Untitled @nawyedidnae - Tumblr Blog

Posts

jessieflemingcanadafan

The Kubrick Freigang Stare

didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback

thank you, misa 😘

misettemisette

Send help 🆘

realpatriarchy

Your body is man’s property.

wonderfulwoso

Summary: You wake up from a very spicy dream about your teammate, your crush, Patri — can an away game change the outcome of your feelings for her?

warnings: dirty talk, praise, teasing, strap-on sex (r receiving) fingering and oral sex (r receiving) choking, breeding kink (if you squint)

word count: 5.3K

a/n: this is based on a request (that's taken me far longer than it should've, i'm sorry!) i've changed it up a little, but i do hope its okay, i'm quite happy with this one, so enjoy!

✨✨✨

Heavy breathing.

Skin against skin.

Her arms straining with the effort to hold herself up above you, her weight upheld as her hips rolled sensually. Pressing into you with deadly precision that had your back arching in a delicate bow.

realpatriarchy

Your body is man’s property.

crushgallery-nsfw

Toshiki (俊樹) | VIDEO CODE: NS-553

main blog

nsfw blog

cupofteatoyou2

balcony

(+18)

Barcelona hadn’t felt like home yet.

You were still moving around the city with the wide-eyed clumsiness of someone trying not to look lost, but always somehow ending up on the wrong metro line. Your Spanish was good enough, Catalan… barely there. Most days you kept your head down, your headphones in, and told yourself that adjusting just took time.

Your apartment, at least, was something you could make your own. It was small, but the ceilings were high and the light came in warm in the afternoons. And the balcony— it wasn’t big,but not small either —had sold you on the place the second you stepped into it. Just enough space for a chair, small coffee table, probably small couch in future and the quiet hope that maybe you'd start to feel like yourself again, even so far from what used to be familiar.

Your schedule was still awkward. Architecture classes were long and intense, all theory and pressure, with just enough free time to make you guilty for not doing more. You spent your mornings on campus, your afternoons sketching—or pretending to—and your evenings curled up on the bed, half-listening to music as you convinced yourself to work.

The first week went by like that. Quiet. Uneventful. No real contact with anyone besides classmates and your advisor. You’d seen glimpses of neighbors, sure—someone carrying a bike upstairs, an older woman with laundry baskets and bright pink slippers—but no one close enough to say hello to.

Your own balcony faced another. Separated by a thin divider, waist-high, painted in the same tired white as the rest of the complex. You’d never seen anyone out there. Maybe the apartment next to yours was empty.

So when you stepped into your living room that afternoon, barefoot, cup of tea in hand, the last thing you expected was to find a massive black cat staring at you like he’d been there the whole time.

You froze mid-step. Tea sloshed dangerously close to the rim.

He was sitting perfectly still by the sliding glass door, halfway between inside and out, tail curled neatly around his paws. The kind of black that looked almost blue in the sunlight. Broad head, golden eyes. Quiet confidence.

You stared.

“…Where the hell did you come from?”

No collar. No sound. He blinked once, like you were the one being strange.

Then, without hesitation, he stepped fully into your apartment.

You stood there, mouth slightly open, as he padded across the wooden floor like it belonged to him. No rush, no nerves. Just… calm. Like this was a routine visit.

You turned slowly to follow him with your eyes. “Okay.. Great.”

He paused near your low coffee table, sniffed your sketchbook, and then—because apparently this was his home now—curled up in the warm square of light spilling in through the window.

You blinked again.

“I didn’t even… I didn’t leave food out or anything.” You rubbed a hand over your face. “You just—broke in?”

The cat lifted his head slightly, then lowered it again with a deep, satisfied sigh. He was clearly not going anywhere.

You hesitated for a few seconds longer“Okay” you muttered, “Make yourself at home.”

After that first afternoon, you expected the cat to disappear.

Barcelona didn’t feel like the kind of city where things just showed up and stayed. Everything here moved too fast. The days bled together in a haze of heat, noise, and effort—so many things to learn, so much to adapt to. And yet, the next day, at exactly the same time, cat returned.

You’d barely noticed the sound—a soft scratch against the tile, the faint thump of paws—but there he was again, settling into the same pool of afternoon light by your bookshelf with a long, theatrical sigh.

You stared at him for a moment from behind your laptop. “You’re serious about this, huh?”

He didn’t answer. Just flicked his tail once and closed his eyes.

And so, day after day, he came back.

Sometimes earlier, sometimes later, but always after noon and always alone. You started expecting him. Started leaving the balcony door open just wide enough. Started refilling the little water bowl by the couch.

By day three, you’d caught yourself talking to him out loud. Not full conversations, but soft comments here and there as you worked through sketches and models. Your studio space was small, and quiet, and cat filled it with a presence that didn’t demand anything from you—which, weirdly, made it easier to think.

He wasn’t affectionate. Not exactly. He’d occasionally brush against your ankle or curl beside you on the couch, but mostly he existed like a shadow—steady and unbothered. You grew used to the shape of him in your space. Like a black spill of ink across the light. Like something that made your borrowed apartment feel a little more like home.

You wondered where he came from. Who he belonged to. But there hadn’t been any notes, no one knocking at your door, no complaints. Just the occasional sound from the balcony next door—faint music, the clink of a cup, a brief laugh that disappeared too quickly to hold onto.

Whoever lived there wasn’t nosy. Or maybe they just didn’t care.

Still, you caught yourself glancing over the divider more and more often.

The mystery of it made your chest itch.

On the fifth day, you came back late from a critique session and found him already waiting. He was sitting neatly just outside the door, staring in like you were the one running late. You let out a soft, surprised laugh and opened it without thinking.

“You’ve got some nerve.”

Cat walked in like he owned the place.

That night, he stayed longer than usual. You worked on your laptop while he snored softly under the window. And for the first time since you’d moved here, you didn’t feel the weight of distance as heavily as before.

On the sixth day, it rained.

You thought maybe that would break the pattern. Maybe you’d just imagined this weird ritual into something bigger than it was. But around four in the afternoon, when the skies were a dull, relentless gray and your mood was worse, you heard the faintest sound by the window.

You turned. And there he was.

Drenched. Displeased. Regal.

You hurried to open the door, and he padded in without hesitation, shaking droplets onto your floor like a dog.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, grabbing a towel. “You’re going to ruin my landlord’s precious fake wood flooring.”

He tolerated your fussing for about ten seconds, then walked off to dry himself on your throw blanket anyway.

That night, you boiled some pasta and set a small plate of plain tuna down beside your chair. You didn’t know if cats were supposed to eat tuna that often, but he was a guest. And honestly? He’d earned it.

You were stretched out on the balcony floor, cat a warm weight against your thigh, the sky above painted that deep indigo right before full night. It was finally quiet. No metro, no street shouting, just the hum of the city settling and the occasional flick of Bagheera’s tail.

You scratched gently behind his ears. “You really know how to pick a spot, huh?”

He purred like he agreed.

And then—

“Bagheera!”

A voice. From just over the divider.

Low. Rough. Confident.

You froze.

“Baaagheeera, don’t make me come get you again,” the voice added, more amused now. “I’m not in the mood to scale balconies tonight.”

You blinked. Slowly turned your head toward the divider.

Bagheera lifted his head too, alert.

Then a soft scuff—bare feet?—and a shape appeared, leaning lazily over the railing.

You stared.

She was…

God. She was something else. Messy bun, oversized hoodie, sharp jawline catching the light from her apartment behind her. Her eyes found yours instantly, like she’d been expecting you.

You said nothing. Too busy trying to remember how to function.

“Oh,” she said, a little grin curling one side of her mouth. “So you’re the one he’s been cheating on me with.”

You made a noise. Somewhere between a laugh and a choke.

She nodded toward cat, apparently named Bagheera. “He’s got a routine, you know. Leaves after lunch, comes back smelling like someone else’s couch.”

You looked down at the cat, who offered exactly zero shame.

“I… didn’t know he had an owner,” you said finally, voice embarrassingly small.

“Hmm. He does. Kind of.” She studied you for a second. “You live alone?”

You hesitated. “Yeah.”

She tilted her head, eyes flicking over you once—bare legs, oversized T-shirt, tea mug next to you—then back up, more amused now.

“Cool. Same.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. The silence buzzed between you, charged.

Then she smirked. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around, vecina.”

She turned like that was it, already stepping back.

But you were still staring. Still holding her cat. Still… breathless.

She reappeared two seconds later with a blanket and leaned on the railing again, clearly not in a rush.

“You can breathe, you know,” she said. “I don’t bite.”

You flushed. “Sorry. You just—caught me off guard.”

“Yeah?” Her grin widened. “Guess I should’ve knocked first.”

“You’re technically outside.”

“So are you.”

Touché.

She extended her hand. “I’m Mapi.”

You took it, still dazed. “I’m Y/N.”

She held your hand half a second longer than necessary, then let go and nodded to Bagheera.

“He picks good people.”

And then she took him, her fingers brushing your arm with a warmth that lingered too long. No goodbye, no explanation—just a casual glance and a crooked smile before she slipped back through the sliding door like she hadn’t just turned your entire night upside down.

You sat there on the balcony for a long time after that.

The city quiet, your tea cold, your heart kind of wrecked in the nicest way.

It had been nearly a week since you’d seen Mapi.

Not that you were counting. Well. You were. A little.

After that first late afternoon—her standing barefoot and casual, Bagheera perched smugly in her arms, you still reeling from the fact that your mystery cat belonged to a very real, very attractive woman next door—she hadn’t come out again. Or maybe she had, just not when you were looking. Which was often.

Bagheera, on the other hand, had shown up daily. Like clockwork. Stretching across your floor like he paid rent. Following you from room to room. Sleeping beside your sketchbooks, stepping directly on your laptop keyboard, watching your every move with that regal, unbothered confidence.

You didn’t mind. He was company. Soft, quiet, steady.

And lately, your tiny balcony had started to feel like your favorite place to be.

A few days ago, you’d found a secondhand couch at a weekend market. The kind that looked like it was made for coffee shops and long conversations. A little beat up, perfectly squishy, and just narrow enough to wedge against your balcony wall beneath the window. The vendor helped you carry it home in exchange for a pastry and a grateful smile.

Now it lived out there permanently—blanketed and pillowed, sun-warmed in the day, breezy at night.

Tonight, you were curled into it, wine in hand, legs tucked beneath you as Bagheera snoozed along the backrest like a lazy panther.

The city hummed low around you. A breeze tugged at your hair. Your laptop was perched on a tray beside you, the screen casting soft light against the growing dark. Blue Is the Warmest Color played quietly. A movie you’d seen before, sure, but never on a night like this. Never while pressed into a couch under stars, with red wine on your tongue and the soft weight of a cat warming your side.

You didn’t mean to get so into it. But it sucked you in. The tension, the push and pull, the way longing built in silences more than words. Your glass was half-full and forgotten. Your eyes stayed glued to the screen.

And then the scene started.

The scene.

You felt the shift before it even happened. The way they looked at each other, breath shallow, eyes dark. The room blurred. Their fingers found each other slowly, reverently.

You swallowed. Shifted. The wine hit your bloodstream just enough to make the air feel heavier.

Onscreen, their mouths met. The first touch. Hands roaming, desperate and searching. The intimacy of it—raw, unhurried—tangled something low in your stomach.

You sat forward slightly, breathing shallow. Bagheera stretched, oblivious.

And then—

“Well,” a voice said lightly from the darkness, “this got interesting fast.”

You jumped so hard you nearly kicked your wine over.

Your head snapped toward the divider.

There she was.

Mapi.

Leaning over the railing like she’d been there the whole time. Hair pulled into a messy knot, arms fully tattooed, tank top hanging loose off one shoulder. Lit faintly by the golden glow from inside her apartment. A crooked smirk curving her lips.

You froze. Completely and totally frozen.

She tilted her chin toward your screen. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Looked like things were getting pretty… intense.”

You scrambled to pause the movie. The frozen frame was ridiculous. You slammed your laptop shut and threw your arm over it like a teen caught watching porn in a rom-com.

“I—I didn’t hear you,” you stammered, fully mortified.

Mapi grinned wider. “Clearly.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “You can’t just do that,.”

“Do what?” she asked innocently. “Existing?”

“Appearing out of thin air mid-sex scene!”

She laughed then. A full, rich sound that bounced between the walls. “In my defense,” she said, “you’re the one watching lesbian cinema with the volume at emotional devastation.”

You stared at her. “That’s not a genre.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Bagheera let out a dramatic yawn and stretched between you, like this entire conversation bored him.

Mapi leaned on the railing, still smiling. “I came out to call him, actually. Didn’t expect the free entertainment.”

You narrowed your eyes. “He’s ignoring you on purpose.”

“He’s got a type, apparently.”

You arched a brow. “Sarcastic neighbors who ruin perfectly good wine-fueled movie nights?”

She laughed again, and this time it wasn’t teasing—it was soft. A little warm.

“No,” she said, quieter now. “People who talk to him like he’s understands what they’re saying.”

You blinked at that. Your face warmed. “He can.”

Mapi smiles. “Most people treat animals like accessories. You don’t. He likes that.”

You looked down at Bagheera. He blinked slowly at you, then flopped back onto his side like he was too cool for this moment.

“So…” Mapi said after a beat, nodding toward your mostly-full wine glass. “You always drink alone on your balcony and get emotionally destroyed by French cinema?”

You gave her a dry look. “Only when I’m not being publicly humiliated by my neighbor.”

“That’s a shame,” she said, already stepping back inside. “I’ve got a bottle of rosé that could pair perfectly with your mortification.”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

She reappeared a second later with two glasses in one hand and a bottle in the other.

Bagheera let out a little trill of approval.

“Move over,” Mapi said, gesturing to the couch as she stepped over the divider like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stared. Then you moved.

You stared as Mapi steeped over the divider. Literally.

One leg, then the other, barefoot and all like this was normal behavior and not a moment of sheer insanity. Her wine bottle tilted dangerously as she landed lightly on your balcony floor, casual as hell, like she hadn’t just scaled your wall like a hot lesbian raccoon.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered

“Relax,” she said with a grin, “the wall’s barely above my waist.”

“That’s not the point!”

Mapi handed you a new glass. “Then what is the point?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. You looked at her, then at the wine, then at Bagheera who was now purring and rubbing against her ankle like she hadn’t abandoned him days ago. Traitor.

“I could be a serial killer,” you finally said.

Mapi poured. “You’re watching Blue Is the Warmest Color and drinking wine out of a stemmed glass on a couch you probably named. You’re not a serial killer.”

You stared at her. “You don’t know that.”

She lifted her brows, looking around at the pillows and the carefully draped blanket, the way you’d strung up two paper lanterns that swayed lazily in the breeze.

“Okay, fair. You’re an aesthetically pleasing serial killer.”

You took the wine and muttered, “That’s better.”

Bagheera jumped onto the couch between you like he’d been waiting for her to sit down all along. He promptly flopped onto her lap. She stroked his fur like it was second nature.

You hated how domestic it looked.

“Fine,” you said after a long sip, “you can stay. But you’re not allowed to judge me.”

She raised a brow. “For what, exactly?”

You gestured vaguely at the laptop, which was now partially hidden under a blanket out of sheer embarrassment.

Mapi smirked. “For the record, I wasn’t judging. That scene’s a masterpiece.”

You blinked at her.

“Like—cinematically,” she clarified. “Lighting, pacing, tension—ten out of ten. Should be studied.”

You choked on your wine. “You’re not helping.”

“Just saying. Could’ve picked something much worse. Imagine if I’d popped in during—what’s that one? ‘Below Her Mouth’?”

You slapped a hand over your face. “Please stop talking.”

She laughed, full-bodied and delighted. “Hey, I’m just trying to help you feel less mortified.”

“It’s not working!”

“Good. You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Your brain short-circuited.

Your entire nervous system blinked like a neon sign: Did she say that? Did she actually say that?

Mapi just sipped her wine, looking completely unbothered.

You cleared your throat, trying to act like your pulse hadn’t just gone into cardiac arrest. “So, you’re just… crashing balconies now?”

She shrugged. “Yours looked better than mine.”

“You don’t even know what mine looks like.”

“I do now,” she said, eyes scanning over the setup again. “Cozy. Thoughtful. Very queer. It’s giving…” She waved her glass around. “Main character energy.”

You gave her a look. “You’re ridiculous.”

Mapi beamed. “You like it.”

You didn’t answer. Mostly because she was right and you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. The silence stretched for a second, the clink of her glass against yours echoing in the small space. The city below murmured on.

Then, out of nowhere “Wait,” she said suddenly, squinting at your face. “Are you the one who sings to Bagheera sometimes?”

Your whole body seized. “No.”

“You are!” she said, grinning wide. “I knew it. He comes back humming.”

“I do not—I don’t hum to him.”

“Swear to god,” she said, nodding seriously, “last week he was practically purring in tune.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t worry. It’s cute.”

“Stop calling me cute!”

“Can’t. It keeps being true.”

You groaned and leaned back into the cushions, covering your face. Mapi shifted beside you, stretching her legs out, her thigh brushing against yours with the easy confidence of someone who had zero awareness of personal space—or maybe just no intention of respecting it.

Bagheera purred louder.

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Do you flirt like this with everyone?”

Mapi turned her head lazily toward you. “No. Just the ones who name couches and get emotionally devastated by French girls in beanies.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

“Speechless twice in one night,” she said, smirking. “I’m on fire.”

You stared at her. Warm skin, wine-stained lips, eyes like she already knew your answer to questions she hadn’t even asked yet.

The worst part? She was on fire. And you were probably about to get burned.

Three days later You’re halfway through folding laundry on the balcony couch when Mapi’s voice floats up.

“Didn’t take you for the kind of girl who folds underwear in public.”

You nearly drop your panties off the railing.

You glare over at her—barefoot, tank top, leaning on her balcony door with a popsicle in her mouth like she’s the main character in a queer fever dream.

“These are boxer briefs,” you say coolly.

Mapi licks her popsicle slowly. “Even better.”

Day after that, You’re watering your plants in your sports bra. It’s hot. You’re sweaty. You forgot your neighbor exists.

Mapi leans over the balcony ledge. “Careful, cariño. That basil’s not the only thing getting wet right now.”

You choke on air. The basil is fine. Your self-control is not.

Once,You're lying on the balcony couch in a hoodie and nothing else, trying to ignore the sound of someone doing things to someone in a nearby apartment. It's loud. Too loud. The cat’s tail twitches.

Then Mapi’s voice cuts through “Either that’s a really good time, or someone’s watching your movie again.”

You look up.

She’s holding popcorn. And a glass of rosé. And she’s already climbing over the railing.

You blink. “You can’t just climb into my apartment.”

“I brought snacks.”

You let her in.

Not long after that, You’re adjusting your top. You weren’t expecting anyone. Mapi shows up leaning backwards over the divider like she’s bored and accidentally hot.

“Wanna see my new tattoo?”

You raise a brow. “What if I say yes?”

She smirks. “Then I’ll show you the one under my shirt too.”

Bagheera knocks over your wineglass like he’s had enough.

Once,You hear a weird tapping sound. Look up. Mapi’s trying to throw pistachio shells onto your balcony.

She misses. A lot.

When she finally hits you in the forehead, she yells, “Gotcha!”

You shout back, “That’s assault.”

She grins. “You like it rough anyway.”

You do not respond. You cannot respond.

Bagheera meows. Even he’s judging you.

Another time,You’re on the couch in silk pajama shorts. You stretch without thinking. Legs out. Head back. The laptop’s on your chest.

Mapi leans over and whistles. “I don’t know what’s shinier—your laptop or your thighs.”

You stare at her.

She stares back.

Then—“I was gonna ask if you wanted to come over, but now I think I’m gonna climb down instead.”

You stop breathing. She doesn’t climb. Yet.

Rain hit your windows in a steady rhythm, soft and hypnotic. Your lights were off—only the warm glow of your laptop screen lighting up your room, flickering over the walls like some low-budget art film.

You were in bed, sprawled under a blanket with a glass of wine balanced on your stomach, your legs slightly parted and your focus absolutely glued to the screen.

Below Her Mouth.

And below your blanket… well. Let’s just say, ovulation had you in a chokehold.

You weren’t even embarrassed about it. Not until—

tap-tap.

You froze.

The sex scene was peaking. Literally.

tap-tap-tap.

You blinked, leaned to the side, and slowly turned your head toward your balcony door.

Mapi León stood outside. Soaked. Hoodie sticking to her frame. Hair dripping onto her shoulders. And worst of all—smirking.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t explain why there was a half-empty bottle of wine on your nightstand and a woman literally getting railed on your screen.

You didn’t even press pause.

Mapi raised her eyebrows. Then, she pointed at the laptop, mouthed, “Seriously?”, and tapped again.

You scrambled up, tripped on the blanket, slammed the laptop shut so hard it clapped like a gunshot.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, rushing to the door.

You unlocked it, slid it open, and hissed, “What the hell are you doing?”

Mapi, absolutely unfazed, stepped inside your room like it was hers. “It’s raining. I brought wine. And your curtains were open. What was I supposed to do—ignore the live screening of lesbian porn?”

“It’s not porn, it’s art.”

She plopped down onto the foot of your bed, kicked off her soaked socks, and wiggled her eyebrows. “Right. Art that makes you squirm and squeeze your thighs together every five minutes.”

You were going to die.

Right here. In your room. In your underwear.

She glanced at the laptop. “You didn’t even pause it.”

“I panicked.”

Mapi leaned back on her hands, cocky and dripping onto your sheets. “You always this worked up on a Tuesday, or is it just that time?”

You groaned. “Get out of my room.”

“No.” She grinned. “I brought good wine, you’ve got good taste in movies, and that scene was getting interesting.”

“You climbed between balconies in the rain to crash my alone time.”

“I was bored. And wet. And curious.” She dragged her eyes over you—your flushed cheeks, your hoodie, the exposed strip of your thigh where the blanket had fallen. “And I’m very glad I did.”

You stared at her. “You’re actually insane.”

“And you,” she said, reaching to pull your blanket back over your legs like she owned them, “are dangerously cute when you’re flustered.”

You squinted at her, lips twitching. “What’s your plan, exactly? Seduce me over wine and stolen porn?”

She handed you the bottle and shrugged. “Depends. You gonna let me stay?”

The rain kept falling. Your heart kept racing. And your laptop, halfway closed, was still playing muffled moans you both ignored.

You took a sip of wine. “Fine. But don’t touch anything.”

Mapi grinned and slid up beside you in bed, whispering, “No promises, cariño.”

You’re trying to focus on the movie. Really. You are. You’ve even repositioned yourself twice—propped up against your pillows, blanket pulled to your waist, one leg curled beneath you like that’ll help. It doesn’t. Nothing helps.

Because she’s too close.

Mapi stretches like a cat, elbow grazing yours, and doesn’t apologize when she settles again with a satisfied sigh. Her bare leg brushes against yours with each small shift, warm and smooth where your knees touch under the blanket. Every movement she makes feels exaggerated, deliberate. Even when she’s quiet, she’s loud.

You’re painfully aware of her wine-stained lips and the way her shirt clings to her shoulder, slipping just slightly lower as she leans forward to grab the bottle. She does it slowly, like she’s giving you time to look. And maybe you do—just for a second. Just to feel the sharp sting of want rise in your throat.

She pours, not into her glass, but straight into her mouth, tilting the bottle back with a grin. Some of it dribbles down her chin, and she wipes it with the back of her hand, catching you staring.

“What?” she says, voice lazy, knowing.

You blink fast, looking away. “Nothing.”

She hums, the sound low and amused. “Thought so.”

“Why do they always make lesbian sex scenes look like a perfume ad?” Mapi mutters suddenly, breaking the quiet.

You snort, grateful for the interruption and the fact that she said something. “You complaining?”

“Not at all,” she says, head turning toward you. Her hair is still damp from the rain, curling slightly at the ends, and it smells like your shampoo now. Her eyes meet yours and stay there, steady and unblinking. “I just think we could do better.”

Your stomach flips. Your mouth opens, then closes again. You pretend to sip your wine, even though your glass has been empty for a while. She watches you do it like she knows.

Mapi leans her head on her hand, propped up by her elbow. Her fingers—rings cold against her skin—start idly playing with a strand of your hair.

“You’re really into this movie, huh?”

You try to sound casual. “It’s a good one.”

“Hmm,” she hums, like she agrees. But she’s not looking at the screen. She’s watching your mouth.

Her fingers move from your hair to the side of your neck, brushing barely there touches down the line of your jaw before pulling back just enough to rest again between you, dangerously close.

“Relax,” she murmurs, voice low, warm, and threaded with amusement. “You’re tense.”

You scoff, trying not to let your body betray you. “I’m not.”

“You are,” she says, her voice dipping lower. Her hand moves again, drifting across your forearm, her nails soft against your skin. The touch is featherlight—meaningless on its own, but combined with the look in her eyes and the curve of her smirk, it short-circuits your brain.

She’s not doing anything wrong. Technically. But your whole body reacts like she is.

Her hand finds your knee under the blanket and settles there like it belongs. She doesn’t move it, doesn’t squeeze. Just rests it. Warm and solid. Like a placeholder for something more.

“Do you always watch this kind of stuff alone?” she asks, voice teasing, like she’s trying to distract you.

You glare. “Do you always break into your neighbor’s apartment to flirt in the middle of a storm?”

Mapi leans in slightly, close enough that her breath tickles your cheek. “Only when they look this good doing nothing.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat crawling up your neck betrays you.

On the screen, the tension builds between the characters—slow touches, quiet gasps, hands moving beneath clothes. Mapi doesn’t look away. But not at the movie. At you.

“You think that’s how we’d do it?” she asks softly.

You blink, trying to gather words.

“What?”

“That,” she says, nodding slightly toward the screen. “Would you let me take my time like that?”

Your pulse spikes. Her voice is silk-dipped sin. Casual, almost. But it lands hard. Heavy.

You try to keep it together. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you’re all talk.”

That gets you a slow, dangerous smile. Mapi shifts closer, until your thighs are pressed together. Her hand trails up slightly, fingers tapping once on the inside of your knee.

“You think I’m just teasing?” she whispers.

You nod, defiant. “I know you are.”

“Maybe,” she says, brushing a thumb along the seam of your shorts, just enough to make your breath catch. “But you like it.”

The characters on screen are moaning once again —soft, practiced sounds. In your room, it’s quiet except for the hum of rain against the window and the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.

Mapi doesn’t kiss you.

She doesn’t move her hand any higher.

She just turns her attention back to the screen, like nothing’s happened, and starts sipping her wine again. But her fingers remain where they are—teasing, barely moving, still making those slow little circles on your thigh like she’s marking time.

You stay perfectly still, gripping your wineglass, pretending you’re not losing your mind.

And she sits there, smug and satisfied, like she’s got all night.

Because she does.

You’d barely restarted the next movie—a dirtier one this time, something more explicit, something neither of you pretended wasn’t intentional—when Mapi moved again.

She didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate.

She just repositioned herself behind you, like it was the most natural thing in the world—pulling you back against her chest, wrapping you up in the blanket and her arms, her legs bracketing yours as her chin dropped to your shoulder.

You froze.

You could feel the shape of her body pressed into yours. The slow, deliberate way her hand slid across your stomach under the blanket. Her breath was warm against your neck. She said nothing—but every part of her touch said everything.

You stared at the screen, but you didn’t see anything.

Until the moans started.

On screen, the characters were tangled together—no build-up this time, just raw sex. Wet, slow, aching. No soft filters or background music. Just skin on skin, bodies grinding, the sound of breath catching and whispered, needy pleas.

And then—Mapi’s hand moved.

Her fingers slid under the hem of your shirt, just brushing your stomach. Light. Curious. Intimate.

You tensed instinctively—but she didn’t stop.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, lips brushing your ear. “Just focus on the movie.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t dare to look at her.

You couldn’t.

She dragged her fingers lower, pausing at your waistband. Not pushing, just tracing. Her touch so light it drove you crazy.

“You’re good at that” she murmured.

You swallowed. “At what?”

Her hand dipped beneath the band of your shorts.

“Pretending you don’t want this.”

Your body twitched at the first proper touch—her fingers stroking you over your underwear, slow and unbothered, like she was just warming up.

“You’re soaked,” she whispered, tone rough now. “And I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

You gripped the blanket tighter, head falling back slightly against her shoulder.

“Still pretending?”

She didn’t wait for an answer this time.

Her hand slipped beneath your underwear, fingers gliding through slick heat, parting you with the same careful patience you’d seen her use on the pitch—measured, sure, deadly.

The moans from the movie only got louder. Dirtier. One of the characters gasped something desperate, breathless.

Mapi’s fingers slid deeper, just enough to make your breath hitch and your hips stutter forward.

She groaned low, right in your ear. “You hear that? That sound she’s making?”

You whimpered.

“She’s not even close to how good you’re gonna sound.”

Her hand on your stomach flexed slightly—possessive, steady—while the one between your legs moved with maddening control. She didn’t rush. Didn’t chase. She teased. She ruined.

“Focus on the movie,” she whispered, dragging her fingers slow and slick through your folds, circling but never giving you exactly what you needed. “Watch. Let it build.”

You tried. You really did.

But your eyes fluttered half shut, lashes brushing your cheeks as your whole body tilted toward her, open, aching.

“Don’t close your eyes,” she murmured. “You’ll miss the best part.”

You whimpered. “Mapi…”

She smirked against your neck. “You want it? Then take it. I’m right here.”

Her hand slid lower again, dipping in just the slightest bit, enough to make you twitch.

But then she stopped.

Just rested her fingers there.

“You’re gonna come for me,” she whispered. “But not yet.”

And then she pulled her hand out entirely.

You gasped in protest, hips jerking involuntarily—but she just held you tighter, lips brushing the shell of your ear as she reached for her wine again with the same lazy calm she always had.

She sipped. Settled. Pressed her mouth to your jaw.

Then

“Next scene’s coming up,” she said, tone wicked and smooth. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you ride my fingers when it starts.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak.

You just nodded—barely.

And she smiled.

Like she knew.

Like she was already planning exactly how slow she’d ruin you next.

The next scene started soft—just breathy kisses and hands sliding under clothes—but you knew what was coming.

So did Mapi.

She shifted behind you again, legs snug against yours, blanket slipping slightly as she pushed your shirt up with both hands, slowly, exposing your stomach to the cool air.

You didn’t stop her.

You didn’t move at all.

“You still pretending to care about the plot?” she asked, her voice already thicker, lower.

You managed a nod.

“Liar,” she said, and her hand slid back between your legs.

This time, she didn’t waste any time teasing.

Her fingers found you fast—slick, warm, desperate—and she groaned under her breath.

“You’re dripping,” she whispered. “All over me.”

You whimpered, back arching against her.

“Shh,” she murmured, kissing the curve of your jaw. “Just stay still.”

Her hand worked you slow at first, deliberately matching the pace on screen. The characters were grinding now, panting, the kind of sex that was all friction and hunger and heat.

And Mapi let you feel every second of it.

“Ride my fingers,” she whispered. “Go on. Take what you want.”

You froze. “What?”

She didn’t repeat herself. Just slipped two fingers inside, deep and sure, her other hand sliding up to cup your chest, dragging your back harder against her.

“Fuck—Mapi—”

“Quiet.”

She didn’t mean it.

She wanted you loud. She wanted to feel every sound in your throat before you could even make it.

And you tried, you really did—but the way her fingers curled inside you, the way her palm ground against you on every slow thrust forward—you couldn’t help the way your hips started moving, chasing it, riding her hand like it was the only thing tethering you to the moment.

“That’s it,” she said, tone impossibly dark. “Just like that. You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

Her fingers moved deeper, sharper, filling you with purpose—while her lips dragged slow down your neck, biting softly, possessive.

The movie faded completely. You couldn’t see the screen anymore. You didn’t care.

Your whole body was centered on the rhythm of her—inside you, against you, around you.

You moaned, louder this time, and she just smiled, her breath hot in your ear.

“You wanna come, don’t you?”

You nodded desperately.

She slowed her hand again—just enough to make you cry out in frustration.

“Not yet,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I want you begging first.”

You almost cursed at her.

Almost.

But her fingers curled just right, and all that came out was a strangled moan.

She chuckled low, lips ghosting over your cheek. “Yeah. Just like that.”

“You wanna come, don’t you?” she whispered again, slower now—almost sweet.

You nodded. Frantic. Shamefully desperate. You couldn’t speak.

“Then ask nicely,” she said, and she stilled her hand entirely.

You gasped like the air had been stolen from your lungs. “Mapi—”

“Uh-uh,” she smirked, brushing her nose against your cheek, her breath hot and wicked. “Use your words, cariño. You were doing so well.”

Her fingers didn’t move. They stayed buried inside you, hot and still and maddening, like a threat and a promise at once. The only movement came from her other hand, the one now tracing lazy circles across your nipple through the fabric of your shirt. And the soft drag of her teeth against your neck.

“Please,” you managed, barely more than a whisper. “I need—fuck—I need it.”

She hummed, pleased. “Need what, baby?”

You could hear the smile in her voice.

“You. Your hand. I need you to—”

Mapi laughed, low and dark. “Qué guarra.” Her hand moved again. Finally.

But slower this time.

Cruel.

She rocked her fingers inside you with obscene patience, dragging against the spot that made your toes curl, but never quite fast enough—never enough to let you tip over.

You were moaning now. Quiet at first. Then louder. Whining into your empty wineglass like it might hide the sounds falling from your mouth.

And Mapi was eating it up.

“Look at you,” she muttered, her fingers pressing deeper. “Fucking dripping, shaking, grinding all over me—just from my fingers.”

Your hand shot down to grab her wrist, trying to force her to move faster. She let you. For a second.

Then she stopped again. Completely.

“Mapi,” you whined, hips moving helplessly.

Her mouth was at your ear in a second, voice all gravel and heat.

“Beg.”

Your whole body was shaking now, thighs trembling, your orgasm so close you could taste it.

“I’m begging,” you gasped. “Please, please—let me come.”

And finally—finally—her rhythm returned, harder this time, relentless, each thrust perfectly angled, her palm slick and fast against your clit now.

“Good girl,” she whispered. “That’s what I wanted.”

The movie was long forgotten. All you could hear was your own ragged breathing, the wet sounds of her fingers working you open, the filthy praise in her voice as she pushed you closer and closer.

“Come for me,” she growled, right into your skin. “Now.”

You broke.

Your whole body tensed, then shattered, collapsing back against her with a sound you didn’t even recognize as yours. The kind of orgasm that stole your voice. Stole everything.

She didn’t stop.

She worked you through it, coaxing every last twitch and whimper from your oversensitive body, until you had to physically grab her hand to make her stop.

She finally pulled her fingers from you, slow and smug, and wrapped her arms tight around your waist, kissing the back of your shoulder like nothing had just happened.

“Still your favorite genre?” she asked, voice playful.

You couldn’t speak. You could only nod.

Mapi grinned against your skin.

“Good,” she murmured. “Because I’ve got another one queued up.”

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just kisses the base of your neck, then lower, and lower—her breath dragging down your spine in lazy, warm waves. Her hands anchor you, one still pressing your thigh open, the other running possessively down your side. You’re trembling now, fully at her mercy, the movie long forgotten. There’s only her.

When her mouth reaches your waistband, she pauses. She kisses just above it, then nudges your shorts down with her nose, her hands making quick work of the rest. You lift your hips without needing to be asked. You’d let her do anything right now.

“You’re so wet for me,” she murmurs, voice low, dark with amusement, and fuck, you are. She smiles like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. Because she does.

And then she doesn’t wait.

She buries her face between your thighs, and it’s immediate—hot and wet and intense. Her tongue moves with precision, like she’s mapped every reaction you’ve ever had and memorized the blueprint. She licks slowly at first, savoring you, dragging it out, teasing the edges before circling in.

Your back arches off the bed. You grip the sheets. You moan—helplessly, desperately—as she groans against you like she can’t get enough.

Every movement is practiced. Confident. She works you open with her tongue, flicking, pressing, sucking just enough to make you shudder. Her grip tightens on your hips, holding you down when you try to writhe away from the intensity.

“Stay still,” she growls against your skin. “Let me taste you properly.”

It’s filthy. It’s everything.

And then she pushes two fingers into you, slow but deliberate, curling just right, just enough. You choke on your breath. Her pace doesn’t falter. Mouth and fingers moving in tandem, dragging you higher and higher, building pressure like she’s tuning an instrument only she can play.

You’re not going to last. You know it. She knows it.

And she doesn’t let up.

Your thighs start to tremble. Your moans turn breathless. Her name spills from your lips like a prayer.

And Mapi?

Mapi just smirks, glancing up through her lashes like she’s still got so much more planned.

Your thighs are shaking uncontrollably now, and Mapi loves it. You can feel it in the way her mouth moves even slower, savoring every sound you make, every twitch of your hips she forces you to hold back.

She presses her tongue flat against your clit, dragging it slowly upwards, making you whimper into the dark room. Then she pulls back just enough to let her breath wash over your soaked skin — cool, teasing — before she licks into you again with a filthy groan that vibrates through your whole body.

"Fuck, you taste good," she mutters, voice wrecked, almost feral.

And then she sinks her fingers deeper, curling them deliberately, expertly, finding that spot inside you that makes you sob without shame. You clench around her and she just laughs—low and cocky—and pushes in harder, like she’s trying to ruin you on her hand alone.

Your head thuds back against the pillows. Your fingers find her hair, grabbing blindly for something to ground yourself. She lets you, lets you tug her closer, like she wants you desperate for her, wants you to lose control completely.

"You wanted to watch dirty movies," Mapi says roughly, pulling her mouth away just enough to smirk against your inner thigh. "Guess you're living one now, princesa."

You can't even form words anymore. You're too busy panting, trembling, so fucking close it hurts.

She doesn't let up. Her tongue flicks back to your clit, fast and rhythmic now, perfectly timed with the relentless thrust of her fingers inside you. Every drag of her tongue feels like lightning under your skin. Every curl of her fingers punches another gasp from your throat.

And she keeps talking, filthy and low, right against you

"Bet you wish they showed this in those movies, huh?" she murmurs. "This is how it’s supposed to be. Someone making you fucking beg."

You're already there.

Your stomach knots impossibly tight. Your whole body locks up, trembling violently. You're seconds away from falling apart, and she fucking knows it.

"Cum for me, baby," she whispers against your soaked skin. "Let go. Let me hear you."

Her fingers slam into you just right. Her mouth clamps down on your clit, sucking hard, greedy, dirty.

And you shatter.

You cry out, clenching so hard around her fingers it almost hurts, your whole body jerking helplessly as she works you through it, not stopping, not slowing down until you’re sobbing from the overstimulation.

Only then — only then — does Mapi finally pull away, licking her lips like she’s tasting something addictive, dragging her fingers out of you slow and deliberate, watching you with dark, blown pupils like you’re the most perfect thing she’s ever seen.

She crawls up your body, presses a slow, dirty kiss against your open, gasping mouth, and grins against your lips.

“Told you we could do better than the movie.”

Not long after that she whispers, lips brushing your ear. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just… fuck.”

She chuckles quietly, pleased, but there’s no smugness in it now. Just affection. That slow, lazy sweetness that only comes out once she’s had her fill of teasing.

“Come here,” she says, and you don’t need to roll over—because she’s already shifting you herself, hands guiding you onto your side, pulling your back into her chest again. She curls around you like she was made to fit there, strong arms wrapping tightly around your waist, her thigh tucking between yours.

The storm is still going outside, rain tapping gently against the glass doors. The movie has long since faded into the background, the screen now just flickering light that dances across the messy sheets and your bare skin.

Mapi presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then your neck. Then the back of your head.

You feel her reach for something, and a second later, a warm cloth touches between your legs — slow, careful, her hand steady as she cleans you up. She doesn’t say much. Just breathes with you. Focuses on you. Every movement quiet and sure, like it’s second nature.

“I got you,” she murmurs.

And she does.

When she’s done, she tosses the cloth aside and gathers you closer, pulling the blanket up over both your bodies. You press your face into her arm, and she hooks her chin over your head, fingers drawing soft, lazy shapes into your stomach.

Neither of you talks for a while.

Just the quiet rise and fall of your breathing, the beat of the rain, the gentle weight of her touch grounding you like a heartbeat.

Then—

“That was better than the movie,” she says eventually, voice a little smug again.

You huff out a laugh. “You think?”

“Should’ve gotten an Oscar for that performance.”

You roll your eyes and elbow her gently. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

And you do.

You don’t say it out loud. Not yet. But the way your fingers lace with hers under the blanket says enough.

She kisses your shoulder again, softer this time. “I guess we both agree that Next time,” she whispers, “I’m choosing the movie.”

You snort. “As long as you don’t talk through the sex scenes again.”

She grins against your skin. “No promises.”

woso-dreamzzz

Flirts II

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen

*SMUT*

Summary: Mapi and Ingrid take you home

n33dfulth1ng5

bitehardrpls

Cmon let me take you out, there’s a show tonight at the club. You’ll have a great time

Nice..

Come with us

Alexia Putellas x Cata Coll x Jenni Hermoso x Reader

Summary: Alexia, Jenni and Cata make a bet about you

Warnings: Smut Ahead 18+

WC: 2854

please read this text before going to the story please don't be so strict with me but rather write to me what I can do better or what you wished were different. also tell me if you find the story too long or too short.. Also write to me if you liked it. My requests are always open (and English is not my first language so don't be mad at me) and if you have any ideas for the future about who I should write please tell me… the topics I will choose by myself unless you have a request for one or two people I will Read everything.. in the next survey I will take a few ideas from the old survey and new ones…. now read and I hope you like it <33

It was your third course with the Spanish national team and you were nominated for the Olympics. You played your first group game against Japan. You won 2-1 and you were really relieved because Japan was an opponent you lost to in the 2023 World Cup

You all wanted to celebrate it (at least toast to it) even though it was forbidden to you all because the breaks between the games were so short. You all still sat down together in the hotel bar and celebrated. For some people it wasn't just a toast, they were visible drunk

During the three courses you had noticed a tension between you and Cata. Her hands were often on your hips or caressing your butt. She was always visibly close to you and was staring at you . Her eyes were always either on your tits or your ass, when you have seminars, her hand was dangerously close to your leg

Jenni and Alexia, the two best friends, of course noticed it and had some fun with it. You didn't know if they knew more than you about why Cata was like that, but they pushed you onto her lap or always tried to keep a place free next to Cata At movie nights you lie next to Cata or just nonsensical jokes

The four of you were sitting together at a table. The three of you were drunk. Your not very . Once again Alexia made a stupid joke

“Hey, Cata is touching you under the table,”

she says laughing and Jenni playfully hits her on the shoulder

“I bet y/n can’t even stand one night with Cata.” spits jenni shakily Alexia laughs and Cata curses something in Spanish in her direction.

Jenni rummages in her pants pocket and slaps a 10€ bill on the table "10€ I'll make her come more often than Cata ever will" she half screams and laughs loudly

"20€ I'll make her come more often than the two of you combined" snaps Alexia

„ 50€ she won't have an orgasm with ya’ll“ throws cata on the table

You sat there with your jaw dropped. You were shocked that they had actually just bet 80€ on who would make you cum more often

You don't know what, but there's something about it that you like. Jenni and Alexia exchange looks and Cata looks straight at you

You didn't think they were serious, but everyone suddenly looked at you, looking for confirmation

You were speechless but Alexia spoke up "Come with us, I want to win the €80" she said with a horny smile. You looked at Cata, her eyes were darker than you've ever seen them before and Jenni leaned back and raised her arms Cata who was sitting next to you grabbed your hand and pulled you up, jenni slap onto the table with a "vamos chicas let's win money"

you push your way through the mass of your team

Aitana held Jenni's shoulder and pulled her back "You all go, Jenni"

"Si Alexia and y/n aren't feeling so well, they must have had too much to drink," Jenni said, laughing and moving away from Aitana.

The way to the hotel room was quiet. Nobody said a word. You ran in front of the three. They gave you priority When you all Alexia and Jenni's room arrived, Alexia pressed the card against the sensor and the door opened. Cata came close to your ear, "Go ahead cariño" and hit you on your ass to push you forward

You knew full well that the rest of the night would be all about you because they bet on you and they will give you so many orgasms until you beg for them to stop. It's not about the money for them, no, it's about who is better the Three always want to be the best and it's not about money

Alexia stepped in front of you to pull you in for a deep kiss. Her hands were on your neck and your hands pulled lightly on her undershirt to keep her close. Her tongue slid through your lips and bit gently. You felt hands on your back You couldn't place who they belonged to but they pulled up your shirt and other hands pulled down your pants and thong. You broke the kiss with Alexia and looked back briefly to see that Cata was the one who pulled on your shirt and finally gave it to you Over the head Cata kissed the exposed skin and Alexia started licking your neck while Jenni kissed your lower back and one of her hands found its way to your clitoris she made firm slow circles and making you whimper

so many hands and so many feelings at once you didn't know if it was too much for you but you liked the tension you took your bottom lip between your teeth and let out a deep moan cata says in a light whisper "Let's take her to bed mh" Jenni and Alexia let go of you and push you towards the bed "on your back" says alexia dominantly you do as you are told and automatically spread your legs to put yourself on full display for the three of them they stand in front of you and watch your helpless little body jenni took your knees in her hands and bent over to kiss you, her hands rest on your stomach and you noticed that the mattress gave way left and right. Alexia took one of your breasts in her hand and Cata licked big circles and placed kisses on the other side. You bite Jenni's lip and breathe heavily “You will be a good girl for us and let us use you” Jenni smiles and attracts the attention of Alexia and Cata, whose hands are now squeezing your thighs

You nod eagerly and Cata bites your nipple hard and making you scream. "You'll use your words, you understand," says Cata, laughing and looking at the smiling Alexia. "Use me and I hope I'll know later which one of you is better in bed." Jenni smiles and looks down at you. She licks her lips as her eyes meet your dripping pussy. She leans down, giving Cata and Alexia leeway all over your upper body. She places kisses and bites on the inside of your thighs, making you twitch and you try to look down but alexia grabs your neck and turns your gaze into her eyes "you won't look down and you won't move until you cum" alexia says seriously and cata starts kissing your cheek "my god cata Finally kiss me" you say snippily and Jenni starts laughing "Cata she's trying to give you orders" Alexia laughs lightly and Cata kisses you hard so that you can hardly breathe and Alexia's mouth is all over your breasts

alexia is hard on your breasts it hurts but the pain turns into lust, lust for jenni, Jenni finally shoots her tongue into your wet hole and your lips tilt away from Cata to moan you have never felt anything so good "oh my fuck- Jenni fuck" you try to move but Alexia's strong arms hold you in place "Didn't you understand what Alexia said to you earlier, should I tie you up huh cariño" cata says with a eye roll you let out a deep sigh and your head falls back onto the mattress "I'm telling you she lets herself be handled like a submissive slut, right?" alexia says laughing You roll your eyes and try to concentrate on Jenni's talented tongue, which is getting faster around your bundle of nerves and you can barely hold yourself in place

your hips rock into jenni's mouth and you moan pornographically the whole room is filled with your moans "she's going to come alexia" cata says with a smile "make her beg cata i want to hear her begging for jenni" cata slides to your ear " Do you want to come, baby? You can't believe how long I've been wanting to see you come." Cata says and takes your earlobe between her teeth. Alexia grabs Jenni's hair and pushes her head closer to your pussy. "Fuck Jenni, your tongue feels so good. Fuck pleas - I'm-fuck"

“No,” Alexia says quickly and snidely. “Make her beg,” she adds "beg for jenni be a good girl for us all you have to do is beg and jenni will save you, do it for me i want to hear you use your pretty mouth" cata says between kisses against your face "Jenni let me come, I'm so close"

“Something is missing,” says Alexia seriously "please jenni please i need you so much let me come" "Then come for me" Jenni says against your pussy and the vibration sends waves through your body. Alexia pinches your nipples and with a deep scream you come and your back arches upwards. Alexia kisses your neck and praises you for how well you're doing

jenni slowly moves away from you and kisses you the taste of your juices makes you whimper "let me sit on your face and cata take care of you mh" you nod eagerly Alexia grabbed a bunch of your hair and pulled it you moaned in pain "we told you earlier to use your words" Alexia spits you roll your eyes again and say slightly annoyed "Cata please use my pussy until you're finished" Jenni stands up and takes off her pants crawls back onto your chest she moves her body over your face you wanted to put your hands on her strong thighs but she pushes them away "don't touch me I'll use you" says jenni and sits down She takes your head in her hands and moves you to where she needs you. She lets out a deep moan and you feel strong hands circling your wet hole "cariño you are so wet, did jenni fuck you so well mh?" Cata asks you and you answer with a "mhh" because your mouth is full of Jenni's pussy

Jenni starts to rub against your mouth and Alexia has sat down on the back of the bed to watch how good they make you feel. One of Cata's fingers dives into you, not quickly, just very deeply. You moan against Jenni's pussy and reach into the bed sheets breathing faster jenni looks down at you with her mouth open "bonita you're going to make me cum do you hear" with these words jenni comes into your mouth and rides her orgasm out on your face she gets off of you and admires your glistening lips cata adds another finger and slowly get faster which makes you moan hard "Cata don't stop you feel so fucking good" you moan loudly you don't know what to do with your feelings and look over at Alexia and Jenni who has now sat down next to Alexia and with her head pressed on her shoulder you look into Alexia's eyes and she looks at you like what’s happening here is all she's wanted since you've been here

Alexia whispers in Jenni's ear "Touch me Jenni, I want to feel you" Jenni looks back and forth between you and Alexia. You lie there and moan so loudly that you can hear it in the next town. Cata is so good with her fingers, Jenni strokes Alexia's thigh and presses her head against her neck. One of her hands slips into Alexia's hands and starts to finger her. Alexia's head falls back against her neck and lets out a quiet whimper from her. Cata hovers over you and takes your neck in her hand. "Look at me I want you to look into my eyes when you cum " you look deep into Cata's eyes and moan her name softly. Cata's hand grips tightly around your cheek and she inserts a third finger into you. You moan soundlessly and roll your eyes back Cata's face comes closer to yours "I said look at me when you cum if you don't look at me I will stop I swear to you"

Cata says breathing hard you find it hard to keep your eyes in place you do your best to look at her Cata says "come baby come on my fingers" you let go and your legs start shaking hard you're a moaning mess and When you come down from your high, you look over at a moaning Alexia who has already had two orgasms from Jenni's fingers alone

Alexia dedicates herself to you and moves. She wants you. You know it very well. She wants you begging and crying. Your whole face is red and you are out of breath after just two orgasms. She slides over to you and caresses you. "I know Bebita pshh, let me use your pussy and i cum inside you mh and you'll make cata feel good" cata and jenni know exactly what's coming next jenni pulls you over to her by your hips cata takes off her pants "get on your knees and hold your ass in The air for alexia“ cata sits down against the backrest and spread her legs Jenni pulls you onto your knees

Alexia comes back with a strap on around her hips. You hear her feet running on the floor. You try to move backwards but Jenni grabs the back of your head and leads you to Cata's middle. Cata's head falls back and she lets out a deep sigh. "She's good with her mouth huh"

"She's not just pretty, she can also do something" says Cata moaning slightly. Alexia Knits behind you and gives you a slap on the ass, which makes you moan against Cata. Cata's legs start to wobble and she pushes your head closer to her. Alexia you by doing this she moves her fingers back and forth on your hole jenni rubs your back and kisses your temple alexia slowly inserts her strap into you and you hold on to cata's thighs and breathe openly against cata jenni whispers encouragement to you "look how good you are cata "Let Alexia come inside you." With a deep moan she comes and Jenni rubs Cata's stomach. Cata comes down and takes your head in her hands and lets it rest on her thigh. Alexia grips your ass harder and becomes faster. Your moans become audibly louder and Jenni doesn't stop her back for a second to fondle

Alexia grabs your hips tightly and pushes harder and harder into you. She lets out a sigh. "Do you like being taken like that, so exposed in front of us?" she says and hits your now red ass again. "Fuck Alexia, yes please come inside me wants to feel you" alexia speeds up and starts to moan jenni spreads kisses down your back and cata slides through your scalp your legs start to give in "alexia i'm close-" you stutter "wait for her" cata says and pulls up a little your hairline "I'm close too, just a little bit Bebita, you're doing so well" Alexia praises you, you become hazy, your vision becomes unclear until you feel your release getting closer and closer "Cariño come for Alexia, show her how good she makes you feel" after these Words, you only needed a few more thrusts until Alexia pushed you both over the edge. You moaned her name and her hands squeezed your hips. She let go of you and only moved away from you when you had come down

Jenni turns you onto your back and lays you gently next to Cata and gives you a small kiss on the forehead. Your breathing becomes more regular. Cata hasn't stopped stroking you and she pulls you into her arms. After a few minutes Alexia comes back and lies down “When are you finally going to reveal your love” says Alexia and Jenni starts laughing “Who actually won now?” you tease back playfully and snub against Jenni. Everyone laughs "Shut up or I'll fuck you until you forget our names and don't know anything about this shitty bet" says Alexia laughing. Cata got you something to eat and Jenni ran a bath for you

I hope you enjoyed it <33

patritellas

mi estrella, para siempre - patri guijarro ¹ ²

warnings: fingering, scissoring, spitting, finger sucking

wc: 2k

request: open

a-pute11as

a 'galentines' date? - ingrid engen

word count - 3.2k | summary - how harmless can a 'galentines' date between two friends be??... until they a tipsy confession gets the better of the situation

MDNI 18 + - 18+ themes & soft smut

you had settled into the barcelona life pretty well, you’d been enjoying the good coffee, the multiple different sightseeing opportunities and the new love of football you had found whilst being at your new team. finding little parts of home in every player you met definitely made the transition easier, and it helped that the majority of your teammates spoke pretty good english too.

ingrid and frido volunteered their support when you first joined, living a few streets away from you, they offered to give you a tour of your new neighbourhood, the best shopping areas and hiking routes to take up your days off. the three of you had became somewhat of a trio.

yet your bond with ingrid had seemingly grown beyond that, suddenly trio dates turned into duo dates, frido conveniently cancelled with a new excuse anytime it was somewhat acceptable. her texts would play out very similar to: ‘it’s my brothers cousins birthday, so i’ve got to facetime them, sorry guys’ which confused you more than you’d like to admit but you went along with it anyways.

snwbxnny-luvr

bnwoweakwhiteboi69

Dream white boy pov. I’d love to be on my knees, watching this 😍 leaking helplessly as I watch my girlfriend get Black Bred

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Untitled