities, and I won’t do it either. We knew that about each other from the beginning. Late nights, travel, stress, being away from each other; none of that disappears just because we’re together. We have to accept that and find ways to work around it instead of resenting each other for it.”

Rosé nodded without hesitation. “I agree completely. My career is important to me, just like yours is to you. I don’t want either of us to become someone’s sacrifice and allow for resentment to build. We’ll figure out how to make time when we can, but we won’t blame each other when work gets crazy.”

The conversation felt mature and honest, exactly what both of us needed. But underneath it all, the tension refused to ease. Every time Rosé shifted on the sofa, the sleeve of her crop top slipped a little more off her shoulder, revealing smooth skin I used to kiss for hours. Every time our eyes met for longer than a second, I remembered how her pupils would blow wide when I was inside her. The worst of it was her voice, just listening to her speaking reminded me of how she could make me cum with just her exquisite voice.

She leaned forward slightly. “Can I add something?” “Of course.” I replied, keen to hear what she has to say. “Communication,” Rosé said firmly. “Even when it’s uncomfortable, no, particularly when it is uncomfortable. If I’m feeling neglected again, or insecure, or like I need more attention, I’ll tell you directly instead of acting out. If I’m scared you’re pulling away, I’ll say it. And I want the same from you. No more letting resentment build in silence until one of us explodes or runs. Even if the truth hurts in the moment, we deal with it together instead of letting it fester. We either talk it out or fight it out, but we do not let it build. And full transparency throughout. If someone hits on you at the office, no matter how harmless, I need to know. I will tell you the same if something like that happens to me.”

I felt a wave of warmth and a sense of relief, realizing our maturity and time apart might actually let us be together, for real this time. “I promise the same. No more silent exits. No more assuming I know what you’re thinking. We talk, even when it’s messy. About everything.” I laugh a little at the absurdity of the suggestion that someone may flirt with me at the office, the relief of her commitment lightening the mood. “You know nobody hits on me at the office, right? Or in general? I am not very approachable. But sure, I will tell you if that happens.”

We sat with that agreement for a moment, letting it settle between us. The air around me felt heavier, but I knew it was just my desire for Rosé clouding my head. My eyes kept drifting to her mouth. To the way her tongue darted out nervously to wet her lower lip.

Rosé’s voice dropped softer. “So… does that mean we’re really doing this? Giving it another shot?” I took a slow breath. “I want to. More than anything. But only if we both believe we can do it differently this time.” She smiled again, brighter than she has smiled till now, but still carrying that edge of caution and want. Then her expression shifted into something more vulnerable.

“Can I kiss you?” Rosé asked quietly, her heavenly voice conveying her want. “Properly this time. Not on a crowded street where we’re both half-panicked. Just… here. Where it’s only us.” I could feel my face flush in just one moment. Heat rushed through me so fast I had to clench my jaw to keep from pulling her onto my lap immediately.

“Yeah,” I said, voice lower than intended. “You can.” I paused a little, still hesitant about whether I should bare my heart to her in submission or not. “You do realize that your voice is my leash, right? There’s not much you can’t make me do if you tell me to do it in that voice of yours.”

Rosé smiled. A full, bright smile, brighter than any sun could ever be, and moved slowly towards, giving me time to change my mind, even after me admitting to the effect she has on me. She shifted closer on the sofa until our knees brushed. Then she leaned in, one hand resting lightly on my thigh for balance.

Our faces were inches apart. I could feel her warm breath against my lips, smell the faint mint from her toothpaste mixed with that addictively unique scent of hers. Her eyes searched mine, dark and hungry, but still hesitant. I cupped the side of her face gently, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “It’s okay, I want to.” I whispered.

The first touch of Rosé’s lips was tentative. Soft. Almost careful. Her unimaginably soft lips brushed mine once, twice, testing softly, hesitating a little. The sense of familiarity hit me immediately. The exact shape of her lips, the way she sighed against my mouth softly when I kissed her back. And I kissed her back. Hard.

Rosé made a small, needy sound in the back of her throat as I tilted my head and pressed my lips against hers almost roughly, as if I couldn’t get enough. Her hand slid up my thigh, gripping tighter. My other hand found the nape of her neck, pulling her closer under her golden hair. The tentativeness vanished, replaced by raw, pent-up hunger, that is not interrupted by any thoughts anymore.

Rosé’s tongue met mine, hot and slick, and suddenly it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. It had become a burning reminded of each of the late night we’d spent tangled in her sheets kissing like this, every time she’d ridden me slow and deep while whispering filthy things in my ear, every time I’d pinned her wrists above her head and fucked her, muffling her moans with my tongue in her mouth.

Rosé tasted exactly the same, but somehow better. Sweeter. More dangerous now that we both knew how easily we could destroy each other again. A low groan escaped me as her fingers dug into my thigh, dangerously close to where I was already half-hard and getting harder by the second. She pressed closer with her whole, her perky breasts brushing my chest through the thin fabric of her top. I could feel her nipples tightening against me, but my mind was immediately cloudy again as she softly sucked on my tongue with her impossibly sexy mouth, softly moaning all the while.

When we finally broke apart due to a lack of oxygen, Rosé’s lips were swollen and glossy, her eyes dark with lust. A faint flush had spread across her cheeks and down her neck. “God,” she whispered, forehead resting against mine. “I forgot how good you taste.” I let out a shaky laugh due to nervousness or excitement, who knew. My hand was still cradling her face, thumb almost rubbing her lower lip. “I didn’t. I’ve been thinking about it for three days straight.”

Rosé bit her lower lip, eyes flicking down to my mouth again, then lower, where the obvious bulge in my jeans was impossible to hide. “So…” she murmured, voice husky, “what happens now?” I swallowed, fighting every instinct that screamed at me to pull her into my lap and finally have her after two long years.

“Now,” I said, voice low and rough, “we take it slow. We prove to ourselves that we can do this right. But fuck… I can’t think of anything else.”

Rosé smiled, slow and wicked, the kind of smile that had always gotten her anything she wanted from me. “Good,” she whispered, leaning in to brush one more soft kiss against my lips, quickly sliding her tongue over my lips to tease. “We have thought of everything else for the past three days.” Rosé looks me in my eyes, remembering how easily I cave when she starts speaking with the devilishly seductive voice of hers. “We will take our relationship slow. But, oppa, do we need to deprive ourselves of each other anymore?”

Rosé pulled closer, her hand still on my thigh, and whispered, “I want you. Right now.”

When we finally broke apart due to a lack of oxygen, Rosé’s lips were swollen and glossy, her eyes dark with lust. A faint flush had spread across her cheeks and down her neck. “God,” she whispered, forehead resting against mine. “I forgot how good you taste.” I let out a shaky laugh due to nervousness or excitement, who knew. My hand was still cradling her face, thumb almost rubbing her lower lip. “I didn’t. I’ve been thinking about it for three days straight.”

Rosé bit her lower lip, eyes flicking down to my mouth again, then lower, where the obvious bulge in my jeans was impossible to hide. “So…” she murmured, voice husky, “what happens now?” I swallowed, fighting every instinct that screamed at me to pull her into my lap and finally have her after two long years.

“Now,” I said, voice low and rough, “we take it slow. We prove to ourselves that we can do this right. But fuck… I can’t think of anything else.”

Rosé smiled, slow and wicked, the kind of smile that had always gotten her anything she wanted from me. “Good,” she whispered, leaning in to brush one more soft kiss against my lips, quickly sliding her tongue over my lips to tease. “We have thought of everything else for the past three days.” Rosé looks me in my eyes, remembering how easily I cave when she starts speaking with the devilishly seductive voice of hers. “We will take our relationship slow. But, oppa, do we need to deprive ourselves of each other anymore?” Rosé pulled closer, her hand still on my thigh, and whispered, “I want you. Right now.”

Listening to Rosé call me oppa in her low, husky voice after so long just punctured through any shred of restraint I planned on having tonight. I grabbed Rosé by the waist and pulled her onto my lap in one urgent motion, not even pretending to have any control over my actions anymore. Her thighs straddled mine instantly, knees sinking into the sofa cushions on either side of my hips. The moment her weight settled over me, a familiar, welcome heat flared between us. She was so warm, so real after two years of nothing but memories, resentment, hatred and lonely nights.

Our mouths crashed together again, not bothering with any thoughts of decorum. This kiss was filthy, desperate, open-mouthed and hungry. Our tongues slid and tangled and pushed, wet and messy and hot. Saliva slicked our lips as we devoured each other again, unable to stop even for breath. I groaned into her mouth when her hips rolled forward, grinding her hot core directly against the hard ridge of my cock through my jeans. Rosé tasted like mint and pure want, and beneath that, the faint sweetness of the cocoa lotion she always used on her skin mixed with the uniquely familiar smell of her body.

My hands roamed recklessly over her body, sliding up under the hem of her crop top. Her skin was fever-hot and silky smooth. I yanked the top higher, and she broke the kiss just long enough to lift her arms and let me pull it off. It fell somewhere behind the sofa. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her small yet perfect tits spilled free in front of my eyes, nipples already tight and dusky rose (I wasn’t imagining it, then). Awestruck, I stared for half a second, relearning every curve, before my mouth was on her again.

Rosé and I kissed messily while my palms cupped her breasts, squeezing gently at first, then harder. She moaned into my mouth, a soft, needy sound that went straight to my cock. My lips finally left hers as I trailed kisses down her jaw, her neck, sucking lightly at the spot just below her ear that always made her shiver. Then lower. I latched onto one nipple, sucking hard before licking broad stripes across the sensitive flesh. I bit down gently, then soothed it with my tongue, alternating sides while my hands kneaded the soft weight of her tits. They fit perfectly in my palms, exactly as perky and responsive I remembered them to be, the skin so delicate under my teeth.

Rosé arched her back, pushing more of herself into my mouth. Her fingers threaded through my hair, tugging hard enough to sting. “Ah—” The moan slipped out, breathy and broken and music to my ears, as I sucked a mark onto the underside of one breast. Her natural scent was stronger here, as I could smell warm skin mixed with that cocoa lotion and the first hints of her arousal, sweet and musky.

My hands slid lower, gripping Rosé’s toned stomach, tracing the faint lines of muscle there before reaching the waistband of her jeans. I shoved them down her hips. She lifted up on her knees to help, kicking the fabric away. No underwear. Nothing. Her bare pussy was already glistening, lips puffy and slick. The beautiful sight of her hot, wet pussy and heady smell of her arousal made my head spin. Afterall, she was the most intoxicating thing I’d ever touched.

I groaned against Rosé’s breast, softly licking them and squeezed her beautifully toned ass with both hands, fingers digging into the firm flesh. It filled my palms perfectly, round and plush yet so very tight from whatever workouts she’d kept up with. I pulled her closer, spreading her cheeks slightly as she ground down harder on my lap. The heat of her bare cunt dragged along the thick bulge in my jeans, leaving a wet streak on the denim. Every roll of her hips sent sparks up my spine, as I found my lips seeking hers automatically again.

We couldn’t stop kissing. Even as my mouth moved between her tits as I licked, sucked, and bit possessively, our lips kept finding each other in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. I sucked on her tongue then immediately switched to let her suck on mine and our teeth clicked in our hasty attempts. Saliva trailed down her chin and onto her chest, making her skin shine. Rosé tasted addictive. Familiar, yet novel. Like coming home and discovering new territory at the same time.

Her hands were just as frantic. Rosé yanked my shirt up, and I helped her rip it off. Her palms explored my chest, nails scraping lightly over my nipples, then lower across my abs. She fumbled with my belt, finally tugging my jeans open. When her small hand wrapped around my cock, I hissed against her mouth. I was rock-hard, throbbing, leaking pre-cum already. Two years without anyone had left me painfully sensitive, and her confident touch on my cock nearly made me cum right there.

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” Rosé breathed between kisses, but I didn’t let her finish the thought. I pulled her back into another messy kiss, pushing my tongue into her mouth while she pumped me slowly, spreading the wetness from my tip along my length.

I couldn’t wait anymore. I lifted Rosé’s hips with one hand (she was lighter than I remembered, or was I stronger now?), the other guiding my cock to her entrance. The head nudged against her pussy folds, slipping through her arousal, her wetness mixing with my precum. Rosé was soaked, hotter than I remembered, her pussy clenching greedily even before I pushed inside. With a shared groan, I pulled her down onto me.

The first inch was heaven. Rosé’s impossibly tight, wet, and warm pussy enveloping me after so long. She felt heavenly, her pussy hot and silky, softly squeezing around my cock. I pushed my cock up, deeper inside her, feeling every ridge and ripple against my bare skin as her walls gripped me. Rosé moaned loudly into my mouth, the sound vibrating through our kiss. Her head fell back for a moment, but then she dove back in, kissing me filthily as she lowered herself on my cock, bottoming out.

We stayed like that for a moment, fully joined, breathing each other in. The familiarity almost felt overwhelming: the way our bodies fit each other perfectly, like a solved puzzle. But it also felt brand new, like we were exploring each other from scratch with two years of pent-up lust making every sensation sharper. Then we moved.

Rosé started grinding immediately, rolling her hips in tight circles while I thrust up into her. The sofa creaked beneath us. Wet, obscene sounds of skin slapping skin and the slick squelch of her pussy taking every inch filled the living room. I kept one hand on her ass, guiding her movements, squeezing the plush flesh hard enough to leave marks as I drove up into her again and again. My other hand roamed her back, then her waist, and then up to pinch and roll her nipples.

Our mouths never stopped. Messy, desperate kisses punctuated every thrust. Our tongues licked deep as we took turns sucking on each other’s tongues. Rosé bit my lower lip hard when she liked a touch or a thrust a bit too much, and I sucked on her plump lips like it gave me life. Drool ran down our chins. The heady smell of our mixed spit and sweat, her arousal - thick and sweet, my own musk blending in, enveloped my olfactory senses, and even as I was fucking Rosé, I couldn’t get enough of her.

I devoured her tits again, sucking one nipple deep into my mouth while pounding up into her. Rosé rode me harder, lean stomach flexing with every roll of her hips. Her plump ass bounced in my grip, toned cheeks jiggling slightly with the force. I spanked one side lightly, grabbing it softly to soothe it, and she clenched around my cock in response, moaning louder.

The pleasure built terrifyingly fast. Two years of abstinence meant I had no stamina tonight, not with Rosé’s perfect pussy practically choking my cock as her mouth was on mine, sucking my tongue with perfect abandon. Every thrust sent waves of ecstasy through me. Her inner walls fluttered and pulsed rhythmically, milking me with every stroke, making it that much harder to hold myself back.

Rosé’s moans grew higher, breathier. She ground her clit against my pelvis on every downstroke, chasing her own peak. Her hands clutched my shoulders, nails digging in. Sweat slicked our bodies where we pressed together. I felt my orgasm rushing up on me too soon. “Fuck, Rosé–” I tried to warn her, but she only kissed me harder, tongue fucking my mouth as she rode me faster.

My orgasm hit me hard, probably the strongest orgasm I ever had. I buried my cock as deep as I could in her pussy, and came hard, shooting heavy splurts of cum inside her, as if I wanted to impregnate her then and there. The release was intense, almost painful in how hard Rosé made me cum. At the same moment, Rosé cried out into our kiss, her pussy clamping down rhythmically around me as she came too. Her walls fluttered wildly, drawing out every drop like she wanted to drain my balls completely. Her body shook in my lap as she felt ripples of her orgasm, tits pressed to my chest, ass flexing under my hands, lips biting my lower lip and drawing blood. I could feel Rosé smiling as she did so, branding me as hers only to the world.

We stayed locked together through the aftershocks, kissing lazily now, slower and deeper, tongues gliding rather than battling. Her heartbeat thundered against mine. The smell of sex hung heavy in the air, her arousal, my cum, our combined spit and sweat.

Finally, still buried inside her, I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against Rosé’s. My voice was hoarse. “Shit… I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold back. It’s been two years and you feel… fuck, you feel incredible. Chaeyoung-a, do you need me to get you morning-after pills or—”

Rosé smiled against my mouth, cutting me off with a series of soft, affectionate kisses peppered across my lips, my jaw, the corner of my mouth. She was still gently rocking on me, keeping me inside her as I softened. “I’m already on birth control,” she murmured between kisses, her voice warm and sated. “I wanted you to lose control tonight. I wanted you to cum inside me.”

I felt relief, but an even stronger desire for Rosé, realizing she wanted me as much as I wanted her, maybe even more. I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her perfect body, one hand still possessively on her ass, rubbing and kneading and squeezing to my heart’s content. Our bodies were slick with sweat, chests heaving in sync, the relatively short yet passionate session knocking the winds out of both of us.

I brushed damp strands of hair from Rosé’s flushed face and kissed her softly, slowly, our lips sliding together with gentle affection. “This has been the best night I’ve had in forever,” I murmured against her mouth, speaking between soft kisses. “Just being with you again. Feeling you like this. God, Rosé… I missed this so much.”

Rosé hummed happily, nuzzling deeper into the curve of my neck, her lithe body melting against mine. Her tits pressed softly into my chest, nipples still peaked and sensitive from earlier. One of her hands traced lazy circles on my back. “Me too,” she whispered. “I haven’t felt this complete in two years. You always know exactly how to make me feel desired.”

For a long, peaceful moment, everything was perfect. I could have stayed like that forever, still joined with her in the most carnal way, breathing in the blended scent of our sex and relishing the sensation of her body against mine after so long. But the old doubts crept back in, uninvited as the reasons we’d broken up lingered at the edges of my mind, her embrace scaring me into remembering why I lost her in the first place.

I pulled back just enough to look at her properly, my hand gently stroking her skin. “I’m still scared I’ll bore you eventually,” I admitted quietly. “I’m routine. Work-focused, steady, the same pace every day. You’ve always chased excitement, the thrill, the unpredictable. What if this boring version of me makes you restless again? What if it’s not enough?”

Rosé lifted her head immediately, her eyes softening with affection that melted my heart yet again. She cupped my face with both hands, thumbs brushing my cheeks. “No. Don’t say that. You’re not boring.” Her voice was earnest, almost vehement in her protest. “Yes, I used to think I needed constant chaos to feel alive, partying constantly and being the center of attention. But being with you… the love I feel now is enough. Not being with you has grounded me in a way nothing else ever has. There are other things in life that excite me now. Building something real with you, the quiet mornings, the way you look at me like I’m your whole world. I am looking forward to them already.”

Rosé’s words eased the knot in my chest, but only partially. I searched her eyes, still half-buried inside her, feeling the sincerity in her words but not choosing to believe her somehow. “You say that now, at this moment. But I remember how you used to light up with new people, new experiences. I don’t want to hold you back from being you.”

Rosé shook her head, leaning up to kiss me softly. “You don’t hold me back. You give me a different kind of spark.” She rolled her hips once, gently, reminding me of how we literally just had sex and are still connected. “We’re different now. We talked about this. We set the rules. I’m choosing this because I want to be with you.”

I kissed her back, slower and deeper, pouring my gratitude into it. Rosé smiled against my lips, her legs tightening around my waist for a moment. At that moment, I felt as if we were healing together, like we were taking a leap in the right direction in making us work for the long term.

Then Rosé kept talking, still hazy and affectionate in the afterglow, like she always did when she got excited and giddy. “The other guys I was with after we broke up… they only focused on making the sex interesting, you know? All these positions, toys, trying to keep things wild and new every time. It was technically good, but I could never really get into it. There was no love behind it. No real emotional connection like what I had with you. It always felt empty, no matter how hard they tried to make it exciting—”

Rosé stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening as she realized too late what she’d said. The shift in my mood was instantaneous and visceral. The cozy warmth vanished, replaced by a sharp, possessive anger that engulfed all my thoughts. I could feel my jaw clenching tight. Images flashed through my mind of her with other men, laughing, moaning, letting them touch what should have always been mine. Mine.

Without a word, I gripped her hips hard and flipped us on the sofa. Rosé gasped sharply at my sudden aggression as her back hit the sofa cushions, me pinning her firmly beneath my body. My cock, which had been softening, hardened instantly inside her slick, cum-filled pussy at my sudden surge of dominance. I was fully erect again in seconds, stretching her walls once more with my cock. I grabbed her cheek firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh, forcing her to look directly into my eyes.

“You really shouldn’t have mentioned anyone else, Rosé,” I whispered against her ear, my voice low and laced with raw possession. “Not right after we got back together. Not right after I filled you up like you were mine again. I asked you not to. Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

Rosé’s breath hitched, her pupils blowing wide with a mix of surprise, worry, and fresh, undeniable arousal. Her cheeks flushed deeper under my grip. “It was a mistake,” she pleaded softly, her voice trembling but laced with excitement. “I only wanted to tell you how much I loved you the whole time. How no one else ever compared to you, emotionally or physically. Please—”

My hand slid lower from her face, fingers wrapping around her slender throat. I was not choking her fully (even in my rage, I could never hurt her), but applying enough pressure to feel her pulse racing beneath my palm. My cock throbbed inside her, leaking fresh pre-cum into her already messy pussy. “You’re already making me regret getting back with you,” I said, the words slipping out raw and unfiltered, fueled by hurt and lust twisting together.

Instead of pulling away or freezing, Rosé wrapped both arms tightly around my neck, pulling me even closer. Her legs hooked firmly around my waist, holding me deep inside her. “If you want to punish me for my mistake…” she whispered, her voice turning husky and eager and unbelievably sexy, the allure somehow cutting through the haze of my rage, “then do it. I’m yours. Use my body however you need to.”

I pulled out of her pussy with a wet, squelching sound, as long strings of our mixed fluids stretched and broke between us, wetting the sofa cushions even more. Rosé whimpered at the sudden emptiness, her hips chasing me instinctively, but I didn’t give her time to recover. I moved up her body, straddling her chest, knees planted on either side of her shoulders. My cock, slick and glistening with her wetness and some remnants of my cum pressed insistently against her swollen, parted lips. Without saying anything, I thrusted the tip of my cock in between her lips.

Rosé understood instantly, parting her lips wide and sliding her tongue out invitingly. I thrust into the wet heat of her mouth, deep. Her mouth felt incredible, her perfectly plump lips tightening against the girth of my hard cock with her perfect, swirling tongue immediately working along the underside of my shaft. The contrast after being buried in her pussy jolted my body awake, tighter suction at the head, the different texture of her throat constricting around me, the way her cheeks hollowed as she sucked eagerly; the sensation not as familiar to me as opposed to sex with her just moments ago. She tasted herself on me, moaning loudly around my cock, the vibrations making my hips jerk.

I fucked her mouth with possessive intensity, both hands gripping her head firmly, as one tangled in her blonde locks, the other cupped the back of her skull. I wanted to start with steady, controlled thrusts to savor the way her lips stretched around my girth, and to regain some shred of control over my own body. But the anger and possessiveness pushed me harder from the first, her loud, harmonious moans goading me into becoming rougher, more dominant. I rocked my hips faster, pushing my cock deeper until the head bumped the back of her throat. Rosé gagged softly, the sound muffled and wet, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her hands grabbed my thighs, nails digging in hard, then slid back to grip my ass, pulling me even deeper as if she craved the roughness.

I groaned, voice strained. “Your mouth is so fucking warm and wet for me. Only for me.” I thrust deeper, holding myself there for a few seconds each time, feeling her throat squeeze around the head. Saliva poured from the corners of her stretched lips, dripping down her chin and onto her tits, coating my balls in the process. Her muffled, needy moans and groans and gags vibrated intensely around my cock, only driving me rougher. Every time Rosé groaned, the sensation pushed me closer to the edge, but I held back deliberately this time, wanting to draw it out, to make me feel that I own her utterly and completely. She knew it, I just needed to know it myself.

I pulled out occasionally to slap my cock coated with Rosé’s saliva against her lips, tongue and flushed cheeks, marking her face with wet streaks before sliding back in. “Look at me,” I ordered as I kept thrusting my cock in her mouth. Her watery eyes met mine, glassy with lust and submission, which only heightened my possessiveness. I groped one of her tits roughly, pinching and rolling the nipple hard while fucking her face. Rosé arched beneath me, moaning louder around my length.

Her hands never stopped, they kept gripping, scratching, kneading my ass and thighs, urging me on, ignoring her own wet pussy and throbbing clit to enhance my pleasure. The sharp sting of her nails only fueled my lust. Her apartment’s living room was filled with the wet, rhythmic sounds of me using her mouth; the obscenely erotic gagging sounds of her throat, her muffled whimpers and moans, mixing with my low groans. The scent was overwhelming me yet again, her renewed arousal thickening the air, mixed with saliva, sweat, and the musky taste of sex on my cock and her body. I could feel her body writhing beneath me, thighs pressing together desperately, her own arousal building from being used so roughly ever since I grabbed her cheeks hard.

Minutes stretched out in this possessive rhythm we devised. I varied the pace through deep, slow thrusts that made her gag and drool and moan, then through faster, shallower ones that let her tongue work the sensitive head and her lips wrapping around my cock faster. I occasionally slid a hand down to squeeze her throat, feeling it bulge slightly as I pushed in, applying just enough pressure to remind her exactly who she belonged to. “No one else gets this,” I whispered as I looked at her face being fucked with my cock. “No one else gets to touch you, taste you, or fuck you. Only me.”

Rosé’s responses were nothing but encouraging. She was relishing this side of me, my possessiveness, my dominance, and my control over her, and made sure I knew how much she loved it. Her nails scratched my thighs as ass harder, her moans turned higher and more frantic around my cock, her tongue worked tirelessly despite the roughness.

Finally, Rosé’s heavenly mouth overcame the control I had over my cock. I fucked her face harder, my balls slapping against her chin with every rough thrust. One hand tightened in her hair and another on her throat, immobilizing her face from moving. I pushed my cock as much as I could one last time and came with a groan, shooting my cum straight across her tongue and down her throat. My orgasm was longer and more intense than the first round, my toes curled as spurts of cum dripped into her mouth. Rosé swallowed eagerly around my cock, sucking every drop of cum right from the tip as she moaned softly. A few stray drops escaped the corners of her lips, mixing with her saliva.

When I finally pulled out, breathing hard, Rosé kept her mouth open for a moment, showing me the cum on her tongue, visibly proud of how I marked her mouth, before swallowing again with a satisfied, hazy smile. Her lips were swollen, red, and glossy, her chin and chest a beautiful mess. My anger had burned down into cinders of heavy, possessive satisfaction mixed with lingering tenderness for the women I am in love with. I stared down at the wrecked, flushed, utterly claimed visage of Rosé. She looked more beautiful than ever.

Rosé smiled up at me, proud and exhilarated, licking a stray drop from her lower lip. “I’ve never seen this side of you before,” she said, her voice husky and slightly raw from the thorough use. “The rough, taking-what-you-want, punishing side. It’s… fun.” She paused for a while, her beautiful, cum covered face breaking into a smile. “You were worried about being boring? You are not boring at all. The soft, loving you mixed with this possessive side you just showed me… it makes me so excited to see how our relationship will unfold. All the different sides of you. I want every single one.”

Rosé reached up, pulling me down by the neck with surprising strength. She kissed me deeply, messily, her mouth, thoroughly marked with my cum, meeting mine. The taste of her mouth was vastly different now; salty, slightly bitter, mixed with her own sweetness. Our tongues slid together like they had many times tonight, sharing everything, claiming each other completely, possessively. I tasted myself on her, my possessiveness flaring fresh as I devoured her mouth in return, thinking at the back of my mind about the rollercoaster of emotions and intensely fulfilling sex we had strapped ourselves in for.

“Add Tokyo to that,” laughs Lisa, taking your hand. 

You laugh with her. “It smells like money in here. Everyone here must be worth millions, and I'm barely making ends meet.” 

Lisa suddenly turns around. “Do you need money? How much? Tell me.” 

That's what you love about Lisa, her spontaneity and willingness to help. “Don't worry about it,” you reply.

"But... " 

You stop her by planting a little kiss on her lips. “I'm fine.” 

Lisa kisses you back and continues to lead you through the crowd. You take the opportunity to look around. A DJ, dancers, spotlights. Lisa didn't mess around with this party. Lisa turns around and smiles at you, still guiding you along. You had forgotten how big her house was... Well, her mansion was so big.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask. 

“Further on, to a VIP area.” 

“Because you have a VIP area in your house?” you laugh. 

Lisa rolls her eyes and laughs. And finally, after what seems like an eternity, Lisa leads you into a room.

You know this room very well. It's what Lisa calls her “secret room.” A huge room where all her achievements are displayed on the walls. Her records, her albums. A huge bed sits in the middle. A recording table and even a small soundproof room for recording music. But also, sitting on the bed, Rosé. And sitting on the small sofa, Jennie. 

“Hi, everyone,” you say. 

At the sound of your voice, the two young women look up and huge smiles spread across their faces. Jennie is the first to get up and jump on you, wrapping her legs around your waist and planting a huge kiss on your lips. A kiss to which you respond. Breathless, you separate. 

“Hello, Jennie...” you say softly. 

“Hey, love,” replies the singer. 

Jennie doesn't want to let go of you, and Rosé steps forward with a smile. 

“Hello, baby,” says the Australian. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” you reply, kissing her softly. 

“Aren't you going to let him go?” Rosé asks Jennie, who is still clinging to you.  

Jennie shakes her head and buries her face in your neck. 

“Look at her,” Lisa taunts. “On stage, she acts like a bad bitch, but as soon as you show up, she's all cute and obedient.” 

Jennie, without taking her head from your neck, gives Lisa the finger. 

“It's true,” Rosé affirms.

You laugh and sit down on the couch, Jennie on your lap. Lisa, sitting at the recording table, puts on some music and Rosé sits down on the bed. 

“So... Why this huge party, Miss Lalisa?” you ask. 

“Why not? I was bored,” she says with a big smile. 

“Rich people's problems...” you laugh softly.

"I swear... If you need money, just let me know!" Lisa repeats from your earlier conversation. Bad idea, because Jennie pulls her head out of your neck and Rosé turns to you, and the two young women say at the same time. 

“Do you need money?” 

You glance at Lisa, who apologizes by blowing you a kiss. You look at Jennie, then Rosé. 

“I'm just struggling, that's all. Nothing too serious.” 

“Baby...” says Rosé. “If you ever need anything...”

“No need,” you interrupt Rosé. “Really.” 

They're not convinced, but they don't bring it up again. You cup Jennie's face and look at her. 

“Congratulations on ‘Like Jennie,’” you say sincerely. 

A huge smile spreads across Jennie's face and she kisses you on the mouth. You pat her butt and say. “Get off, baby, I have to go congratulate our national treasure, Rosé.” 

Jennie groans but does as she's told. You walk over to Rosé, who looks up and smiles at you. 

“And you? Where do I start? APT? Toxic till the end? The official soundtrack for the movie ”F1"?

Rosé blushes, but you can see she's proud of herself. 

“I'm proud of you,” you say, kissing Rosé. And Rosé, emotional as she is, starts to tear up. “Really,” you whisper against her lips. “You deserve it.” 

Rosé puts her hands behind your neck and pulls you onto the bed, on top of her. She deepens the kiss. 

“We should stop before I fuck you here,” you say against her lips. 

“I don't mind,” Rosé replies sincerely. 

“Oh, I know that. But I also have to go tell Miss Thailand.” 

Just like Jennie, Rosé lets out a sigh of discontent but lets you go see Lisa. 

“Go on. I'm waiting for your congratulations,” Lisa says with a smile. 

“For what?” you tease her, knowing Lisa hates that. 

“Oppa...” Lisa says.

“What? What have you been up to lately?” 

Lisa opens her mouth wide in shock. You hold back a laugh, and even Jennie and Rosé stifle a giggle.

“Okay, okay. Congratulations on FUTW, babe.” 

Lisa jumps for joy and hugs you.

“I would have liked to see Jisoo, is she not here tonight?” you ask. 

"No. She's in Paris for a Dior fashion show. "

“Like I said, rich people problems.” 

The girls laugh and Lisa sits back down. You lie down on the bed and Rosé snuggles right up against you. “What's the plan for tonight?”

“Sex,” Lisa replies.

You roll your eyes. "Of course. "

“Hey, it's been a while!” Lisa defends herself. You look up at her. “That's true. Who do I start with?” you smile. 

And then it starts. Rosé gets on top of you and Lisa and Jennie jump on the bed.  “Looks like Rosie's first,” you reply.

Rosé smiles and slowly leans down to kiss you. Your hands gently slide down Rosé's buttocks. Rosé moans at the touch and Lisa can't help but spank her. Rosé yelps into your mouth but continues to kiss you. 

Lisa grabs Jennie and lays her down, imitating your position and Rosé's, and begins to kiss the New Zealander. Jennie grabs Lisa's face and deepens the kiss.

Meanwhile, you start to undress Rosé and she does the same to you. Very quickly, you both find yourselves naked. With your hard cock against her pussy, Rosé slowly lifts herself up and gently impales herself on your cock, moaning every time she goes deeper.

“I've fucking missed this!” says Rosé before kissing you again. 

“You're already so wet,” you say to her. 

“I got wet as soon as I saw you,” Rosé replies honestly.

You respond with thrusts and Rosé starts riding you faster and faster. She sits up and you can hear the wet sound of her pussy and the sounds of Jennie and Lisa's mouths. 

Jennie and Lisa have had a better idea. The two girls separate, panting, and each begins to lick your nipples. 

“Oh fuck, girls...” you moan. Lisa silences you with a kiss while Jennie begins to suck one of Rosé's nipples. 

“Jennie...” Rosé moans. 

“I guess you want it in your ass,” you say against Lisa's lips, who nods and moans. Lisa takes off her panties and finds herself half-naked and grabs your hand.You knead her ass and trace the line of her pussy with your hand while Rosé rides you. You slowly move up and find Lisa's asshole, who moans at the contact. You make circular movements around her asshole before gently inserting your finger into it. 

Lisa lets out a long moan against your mouth and you speed up the pace of your finger as well as your movements inside Rosé. Rosé and Lisa moan at the same time. With your other hand, you grab Jennie, who lets out a little cry of surprise, and you spread her legs and start fingering her. Jennie opens her mouth in an O shape but no sound comes out. Suddenly, you stop paying attention to Lisa and Jennie and grab Rosé's hips to impale her on your member. You see Rosé roll her eyes in pleasure, and Lisa and Jennie decide to help you by each taking one of Rosé's nipples in their mouths.

“Oh god... I'm going to... Oh...” moans Rosé. 

You pick up the pace and Jennie and Lisa bite her nipples, making Rosé come. You feel the walls of her vagina tighten and Rosé starts to shake and falls back on you, completely out of breath. Lisa spanks her and Rosé moans against your neck. Gently, you pull Rosé off you.

“Jennie,” you say, and Jennie gets the message. She lies down and spreads her thighs, presenting her pink pussy to you. You grab your cock and slap it against her clit, making Jennie moan. She wants to protest, but her protest dies in her mouth when you enter her.

And you know Jennie isn't like Rosé. Jennie wants it rough. So you give it to her rough. Your thrusts echo throughout the room and Jennie screams with pleasure. 

“FUCK ME. HARDER,” Jennie moans. 

Lisa grabs her face and kisses her while Rosé kisses you. You don't stop thrusting and you sit up, fucking her harder and harder. Rosé follows you and continues kissing you. Slowly, Rosé moves her hand down and finds Jennie's clit and starts rubbing it. Jennie wants to come, but Lisa holds her face and kisses her deeply, her tongue deep in Jennie's throat. Jennie struggles, but the pleasure is too intense. You grab Rosé's face and kiss her with the same intensity that Lisa is kissing Jennie, and you increase your thrusts into Jennie's pussy. You feel Jennie's vaginal walls contract and you feel that she is close. You pick up the pace once more and Rosé pinches her clit, triggering Jennie's orgasm. Jennie starts to tremble and Lisa kisses her to calm her down. Your cock is expelled from her vagina and you bend down to kiss Jennie.  

“Good girl,” you whisper against her lips. You turn back to Lisa and let out a little laugh. Lisa is already on all fours, her ass in the air and her butt cheeks spread apart. You go behind her and start to insert your finger into her ass. Lisa moans and Rosé has an idea. She grabs Lisa's face and makes her eat her pussy. Lisa moans. 

Jennie, who has just recovered from her orgasm, decides to take matters into her own hands. She makes Rosé lie down and sits on her face. 

In front of you, Lisa is on all fours, her buttocks spread apart, her face buried in Rosé's pussy, who herself has Jennie's pussy on her face. 

If you could be any harder, you would be. You take your cock and start thrusting it into Lisa's ass, who moans against Rosé's pussy. And you know Lisa is a slut. You slap her ass and start fucking her ass like the bitch she is. You spread her ass wide with every thrust into her well-used asshole. All you can hear is the sound of flesh against flesh and the sounds of mouths. 

“Fuck her ass,” says Jennie. “She deserves it, that slut.”

You wink at Jennie and speed up your movements in Lisa's ass. The ease with which you enter her ass is disconcerting; you've fucked her so many times that her hole is so used to your cock.  

Lisa devours Rosé's pussy, who devours Jennie's pussy. And with each thrust, you increase the pressure in Lisa's ass but also on the girls' pussies, who moan in unison. You see Lisa move her hand down to her clit, which means she wants to come. You increase the pace of your thrusts until you shove your cock deep into her ass, and that's what Lisa needed to come. You feel her asshole squeeze your cock and you too cum hard.

You cum in Lisa's ass, who sucks Rosé's clit, who herself sucks Jennie's clit, making Rosé and Jennie cum. You pull your cock out of Lisa's ass and Lisa collapses against Rosé, your semen dripping from her ass. 

Jennie, who never misses an opportunity, comes over to you and starts sucking you off to clean your cock, letting out a moan. After cleaning your cock thoroughly, Jennie smiles at you and lies down next to Rosé and Lisa.

Now, backstage, the four of them surrounded you. The air was thick with the scent of their perfume, their sweat, their triumph.

Jennie stepped close, her heat a palpable force. “Three nights. Front and center. You didn’t miss a single beat.” Her voice was a low purr, stripped of its stage sweetness, now raw and intimate.

Lisa grinned, a flash of white teeth. “He looked like he was having a religious experience during my solo. Adorable.”

“We thought maybe you deserved a… private encore,” Rosé added, her voice like honey, laced with something decadent.

Jisoo simply smiled, a slow, devastating curve of her lips. She took a final sip of water, her eyes never leaving yours. “Let’s see if our biggest fan can keep up.”

Jennie closed the final inch between you. Her hands came up, not to push, but to claim. Her palms flattened against your chest, feeling the frantic thumping beneath. “You’re trembling.” It wasn’t a question. It was an observation that seemed to please her.

“Is this okay?” she murmured, her lips a hair’s breadth from yours. The question was a formality, a thread of consent in a room spinning out of control.

You could only manage a strangled, “Yes.”

That was all the permission she needed. Her mouth crashed onto yours. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was hungry, all tongue and teeth and the faint taste of cherry gloss. Your mind went blank, everything narrowing to the slick, demanding heat of her mouth. One of her hands slid from your chest to the back of your neck, holding you in place, while the other snaked down, her fingers deftly working the button of your jeans.

A soft, appreciative sound came from beside you. Lisa’s hands were on you then, too, pulling your shirt over your head, her nails scraping lightly down your back. “Look at him, Jendeukie. All for us.”

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your head swimming. Jennie smirked, her eyes dark with intent. She pushed you back, and you sank onto the low couch. They moved as one, a well-rehearsed dance of desire.

Rosé knelt on the floor, pulling your shoes and jeans off with efficient tugs. Jisoo settled beside you, her thigh pressing against yours, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “Don’t be nervous,” she whispered, her voice soothing even as her touch set you on fire. “We’ve wanted to do this all night.”

Jennie didn’t waste time. She straddled your lap, the flimsy material of her skirt doing nothing to hide the heat of her through your boxers. She ground down, a slow, torturous circle that made you groan. Her hands went to the clasp of her top. With a sharp click, it came undone.

The garment fell away.

Your mouth went dry. Her breasts were perfect, full and heavy, tipped with dusky pink nipples that were already drawn into tight peaks. She arched her back, presenting them to you. “You’ve stared enough,” she breathed. “Now taste.”

You needed no further invitation. You leaned forward, taking one taut peak into your mouth. The salt of her skin, the soft gasp she made, the way her fingers tangled in your hair—it was overwhelming. You laved and suckled, and her hips began to move against you in a more urgent rhythm.

Lisa’s laugh was a dark, thrilling sound. She peeled off her own top, her breasts smaller, firmer, and just as mesmerizing. She guided your free hand to one, pressing your palm against her. “Share,” she commanded, her voice husky.

You were lost in a haze of sensation—the feel of Jennie rocking on your lap, her breast in your mouth, Lisa’s under your hand, the scent of them clouding your mind. Rosé’s hands were on your calves, massaging, traveling higher. Jisoo’s lips were on your neck, her teeth nipping at your earlobe.

Jennie’s movements became more frantic. She reached between you, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your boxers and pulling them down. Your cock sprung free, hard and aching. She rose up on her knees, positioning herself above you. Her eyes held yours, a silent question.

You could only nod, your voice gone.

She sank down onto you in one smooth, devastating motion. A tight, wet heat enveloped you, so intense your vision blurred. She was everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you. Her head fell back, a raw, guttural moan tearing from her throat. “Fuck. Yes.”

She began to move, riding you with a primal grace, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. Lisa leaned in, capturing one of Jennie’s nipples in her own mouth, her hand snaking between Jennie’s legs. “Is he filling you up, unnie?” Lisa murmured against her skin.

Jennie could only moan in response, her rhythm faltering as Lisa’s fingers found her clit.

Rosé stood and shed her own clothes, then Jisoo’s, until they were all bare skin and hungry eyes. They touched each other, they touched you, a tangle of limbs and pleasure. You were a guest of honor at your own undoing.

You felt your climax building, a taut wire about to snap. You gripped Jennie’s hips, your thumbs digging into the soft flesh, trying to hold on.

She sensed it. Her eyes, glazed with pleasure, sharpened. She stilled her hips, clamping down around you, stopping you from tipping over the edge. “Not yet,” she panted. “Not until I say.”

Lisa’s fingers worked faster on Jennie’s clit. Rosé kissed you, her tongue mimicking the act below. Jisoo whispered filth in your ear, her words painting a picture of what was to come.

Jennie’s control shattered. Her body began to convulse around you, her inner muscles clutching you in a series of relentless, pulsing waves. A broken, continuous cry was ripped from her lips as her orgasm claimed her.

As the last tremors shook her, she collapsed forward against your chest, her skin slick with sweat. She nuzzled into your neck, her breath hot and ragged. Her voice was a raw, desperate whisper, so quiet only you could hear it.

“Please…” she begged, her body still quivering around your length. “Don’t pull out. I need to feel it. I need you to come inside me. Please. Fill me up.”

The pleading, the vulnerability in her voice, the way her nails dug into your shoulders—it was the most potent aphrodisiac. Your restraint vaporized. You thrust up into her once, twice, a third time, a deep, surrendering groan tearing from your lungs as you emptied yourself into her, the hot pulses seeming to go on forever.

You lay there, joined, both of you breathing in shattered rasps. The sensation was everywhere, a warm, claiming flood. She sighed, a contented, utterly satiated sound, and nestled deeper against you.

The silence was broken by Jisoo’s calm, authoritative voice from the side of the couch.

“My turn.”

Jisoo’s words hung in the air, a command wrapped in velvet. But before you could even process them, the world tipped sideways. Strong, wiry arms hooked under yours from behind, pulling you off the couch and onto the plush, decadent carpet.

It was Lisa, her laugh a low, thrilling hum against your ear. “The floor is more fun.”

From the other side, Rosé was on you, her lips finding yours in a kiss that tasted of strawberries and pure, unadulterated want. Her tongue didn’t ask for entry; it claimed it, a sweet, determined invasion that made your head spin.

Your body was a map, and they were intent on exploring every inch. Lisa’s hands, calloused from years gripping mic stands, roamed your chest and stomach with a dancer’s precise confidence. Rosé’s mouth left yours, trailing a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone.

Jennie and Jisoo descended together, a vision of tan and pale skin, a shared, predatory grace in their movements. They flanked your hips, their eyes dark with intent. You watched, mesmerized, as Jennie’s full, perfect breasts swayed with her motion, the curves so hypnotic you couldn’t look away. Jisoo’s were just as breathtaking, high and firm, their shape defined even as she leaned over you.

Their mouths found your nipples at the same time.

Jennie’s tongue was a hot, flat stroke, laving over one bud before her lips closed around it, sucking with a gentle, persistent pressure that shot a bolt of pure lightning straight to your cock.

Jisoo was more direct, her tongue flicking and teasing the other with sharp, precise flicks before taking it between her teeth, the threat of a bite making you jump, only for her to soothe it with the soft inside of her lips.

Their hands weren’t idle. Jennie’s palms slid down your sides, over your hips, her nails leaving faint, delicious trails of sensation. Jisoo’s fingers traced the lines of your abdomen, one hand drifting lower to tease the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, a breath away from where you throbbed for them.

All the while, Lisa and Rosé worked on your length. You couldn’t see, only feel.

Rosé’s soft, pillowy lips kissed the head, her tongue darting out to catch the bead of moisture already forming there. “So eager for us,” she murmured, her warm breath a caress.

Lisa’s grip was firm, her hand pumping your shaft in a slow, torturous rhythm, her thumb swirling over the tip in time with Rosé’s licks. “We’re just getting started, fanboy.”

The duality was madness. The soft, worshipful attention on your chest from Jennie and Jisoo, and the expert, coordinated assault on your cock from Lisa and Rosé. Your back arched off the floor, a silent plea for more, for less, for everything all at once. You were drowning in a symphony of sensation.

“Look at him,” Jisoo said, her voice a husky note of authority. She released your nipple with a soft pop. “He doesn’t know where to put his attention.”

Jennie looked up, her lips glistening. “Everywhere,” she purred, her hand finally closing around the base of your cock, below Lisa’s. “He wants to feel everything.”

The two of them, Jennie and Lisa, began a tandem handjob, their grips alternating, one sliding up as the other slid down, creating a seamless, overwhelming friction. Rosé shifted, lying on her stomach beside your hip, and began to lick and suck at your balls, her gentle moans vibrating through you.

You were a instrument and they were a quartet of virtuosos, each playing their part to drive you out of your mind.

“Fuck…” The word was ripped from you, strangled and raw.

Jisoo smiled, a sharp, beautiful thing. She leaned down again, but this time her mouth went to your ear. “Is it too much?” she whispered, her tone implying she already knew the answer and delighted in it. Her hand found one of yours and guided it to her breast. The weight was real and stunning in your palm, the nipple a hard peak against your skin. “Focus here. On me.”

You obeyed, kneading the soft, heavy flesh, and her sharp intake of breath was your reward.

Jennie saw the exchange and a flicker of playful challenge lit her eyes. She released your cock and rose up on her knees, looming over you. Her own magnificent breasts, full and inviting, were right above your face. “My turn,” she demanded, her voice dropping to that same husky register that had called you backstage. “I want your mouth on me. I want to feel you begging for me while you taste me.”

She lowered herself, and your world narrowed to the soft, scented skin of her chest. You opened your mouth and took one stiff peak inside, sucking greedily. The taste of her, salt and perfume and pure Jennie, flooded your senses. You groaned against her flesh, the vibration pulling a gasp from her lips.

Above the roar of your own pulse, you heard Lisa’s low chuckle. “He’s a natural.”

Rosé’s voice was dreamy, distracted. “He’s perfect.”

Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking the friction they had denied you. The pleasure was a coiled spring in your gut, winding tighter and tighter with every lick, every suck, every expert stroke of their hands.

Jisoo’s mouth was back at your ear, her command a direct order to your soul. “Now,” she breathed. “Let go for us. Show us how good we make you feel.”

The twin sensations—the hot, wet suction of your mouth on Jennie and the relentless, perfect rhythm of Lisa’s hand on your cock—shattered you. A raw, guttural sound was torn from your throat as you came, pulses of release racking your body, striping your stomach and chest under Jisoo’s watchful, approving gaze.

You collapsed back, spent, shuddering, the aftershocks still humming through your veins. Jennie sighed contentedly and shifted off you, a proud smile on her kiss-swollen lips.

In the hazy, spent silence, Jisoo’s voice cut through, calm and absolute. She was already moving, straddling your hips, her slick heat a promise against your softening length.

“I said it was my turn.”

A low, breathy laugh escaped Jisoo as she felt you stir beneath her. “Already? Good. I like my men… resilient.” Her hips ground down in a slow, deliberate circle, the slick warmth of her enveloping your sensitive length, coaxing you back to full, aching hardness.

Jennie’s hands were on you instantly, her nails tracing faint, possessive lines across your chest. “Don’t get too comfortable up there, unnie. We all get a piece.” She lowered her head, and her tongue, hot and wet, flicked across one of your nipples. A sharp, electric jolt shot straight to your core.

On your other side, Lisa mirrored the action, her tongue swirling around your other nipple, her playful eyes locked on yours. The dual sensation was maddening, a constant, teasing pull of pleasure that made your back arch off the floor.

Jisoo began to move in earnest, riding you with a powerful, demanding rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. Her inner muscles clenched around you with every downward stroke, a perfect, tight friction. Her head was thrown back, a portrait of controlled ecstasy. “Yes… just like that. You feel so good inside me.”

But the others were not idle. Lisa pulled back, a devilish glint in her eye. In one fluid, dancer’s motion, she swung a leg over your chest and settled herself backwards, positioning her firm, magnificent ass directly over your face. The view was dizzying; the toned curve of her cheeks, the glistening hint of her folds just beneath.

She lowered herself until her heat was a breath away from your mouth. “Come on, fanboy,” she purred, her voice muffled but clear. “You’ve watched our fancams. Now taste the real thing. Lick me.”

The command, mixed with the scent of her arousal and the sight of Jisoo riding you, was utterly intoxicating. You didn’t hesitate. Your tongue snaked out, finding her core, and you traced a long, slow line through her slickness.

Lisa gasped, her body jolting above you. “Fuck… yes. Right there.”

As your mouth worked on Lisa, Jennie shifted lower, her own hunger evident. She nuzzled against your thigh, her breath hot on your skin before her tongue delved lower, licking a bold stripe along the tight skin of your scrotum. You moaned against Lisa, the vibration drawing a sharp cry from her.

Your free hand was suddenly captured. Rosé guided it between her own legs, pressing your fingers against her soaked center. “Please,” she whispered, her voice a husky plea you’d never heard in any song. “I need to feel you, too. Touch me.”

You were the epicenter of a perfect storm of sensation. Jisoo’s relentless ride, the taste of Lisa on your tongue, the wet, shocking heat of Jennie’s mouth on your balls, and the feel of Rosé’s silken wetness under your probing fingers. It was too much. It was everything.

Your hips began to piston upward, meeting Jisoo’s thrusts erratically, your control unraveling.

Jisoo’s composure broke. Her rhythmic riding became frantic, her moans louder, less polished. “I’m… I’m close… don’t you dare stop,” she commanded, though it sounded more like a desperate prayer.

Jennie redoubled her efforts, sucking one of your balls into the heat of her mouth while her hand stroked the base of your shaft, which was buried deep inside Jisoo.

Rosé’s hips bucked against your hand, your fingers sliding in and out of her as she whispered filthy encouragements. “Yes, just like that… make me come with them…”

Lisa was grinding against your face, her movements becoming less controlled, her own pleasure mounting from the relentless attention of your tongue. Her cries were sharp, guttural, lost to the symphony of sounds filling the room.

The pressure inside you coiled, tighter and tighter, a spring about to snap. You were hurtling toward the edge, pulled there by four breathtaking women.

Jisoo sensed it. Her eyes flew open, locking with yours. Her body went rigid, a deep, guttural moan tearing from her throat as her climax hit. Her inner walls spasmed around you, a rhythmic, milking contraction that shattered your last shred of control.

You came with a shout that was muffled against Lisa’s skin, pouring yourself into Jisoo in deep, pulsing waves. The intensity was blinding, a raw, shuddering release that left you trembling.

But they weren’t finished with you.

As the last pulses faded, Jennie didn’t pull away. Instead, she increased the pressure of her tongue, lapping at your oversensitive flesh, drawing a whimpering gasp from you. Lisa continued to rock gently against your mouth, seeking her own finish. Rosé tightened her hand over yours, forcing your fingers to keep moving inside her.

Jisoo, breathing heavily, stayed seated on you, keeping you buried deep inside her, feeling every last twitch and shudder. She leaned forward, her full, heavy breasts brushing your chest, a sheen of sweat making her skin glow.

You’d been fucking Jennie for over a year now — ever since that drive. She was your boss, now friends with benefits, no strings, just pure chemistry and late-night texts that always ended with her clenching around your cock. So, when she messaged you earlier, saying she was “bored” and needed “stress relief,” you came over without hesitation.

What she didn’t mention? Rosé was already waiting—heels off, hair down, and smirking from Jennie’s bed like she’d been expecting you all night. And the real kicker? You knew how rare this was. The two of them were never home at the same time anymore — not with world tours, brand deals, solo shoots constantly pulling them in opposite directions. Just getting them in the same timezone felt like luck.

You’d been seeing Rosé too, on and off. Different rhythm, same explosive. And clearly, neither of them gave a damn that you were fucking the other. If anything, Jennie had been the one whispering in Rosé’s ear to try you out, telling her how good your cock felt, how deep you could reach.

That threesome idea? Yeah, it didn’t come out of nowhere.

The two idols had cooked it up over one of their late-night calls, casually swapping hookup stories like it was nothing. And when they realized you were the mutual link—the cock that made them both come hard and stupid—they decided to share. They weren’t shy, not about girls, not about guys, and definitely not about you.

That’s how you ended up in a dimly lit bedroom, heart pounding, cock twitching, with two of the most beautiful idols in Korea—half-naked, fully down to get ruined.

Rosé’s lips were wet and hungry against yours, her hands clinging to your shoulders as you slid one hand up her back beneath her thin shirt. She raised her arms without a word, and you grabbed the hem and peeled it off of her—slow, smooth, like unwrapping a secret. Her bra stayed on for now, snug above her tight waist, the curve of her tits pushing against the cups with every breath. That skirt? Still on. But you could already see the matching panties peeking out underneath, the way her hips shifted begging for your hands.

Meanwhile, Jennie was already halfway undressed—because of course she was. That girl never waited. Thong riding up between her cheeks, tits bare, squatting down to tug your pants lower like she owned your body. You looked down and watched her hair sway with the motion, her fingers brushing your thighs, getting your jeans and boxers past your knees. You could feel the heat of her breath against your cock, even though she hadn't taken it yet. Not yet.

Rosé crashed her lips against yours again, more aggressive now, tongue slick and wanting. You groaned against her mouth as you wrapped both arms around her slim frame. Your hand moved again, sliding up her back, fingers catching the clasp of her bra. One flick. That was all it took. The strapless thing slipped away, landing at your feet. Her breasts pressed against your chest, soft and warm, and you didn’t even get a second to admire them before she ground herself against your bare cock like she was done waiting.

You moaned—part surprise, part raw pleasure—as soon as your cock sprang free and got snatched into Jennie’s hand like she’d been waiting for it all day. Her fingers wrapped around your length without hesitation, and you felt the heat of her breath fan across the tip. She took a moment to inhale your scent, slow and greedy, her nose practically brushing the underside of your shaft. Then you felt it—her lips, plush and wet, pressing right against your tip like a kiss meant to ruin you.

Above her, your lips had broken away from Rosé’s, but only just. You shifted to her neck, dragging slow kisses along the side, feeling her melt into your touch as her hands gripped your arms for balance. The second your mouth hit her throat, her head tilted—just enough for her eyes to drift downward and catch the sight of her friend down between your legs, mouth opening, lips stretching, starting to take your cock in.

Jennie looked up as she swallowed the first few inches, her eyes locking with Rosé’s. She winked—dirty, playful, like this was her little secret—but then kept going, her lips sealing tight around your shaft, cheeks pulling in as she started to suck with purpose. You groaned softly into Rosé’s skin. She arched her back from the sensation, her bare tits pressing harder against your chest as you played with them, fingers teasing her nipples, all while she watched Jennie’s lips slide back and forth over your cock like she was born to do it.

“Rosé,” Jennie said in a breathy whisper, stroking your cock slowly with spit-slick hands, “Why don’t you join me?”

Rosé bit her lip, thinking—but not for long. She dropped to her knees beside her friend, brushing her hair behind one ear as she settled in. Jennie scooted a little to the side, making room for her, but never letting go of your cock. Then she leaned in and kissed along the side of your shaft, slow and teasing. Rosé followed her lead, mirroring her on the opposite side. Their lips moved together, each taking turns planting kisses along your length until Jennie gently guided your cock toward Rosé’s mouth.

Without hesitation, she opened wide and took you fully in. Warm, tight, and eager. You exhaled sharply as her lips wrapped around you, head bobbing smoothly as she started to work on your cock deeper. Meanwhile, Jennie peeled off the last of her clothes and tossed them aside, now completely naked, her skin glowing with arousal.

She sat beside Rosé for a moment, just watching. Her fingers slid down her own stomach and into the slick heat between her thighs. She moaned softly as she rubbed her soaked slit, her fingers coming away drenched. Without shame, she brought her hand to her face and inhaled—deep, addicted to the scent of her own pussy. It made her pussy clench harder. She loved that smell—loved knowing she was dripping while watching her best friend suck your cock like she owned it.

But Jennie didn’t stay on the sidelines for long.

As Rosé focused on your tip, Jennie reached in to play with your balls, massaging them gently, her touch light and teasing. Then she leaned back in and started kissing up the shaft again, slowly meeting Rosé’s rhythm. The two girls glanced at each other mid-act, still licking, still sucking, still stroking—two idols, one cock, one filthy mission.

Jennie crept her lips up toward the tip, just as Rosé pulled off, her mouth glistening. She pressed a kiss to the opposite side of your swollen head. And then it happened.

Both girls, lips against your cock tip, leaned in—still staring into each other’s eyes—and their mouths found each other over your shaft. A soft, wet kiss that grew hotter, more aggressive, while your cock throbbed between their lips, caught in the middle of their kiss like a gift they were both unwrapping together.

“Oh fuck—wait. Wait, wait, we gotta stop,” you said, stepping back quickly, breath caught in your throat.

Your cock throbbed in open air, soaked in spit and caught between the two idol goddesses who’d just been kissing each other with your tip sandwiched between their lips. Watching their tongues flick across your shaft, feeling the wet glide of their mouths move in perfect tandem—it was almost too much. You were dangerously close to blowing your load right then and there, and no way in hell were you letting this night peak that early.

“Come on,” Jennie murmured, crawling after you on her knees with a pout, “you don’t really want us to stop, do you?”

“You’re right—I don’t,” you admitted, voice strained, cock twitching with every heartbeat. “But if you two keep going like that, I’m gonna fucking cum. And I’m not wasting it yet.”

Jennie grinned, biting her lower lip. “Then what do you want?” she asked, her voice velvet-smooth, dripping with challenge.

“Both of you. On the bed.” You said, No hesitation.

Jennie climbed up first, tossing her hair back as she lay down on her back, legs already spread, pussy practically glistening under the room light. She knew what you wanted—and she knew exactly what she was about to get. She used to the idea that most guys don’t go down on girls, which still pissed her off. But you? You were already dropping to your knees like it was your favorite thing in the world.

Rosé, meanwhile, had a little more to peel off. Standing beside the bed, she reached behind her and unzipped her skirt. It slipped down her hips and fell in a perfect pool around her ankles. Now down to her soft, clinging panties, she climbed up next to Jennie and lay back, giving you a wicked smirk as she did. You hooked your fingers into her waistband and dragged the panties slowly down her toned legs, letting your eyes drink her in.

And then—fuck. You paused.

Two naked idols, side by side. Legs spread wide for you. Smooth, clean, not a hint of stubble on either of their pussies. Their planning was obvious, and it made your cock ache. They’d shaved fresh for this. Not just for anyone—for you.

You dropped to your knees at the edge of the bed without a second thought, face inches from heaven. Jennie came first.

You dove in, dragging your tongue slowly along her soaked pussy lips, feeling her thighs twitch as you licked her open. You did it again, harder this time, watching her bite her lip and arch her back. Then you wrapped your lips around her clit and sucked—firm and steady, just the way she liked it.

Her gasp echoed through the room. But you didn’t forget Rosé.

While your mouth stayed buried in Jennie’s dripping cunt, you reached sideways, hand trailing along Rosé’s thigh until your thumb found her clit. You rubbed gentle circles over it, just enough to make her squirm. Then you pushed a finger inside her tight, wet pussy—slow, deep, curling upward—and she moaned loud enough to match Jennie. One mouth. One hand. Two perfect, soaking idols spread open under you, writhing for your tongue and fingers.

You kept licking, sucking, devouring Jennie like your life depended on it. Her pussy was slick, sweet, and already clenching around nothing, your tongue working circles around her clit before you switched over—your mouth trailing across the mattress, lips still wet—to bury your face between Rosé’s legs instead.

She gasped the moment your tongue touched her, your fingers slipping back inside her tight cunt as you started eating her out with the same slow, thorough hunger. She tasted different—sharper, saltier—but just as addictive. Your hand pumped between her thighs while your tongue lapped up every moan.

Then you started to notice something.

The moans had changed—softer, messier. More breath than voice. And underneath that, the wet, filthy sound of lips smacking.

When you glanced up, you got your answer.

The two of them—Jennie and Rosé—had turned toward each other, faces close, mouths locked. Jennie had grabbed her bestie by the chin and pulled her in, and now the two idols were making out hard, their tongues sliding, lips sucking, all while your tongue worked between their legs. You froze for a second, just watching, absolutely wrecked by the view—two perfect naked bodies grinding against your mouth and fingers while they kissed each other like you weren’t even there.

But you didn’t stay distracted long.

You dropped your head back between Jennie’s thighs and sucked on her clit again, harder this time. You weren’t teasing anymore. You wanted her to fucking cum. You shoved your fingers deep, curling them just right, searching for her g-spot while your mouth stayed glued to that magic little bundle. She twitched. You felt it—her thighs tightening, her hips bucking, her voice breaking free from Rosé’s mouth and echoing across the room in loud, desperate moans.

And then she snapped. Jennie fucking burst.

Her back arched off the bed, her thighs clamped around your head, and your face got absolutely splashed—hot, wet spurts all over your cheeks, your lips, your chin. She squirted hard, her juices soaking your skin as she came undone right in your mouth, gasping and cursing with every shake of her body.

You hadn’t even moved yet when she spun. No breather. No delay.

Jennie twisted around and grabbed your arm with both hands. “Get up on the bed. Now,” she demanded, voice playful but eyes hungry as hell. “I wanna ride that cock.”

You blinked, still wiping her slick off your face. “Doesn’t Rosé deserve the same treatment you just got?”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Rosé said, pouting playfully. “What about me?”

“Sit on his face then, I don’t care,” Jennie tossed out like it was nothing. “I just want that dick inside me—now.”

And before you could argue, she grabbed you by the face and kissed you hard—tongue deep, needy, tasting herself on your lips and loving every second of it. When she finally let go of your hair and broke the kiss, she shuffled aside to give you room.

You barely hit the mattress before she pounced.

Jennie climbed right on top of you, reached down, and grabbed your cock like it belonged to her. She lined it up, tilted her hips, and slammed herself down—moaning out as your dick drove deep inside her tight hole in one clean thrust. Her pussy clenched around you, still fluttering from her orgasm, already dripping all over your thighs as she started bouncing fast, hard, like she needed you to fuck her from underneath just to stay sane.

Your hands locked onto her hips. To held on, and let her ride.

Then the bed shifted again.

Rosé climbed up and straddled your face, eyes still dark with need. She didn’t wait—just lowered herself straight down, her pussy sealing against your mouth, grinding in slow, deliberate circles as she moaned above you.

Now you were pinned.

Back on the mattress. Cock buried in Jennie, face buried in Rosé. Both of them naked, soaked, and fucking using you. On top of you, they faced each other—two idols, now sharing the same dick, the same mouth, and the same burning lust. Jennie’s tits bounced every time she slammed down on you. Rosé’s pussy rolled over your tongue, wetter with every grind.

You did everything you could to keep up—mouth buried in Rosé’s slick tight lips while you thrust upward into Jennie’s soaked pussy. Your hands were split—thumbs grinding against both clits, fingers clutching trembling thighs, your whole body a live wire between the two of them. The pace was fucking insane—Jennie bouncing on your cock like it was hers to tame, Rosé grinding down on your face like her orgasm depended on it.

“Ughh, I’m so close,” Rosé moaned, her voice sharp and shaking. “Switch. Please, let’s switch,” she begged, breath hitching as her hips kept rolling across your mouth.

Jennie didn’t even slow down. “You wanna fuck him?” she asked, still bouncing, her hands gripping your chest for leverage.

“YES!”

“You need some dick, don’t you?” she teased, smirking between panting gasps.

“Fuck, yes! Please!”

Jennie rolled her eyes with a grin. “Fine. But he’s mine again the second you cum.”

She dismounted like she couldn’t care less, slick thighs parting as she slid off your cock with a wet pop. Rosé didn’t waste a second—she crawled down your body and spun herself around, ass dipping low, one hand guiding your still-dripping cock to her entrance.

She sank down with a moan so sharp it cracked the air.

You grunted beneath her, your cock buried deep inside her pussy, tight and desperate and pulsing like crazy. Rosé leaned forward, hands planted on the bed just above your head, her chest hovering over you. Her mouth crashed into yours, lips frantic, tongue slick with heat as she kissed you while grinding down hard on your cock.

You grabbed her ass with both hands and started thrusting up, matching her rhythm, slamming into her as she ground in circles. The slap of skin echoed with every bounce. Jennie, now sitting off to the side, fingers working between her legs again, watched you both fuck like she was front row at her favorite show.

“Ummm, yeah,” Jennie moaned out, fingers slick and glistening as she rubbed herself faster. “Ride that fucking dick.”

Rosé could barely hold on. Her moans came louder, faster, hands gripping the sheets beside your head as her pace started to get messy. You moved your lips down her throat, down the curve of her collarbone, then lower—right to those perfect tits you always loved playing with. Her nipples were hard, begging for your mouth, so you sucked one in, rolling your tongue around it while she gasped above you.

She was close. You could feel it.

And then it hit her.

Rosé screamed, loud and uncontrolled, her whole body shuddering as her pussy clamped down on your cock. You kept thrusting, jackhammering into her as she came hard all over your cock. Her back arched, hands shaking, thighs twitching as the orgasm ripped through her.

You were still fucking her, still going deep, when Jennie spoke again—impatient, breathy, but playful as hell.

“Alright, you got your orgasm,” she said, reclining back, head propped on pillows, legs up and spread open. “Now it’s my turn again.”

Your body paused, dick still throbbing inside Rosé, but you stopped moving. She didn’t. She kept grinding her pussy on you in lazy circles, still buzzing from her orgasm as the two of you turned your heads to look at Jennie.

She was laid out like a goddess—fingers still glistening, thighs parted wide, smirking at you both like she knew you’d come crawling.

And then she did it.

She brought her fingers to her face and sniffed, inhaling the scent of her own arousal like it was the sweetest thing she’d ever known. Her eyes fluttered closed as she moaned softly at the scent.

“Fair is fair, I guess,” Rosé muttered, breathless and flushed as she finally lifted off your cock, her pussy dripping down your shaft in slow, sticky strands.

You shifted over to Jennie, your cock still slick with Rosé’s cum. But just as you were about to slide in, Jennie stopped you with one hand on your chest.

“Not yet.”

She sat up, eyes locked on your crotch like bunny in heat. With you on your knees, she leaned down slowly, face level with your soaked dick. She took a deep breath, nose brushing your shaft, and inhaled the mix of Rosé’s juices and your pre-cum like it was perfume. Then, without breaking eye contact, she licked you—slow and deliberate—trailing her tongue up the underside of your cock, tasting every trace of her friend’s orgasm.

A few more licks. A small moan. And then she laid back down, spreading her legs again, ready for you.

“Okay, now give me that dick,” Jennie growled, her voice hungry. You moved into place between her legs and slammed your cock into her soaked pussy in one deep thrust. Her back arched instantly, and you didn’t waste time — you started pounding her hard, each thrust slapping wet against her heat. Jennie’s mouth split into a big, wicked smile as her body welcomed you in again like it was made for your cock.

“Fuck, that feels good,” she moaned, her voice all breath and grit. She reached up, hand slipping behind your head to drag your gaze up to hers, eyes locking like she was about to lay down orders mid-fuck. “Just pull out before you cum this time, okay?”

You gave her a quick nod, still grinding your hips into hers like a machine.

“Good,” she murmured, then tugged your head down to her chest, pressing your face into her tits. You didn’t need encouragement — you latched onto one nipple, sucking it hard while you kept your rhythm ruthless, hips slamming against her thighs, cock buried to the hilt inside her greedy slit.

You and Jennie were fucking hard enough to shake the bed, the mattress whining under the rhythm of your thrusts. Off to the side, Rosé watched. Quiet at first, but with every slick sound and breathy moan, she crept closer — crawling in slow, deliberate movements until she was seated right beside you two.

Then she leaned in, her mouth catching Jennie’s in a deep, wet kiss.

You paused for a beat, lifting your head from Jennie’s tits, still buried balls-deep inside her. The sight in front of you was filthy perfection: Jennie’s mouth tangled with Rosé’s, and Rosé’s bare ass up in the air gave you a perfect peek of her pretty little cunt between her thighs, glistening and slightly spread from how she was bent over.

You didn’t hesitate — you reached over with one hand and slipped two fingers right into her pussy, feeling how wet and soft she already was. She let out a muffled gasp mid-kiss. Your other hand stayed on Jennie, sliding down to rub her clit in slow circles as your cock kept plunging into her cunt.

Jennie was getting it from both sides now — your cock wrecking her from below, your hand working her clit, and Rosé’s lips and hands all over her chest. The stimulation overwhelmed her. She started panting, thighs trembling, until she finally cried out and clenched hard around your cock, pussy spasming through her second orgasm of the night.

You gritted your teeth, the way her pussy clamped down nearly ripping your own orgasm out of you. You barely held on, pulling out slick and throbbing.

“Okay, tell me where you want it,” you said, voice rough as you stroked your length, thick and dripping.

“Stand up,” Jennie commanded, sitting upright with her hair a mess and sweat clinging to her body.

You stood on the mattress, towering above them. She got on her knees in front of your cock, eyes locked on it like it was dessert — and Rosé followed without missing a beat.

Jennie wrapped her hand around your shaft and started stroking you slowly, her thumb sliding over your leaking tip.

“How close are you?” she asked, already knowing the answer from how hard your cock twitched in her grip.

“So close,” you growled, your voice strained, cock twitching in Jennie’s grip. She pumped your shaft hard, quick, both her and Rosé on their knees in front of you with your dick aimed right at their gorgeous faces. They knew what was coming.

And seconds later, it hit.

You exploded with a deep grunt, cock kicking in Jennie’s fist as thick ropes of cum shot out in hard, messy bursts. Both girls closed their eyes, parted their lips, and tilted their faces up as your cum rained down on them like they’d trained for it.

Warm splatters hit Jennie across her cheek and lips. Rosé took a heavy stream straight to the mouth, some dripping from her chin as she giggled through it. The build-up had been intense, and this was your first nut of the night — you gave them everything. The load was massive, hot, and painted both of their faces with streaks, globs, and strings that clung to their cheeks, eyelashes, and open mouths.

Once your spurts finally slowed, Jennie leaned in and wrapped her lips around your still-pulsing tip, sucking softly and pulling out every last drop from the base to the head. She moaned at the taste, tongue swirling. But instead of swallowing what was already collecting in her mouth, she turned toward Rosé — and the two of them kissed, slow and sloppy.

Cum oozed between their tongues. You watched them snowball your load into each other’s mouths, lips gliding slick, breathing through their noses as they traded your jizz back and forth like it was candy. The visual alone — cum-covered faces, mouth-to-mouth filth, soft wet moans — was enough to keep your cock hard, throbbing, and ready for round two.

“I swear, every time I’m still surprised by how much he cums,” Rosé breathed out once they broke the kiss and swallowed the shared load.

“I know, right?” Jennie smirked, licking slowly along Rosé’s cheek, gathering a streak of white with her tongue.

“Jennie—!” Rosé squealed, trying to pull back, but Jennie kept licking her face with teasing little kitten licks, chasing every last drop of cum. Rosé collapsed onto her back, laughing, and Jennie followed — crawling up on all fours over her, her ass sticking high in the air, glistening with sweat, hair falling around her shoulders.

They both laughed for a second, Jennie grabbing a nearby sheet to dab cum off Rosé’s face, but the second her hips lifted and that perfect ass angled up… you couldn’t help yourself.

You got behind her fast, grabbed her waist tight, and yanked her straight back onto your cock in one aggressive, wet thrust.

“Oh fuck!” Jennie gasped, body jolting forward as your cock bottomed out in her pussy again.

You didn’t wait. You started slamming into her in doggy style, your hands locked around her hips, ass clapping against your pelvis, every thrust smacking loud and filthy in the air.

Beneath her, Rosé stayed sprawled out on her back, looking up at the view — Jennie’s tits swinging just above her face with every slam of your hips. She grinned and reached up, squeezing both breasts tight, thumbs rubbing hard over Jennie’s sensitive nipples until the girl was moaning again.

The two of you worked her in perfect sync. You from behind — dick drilling her wet hole — and Rosé from below, teasing her chest and whispering filth through gasps.

Eventually, Rosé’s hands dropped away, and Jennie dipped her head down for a kiss. Their lips met again, sloppy and desperate, while you kept fucking her from behind. She didn’t let her hips drop — she stayed up on all fours for you, body twitching every time you buried yourself deep.

You had her locked in place, fingers digging into her waist, keeping her open for you while she kissed Rosé like her pussy wasn’t being pounded into the mattress. And then, moaning into the kiss, she slowly trailed her mouth down to Rosé’s perfect, bouncing tits—

You couldn’t quite see it, but you could hear it — the soft, needy moans spilling from Rosé’s mouth as Jennie wrapped her lips around one of her nipples. The wet suckling, the breathy gasps, the slight creak of the bed as her back arched — it all sparked something deep in your gut.

Just hearing Rosé like that again flipped the switch. You wanted to be inside her.

So you pulled out of Jennie, her pussy clenching as you slipped free, and reached for Rosé’s open legs, still spread and inviting. You grabbed her thighs and tugged her closer, lining yourself up again with that perfect pussy. She was already soaked — body ready, waiting — so you pushed straight in with a smooth, slow thrust. Her body welcomed your cock like it had missed you.

As your hips began to roll, working into her cunt with steady force, Jennie stayed right where she was — still on all fours, ass high, glistening and exposed just inches in front of your face. You leaned in, keeping your rhythm on Rosé, and buried your tongue into Jennie’s dripping slit.

Her whole body twitched from the sudden attention. You ate her out like a man possessed — tongue sliding deep, lips sucking on her pussy lips, your jaw working in rhythm as you kept your cock buried in Rosé’s pussy.

You were multitasking at the highest level — fucking one, feasting on the other. Jennie was moaning louder, pushing her hips back toward your mouth, and soon enough her thighs clenched and her breath hitched.

Then it hit. She came hard, her juices coating your chin and lips as she trembled through another orgasm.

Once the spasms died down, Jennie carefully moved off of Rosé, leaving you with a perfect view of the girl you were still fucking. Rosé was a mess — in the best way. Her face flushed, her tits bouncing with every thrust, eyes glazed with pleasure.

Jennie flopped onto her side right next to her, one knee bent, legs spread, her own pussy still swollen and slick from the action. She started rubbing herself again — two fingers working in slow, tight circles, while her other hand played with one of her tits. She was still so worked up from earlier, and now watching you rail Rosé was just keeping her need alive.

You saw her bite her lip. She thought no one was watching when she dragged her fingers through her creamy pussy and lifted them to her face — wiping her own slick just beneath her nose like perfume. Then, with a wicked smirk, she reached over and pressed her fingers right to Rosé’s clit.

Rosé gasped — back arching, pussy tightening even more around your cock.

Jennie started rubbing her clit with hard, fast circles, fingers relentless, while you kept pounding her from below. And then Jennie leaned in further, sucking one of Rosé’s tits into her mouth — wet, hot, and full of tongue.

She switched between kissing and sucking, and you could tell she loved the way Rosé’s nipples hardened instantly for her. Jennie was proud of her own body — her tits weren’t massive, but they were perky and gorgeous. Still, even she couldn’t deny how absolutely perfect Rosé’s were. Smooth, as perky, with stiff nipples that practically begged to be teased.

Rosé couldn’t take it. The pleasure was coming from all sides now — your cock driving into her pussy like a machine, Jennie’s mouth locked on her tits, and fingers working her clit like they knew her better than she did.

Her head spun. Her breath hitched.

And then she let out a loud, broken cry as her body gave in.

She came hard — thighs clenching, back arching, pussy squeezing around your dick in desperate, clenching waves. The tightness, the heat, the way she milked your cock while shaking underneath you — it was too much.

Rosé’s entire body jolted as another wave of raw pleasure tore through her. You let out a low, guttural grunt as your cock exploded for the second time inside her tight, aching pussy. You could feel her walls flutter around you, clenching down with every pulse of your thick load flooding her womb. Your thrusts slowed, savoring every slick drag of your cock through her overstretched slit, but you didn’t stop — you kept sliding in and out, shallow but steady, letting her feel every twitch of your shaft as you emptied yourself deep inside her.

Jennie didn’t let up. Her fingers stayed glued to Rosé’s swollen clit, rubbing it like she was determined to break her — same rhythm, same pressure, like she hadn’t just watched her best friend cum all over your cock. And it was working. Rosé’s moans turned into ragged whimpers, her thighs trembling uncontrollably.

You thought about pulling out. Thought maybe she’d had enough.

But fuck, with how hard she was reacting — her hips grinding, her pussy clenching, and Jennie still circling that soaked nub — you couldn’t stop. You didn’t. You stayed deep inside her and started building the pace back up again, each thrust rougher, louder, wetter than the last. The sound of your cock pounding into her echoed off the walls, mixing with Jennie’s slick strokes on her clit.

Clap clap clap. It was too much for her.

“Oh Gawd—please, I can’t—” Rosé’s voice cracked, barely even words now. Her eyes rolled back in her skull, mouth hanging open as orgasm after orgasm wrecked her body. She twitched violently, arms limp, legs jerking like she had no control anymore. “Stop, stop, please stop…” she begged, her voice wrecked and raw, the pleasure clearly beyond bearable now.

Jennie finally let her rest, pulling her hand away, fingers glistening with slick. And when you finally pulled your cock out, your cum spilled from Rosé’s ruined pussy in slow, thick drips, leaking down between her thighs and pooling onto the sheets beneath her.

“Well,” Jennie purred, smirking as she rolled to her side, lifting one perfect leg high into the air. “If she needs a break… I’ll take her place.”

You moved immediately — shifting around the bed, hunger already clawing at you again. You slid between her legs, straddling the one pressed to the bed and gripping the one she held high against your chest. You wrapped your arm around it, pinning her open, and lined up your slick cock to her dripping slit. This time, you pushed in slow — letting every inch sink into her greedy pussy with delicious resistance. Her walls hugged your cock tighter than ever, wet and ready, her entrance stretching wide to take you in.

As your hips began to roll, you reached for her breast, cupping it firmly in your free hand, kneading her soft flesh while your cock worked deeper into her. Jennie arched, moaning loud, and tried to keep her eyes on you — but her head kept falling back, overwhelmed by the stretch and the angle. Whenever she managed to lift her gaze again, her eyes darted to the side… locking on Rosé, who still lay trembling and twitching next to her.

“That good?” Rosé rasped, her voice fragile but curious, watching with parted lips. She didn’t touch herself — couldn’t. Her body was still raw, twitching with aftershocks, too sensitive to even breathe without whimpering.

“So… good,” Jennie gasped, voice breathy and wrecked. “I can’t believe you stopped… I don’t want this to ever end…”

Her words hit you like a trigger. You picked up the pace, burying your cock in her over and over, harder, deeper, the wet claps of skin on skin echoing louder now. She was creaming hard around you — so much slick building up you could feel it leaking down your balls. Every thrust churned more out of her, her pussy squeezing and begging for more.

You kept drilling Jennie for another few relentless minutes, watching the way her body jerked and bounced under you with every thrust — until the tension shifted, and both of you knew it was time to flip the script. You finally pulled out, cock slick and heavy, and she immediately rolled over onto her stomach, tossing her hair out of the way before giving you that look over her shoulder — sultry, expectant, her ass up just enough to make it obvious what she wanted next.

You didn’t need words. You climbed on top of her, hands gripping both cheeks tight as you lined your cock back up to her soaked entrance. No more teasing. You thrust forward hard, bottoming out inside her with no mercy, burying your full length as her body jolted forward from the impact. She grunted into the sheets, fists clutching the pillow as you locked her down in that perfect prone bone position.

You held her ass steady and went to work — hammering into her like a fucking machine, the sound of your hips clapping against her ass loud and sharp, echoing around the room. Her pussy was drenched, your cock sliding in and out with wet, messy squelches that only got louder the harder you went. And you couldn’t resist — while you were fucking her, you started spreading her cheeks apart, teasing her asshole with your thumb as you plowed her soaked slit.

Jennie let out a guttural moan, muffled into the pillow, but she didn’t stop herself — she worked one arm underneath her body and reached for her clit, rubbing hard while you kept pounding her from behind. Her ass jiggled with every thrust, tight and perfect beneath your hands, and the way her back arched made your cock throb deeper inside her.

It didn’t take long before her body betrayed her again.

She screamed into the pillow, loud and raw, as her entire body convulsed beneath you. You felt her explode — her pussy clamped around you like a vice and a sudden wave of slick squirted all over your cock, dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheets. Her orgasm hit like a fucking storm.

But you didn’t stop. You slowed just enough to reset your rhythm, then went right back to pounding her. Hard. Deep. Intentional. Your cock slammed in and out of her overstimulated pussy as she kept gasping beneath you, her body twitching through the aftershocks. You weren’t stopping until you emptied yourself inside her.

“You ready, Jennie?” you growled, voice low, leaning in close enough for her to feel your breath on her ear.

“Yes! Give it to me!” she cried, her voice strained but hungry.

“Where do you want it?” you asked, already knowing the answer, already feeling the cum boiling at the base of your cock — but needing to hear her beg.

“In me! I want to feel you fill me with your cum!” she screamed, no shame, no filter, just raw fucking need in her voice.

And that’s all you needed.

You gripped her hips tight, pulled her back onto your cock one last time, and slammed as deep as you could — holding there as you unleashed a thick, hot stream of cum into her. You groaned through clenched teeth, your cock throbbing inside her, firing off in heavy, deep pulses. Jennie moaned loud, her back arching again as she felt every spurt coat her insides.

Even when the last twitch passed, you didn’t pull out right away. You stayed buried inside her for a solid minute, feeling your cock slowly soften while her pussy still clung to you. Finally, you withdrew, your length slick and leaking, and rolled off her. She shifted over onto her back, pussy leaking your cum, body spent, making space for you between her and Rosé.

You moved to lie down in the spot Jennie had just left… but the second your ass hit the mattress, you felt it.

“The bed’s fucking soaked,” you muttered, glancing down and pressing your hand into the massive wet stain spreading across the sheets.

“I know, sorry,” Jennie giggled breathlessly. “I squirted all over it when I came that last time.” She casually brought a hand down to her pussy, dragging her fingers through the mess between her thighs, then scooped up some of your cum that was leaking out of her slit.

You just smirked and dropped back into the spot anyway. Lying between a naked, freshly fucked Rosé and a cum-drenched Jennie? Yeah, a wet bed was a small price to pay.

-

The three of you talked a little, the air thick with sex and sweat. After three back-to-back rounds of nonstop fucking, you were drained — your cock soft, your abs sore, and your throat dry as hell. You needed a break. Needed water. So you peeled yourself away from the two naked goddesses tangled in the bed with you, both glistening under the dim bedroom lights, and headed down to the kitchen. No clothes, no shame — just walked out fully nude, your skin still warm from pussy heat, thighs sticky with a cocktail of juices and cum. You didn’t even think twice. At this time of night, nobody was going to show up. And even if they did? Whatever. In the last year and a half, Lisa had already caught you either mid-fuck or post-fuck at least a handful of times. Shit, even Jisoo once walked in just as you were about to nut inside Jennie during a lazy afternoon ride.

You reached the kitchen and leaned against the counter as you guzzled down two full glasses of water, sweat still drying on your chest. The cool liquid was heaven. Once your heart settled and your body didn’t feel like it was running on fumes, you dropped the glass into the sink and headed back upstairs, feeling your limp cock sway with each step. But as you turned the corner toward the bedroom, a sound stopped you cold — loud, raw moans echoing down the hallway.

Rosé.

You recognized that voice anywhere. You’d heard the jokes. That when she moaned, the entire house heard it. And now, for the first time, you were on the outside of the room — hearing it for yourself. Those weren’t just moans, they were fucking screams. Wild, unfiltered pleasure. And then you heard Jennie too. Softer, messier. Her voice rising with every pulse of motion.

You paused in the doorway.

And what you saw nearly dropped you to your knees.

There in the center of the bed — Jennie Kim and Roseanne Park, legs tangled together, were scissoring like their lives depended on it. Their hips rocked in slow, rhythmic thrusts, slick pussy against slick pussy, mashing together in perfect sync. Their inner thighs were soaked, and it wasn’t just wetness — it was everything. Their own juices, each other’s, and thick streaks of your cum leaking out of both of their freshly fucked slits. You saw it clearly — that creamy, glistening mix of release smearing across their clits and folds with every grind. Their pussies clapped together softly, wet and squelching, raw and real.

You were exhausted. Your dick had just barely gone soft. But watching the two of them grind their soaked pussies together like that — watching your cum leak out and smear over them both as they fucked each other harder — it lit something in you again. Your cock twitched. Then it stiffened. Then it was just hard. You couldn’t help it. You didn’t say anything, just stood there in the doorway, breathing slow, chest rising as you watched them ruin each other.

Jennie caught your eye first. Her hips didn’t stop moving, didn’t slow down. She just smiled at you mid-thrust, eyes wild and lips parted, and kept rubbing her clit into Rosé’s pussy like it was nothing. Rosé might’ve seen you, might not have — you weren’t sure. But that didn’t stop you. You didn’t start jerking off… not really. But your hand drifted down. You touched yourself, just enough to feel it pulse in your grip as you watched two of your favorite girls fuck each other with your cum still leaking out of them.

You stayed back for a while, just watching, listening. You recognized that specific kind of moan coming from Rosé — loud, high-pitched, ragged at the edges. You knew that sound. She was about to cum. You didn’t want to startle her, didn’t want to break her rhythm or pull her out of that high, so you kept quiet, slowly making your way closer to the bed. You circled out of her line of sight, approaching from the side, until you were standing just behind her — close enough to hear every wet grind, close enough to feel her orgasm hit.

And it did. Hard.

Rosé let out a cry, her back arched for a second before she collapsed onto the mattress, her body limp, tits rising and falling fast as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. Then, slowly, they opened — only to land directly on your fully hard cock, sticking out proud and pulsing, just inches from her face.

She smiled instantly. Her head turned, just enough to shift her gaze from the length of your shaft to your face above her.

“Hi,” she said, voice playful, throat still coated in moans. “Have you been up here long?”

“Long enough,” you said, smirking down at her.

“Well… I guess I don’t need to ask if you enjoyed the show.”

She reached out without hesitation, wrapping her fingers around your shaft, slowly stroking you as her grin widened. Then she guided your cock downward, angled it to her lips, and opened her mouth.

Her lips wrapped softly around your tip, and the second her tongue swirled across it, your hips twitched. She sucked you gently, slowly — teasing.

But of course, Jennie wasn’t going to sit back and let that happen without her. She crawled right over Rosé’s body, her naked skin gliding across the other girl’s until she was straddled over her like a pillow. The moment Rosé took her hand off your cock, Jennie’s mouth was already there to replace it — lips hot, tongue flicking, licking the underside while her cheeks hollowed around your shaft.

They shared you. Again. Two idols, two tongues, one cock.

Rosé kept your tip in her mouth most of the time, lips sealed tight around the head while her tongue teased the sensitive underside. But at one point, Jennie took over and buried several inches down her throat, her spit dripping down your shaft as she gagged around it. While she did, Rosé ducked beneath and licked at your balls, her tongue warm and sloppy as she lapped at you from below.

And then, the shift.

Jennie finally let Rosé take the cock back, then spun around over her body until the two were in a perfect 69 — Rosé still on her back, and Jennie’s dripping pussy now hovering directly above her face. Rosé gave your tip one more strong suck, then grabbed your shaft with one hand, guiding it between Jennie’s thighs. She rubbed your cock along that soaked, hot slit, dragging it back and forth until she lined you up with Jennie’s entrance — then pushed your tip right in.

That was all it took.

Your instincts kicked in and you slammed forward with one hard thrust, burying your cock balls-deep into Jennie’s tight, wet pussy.

She gasped, mouth full of Rosé’s pussy, and braced herself on the bed. You grabbed her hips, tightened your grip, and started pounding into her — fast, raw, wet. Your pelvis slapped hard against her ass with each thrust, and the sounds of your fucking filled the room. Each wet clap echoed off the walls, a steady rhythm of skin on skin, your cock punching into her while Rosé stayed pinned beneath, licking and moaning and riding the aftershock of being used as a bed for the two of you.

Rosé wasn’t just laying there and watching while you pounded your cock into Jennie’s pussy — not when it was happening less than a foot from her face. No, she was all in. Hands everywhere, mouth busy, eyes locked on every filthy detail. One moment she was rubbing Jennie’s clit, making her gasp mid-thrust, the next she was cupping your swinging balls with both hands, massaging them like she was worshipping the rhythm of your thrusts. And then her mouth — fuck, her tongue — it slid right in between, licking the slick, sticky mess where your cock slammed into Jennie’s soaked pussy. She kissed the point where your shaft vanished inside her friend, licking up the hot mixture of pussy juice and leftover cum from earlier rounds, smearing it over her own lips like gloss.

And on top of that, Rosé was still getting eaten out. Her pussy hadn’t gotten a break since the scissoring, and now it was Jennie’s tongue taking slow, wet laps up and down her slit while she got railed from behind. Rosé’s crotch was wrecked — glossy and glazed in cum from all three of you — but Jennie didn’t stop. She licked her clean one stroke at a time, mouth moving methodically, tasting her again and again while taking deep thrusts from behind. It was a triple collision of bodies, all grinding together, all soaked and filthy and perfectly in sync.

You kept the rhythm going — sometimes pulling your cock out of Jennie’s tight cunt just to slide it into Rosé’s mouth for a minute. She sucked you hungrily, moaning into your shaft while Jennie moaned against her pussy. Then you’d push right back into Jennie again, wet and raw and seamless. You couldn’t decide which one of them sounded hotter — Jennie’s breathless moans as your cock filled her again, or Rosé’s desperate hums as she tasted the very dick you were wrecking her best friend with.

Jennie came first. Her pussy clamped down tight around you, her thighs trembling, her moans stuttering as she gushed again — all over you, all over Rosé’s mouth. You kept going. Rosé was next — her legs spread wide, her hips jerking, her own orgasm crashing through her while Jennie’s tongue stayed locked on her clit. Her body twitched hard, her voice cracking as she cried out, hands gripping the sheets underneath her.

And now you? You were fucking close. You felt it in your core.

“I can’t hold back,” you warned them, your thrusts starting to slow, your abs tight, cock thick and throbbing inside of Jennie.

“Do it. Cum in me,” Jennie gasped, still pushing her hips back into you.

“Give it to her,” Rosé whispered, her voice low, filthy, encouraging.

With both girls begging for it, you snapped.

You slammed into Jennie with everything you had left, your cock twitching, tension coiling deep in your balls. You hammered into her, chasing your release, driving yourself deeper. Two more minutes of pure raw fucking, and then your body locked. You thrust one last time, deep inside her soaked pussy — and exploded. Hot cum flooded into her as your cock throbbed violently. And halfway through that orgasm, you pulled out, panting, and angled your cock up just in time to shoot the rest all over Rosé’s gorgeous, cum-slicked face. She moaned through it, eyes fluttering closed as thick ropes painted her cheeks and lips.

Then everything collapsed.

You dropped onto the mattress, your body crashing into theirs, all three of you tangled in sweat and fluids, breathing hard. A fucked-out, exhausted pile of naked limbs and sticky skin.

Eventually, Rosé was the first to shuffle off to the bathroom, her thighs still shaking. Jennie followed right after, cum dripping down her legs, skin flushed and glowing. They both cleaned up, took their time, then crawled back into bed beside you.

And just like that, the three of you fell asleep. Naked. Wrapped around each other. Cum still drying between your bodies.

-

It had been hours since you'd all passed out, but it felt like barely a blink before you were waking again — not to noise, not to light, but to the slow drag of a hand sliding across your body. The room was still dark, your eyes barely even open, but you didn’t need vision to know who it was. You felt her the second those long, familiar nails ghosted down your abs, leaving shivers in their trail. Jennie. Of course.

That girl had no off switch.

You cracked your eyes open just as her hand wrapped fully around your cock, already firm and twitching from the attention. There was just enough moonlight bleeding through the windows to catch the shape of her body hovering beside you — bare skin, hair loose, eyes glinting like she’d never fallen asleep at all. She stared at you, slow and hungry, her fingers squeezing your cock with intent.

You blinked at the clock on the nightstand. Just past 4:15 a.m.

She didn’t wait.

Jennie climbed on top of you, straddling your hips, kissing you with that same sleepy fire in her breath. Her body pressed flush to yours, her nipples brushing your chest, and she began to grind slowly — her pussy sliding up and down your cock, not taking it in yet, just teasing, slick and warm and tempting. Her hips rolled against your length while her tongue slipped into your mouth, muffling her soft little whines. Rosé lay curled up right next to you, still fast asleep.

At first, you both tried to keep it quiet. Subtle. Secret. But the longer she grinded on you, the more your body reacted — hips lifting, cock nudging her slit, and soon the bed began to creak in protest. You slipped a finger down between her thighs, pressed into her wet folds, and pushed it inside. Jennie moaned — not loud, but not soft either.

Rosé stirred beside you.

You both froze.

Jennie’s breath hitched, and you held yours, watching to see if the other girl would wake. But Rosé only shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher, still lost in her sleep. That’s when Jennie leaned forward and brought your soaked fingers to her face, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled the scent of her own pussy. Then, eyes on yours, she sucked them clean. Slow. Messy. One at a time.

When it became clear Rosé wasn’t waking up, Jennie leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.

“Let’s go downstairs,” she whispered.

You nodded.

Carefully, quietly, the two of you slipped out of the bed, every move deliberate to avoid waking the sleeping beauty beside you. You followed her naked frame through the house, heart pounding, your cock fully hard again just from the tension and that teasing fucking whisper.

Once you stepped into the living room, Jennie spun on you like she’d been waiting to pounce. Her hand immediately grabbed your cock, squeezing it like it was hers, always. With the other hand, she yanked you down into a kiss — deep, tongue-first, messy and starving. She started walking backward, guiding you blindly with her lips still on yours. You didn’t care where you were going, your focus locked on her body, her heat, her grip.

Then her bare ass bumped into the edge of the couch, and she broke the kiss.

She smiled up at you, that post-orgasm glow still on her skin, and said, “You know… there’s one thing we haven’t done tonight.”

Jennie spun around without another word and propped one knee up on the armrest of the couch, arching her back as she bent over, her ass perfectly perched for you. She reached back with one hand and spread her cheek open, flashing you that tight little asshole — glistening slightly in the low light. It wasn’t always like this. Most of her sex life, she’d been totally closed off to anal. Said no every time. Refused to do it. Just not her thing.

But that changed since you.

Now she was bent over her own damn couch at 4:30 in the morning, bare ass in the air, one cheek pulled wide open for you, silently begging to be filled. No hesitation. No warmup. Just full fucking access.

You stepped in behind her, your cock still glistening from earlier, coated in her pussy juices from when she’d been grinding all over you in bed. You took hold of her wide hips, lined yourself up with her tight little rosebud, and started to press in. Her body tensed for a second — that delicious resistance — but she didn’t tell you to slow down. She wanted it. You pulled her back against you while pushing forward, your cockhead popping past her ring and sinking deep into her ass.

That first thrust always hit different.

A few sessions ago, she needed you to take it slow. Inch by inch. Careful breathing. But now? Her body was used to it — trained, stretched, hungry for it. Within seconds, she adjusted, relaxing enough for you to fuck her harder.

“Oh god, yes. Fuck my ass!” she moaned, voice throaty and high, fingers digging into the couch cushion. You slammed into her, again and again, and her ass shook with every thrust, soft skin rippling with each wet slap of your hips clapping against her ass cheeks. You raised your hand and brought it down hard on her cheek — the sound echoed.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” she groaned, grinding back on you like she wanted to milk every inch out of your cock.

But as good as it felt from behind, you wanted to see her. Wanted to watch her.

So you pulled out, your cock slick with ass and spit, and guided her down onto the couch. She laid back, legs already parting instinctively, and then dropped lower, slouching into the cushions with her knees pulled high. She lifted her legs up and back, planting them against the couch backrest, completely folded in half, ass and pussy on full display.

You grabbed her ankles, pushed them up and apart, and drove your cock straight back into her ass.

She gasped.

Her hands flew between her legs, fingers diving into her pussy as you fucked her from below, deep and hard, her ass stretched tight around your shaft. Her moans got louder. Raw. Her clit swollen and glistening under her touch as she stroked herself in rhythm with your thrusts. Every time you pushed into her, her entire body rocked into the couch, her thighs trembling as your balls slapped wetly against her.

She played with her pussy like she was possessed, slick fingers moving fast, then slow, then circling her clit with tight precision. Sometimes she brought her hand up, sniffing her scent, licking her fingers like she was trying to taste how ruined she already was. Her eyes rolled. Her chest heaved. You watched every single twitch, every moan, every spasm ripple through her body.

She was a fucking mess.

And you? You were obsessed with every second of it — the way her face twisted in pleasure, the way her asshole clenched around your cock, the way her legs stayed pinned high as you fucked her in half.

“Fuck, Jennie… I can’t take much more of this,” you groaned through gritted teeth, your abs tightening, balls pulled heavy and tight.

“Just a bit longer,” she begged, her voice cracking with need as her fingers worked frantic circles around her clit. “I’m almost there… and then you can fill my ass with everything you’ve got. I want you to drown my ass in that cum. Empty those big balls inside me.”

Your cock kept pumping into her ass, wet and relentless. Her walls gripped you like a vice, still stretched around your length as her body rocked beneath you. One hand was on her clit, soaking with slick. The other? Pinching and rolling her nipples, flicking them as she arched into the pressure. And that was it — that was the last push she needed.

Jennie came hard.

She screamed — loud, raw, her voice echoing off the walls as her whole body locked up. Her thighs trembled violently, her pussy exploded with wetness, and a hot stream of squirt splashed out, soaking the couch cushion beneath her in a spreading stain of pussy juice. Her asshole clamped down tight on your cock mid-orgasm, strangling you inside her with rhythmic, pulsing squeezes.

You could barely hold on.

Watching her face twist in pure, broken bliss… feeling that velvet-tight grip around your shaft as her body spasmed beneath you?

It pushed you straight over the edge.

You buried your cock to the absolute hilt in her ass, your body jerking as your orgasm ripped through you. You grunted out loud, chest flexing, balls drawing up as you emptied everything inside her. Thick, hot ropes of cum surged from your cock, flooding her ass. You kept pulsing, pumping, releasing everything you had — it wasn’t just a load, it was the load. Your whole body shook as you filled her completely, the warmth spreading inside her as she kept moaning, still trembling from her own orgasm.

Her eyes rolled back. Her mouth hung open. She was still cumming while you stuffed her ass full of your cum, completely wrecked and full.

When the last spurt left you, you finally pulled out, your cock wet, softening, and glistening in the low light. You collapsed beside her, breathless, exhausted. Jennie stayed on her back for a few moments, cum already dripping from her used hole, her body twitching lightly with aftershocks.

But she wasn’t done.

With that same dirty hunger still in her eyes, she slowly rotated over, climbed onto her knees, and bent down over your lap. Before you could stop her, her mouth was already wrapping around your soft, wet cock — the very same one that had just been buried in her ass. She sucked you clean. No hesitation. Her lips moved over your shaft with messy slurps, her tongue swirling around every curve, tasting your cum and her own mess with zero shame.

You never got used to it. She didn’t do it every time, but when she did?

It always surprised you.

Ass-to-mouth. Unprompted. Deep and filthy.

Her head moved slowly as she cleaned every drop off your shaft, her moans vibrating against you. But the sensitivity was too much. You had to reach down and gently pull her off — because if you didn’t, you knew she’d keep sucking until your cock started to swell again. And right now? You were completely spent.

You both lay there for a moment, catching your breath in the dark.

Then, finally, you helped her up, and the two of you padded quietly back upstairs. The house was still. Rosé was still out cold. You climbed back into bed, the sheets cool, the room quiet. Your body melted into the mattress, utterly drained.

Just as sleep started to take you, you felt movement.

Rosé shifted beside you, turning over and snuggling close. Her warm body pressed into yours, and her arm slid across your chest. Then, with her lips barely grazing your cheek, she whispered in the softest voice imaginable:

Wanda had been distant the last few weeks. When usually she would be cuddled up under your arm, now she’s sat on the other side of the sofa. At dinner with her friends she would sit next to you with her hand on your leg, now she doesn’t seem to mind where she sits.

You had tried to not overthink about it, tried to play it off as her wanting a little space for a while and wanted to respect that for her. But when you came over recently it seemed she and Natasha were whispering and muttering whenever you weren’t in the room with them.

Instead of confronting them unannounced you decided to cook a nice dinner and bring it up then, hoping to ease any tension and make a comfortable environment to open up in.

However things took a turn when Wanda left to take a shower, leaving the room with a cunning smile at Natasha and a cheeky wink to you, you knew something was up.

You had been cooking for thirty or so minutes when you heard a knock on the front door, you were about to get it when Natasha yelled “I’ll get it” from the hallway.

Going back to the food you ignored the faint laughter and chatter seeing as it wasn’t any of your business, cutting up some veg and checking on the meat in the oven time seemed to pass a little faster.

You only realised Wanda was out of the shower when you heard her laughter in the living room, smiling to yourself you were about to pour them some wine when another noise caught your attention.

That wasn’t laughter.

It was… Slapping? Clapping? Whatever the hell it was, it was loud. It was also coming from the living room and not the tv, so with cautious steps you made your way into the living room.

You had no idea what to expect, but what you saw froze you in place.

Your girlfriend, Wanda Maximoff was laid spread out on the rug with her legs near enough wrapped about her head and some guy, who you faintly remember as Steve Rogers- a known hookup for Natasha, was laid over the top of her slowly pushing his long thick cock inside her.

“Just in time honey,” Natasha laughed, her eyes raking down your body and stopping at your crotch.

You had felt the twitch of arousal but didn’t realise it had affected you that much, you met her eyes and tried to talk but nothing came out. Your mouth opening and closing.

She smiled at you. “Be a good boy and watch how a real man makes a woman feel, watch how a real man makes your girlfriend cum.”

Natasha was sat behind Wanda, stroking her hair and whispering sweet nothings of encouragement as she struggled to take Steve’s full length.

“Wan- Wha- What?” That was all you managed to get out as the two women looked up at you.

But your eyes were fixed on where they joined, mesmerised how one of his hands could cover her pussy so easily, watching as his thumb stroked gently over her clit to distract from the obvious stretch he was causing.

Your eyes sweeping over his crotch down to her cunt, you could feel jealousy pooling in your stomach, furious at yourself for not being the size her was.

Your heart beating a little faster watching her clench and unclench, something she has never done with you, tying to pull him closer.

Natasha was smiling, stoking your girlfriend’s face and groping at her bare breasts as they bounced with every rough thrust. Steve was fixated on where they joined, making sure to pull almost all the way out before thrusting himself back in roughly.

Wanda tried to speak, tried to explain, but every word that came out of her mouth was another moan, another noise that he was fucking out of her.

And Steve, my god what a man. Full of muscle from the top of his head down to his toes, he was all man and you knew that’s what Wanda needed in her life.

She needed his thick cock to stretch her beyond her limits, and with the blissed out look on her face you couldn’t be mad.

You knew she loved you with her whole heart, but she needed this.

So you stared. You watched as your beautiful girlfriend was taken by another man, watched as his large hands traced her body. Felling his way around as though he was memorising her every curve and dip.

You watched as her body reacted, arching into his hands. Chasing the feeling of him, wanting his hands to make her feel good.

His fingers dug into her sides and pulled her harder onto his lap, forcing her body off the floor into an arch. Her head lay in her best friend’s lap, who watched with a smile.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, finally looking up at you. A smirk on his face as he rhythmically moved his hips, releasing a breath as he pushed all the way inside and paused.

“Your girlfriend feels so fucking tight,” he taunted. “S’like she’s never been used before, pretty little pussy feels like new.”

You choked back a moan, your hand grabbing at your crotch roughly hoping they didn’t see how pathetic your reaction was.

But Steve caught it, he laughed loudly as he pulled out of Wanda. Turning back to her, he picked her up and laid her on the sofa.

Pushing her legs back and wrapping them around his shoulders he lined himself up again, but before he pushed inside he let it slip and grind himself against her folds.

Natasha crawled towards them, reaching around Steve she took ahold of his cock, softly caressing his erection as she rubbed his top against Wanda’s clit. Both of them let out a breathy moan, Wanda threw her head back as Steve leaned back and captured Natasha in a hungry kiss.

With deliberate slowness Natasha guided the red any tip back into her gapped hole, using her finger tip she spread the slick further up Wanda’s pussy. Playing with her clit as Steve set a slow pace, making sure she had time to get used to the new position.

You had no idea how long you had be staring, all you remember were the noises. The beautiful melody of your girlfriend’s moans, and the rough grunts from her lover.

It wasn’t until you felt hands on your belt that you looked around, Natasha was stood by you. Stripped naked and tugging you along, she guided to a chair, pushed you down and walked away.

She sat next to Wanda, leaning down to capture her mouth in a heated kiss. You watched as the best friend made out, watched as Steve gripped her breast and fucked her harshly.

A squeal made your eyes snap up, eyes wide as you watch Wanda’s face contort. Her own eyes scrunched up, her mouth dropped open and her body quaking.

“That’s it, squirt on my cock baby,” Steve moaned, forcing himself back inside as the first gush covered his abs. “Soak this fucking couch sweetheart, leave a mess for your boyfriend to clean up.”

Your cock pulsed, your body shuddered as you came hands free. A pathetic squeak left your lips as Wanda forced herself back on Steve, her body falling flat as her chest heaved.

Steve looked around at you, a cocky smile as he said, “Be a good boy and clean this up would you? We’ve got round two to start in your bed.”

Stunned by his dominant performance, you nodded slowly. Somehow this made sense to you, you were her boyfriend but only he could satisfy her right.

As they walks off towards the bedroom, Wanda in the arms of another man and Natasha skipping after them she turned around at the door.

“You’ve been such a good boy, but you’ve got to sleep on the sofa tonight.”

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