#and the seductive lips in the second photo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

capslocked · 8 months ago

Text

PROXIMITY

male reader x chou tzuyu

25k words

You’re not a bad person. And you know how that sounds apropos of nothing - defensive, unscrupulous - but it’s true. You’re like anybody else: full of mistakes, but good, mostly.

You are also aware of the way she looks at you. None of that has changed.

The slight quirk at the corner of her lips. A flicker, a smirk. A game, all doe-eyed and deep dimpled - she's playing the seduction one. It isn’t subtle, and you're losing by proxy. So you're backtracking, drawing your conclusions; you're reading into the line of her jaw, the fall of her hair. Measuring the weight behind each blink.

"You were wrong by the way," Tzuyu starts, indifferent. Through some act of divine retribution, she laughs. "Because to tell you the truth, I used to have, like, the biggest crush on you."

She’s young, and - well, she’s a lot of things. A terrible idea. Incredibly off-limits. She is anathema, red tape, an original sin. You shake your head at her, smile fading - which for anyone keeping score, is an admonishment, however faint.

Because Chou Tzuyu, you recognize, is categorically, unequivocally: never supposed to happen.

If you want a read on your current dilemma, then this is how it pans out:

You’re walking headfirst into one of the multiple terrible, terrible scenarios you've probably had an anxiety dream about. It’s an ambush, really.

There’s the text from Mina, explaining all the ins and outs of her winter hideaway, the logistical whereabouts, and the pinched photo from the outside, the endless winding driveway, the clearing in the woods. The remote location, the unfussed snow, the towering trees. There are no neighbors to speak of, just seclusion and isolation and that makes you, among the seven billion or whatever, the only one who will know precisely how fucked you are.

The door to the cabin swings open on its hinges. You kick the snow off your boots, and the air smells indistinctly of peppermint tea.

It’s a cozy place, you think. A slightly rustic aesthetic. There’s a pair of skis decommissioned over the mantle. Mina, as usual, has good taste. You peek around: the foyer, the open living space, the wood finishes, the sunken fireplace. You almost make out a bathroom, through a half-opened doorway - and the kitchen, maybe, is nestled around the far corner.

You settle in, find your bearings, and start taking these leisurely steps down the hall.

That’s when you see her. Wearing a sweater that's a size too big, draped over her frame - sleeves tucked, exposing the barest hint of skin on her wrists, her delicate fingertips. You blink once, twice. That’s a dangerous flare. The rest of her, this canvas of pale skin and soft, endless legs, the hollowed stretch of inner thigh-

Actually, you know what, you are going to delete that out of your mind; as far as you're concerned, Tzuyu absolutely does not have her long, satin-like mahogany hair spilling over her shoulder, her bare legs poking out from under that bulky cotton blend, and she definitely, very absolutely has not given you a complete lack of boundaries, so it's more than plausible for her to slide onto a stool near the countertop with her painted-toes peeking out from beneath the folded press of her thigh (the pedicure, really, now?) and look over at you like you aren’t perfectly familiar with that goddamn face. Those eyes, that jaw.

And her collarbone is out too. Ouch.

Tzuyu rests her chin in one of her perfectly manicured hands, and tilts her head: she’s very blatantly checking you out.

The problem is, you’ve recognized her immediately.

Which - god, the bottom-lines, the blurred borders. It’s been years. She's twenty-three, twenty-four now, and as it turns out, she's taller than you remember. She's thinner, taller, actually a bit filled out too-

Right, okay, no. Just. Delete that image from the internal memory.

"Oh," you breathe, because there's not a single thing you're sure you’re supposed to do. It takes a split second too long to put the brakes on everything in your brain and say, "Tzuyu." It takes even more control not to tack an unthinkingly fond 'miss' to the front of her name - you're a god-honest lost hope - but at the last minute, you settle for, "hi."

It’s unnatural. She's actually somehow prettier than you remember, and the tousled brown curls flowing down her shoulder make it worse. She smiles, gently; this soft-spoken, "hey."

She’s at the kitchen island, holding a bowl of cereal and looking at you like she’s taking inventory. The strap of her bra is black, loose around the curve of her left shoulder; she's barefoot. Any other context, and it's your favorite kind of combination, basically: casual and messy and haphazard. Perfect. She's so tall, christ.

"We've met a few times," and she's not even phrasing it as a question - because she knows for a fact that you know her - and now, well, you can see how that's a problem.

"Yeah." You drop your bags. "Nobody said anything about anyone being here, so, I'm just a little-"

“Relieved?” Tzuyu tries, and if it sounds conceited, you’ve imagined it.

“Surprised,” you amend, quickly. There is a massive amount of distance currently between the both of you - several feet and an island counter to top it off. That's good, you think.

Tzuyu runs her hands over the top of her hair, a half-effort at putting it up into some sort of a ponytail, or maybe a bun. You see now that her nails are bare. "I'd heard from Mina," she starts, "that Sana was coming here-"

And you watch, absentmindedly, as Tzuyu slides down off her chair. You watch her too carefully almost, for a beat. You want to follow the length of her legs with the same ease and shamelessness - like it's instinct or just expected; it's ridiculous and wrong to think, but-

"-with, uh, someone. She left it purposefully vague." Tzuyu finishes, then pauses. Her gaze slides across you. If the awkward stretch of silence is weird, she doesn't comment on it. “Then I heard the flight got delayed because of all the snow."

"Just Sana’s," you correct, and that's not information you should be simply giving away. She just stands there, blinking up at you.

"Huh," she says, eyebrow lifted - slower than is explicitly necessary, “so you’re like. All alone until she gets here.” She simply eats a spoonful of cereal, chews for a moment, and adds, “bummer.”

It’s true, in some sense. You sigh, rake a hand back through your hair, and your jacket falls further down on one of your shoulders; she drops her gaze down, almost imperceptibly, following the motion.

There is definitely a point where you could take notice of a lot of things, and they include, but are certainly not limited to: the fucking languor with which she is licking the yogurt off the back of her spoon, her stupidly long eyelashes fanning on the tops of her cheeks when she glances down, the frankly risque neckline of her sweater. Those kinds of things. Those kinds of details. Really, you wouldn’t dare.

"It sounds like she’ll be getting in tomorrow evening," you decide to inform her, though she didn't ask, and now she nods, focusing still on the yogurt and granola at the bottom of her bowl.

You walk into the kitchen. Rap your knuckles on the countertop. Tzuyu’s right there, and your mind is filling up with images you could really do without. That's the unfortunate, traitorous nature of all this: in any universe, Chou Tzuyu fawns over you. And she will, on accident or purpose, test you. And as for your hesitation - that's an instinct that gets activated every time you so much as meet Tzuyu in person, this invasive little impulse.

"Well," Tzuyu says, way too casually. “It’s just us then.”

"Yeah." you agree, stilted. “Just us.”

"There's wine," she decides, tilts her head. Then, matter of factly, "and coffee, hot cocoa. Mina’s more or less stocked on everything."

Her voice hits the room all nice, sweet, syrupy - god, fuck, maybe there's a window or a door here somewhere that you're supposed to open to clear the air, but when you look, there’s frost on the glass; it’s the subalpine frigidity. Tzuyu flashes you this other sort of glance - her teeth scrape the rounded spoon's tip before her lips fully fix around it. The drowsy, delirious feeling is almost involuntary at this point.

"I should unpack my things, is what I should do, probably," and now you are saying things for the sake of saying them, as an escape. "Hey, seriously. Sorry for the inconvenience."

“Don’t be,” she tells you. "The weather isn't anybody's fault."

(Here, a premonition. You look at Tzuyu, who raises an eyebrow back.)

The next logical move is: leave. Tzuyu folds her long limbs back up onto the stool, and you're - trying not to look. You're also trying not to do it consciously, actively - you're not, and not. You fail, like you did a few years ago, too - the eyes have a bad habit of wandering. She's made of porcelain, all thin wrists, thin neck, soft curves and delicate lines. She's made out of glass - she’s at her most dangerous when you’ve gone and broken her.

It’s possible, you think, she could break you too.

Look, contextually - it’s Murphy’s law, or maybe your own very specific curse. A lot of stuff happens, so here’s a rough draft, your best effort at an approximation, a smudged-pencil sketch:

Tzuyu has been on vacation in the Alps from the start of the week, or maybe the week prior - she's alone in this stupidly big cabin you're supposed to be meeting Sana in for two weeks and change of pure unadulterated, hedonistic fun. Skiing, lounging, stargazing, drinking, screwing, consummating a situationship. You know the drill.

However there ends up being an actual, literal avalanche - with snow and rocks and ice and whatever the fuck - the power goes out, and you can only assume the whole mountain's gone dark. It's like a classic, a cautionary tale: hey, dude, you're on vacation with this drop-dead gorgeous girl who will let you do whatever you want to her - in the name of love and lust and a loosely legal liability. She says she'll be yours forever, except you also heard her say that the universe is entitled to laugh at you, a bit - so you do something you'll regret (which, okay, you've done countless things you'll regret) and now you're getting punished for it, and so is the stunning temptress currently shivering in the bed next to you. Seriously, whatever you do, do not fuck her, don't let her get too attached, because oh, man - Tzuyu really likes to make herself comfortable, huh? To nestle herself into your arms, let her hand stroke circles in the dark fabric of your t-shirt, warm her cold nose into your chest, and cuddle the night away. She's so easy to give in to, isn't she? This walking, talking paradox of everything she's not supposed to be and everything she'll willingly do anyway - there's her expression, placid and rapturous in equal measures, the sleepy mumbles against your skin that sound like prayers, her damp breaths.

You should know better. You should know that this is the universe, laughing its ass off at you.

And just for the record, there is sound reason for everyone to feel, in some sense, extremely concerned by the narrative that your life has slowly, unceremoniously devolved itself into.

The first time you meet Chou Tzuyu is years ago. She’s dramatically, devastatingly, problematically, young.

It was all happening before you could really clock it, and it was morally reprehensible, and it was, in fact, probably all your own doing.

And it’s even more obvious in retrospect: how she would react to the way you reach back and ruffle your hair when you laugh, the casual appeal of your smile, the depths of your tone, how you cut it as close as you can get it. A girl will trip all over herself to let you look after her; that’s the basic blueprint, that's the default. See, you're in your twenties, an adult - not having figured out much, but having certainly figured out this - and it's very much not lost on you that the girl should not be flirting with you - but she does, and the very worst of it is: you let her.

“Are you out of your mind?” Jihyo had said at the time, and, in fairness, yeah. That more or less sums it up.

So you end up making a point of never getting to know her, to always keep the conversation nonexistent. Or in the worst case scenario, brief - on surface level topics. The weather. Your job. Food. If you like her sunglasses. (They look protective, you’d told her, very practical. Very safe.) It's the essentials, a light, professional rapport - never once crossing the border from casual conversation to candid disclosure.

She's infatuated, of course. You're not mincing words here. It's actually rather unfortunate, how gone she is for you. You could’ve probably stood to dial it back; you, and your charm. Your smiles.

Because Chou Tzuyu was however many years young, very much off-limits - and like a lot of people it seems, totally hooked on your whole deal.

(Theoretically, that's how it all starts. Which is why, pragmatically, you will never, ever lay a finger on her.)

So, the plan to get through this was simple and to the point and as follows:

* Avoid unnecessary physical contact

* Maintain social distance, in fact - something covid-esque sounds great, about six feet

* Do not offer opinions/advice unless specifically asked

* Minimize speaking, just to be safe

* Do not exchange gifts, especially personal ones

* Be wary of the temptation to take a voluntarily-tipsy Tzuyu to bed, because you'll want to - and god knows Tzuyu will make it extremely clear that you could; this is exactly how shit turns south-

* Adjust and reframe

* Reinforce

* Remind yourself

* To just fucking think about literally anything else

It was working fine, so far - really fine, especially if you consider how early into the stay you're sitting there, telling yourself off in the bathroom mirror, get it together, you dumbass. What is wrong with you, don’t you know better by now - before an unapologetic knock on the door snaps you out of it, and the click of the door opening a moment later forces a heavy inhale from your chest: you just need a fucking second, thanks - not a half-decent excuse or a rearrangement, not a careful restructure, just a split second in your own head; that's not even the sort of thing you're prone to needing, because it's you, but with Chou fucking Tzuyu-

A soft breathy laugh, "are you okay in here?"

Tzuyu pokes her head into the room, her hair a wavy curtain that tumbles down past the middle of her back. You have this vague, fleeting impulse to run your fingers through it.

"Well," and there goes all the shit you'd managed not to think about, or contemplate, or dwell upon for that one glorious, naive, misinformed second. "Sort of," you say, offering her a quick glance.

"Really?" Tzuyu says, not catching onto the whole existential crisis thing. "Is there anything else you need? I mean," and then your eyes fall upon her; she's put a sweater on, pants, which all things considered, is a huge victory, a total rout - her baggy sweater drapes on her, practically brushing her thigh where the material stops, the hem. "I guess not, just. Um," her teeth catch her bottom lip for a quick moment, and this time she glances back towards the hall, the granite-finish tiles. "Wanna make s'mores?"

"What," you ask, because honestly, what the actual fuck-

"I went into town to get fresh groceries earlier this week. Everything just kinda landed in my cart," she says, the beginning of an explanation - the backstory, if you will. "And there's a fireplace. Momo always says the calories don't count if it's social eating, so." She makes a small shrug.

"Oh,” you say, like you understand. Your throat feels tight. “She’s totally right.”

She offers you a small nod. Tucks her hair behind her ear. You wonder if she knows how suggestive even the smallest of gestures she makes are; and more so, if she does it knowingly, or simply without thought - if it's a facet of her own effortlessness.

"Um," you say, for no particular reason other than that Tzuyu is fucking distracting. "Okay."

The edges of her mouth tick upwards at that. "We could put something on the tv,” she suggests. “For the vibe."

"Oh yeah, for the ambience."

"For the ambience," she nods.

(And fuck her, seriously. You might be a goner already.)

"A winter weather advisory," Tzuyu reads, squinting slightly at the tv. A minute later: "Just stay home," followed by another pause, and a frown: "hail and ice too. Yeah, no kidding."

She's reading the weather report. You're pretending you have any idea how to work the fireplace while she sets her eyes on the news, hands running over the blankets she has huddled around herself - legs folded, tucked into the edge of her chest. She'd gotten as far as logging into her Netflix account before the suggestion of cuddling was so obviously implied, her hands patting the cushioned space beside her that you were required by moral law to flip through the cable options until you found the least sexy, least rom-com-y option you could find: a newscaster reporting on the ongoing inclement weather, a forecaster saying 'near zero chance of improving, so travel is heavily discouraged, we strongly advise against-'

"Wonder if Sana's even going to make it," Tzuyu breaks the relative silence, and you are acutely aware of how casual she has been referring to Sana, the complete and utter lack of jealousy or any emotion related - or you guess, inspired. She's not even the slightest bit irked. “If the airport opens, maybe," she adds, and, after a beat, "let's hope."

It gets colder. You can barely see three feet past the front door. The forecast only gets worse, the storm intensifies and swells, it snows and snows - and this isn't a cottage somewhere on the lake, you're a couple miles down a single-track, woodsy road, far, far away from society.

If only these walls could talk, honestly. You're like, caught in a moment. With Tzuyu and marshmallows and these tiny, sticky wooden skewers. This is a story you will tell nobody, ever.

"I don’t mean to say I told you so," she says, but it comes out with a mouthful of chocolate and graham cracker, and marshmallow, which sort of takes the bite out of it. "But the movie is a little more entertaining."

You pretend like you weren't staring at her mouth a beat prior. "Right, a cinematic masterpiece."

Tzuyu tugs a marshmallow off the stick, and looks over at you again. Smiles around the impromptu pastry. She's just such a bright, wholesome thing - soft-hearted, selfless, so innocuous and so pleasant. It's absolutely sick. You have a fucking pavlovian response to Tzuyu simply existing.

And you’re pretending like the white, tacky remains on her mouth haven't permanently solidified that look into memory: the melted chocolate, the whipped sugar, the dimple. You could really do without this specific feeling - for however much longer it'll last, should the storm linger.

"You don’t ever have stuff like this, just for a quiet, carefree time?" Tzuyu licks it off her skin, and the question kind of drags your attention elsewhere.

You breathe in, slow.

Maybe she can feel it too, you think. Because Tzuyu drags the pad of her thumb against her bottom lip, and a question she doesn't ask flickers to life in her gaze: if you'll break or not, if there is an absolute limit.

But it’s impossible to read her. Tzuyu takes up this real easy-going disposition, all quiet and stoic, sort of, and maybe that's the dangerous part of her - the stillness. Other moments, she has this uncanny knack for conversation. She's charming in that way, you have always thought, a bright face. She has a keen understanding of things too - maybe sometimes too much; maybe a little bit beyond her years, really, a little too knowledgeable.

"When the gang does," you answer, diplomatically. “Sure, I suppose.”

There's another smile at that, which is how you know that the back and forth, this coolly cool, somewhat-stiff exchange is sort of becoming a game. A bet on who cracks, who turns. She won't tell you it's you, and you'll never in your right mind acknowledge her. It's some version of honesty. A bit like Russian roulette.

"I used to think we were friends, you know," she muses, like it's some great mystery - all very deliberately cryptic. Like it's funny.

"Hey, you were like, a teenager," you're grasping at straws. You’re spinning the bullet round the conversational chamber. “And I have this thing-”

"You have a thing?" Her eyebrow is raised again - sweetly challenging.

"-like, a principle, a standard - if there's nothing there, and let's face it: there's really not something here-"

"Aw," Tzuyu fakes pouting, which is simultaneously very mean and also like, painfully hot, and she makes this pitiful coo, "you really have nothing to say at all, do you."

Which. Fuck, she’s right. The 'thing' here is the no touching, the no messing, the no making anything resembling a move. She's sitting over there with her mouth covered in sugar, batting her goddamn eyelashes. Which you ignore, thank god for impulse control, or the instinct of it, and Tzuyu pushes a graham cracker past her lips to placate her own expression.

And so it goes. She keeps looking at you and looking and looking and you stare, transfixed, back at her. The edges of her jaw, the rise of her nose, the jutting curve of her collarbone; you say something dumb or clever and you're making her laugh, and every time she does, her teeth catch on her bottom lip and you could really do with a distraction right now, but it's impossible not to flirt.

It's just the way the universe has constructed you - this starvation, a twisted desire. There’s cruelty in the design.

(Things take a turn for the worse, of course. You don’t know how, but she gets to you agree that you two should've gotten closer in all that time-

"Well, I’m sure you were just so busy," you'd shrugged, indifferent, and she'd pressed the sleeve of her sweater to her mouth, just to hide how bright the smile was.

-which, honestly, fuck you - given all the context. Because now she's right here in the cabin; she's an arm's length away, and all this time, you've meant to stay the fuck out of reach.)

Tzuyu does the worst thing. She returns from the kitchen, hands full, with two squat tumblers and a bottle of dark brandy. She sets one down next to you and asks if you want some.

You look. You mean, what are you even supposed to do? It's a catch twenty-two, it's a joke - what can a girl be thinking, standing there. Bending the right way, hair framing a face like hers.

Yeah, sure - it’s the voice of someone who's slipping, who’s gonna say the same thing three more times. "Hm, why not."

The ice clinks against the glass. Then, the pour. Toast to good health, a clean conscience, safe passage; you’ll take whatever you can get.

You watch Tzuyu knock back an impressive amount and make an impressive face. There’s maturity there, you cope. Because you want to touch her jaw, thumb over her cheekbone, breathe baby, it's too strong, slow down on her lips, watch her mouth open slightly-

The fire pops.

She leans toward you. “Are you going to keep stealing stories from me, or are you going to supply anything good to the discussion?"

"About me, personally?" you say, purposefully pedantic.

Tzuyu’s smirk is half-present, half-playful. She sets down her tumbler on a coaster - Mina would be appreciative - and hums at you. “What do you think I mean?”

"I was really hoping the inflection would help clarify."

She levels a gaze with you. You fight back for a hot second - this slow-burning heat under the skin, your resolve threatening to buckle, shatter, spill itself everywhere - and in the end, she is the one that looks away, softly laughing, a pfft under her breath. You’re left the opportunity to just - look. See where the glow from the wood-burning fire has cast this gorgeous gold over her face, all her defined curves, her delicate features.

"I don't care, it could be anything," she poses, settling back into the pillows. Smiling. "Please. Entertain me."

Her cheeks are rosy. You realize, quite suddenly, you are not totally sober either. This is exactly how Sana talked you into something however many moons ago, then however many moons later, surgically unattached all the strings. Sana’s good at talking. At convincing. And you don't do shots like her, or apparently like Tzuyu does - but hell, it's that maddening, pretty little dimple of hers - the one that's always there when she does her mischievous smirk - a deeply devastating look, a devil-may-care demeanor, and you're dead-drunk on it, honestly.

"Want me to talk about Sana?" you offer, "seems like an obvious choice."

"I think you’re projecting," Tzuyu teases. “You just miss her, I'm sure.”

"Mhm. Sure."

Tzuyu makes a noise halfway between a chuckle and a snort, and draws the blankets more tightly around her. "What," she says, nonplussed, "who doesn't want to hear some gossip about their friends?"

You're fucking up, right? Fucking up the same way you did years ago when you caught the wrong kind of feeling for an entirely, altogether inappropriate woman. But you'll blame the drinks. And the mood. And the ambience, the fucking fire that's almost suffocating, the closeness of her body next to you-

"Hey," you say, and it's such a mistake. You're pointing to a spot on your chin. You're making it worse. "You got a little, uh-"

You watch as she lifts her hand, glides it through the air - brushes her own cheek with her fingertips, smoothing out an imagined blemish.

"Did I get it?"

"Uh, well, sorta-" and she knows you’re lying.

Tzuyu tries again. Comes up short, and when her hair falls in front of her face, she’s looking at you like maybe you’ll help take care of that too. She’s a total fucking coquette - though maybe she hasn’t even done it on purpose, maybe she's just that unaware, innocent. Not the second one, you figure. You're leaning, tilting closer and closer to her - in any other scenario, there'd be the shortest possible time between her touching herself and you, cupping her jaw with one of your hands.

But your mouth feels like it's moving of its own accord. "No, wait, let me help you," you continue, before you know it.

Isn’t it disastrous; all ice and hazard, this is the advisory in effect; a napoleon-goes-to-russia caliber calamity, a colossal write off, a write in. You could have, should have stopped, except you didn't and now you're reaching, gently, until your palm cups the side of her face - until you press, until you hold her steady. Her head tilts. She lets you, blinking up. Her eyes are this hazy, intoxicated coffee-brown, honeyed and burnt and fucking beautiful.

You swipe your thumb along her bottom lip. The gesture is slow, languid, intentional; you think, through some cosmic error, that might just be the end of it.

"There," you say, smiling, naive.

"Yeah," Tzuyu breathes out, and she winds her fist into the fabric of your shirt. "Thanks."

You lean, or she does; you go down, or she pulls you; there's no difference, really.

She is kissing you, this soft little press. A tug in every direction. You hadn’t kissed her, at the very start, but when her fingers thread through your hair, gripping hard, bringing you closer until you groan, parting your lips slightly, and - and her tongue flits past yours - your brain does this wild mental leap that you ought to be questioning later.

But everything starts to sink.

One of your hands lands on her waist, thumb slipping under the hem of her sweater and pressing against bare skin, and her knee nudges between both of your legs - until Tzuyu hums this low, pretty sound in her throat. There is something fervent here, all-consuming, devouring; her mouth moves like it's frantic for air, for oxygen and fuel, and her whole body melts under yours like she's completely falling apart.

Fuck, you think. There is a deep, smouldering heat in the pit of your stomach.

Because she’s perfect. You always knew that, didn’t you. She is firelight and perfume and muted gold; everything else falls into shadow, fades into the background. Her lips are velvet-soft, and they open again and again with these heavy exhales of hot air - so much so that you have to shift the hand you'd set on her waist lower, a little, her hip bone under your palm, a touch ghosting towards the dip and the swell.

Somehow you have this knowledge: at the end of everything, it'll be her name falling helplessly off your tongue.

"You were wrong by the way,” she stops to say.

"About-" You press another kiss into her jaw, and her mouth parts around the same slow sigh. "Wait." You lean back enough to look at her again.

“Whatever you said earlier." Tzuyu’s eyes go half-lidded as she starts petting your hair back into place, thumb stroking your jawline. "I'd have made time."

Oh, christ-

"Because to tell you the truth," her tongue wets her lip, shiny, wet, "I've never really forgotten. Like I just thought, that whole thing was so… fleeting, you know, like the last time, when you let me text you - god, I was crushing so hard."

You breathe, shaking your head.

"Don’t," is what comes out of your mouth after, quick, sharpened.

“Don’t what?” Tzuyu taunts, pushing another inch further. That small grin on her face, her long, nimble fingers combing through your hair.

You are trying to think, and there was an apology, right? You'd had this one in you. The one that began as a guilty soliloquy, a rueful acknowledgement; something that should have been directed toward Tzuyu, told her, at one point, or another: look. Sorry it's like this.

But there is a hand tracing the collar of your shirt - a sensation that follows all the way to the base of your throat; you lean further into her touch, almost involuntarily - a simple motion, and yet. "You shouldn't. You shouldn't say things like that to me," and you mean: these things you already know. "It's not good."

"Doesn't feel that bad," she tells you, a breezy sort of whisper, warm. "I think I'm getting the opposite impression."

"Maybe for the wrong reasons," you remind her. And to remind yourself, actually. "Probably for the wrong reasons - trust me, it is.”

"Trust you," and it’s the slightest bit ridiculing, a tease - Tzuyu drops her smile, pulls you in by the hair, whispers low. "Sure," the syllable soft, pressed against your throat, "I trust you not to hurt me," and the 'not' gets hung on for an impossibly long moment, stretched out thin.

She's sinister; she has to be, or some amalgamation of the most potent version of every word she’s ever said. A dream girl, the definition and essence of a temptress, this shameless attraction - an insistent siren begging for your attention; the incepting mind-game; the entity that stalks the halls in the deepest trenches of the night, whispering your worst fears right into your ear. You fall further into Tzuyu, the prettiest of nightmares.

(Oh, it's the dimple that does you in, really: if there's any possible way that Chou Tzuyu has unintentionally ruined your life, she's done it with that innocent little smile.)

"You can kiss me again," Tzuyu says, permissive.

And you do. You kiss her, and kiss her like you’ve no choice - like you've decided, at least in this very moment, if Tzuyu can own a piece of your soul, you can take something too.

(The thing about a cautionary tale: sometimes it is really just a story. Sometimes it happens and the world is left unscathed. There were a lot of warning signs, yes. But this could be a coda, a moralistic adage, a story to turn the page on and laugh and be embarrassed by and say, oh, no, I'd definitely do better; a blip. We’d never do anything like that. It's all history, honestly.)

It's not romantic, and it's less gentle than you’d have expected: Tzuyu bites your lip at one point, and you grab her hip so hard she yelps. The pause in the after is filled with a provocation, a stare, a tilt of your head, and her saying, “hey, easy now.” You cup her face in your hands, and run your thumb over lips. The calm is pretty short-lived. She gets her hands working frantically to tear your shirt off over your head. Then it's a haphazard stumble into the doorframe of the bedroom, with her pulling you in too-hard by the waist, bumping your nose against hers in this rough meeting - until your lips fit together.

“Mm,” Tzuyu’s mouth pushes insistently into yours and your tongue immediately laves at its underside, coaxes it to slide against yours and soon she’s sliding forward on purpose - on her own initiative, pressing the steady line of your cock against the seam of your pants, the pressure sudden.

"Watch it," you murmur, breaking away a little to glare at her, which just makes her smile, like she likes pissing you off or something, likes watching you get mad at her, or whatever - if she says it's true, then it is, probably - she's honest.

Her small hand darts up, gripping the sides of your jaw tightly and moving in, kissing like it's easy; like she knows what the fuck she's doing. Her head tilts and she does it again, except it's a few times in a row, making out in the doorway.

"And if I say no?" She grins, hand at your dick again, just palming through the fabric and getting off on your soundless reactions to it all. "Like, is that really enough? I feel like you'd have to like - tie me up. Something - you know?"

"That sounds like a you problem."

A mischievous smile steals across her lips and you feel yourself doing the same. "Yeah, you're right," she responds, dragging her thumb and forefinger from the zipper of your jeans to the hard line of your cock, pinching gently along the shape. "It is my problem."

She feels pliant, more than willing, but it's a calculated type of softness. Still, you get a hint, a vague message and you figure, the way this girl's smirking in her lips: she likes being held down, held fast and steady, so you pin her wrists above her head - her eyes stay on you, don't drop; you pin her, and her expression becomes that shade more dark, more teasing. Oh, you'll go slowly, you think, until Tzuyu gives. You'll climb a hand further under her sweater, let it skim over her ribs. You'll kiss her again, open-mouthed, and slow, until she can't breathe.

Her head knocks into the wall, she bites and smiles like a promise, and all her muscle flexes under your grip. "Oh, seriously," Tzuyu whispers into your mouth. "Y'know, this is like a fantasy of mine.”

And that's kind of it: she has that look. In the morning, you can see yourself chasing her down into sheets - just pinning her with the weight of your whole body, feeling each tensed curve of her against you. She pulls you closer, into her; she seems the type.

"I’d really rather not hear that, Tzu.”

"And I want to hear you say please, more than anything," Tzuyu laughs at herself, something hard in it, "but I think you want to fuck me so bad, it'll come naturally. Like, the second you have your fingers inside me. And that's what you want, right? Tell me."

"I'm thinking about your legs,” you tell her, running your palm around the curve of her thigh. Fuck, she’s perfect. “Think they'd fit around my waist."

"And hook my ankles? I’d love that." Her eyes crinkle. "Is that it, though?"

"Maybe I'd keep my hand on your throat and fuck you like that, too. That's on the table."

Tzuyu laughs: a real, actual sound, but not at you. "It is. You're smart."

"To be completely transparent," you mutter. "I don't plan on asking you very nicely at all."

The lines in Tzuyu's face go a little blissful, contented, like she's so, so pleased with this, like she approves, and she kisses you again, the length of your bodies pressed together, except where her hips cant up and meet the space between your thighs. You drag a hand roughly along her waist, kneading muscle there, down to the rise of her jeans - which, fuck, you need to help her shimmy out of and find the pull of the sweater, whatever - and she grinds out some noise, something caught between her throat and her teeth, but mostly in the place where your hand's dragged under the material, tugging gently at the wire of a bra, and you'd actually kind of forgotten it was a thing.

It's when you hear her own rasp, when she slips the side of your zipper open with a few quick strokes, shoving her fingers inside to hold the base of your cock, that you finally decide:

She's yours and you'll prove it. You'll make sure she knows: the evidence, the fingerprints, the bruises blooming the size of your thumbs and she'll be the one showing them off with pride. She'll let you do whatever you like, which'll be a lot. She'll appeal to all the worst parts of you; she'll say thank you; she'll whimper while you're pulling her bra off and simply letting it flutter to the ground; she'll be crying within the first half an hour of you touching her. You can read it right off her gorgeous face. She'll be so damn breathtakingly-pretty, bouncing on your cock, folded under your weight - it'll be incredible. She'll be yours.

"Come on," Tzuyu breathes. "Yes. Please," she adds, as though it's an afterthought, her free hand tangling in your hair, pulling. "Hurry, or something - I fucking love this but we need to- I’m literally going to, like, die if you don’t touch me right now."

"Yeah," is what you get out. Her jeans finally fall to her ankles and she kicks, to get them to puddle onto the floor. "Yeah. Alright, maybe."

You won't even need to hear her begging, you already know how she sounds: a little annoyed and very turned on, rolling her eyes at herself. This part - she's playing at resistance, but she's giving in. A kiss back, hotter than you were expecting, as you slip a hand up the back of her bare thigh and the edge of her underwear, a thin strip, like it's done on purpose.

When you tuck a finger inside the waistband, feeling a little guilty about the way her whole body reacts - the flex, the pull, the weight of all her muscle straining against how her legs fall open - Tzuyu manages, her face in the hollow of your cheek: "you've waited long enough, right?"

God, she knows where the wounds are still fresh. Which bruises will hurt most when she puts a finger right into one - a reminder you couldn't possibly ignore. She's playing this whole thing a little bit sadistically; she wants this to be your fault, you can tell.

And your mind isn't unbending. You push a finger into her cunt and the girl absolutely shakes apart, body jerking like you've severed a lifeline. She's so wet, and so pretty, so sensitive. Maybe you really have.

"Tzu," you tell her. The hand in your hair tightens, a warning, as you let two, then three, fingers shove inside her. She's breathless; the slow, rough motions, her entire body riding the heel of your palm. "Do you want me to tell you how good you are for me, right now? Is that it?"

"Yeah - do. Please, fuck - please say it."

"I was right," is what you manage, biting your tongue.

"Right?" She asks, her fingers locked, urging your thrusting to turn punishing. "Please."

"Do you want me to make this a nice, pretty little memory? Suck the bitterness out and - have something sweet to go back to, the next time someone hurts you."

"I can take it." She snaps, not even responding to your comment. "Tell me you need me and you're leaving me no choice."

You smile into her hair, because she's a dream. Your thumb pushes into her clit and you can feel her seize up with a pathetic whine.

"Pretty," you mutter, as she slumps her chest to yours. You kiss it right into her hair. “I need you, Tzu.”

And the idea's seductive: keep her pinned and fuck her right into the wall. See her wrecked by the end; the swell of her thumb bloody from how she was biting into it, how she's wrenching at your wrist. Your lips land over her collarbone - no, hers do, to the side of your head - she'd be bent in half if it wasn't for the wood at her back. Her leg crossed in the small of your back. A proper, all-consuming kind of wrecking, with your name on it.

"Yes." Tzuyu nods into your temple, “just- that.”

You're kissing the crook of her neck; your fingertips sliding right against the end of her, your fingers pressing into her and stretching the girl to her limits, making her tremble in her own skin, making her insides melt for the next round, and the next round, and the next; the best, and worst, and longest-lasting kind of high. Your fingertips push together, flutter apart, and Tzuyu's eyes open all of a sudden, locking onto yours.

"Please," she gasps, this one thing. She has tears in her eyes: her face falls into your hands like water, a long drip, and she's all but unraveling.

"I'm going to make you cum, okay?" you tell her, and it sounds so sincere that she simply nods. She trusts you. Implicitly. You see how something in her relaxes, muscles unwinding as though for one last moment. Then you lean down, to her ear, to murmur: "say you're mine."

Her teeth are gritting. You can feel every last point.

"Just yours," she mutters, and it's barely even audible, but she'll say it: over and over, as her orgasm builds, before her mouth goes slack. "Always been. From the very beginning, please-"

“Fuck,” you bite down, and she looks like she’s won.

“So long, y’know?” she manages, in her halting voice, as if you haven't got two fingers up her sweet, perfect cunt, which is, currently, gripping the shit out of your hand, the hungry slutty muscle spasms, a slippery fist; it's not too hard getting Tzuyu to talk dirty and vulgar like a total degenerate - all it takes is the circle of your thumb and she’s perfect and pliant and absolutely out of her mind. “Since like, forever-”

You need her to stop. Need her to be quiet. Your palm lands over the shape of her mouth. She's murmuring something else, but it's muffled - and that's perfect, really. You’re not going to hell; all the devils are already here, getting off on the impropriety-

On the fucking drag of your fingertips. If it isn’t mean, it’s definitely cynical. Each curl of a knuckle unwinding her, a little more, a little further. The gush of her slick that’s collected on the webbing between your fingers is getting unruly, and you’re pressing her mouth flat against your hand, muffling the sheer appreciation.

“Shh,” you tell her, and she seems to calm - insofar you find a spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back and her chest shudder. “Don’t. Hold still for me, I want to watch you cum, Tzu.”

The only thing you can hear beyond the stilted breathing against your hand is her wet cunt getting stretched and fucked on your fingers. It’s so simple. So straightforward. The front of her orgasm makes her jolt against your hips and you pin her again, just to see those gorgeous eyes opening and shutting in sync.

It's this beautiful thing, watching her cum; her flushed cheeks, her pupils blown.

"Good girl," is the only thing you manage in response. "Such a good - such a good little-"

She moans into your hand and finally the muscles of her core tighten, tipping over the precipice as she tips back from the edge. "Ah, you - oh, it feels so-”

You tell her not to talk, and thumb her sensitive clit until the girl's screaming.

Her cries cut through the hallway: the friction, your movements - she's grinding desperate to ride her own orgasm. The absolute highs wracking her silent. She doesn't seem capable of getting off her tiptoes, or opening her eyes properly. Her mouth's still gaping beneath your palm with a whimper, her lungs heaving, and her cunt practically burning-hot - or, she just is, she's overheating, and everything else is burning around her.

"I'm going to fuck your pretty little cunt, Tzu," you tell her as her hips jump and her eyes open. You drop her leg, which buckles instantly. "You're going to be good for me, won’t you?"

"Yes, sir," Tzuyu promises you - it makes you wince - like she'd say anything else, with her hips pushing into your hand like she can't remember how not to.

Even with her brain turning to mush, Tzuyu finds it within her to tease, to pull, to coax - as her slick slides down the seam between your fingers, like she's gushing, a wet ribbon coating the backs of your knuckles. There's a fantasy in it, you think - and it's always the unapologetic type, like, they never admit it: they want the dirt, the debasing. There's always a blueprint to it; they want to hear how terrible it is and then have some fun playing into it, playing a part.

Only Tzuyu’s lip is wobbling; she’s looking at you like you’re going to fuck her apart and she’ll thank you for it. There's no play. Tzuyu wants your cum and she's so open-legged about it you can't pretend it's not exactly that simple.

She’s going to fall apart if you don’t shove your cock in her tight cunt. You need to pin her there - fuck her until she’s shaking. You can already see the face she’ll make when you shock yourself inside her-

"What is it, baby?" you ask her, and a beat later, you draw your zipper down with a steady hand, the other working in her mouth, pressing down the tip of her tongue - not exactly holding, not exactly pulling out of her.

Tzuyu sighs, heavy on her eyelids and slow. Very pretty.

"I want-" Her head is lolling. She's in a daze, now, you can tell: her mouth wet and trembling, her legs kicking weakly, a full-bodied tremor overcoming her. Everything wraps around you as your cock slides inside her: the pale-soft underside of her legs, her slender arms. All those lovely, endless tensed lines, her strong abs. She can hold you like this, with only her abdomen tightening, the rest of her almost liquid. Her head knocks into yours. "Fu-fuck my cunt, fill it, please.”

You use the angle, the approach. Her pussy's practically spasming on the thick tip, milking the hardness there - but the deeper, more confident strokes, you feel it in every one of her shaky breaths. The only thing you can see is Tzuyu's dumb little doe eyes, the one-to-two second interval, fluttering in between slow, heavy blinks. The walls of her pussy are all at once so gentle and smooth, her cunt a plush, warm vice on your cock; she's clinging, and hot, and you're so buried inside you could probably pick her apart with a few words alone:

"Please," she's muttering to herself, and every single cry gets stuck in her mouth and vibrates between the both of you.

Your fingertips hook into the curve of her waist, until your nails are sinking into the flesh, pinching gently, and watching her expression twist, you grip her hips with all the bruising-strength in your hands, yank her back onto your cock. Her spine goes rigid as a line of curses fall like rain from her mouth. A shuddering gasp - you have to steady her against you, where her knees lock tight around your waist as though she's worried you're leaving, like she's scared you won't stay-

"Baby," you grit out, like you'd beg too, "Oh- fuck, my baby, you're - you're all mine, okay."

You bury yourself balls-deep - and there's no pretense, it's just you and her, the pace making Tzuyu's little repeating "ah" go choppy with your thrusting, her eyes clamping shut, her limbs locking around you.

"Too deep," she groans. "Jesus, it's-"

"Uh uh," you mutter against the bend of her chin, and press in, still, maybe just to spite her. "Fight me. If it's too deep."

There’s tears in her lashes, she’s sobbing; you’re fucking her so properly you think she wants to kill you. It might even be written into that glossy expression: death, your demise. But her pretty eyes glint with mischief and her lips split into a grin.

"Try me," and this laugh, coming up from your chest - low, amused. "Go ahead. Put my neck in your hand, if you want-"

There's only ever a couple of moves. Like in chess, the combinations repeat, patterns emerge. Tzuyu pulls into your kiss; her wrist pinned to the wall behind her with one of your hands, the other knocking her thighs apart. Her ankles hook into your hips, just as you knew they would. There are so few options for a person; the only solution's the natural one - the urge to match each other's needs; to lose yourself in the easy push and the easy pull.

It doesn't take long before she opens up beneath you: until there's nothing between the hard pound of your hips and her tender, creaming cunt. Then there's that final gasp, this violent pulse as she takes her hands back from you to cup around your ears and press her lips to the line of your cheekbones and nose and mouth, with her tear-slick skin and saliva and, god - she's a whimperer, you now know, but Tzuyu holds her body still enough to not sway. The picture-perfect example of a good little girl -

That's how you push your mouth to hers: the steady-languid thrust of your cock between the hot clamp of her legs. "Oh, god, you’re gonna make me cum again, christ," her cries go, all muffled, right into your lips. She’s a little lost. Fucked-out. Blissful.

It's not right, though; just pinning the girl against a wall - no, she deserves better. You don't let her fall as you drag her into the bedroom. Not until a tumble into the sheets. She doesn’t try to control the fall, you land on top of her, and Tzuyu laughs a little, but it dies into the hard breaths you can feel bouncing back against your mouth. Her soft thighs pressed beneath your weight, quivering still.

"Fuck your cum into me," She huffs out, softly, more air than noise. You’re practically crushing her. And then the tilt of her head, almost inviting, like a question. "Please. I want it."

In hindsight, the real memory of this moment will be a soft and lovely thing - fabricated mostly: her tiny frame shaking, trembling in its effort to take you in, her voice giving out around a cry as she cums again - there's something sacred there, surely, a holiness that isn't altogether safe, considering what this girl is.

You’ll try not to remember how you fucked her and buried your face between her tits, though she did look up at you through her tears and made it sound sweet, said your name just so, or even the fact that she watched her whole body get filled and only smiled with contentment. That part won’t survive - nor the fact you’ll hold the girl down later and cum inside her three times. Until she’s leaking. Details to be confined to Mina’s cabin-secrecy - or at least, to whatever depth of oblivion, past your will to suppress it, her mind reaches when you bury your hand in her hair and pull her head back to really make sure you've hit every corner of her and left your cum there, marking her insides, turning her warm.

And look, Tzuyu doesn't balk. Instead she lets you pull her in close, her nails raking into the nape of your neck, the muscles under your skin. She drags scratches down your back as you sink into her cunt, hot, willing - she’s so fucking wet you’re bottoming out in each sloppy thrust.

"Tzu," you can't stop yourself from muttering, almost reverent. You were right, on all accounts. The girl is a problem.

One that is currently collapsing under you. You push her knees up to her elbows, and all her weight melts under your hands, limp and helpless.

"Fuck, your pussy is unbelievable.” You shouldn’t be fucking her this hard, but, well, you are - “Tzuyu, baby,” and when your hand comes up to her jaw, she palms it. Takes your thumb into her mouth and sucks. Fuck, it’s all slipping, consuming, you need to cum in her, need to bury your cock deep in her cunt and cum right into that wet sopping mess. Fill her up where she’s molten hot and her walls are gripping you so hard they’re practically begging-

"Yeah," she repeats around the digit, flitting her tongue against your fingertip. “Yeah. Cum for me.”

That's how she likes it. She'll scream, if you let her. If you give her the deepest fill. She’ll apologize and she won’t know for what. You already know how her expression will shift as soon as it hits. Head falling back. Her hands fisting in your hair, the bedding - her knees nearly get drawn up, and you push them apart by your fingertips. She whimpers, and whimpers, and you can't stop from fucking the pretty noises right out of her lungs until she's dripping - soaking you, all over the sheets. You want her to feel it when you leave. Your presence. It’s only fair - she should remember some part of you, in exchange for what she’s traded and stolen away - ideally forever.

You thumb at the tear tracks and lift her by a fistful of that pretty dark hair. And for her, you can be kind, you let your lips graze hers. As tenderly as you can manage, which isn't much, but then the angle settles lower, your cock hits deeper, all the right spots - and god, Tzuyu is so easy to fuck. She slips a little, and you’re catching her, pushing deeper, harder - she’s easy to pound too, to hold down and smother and grind deep, to have under you, all boneless, insensible-

"So pretty for me, Tzu," you growl into the shell of her ear, because you can, and another stroke, another velvety drag has you cumming in her hot, little cunt.

Each throb brings more, pumping her full of your cum, and she likes it. Keeps muttering baby, baby please in your ear, and fuck, you almost slip a hand down and make her fall apart too - but - her fingers wrap around your wrist before they get there, so tight.

"Can feel it. So deep," she whispers, when your eyelids screw shut and the mess floods out of her - gets fucked right back in: your hot cum and her thick slick, the creamy mess leaking from her cunt. You pull your cock out halfway, and she does sob - that sounds just like you'd imagine, too. "Please. Oh, my god- sir. That's it. That's it, let it out, sir. Sir, all your cum feels so good in me - please. Please- just give it to me, sir, yes-"

She’s not even taunting or mocking on that ‘sir,’ you think, not the way she sounds now, the halfway-slur. It's all torn up and tired. It makes you press closer, making the head of your cock swell between the thin walls of her pussy. It hurts - the squeeze. And then the soft, pleading sound she makes.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," you groan, a last attempt at a condescending tone. But she's so raw, so broken down by now that nothing is quite right.

"Fuck," she mutters against your mouth, "fuck, thank you," and your palm drags down the length of her sternum, following the angle of her jaw, slipping your palm onto her tits, thumbing at the indent. It's soft, pliant skin, and you pinch: not anywhere sharp or cruel, not especially sensitive, just in a line below the ridge of her rib cage, and it's too pretty a picture not to smile at her, when her entire chest jolts at the contact, the intake of breath. "Sir. Fuck."

"I'm still fucking you later," you assure her, as if her breathing could've convinced you otherwise. "But I wanna hear your voice some more. Hum a little. Give me a yes, sweetheart. Can you do that?"

The noise is barely audible, almost nonexistent, except it is: she hums her assent as you dip two fingertips back into her swollen, well-fucked cunt, scooping out some of the mess. Your fingers hook into her cheek and her mouth opens, because she's so obedient, because that's why it has to be like this.

You rub her bottom lip. Her eyes open into yours; a wet mouth. It's impossible not to see what's right there. It's easy, really, to press through and in, and give her that taste, that warm, velvety brush, like she's been sucking your cock, and maybe - oh, yeah, you'll remind her about it tomorrow, how she's a needy little slut for it, can't get enough - how you could've fucked her face until she was drooling and out-of-her mind - but the way her eyelashes flutter against your touch; the look-

You’ll take your time. You know what she wants: more than anything. It's the thing you can read. Maybe the hot, sticky mess, the flush in her cheeks. A touch to her face. Your thumb in her mouth, too, stretching, prying, holding. More cum falling beneath her tongue, dripping in those gaping, half-open red lips.

She’s licking your load from your knuckles, your Tzuyu. You can’t believe it.

"Swallow," you tell her.

"Mmm," and it’s there: this gorgeous expression on her features, her eyelids dropping, the shimmer, the shine. You'd do anything to keep it there.

You let your thumb leave the corner of her mouth and it stays open, just the tip of her tongue darting out to taste what little she can. The rest of her lulls back with a satisfied murmur, eyes half-closed, clearly the type of content-afterglow of wanting the man who'd just ruined her. A gratitude, or a simple, silly thing, if he would just pick her up in his arms: "thank you, sir."

Her panties end up back around her hips, and a new shirt's thrown haphazardly on, a soft, gray cotton which rides down, slipping past one pale shoulder. And then she turns over, to the side, her back curling into the heat of your chest. There's no attempt at leaving or any plans either. The arm you've loosely wrapped around her waist simply tugs. It's not subtle or even nice: your hand rucks up the fabric and snaps the waistband, and the soft cotton doesn't stop it from being painful.

"Fuck me again." Tzuyu shakes off with a shrug. She's wiggling her ass, practically. She's not wrong, you suppose - your cock hardens easily, more of a reaction. "Are you just going to - keep teasing?"

“Such a brat,” you say, and that makes her whole body tense; she makes the most beautiful sounds for you, but words, praise, humiliation - those always hit harder. You know your girl.

"Your brat," says Tzuyu, easily. "You can do whatever you want."

Your grip on her hip is brutal. Of course you know. That doesn't mean you can't look for loopholes, anyway, right? You don't move, but the threat's there.

The look she shoots over her shoulder is smug. "I like it rough, or something. Doesn't it make you mad that someone could've had me before?"

"Should I be?" You're swiping your cockhead through her folds before you have a chance to say, "Should I care that some guy's had my little cocksleeve before? Should I be angry that someone used my pretty toy before I got to?" You thumb at the tightness, and Tzuyu gives up the front immediately and jerks her hips backward. "If I wasn't the first?"

"Not exactly," comes Tzuyu's mild answer, "not if I was always thinking of you. Plus, they didn't make me feel like that." She tips her head up, to nip at your jaw. She's smiling so fucking coy when she adds: "please, don't hurt me too bad."

You wrap your hands around her. Press a kiss into her shoulder.

“Or do, maybe. Whatever feels natural, you know," she bites down.

"The hickeys are going to be difficult," you agree. "People are gonna see them and they'll picture themselves, probably, with you spread out, huffing, gasping - fucking you out of a brain."

"As they should," she says, and then hums this low, heartfelt note into the mattress. "So how hard can you do this, hm?" She's moaning into the pillow as you slip back into her cunt, but it's a challenge, the tilt in her voice. "Like, if I ask, real nicely."

Who’d have ever guessed she was so filthy. All hidden behind the pristine, the perfection. The prim girls are always the worst: all that beauty means more to them wrecked than revered - it means they've won, again.

Well, that works just fine. She's won you over.

You lean into her shoulder, murmuring, “you’re pushing your luck here, Tzu.”

“Am I?” Her head tilts back until it finds the curve of your jaw. Those deep brown eyes flashing. She knows what’s coming, her pussy tightening prettily. "I'm sorry, sir. I’ll clean up my act."

And the little smile. The fucking dimple, proudly stitched into her cheek - right as you pull her back onto you again, your length working its way slowly into her cunt. The way her ass fits in your hips lets you know you're no match for this girl: how unbelievably good it feels to be inside her. Hot, tight, wanting. Pressed tight between her gorgeous thighs.

“Guess I never noticed,” she says, before falling quiet with the soft punch of breath as you drag her backwards, against your body and the rocking press of your hips. Her eyelashes tremble while your cock nudges its way fully inside her pussy. The rest, as it seems, is silent: only the crash of skin, the sound of your breathing.

You’re already gathering her hair into your fist when you tug her back to your waist, mouth hovering right at the shell of her ear: "fuck, you take my dick like you're made for it. Do you even know how good your pussy feels? I'll ruin you if you let me. We can find out together," you tell her, pulling her back onto your cock. A wordless, pained, perfect whimper.

Tzuyu lets herself go slack against your chest.

She's taking you like a dream and that's it, that's enough, all you've got to say, and Tzuyu, jesus-fucking-christ, she does it with a laugh: this awful, melodic, bright, sweet, airy fucking thing: "don't fucking test me, Tzuyu -" you repeat, a warning.

Tzuyu bats those long lashes, like it'll mean anything, like this isn't all the proof you need.

"Okay. Don't tease, then.” Her hand reaches up to the nape of your neck, finds your body close and hot. She sighs. “I want to feel it, sir. So much that I can't walk after. That I'll still have you in me. I want it all to hurt. Is that too much?"

All she does is try to hide her smiles, and she's terrible at it. There's a gasp buried underneath her giggling, one that Tzuyu loses every time she moves her body with yours. There are only two conclusions now: either she's that perfect of a fuck or she's as full of shit as you are. Either way, the dimple's giving her away - her smile, her lips, the full, syrupy brown of her gaze.

Tzuyu wraps that leg up and back around you and the angle is devastating.

"Baby, I want you- I want your cock deeper - yes, baby. Deeper - as deep as it'll go. I want you to fuck me until I can’t think, until there's nothing I can do. Seriously. Fuck me."

Her hand dives over the shirt; there's no question when your gaze follows the trail she takes over her tensing body, over the curve of her breasts and down to where she's dragging at her pussy, where she's exposed herself. She finds the space and lets the fingertips flutter down, onto her needy, swollen clit; the place where your bodies join and separate; the throbbing pulse of her pussy.

"And then fuck me some more,” she adds, like that'll help. Her pussy fits you like a glove - it’s not fair. It’s not right.

But she's so beautiful up close, eyes fluttering in pure, concentrated rapture as she loses the tension in her face - one more thing that the facets, angles, and shades of Tzuyu become, something you tuck away in a vault somewhere safe; a secret just between the two of you.

Her hand runs up your thigh, fastens back on your hip. “You owe it to me, to use my body a little bit, don’t you think?”

There's no sense fighting it, not anymore - maybe there never was - and when you grip Tzuyu's upper thigh, tilt her leg upwards, she gives you an anticipatory hum. This light sound. An ankle lands over your hip, and what follows is a tight, enveloping slide, your cock buried in her wet pussy. So close together that she can't move much at all except to take it - the hard thrust, the one that forces its way up to the hilt. She's impossibly, overwhelmingly soft, a pleasure unlike any other. The absolute worst kind.

She knows exactly the danger of getting involved with you, and when she cums, once, again, and once more - her eyes water, her voice flooded - you think, so do you.

It’s in the hours of the morning that’re not quite today, nor quite tomorrow when Tzuyu leans on the end of the bed as she stretches. A loose t-shirt is draped over her petite body - you glance over at her as the bottom of the fabric lifts, exposing more skin across her legs. No matter the circumstances, the space she inhabits will always feel charged. She could wear a potato sack and have the same effect, you suppose, because that's just how she is: Tzuyu is magnetizing.

"That is definitely not yours," you say, finally.

The girl has a lovely arch to her back, a golden glow of perfection that you can't find elsewhere. That's when Tzuyu laughs and spins around. "Is that a question?"

You only have yourself to blame. Of course it's not hers. The shirt's oversized and could fit all five feet, eight inches of her like a tent. It doesn't belong to her, but her heart-shaped lips make you feel stupid, so you're giving her a second chance. You really need that shirt back. You packed light, it's your favorite tee, it’s a family heirloom, or something - whatever makes her get it off, you guess. You sit up against the bed, and watch her fingers hook into the hem as it slowly peels off from her frame.

And that is - a vision.

You already knew - but it's worth repeating, or forgetting your name and every last bit of your existence for; the sharp collarbone, the striking red lines beneath them, the palest, sweetest chest. Her breasts, a bit smaller, a bit rounder than normal (not that you would know), sit heavy in her hands, soft and full - oh, the hickeys, the perfect peaks and the bruised nipples - she's an aphrodisiac.

"I want one later," she tells you, and runs a hand over her breast, pressing against the angry red marks that color the pale skin.

"A shirt?"

She turns back toward the mirror, an image reflected tenfold - a beautiful flush on her high cheekbones. It's only a small win to think that those rosy cheeks are there because of you. Only a little one, if at all. "One of yours, sure."

You laugh, but she looks taken aback. "What, you mean like a keepsake?"

"Hey, if it smells good." Tzuyu brings up the neckline to her nose, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second before they snap closed. "Yes. Like a keepsake, is that so unnatural?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you are, like, really forward." You thought you knew, but there's this part of you that wonders. Why the sudden revelation. "Not that it isn't obvious. I meant...with the rest. Just to clarify."

"With sex, you mean?" Her smile turns a little sheepish. "I can tone it down a little. I don't even notice sometimes, I just talk."

You walk forward and wrap your arms around her waist. You fit easily around her. "Don't," you say, quietly, against the back of her neck. "It's nice, in a way."

She cranes her head to trade the reflection of your eyes for the real thing. Her body is soft, warm. "You like to talk too."

"Right."

"Your favorite past-time."

"Point taken." Your thumb runs down the middle of her breast and traces her nipple. It's tender, you note. You can’t really keep your hands off her waist, or stop touching her tits - because who would ever let something so delightful pass them by? Not you. No way. "Want to hear a story?"

"If it's coming from you," she whispers, a little smile, a lot of entendre, "I’ll listen to anything."

"Do you see the wall over there?" You nod to the window. She follows it with her gaze, her chin jutting towards your shoulder, her long neck arching. It's hard not to kiss it. There's a clear stretch of drywall beside her desk. She nods. "When I came here with Sana and Mina last," and your nose presses into her hair, inhaling her, the way she smells like something tropical: vanilla and citrus. Something far from here. "I put up a few paintings. I'm handy sometimes, a hammer seeking a nail sorta thing."

Tzuyu almost snorts, and sways a bit in your grasp. You tighten your hold, not wanting to drop her. "Oh?” she teases out, suggestive. “Show me."

(You shouldn’t. You can’t stop, frankly. Fucking Tzuyu is in its own category: the luxury, the treasure, the extravagance; feeling between your fingers the finest silk, the richest cashmere.

Her palms slide higher up the wall, fingers splayed. The curve of her back, the pull of her hair. Tzuyu kissing you like the world will end and the moon will be the first to know, her fists curling into your back, a furious, frantic urgency - Tzuyu fucking you. Well. Tzuyu always, always kissing you; it's the universe resetting, it's a timeline rewritten, it's trading everything sweet for salt, giving you teeth and tongue, the insides of her lip rubbed raw - she tastes like 80 Proof, a sticky, melting liquor, and it goes down too easy. "Why are you making this hard for me." It's not a question, her face in your neck - then she says, like there's a hundred other things, a hundred thousand ways you can ask:

"What makes you think I want to make this easy?")

The power goes out early in the morning.

Which means you're in the dark. But, it's alright. You consider for a moment the omen-like timing, if such an idea is ludicrous in the first place. This could be a metaphor. After all, what is Tzuyu if not a classic trope? It isn't fair to judge anyone based off their flaws. For starters, you have more than you can count. You consider a moment longer, that the timing isn't metaphor-worthy. After all, if this was a punitive force, you're certain that it would've been more apparent, more explicit, if the electric panel had burst into flames or the cable box was shot-out; something bigger, flashier, less like something that you'd play up for theatrics. And it probably would've been when you had the girl on all on fours, your handprints seared into the round of her ass-

Or, when she got on her knees. The snap of darkness setting in as you slipped your cock out of her lips and spilled a rope of hot cum on her face, in her hair. The way she just relaxed into it, a reverence to her being baptized, kneeling. “Oh, Tzu,” you said, with a fist around a cock, and jerked the rest right out on her tongue. You probably would have heard her sniffle after, still recovering from her choking a bit.

Or, when you had half a mind to kneel down between her legs in the shower, suck her clit until she was dripping, fucking her open with your tongue; you could taste her sweat, her slick, and imagine how hard it must be to put up that front: biting into a washcloth, trying not to fall apart.

(Karma arrives late, or it doesn't arrive at all. Or, something. Who knows. It doesn't matter. The outcome would have remained the same.)

Tzuyu opens the sliding glass door to the balcony.

You watch her from behind - there's a small pile of snow at the edge. The whole mountain has gone into complete darkness. No moon, no lights, no light poles, or blinking bulbs or strobe signs or house lights - just night. How eerily romantic, that. And if there was an excess amount of snow before, it only got heavier, thicker, now weighing on the steel bars of the railing.

Tzuyu rests her hands there, leaning her hips a bit forward, so far that her knees lock. Her back bends. "It's so weird," she breathes out, and you can see your exhales, both of yours. "I feel like you and I are the only ones here right now. Everyone else is probably taking shelter. Maybe the power went out for everybody."

"Maybe."

"It's all a bit spooky. Or creepy. But, exciting too, yeah?" She turns, just enough. Her fingertips run along the side of her face. "In the mountains, yes." She doesn't even need to say the rest, doesn't need to ask: does that appeal to you? All this isolation? I could scream and scream and nobody would ever hear it. I'm yours to fuck, to have, to own, to do anything to-

"It'll probably be fixed in the morning," you tell her. "Who would turn it back on tonight. To this place. They'll start at the closest areas to town and go out from there."

"Mina has a generator," Tzuyu supplies helpfully. "No living clue where."

"Want to look for it?"

She lets her head tilt, as if to follow the expanse of trees leading up into the rocky ground. "Would it kill us to wait for tomorrow?" Her bare toes curl into the floorboards. The blanket stays wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and a single line of her wrist can be seen when she tilts her arm a certain way. "We won't die or anything."

You wouldn't die, not before being smitten with a different death, falling headfirst and in love; and that's what you've felt since the start, since the beginning: you've always wanted more. It was always inevitable, her letting her weight fall backwards, in the living room - all your filthy secrets falling out. It felt like the sky had dropped. All over the bedroom floor.

"Then let's get some sleep," you say, but still step closer, as you do with anyone, to brush aside the strand of hair over her ear.

It feels like the temperature must have dropped dramatically. Not that it bothers either of you very much, you note, when you move under the blankets together. Some might feel embarrassed by the necessity, but then, most aren't half the people that you both are.

Tzuyu presses her fingers under her thigh to keep her legs shut. To avoid the cold, she claims, but you can hear the slippery noises that her cunt makes as her body shakes with each thrust of her fingers. You almost suggest that you heat her up in an entirely different fashion, but the smile, her smile, gets the best of you. Instead, you let yourself touch and trace, and feel her wherever it may land. There's no sense in pretending either, so you tangle yourself into her: a finger between her legs. Another in her palm, resting against her hip. When you press your thumb against her cunt, she begins to smile, too, as if to show you exactly what kind of person she is. That is to say, completely insatiable.

You let your free hand slip under her chin. Tilting her head up, exposing the faint pulse-points. You wonder if she's imagining the things you'd do if the snow never cleared: toying with her hair, petting the top of her head, speaking pretty and dirty and pressing kisses against her bare back, in a rhythm, as you fuck her without care - something close and tight like the little noises she makes and how they die off, finally, when you push your cock deeper, still.

There are no words between you anymore, maybe - but she's not laughing, and you're not angry, and it's only one second before your mouth is on her neck, kissing the column of her throat. It's easy to sleep with her - so, so simple, if not anything else.

"I don't have anything in the morning," you murmur to the top of her shoulder, barely moving as not to break the moment. To tell her it's fine to leave her body or keep it forever. Either way. Both, if it's an option.

She smiles. Her eyes are still closed. "It'd be weird if you did."

She can be a tease - a complete brat - sometimes. Like now. But then again, who would you be if not the person who falls for exactly that.

And that is a weakness: you have a very specific kind of hunger, that won't fade, that can only be sated. She knows it, and yet her coy grin remains. It's a habit, not a mistake. "Yeah, well," you lean up onto your forearm, pressing the knuckles of your right hand against her soft cheek. "This is the most inconvenient of all places, but- don't worry about it."

"Meaning?"

"I don't think they sell birth control or morning after pills or anything up here," you explain, lightly. Your gaze passes from her eyes to the pink of her bottom lip and back, again.

"Do I look like I'd care?" Tzuyu sighs and takes your wrist, pulling your arm over her body. "I know what I'm doing," she adds, which might actually be a lie. "Obviously. You don’t need to pretend you’re like, responsible, or whatever."

Yes, obviously. As if it was all as easy as pulling strings, deciding exactly which points to tease, to stress. You should know. You just kissed and held down and fucked and fucked your cum into this one: you know how to move her strings better than any.

You flip the switch in the kitchen. Up, down, up, down: except, nothing. The electricity is still decidedly off by mid-morning, and you and Tzuyu end up having actual, quality, conversation.

You sit her on the kitchen counter - though it’s not fated to last long, because her legs loop around your waist, and she tugs your sweats down as you try to fix the two of you lunch - Tzuyu gets what Tzuyu wants, of course - so you're standing there fucking her while her head leans back on the cool marble, her silky dark hair tumbling off the end of the counter.

She ends up propped up on one elbow. Eyes hazy and half-lidded, fixed on the glide of you into her creamy folds, spreading her wider, wider.

Tzuyu asks questions - all innocuous, at least to the ear. About your past. Who you were before all this. Whether you want kids, when, whether you were religious, once. She gets personal before you have her cumming and incoherent: how you sleep, in what positions. How often you jerk yourself off. What you're thinking of when you do. How you'd use her - not the lewd version, the spitting, filthy iteration, just the you and her and her being yours part. And she gets specific about that. She'll slide up to you and bury her nose in your throat, wrap her arms around your shoulders, mumble about wanting you closer - you feel her, maybe more than you should - but every few seconds you're sliding home into that pussy and her chest heaves out a deep breath-

"I want what's in here," she finally says, her delicate palm cupping your balls. She's pulling you into her on each stroke like the fucking sun's gone out and this is her last chance - she's magnetism, gravity, a blackhole you'd give up the rest of the universe to. She's got one fist on your shirt, and the other hand on your sack, and her pussy's fluttering around you, and she's watching you watching her, and it's infinity:

"The idea of you." Tzuyu smiles at the way your eyes narrow, the way the word turns itself over and over on your mind, her. She tilts her face to look at your expression. "Like, in here. All your cum. There's so much. Can I please have it-"

You swear.

"Pretty please, baby," Tzuyu's asking if you'll fill her up, if you'll make her your cumdump, keep fucking her even with all your cum inside her, asking what the worst of your fantasies are - you fuck harder, deeper, and she nods eagerly, tightens that fist in your shirt. "Can you give it to me? Please, it's the only thing I need, and we both know I always need something, please."

"Jesus fucking christ," you tell her, helpless, and it's never felt better: her cockwarming on your lap, her teasing and teasing until your self-control's paper thin - won't you? won't you? fucking breed this slutty little cunt? won't you cum until I'm so full it's spilling out-

The snap. Like falling, it’s something you notice right away, but only ever understand a long ways down.

"Yours," moans Tzuyu, half in an accusatory fashion - fuck - she's almost gasping: "fuck - just use me, use your cumdump, 'cause you'll never have a tighter cunt than this."

God. Damn. Her. You cum so hard it aches, and there's no hesitation:

"My cocksleeve, my good girl, shit-"

"You could leave a baby in me, even, just like that. Couldn't you. Isn't that hot. And nobody could do a fucking thing." Tzuyu’s tits are spilling out the sides of her camisole and she looks like pure porn, in person. Your cum is dripping out of her and you watch as it spills on the marble.

"Is that what my girl wants?

She smiles, again, so prettily.

“You wanna be full of cum, is that it?" You grab Tzuyu's hair; pull just enough to get the point across. "Is that it? You're a perfect cumslut who needs all that fucking cum, huh? Wants it pumped deep? You like being full of it, right Tzu? This needy little cunt loves the thought of getting bred? Knocked up? Goddamn, Tzu."

"That's me," agrees Tzuyu, in the afterglow. Dimple dug deep. "Yeah. Your personal cumslut, sir."

She just grins when you reach between her thighs, pressing your fingers into the cum you've fucked into her, before you decide that the wet warmth is yours and you’re going to fuck her even further into delirium.

Her hips come up off the granite, desperately.

"Uh-huh," she mumbles, already drifting - you put her off her balance, for real. "God, yes, please," she's whispers, as if all the ways you'd ruin her were prayers, like she wants to start a new religion all her own: you're a god, and it's all about Tzuyu - just you, and her, asking, again, the questions piling on top of other ones, the sweet drawl, the sinful want, the curiosity-

Fuck. She wants everything about you, your dirty secrets and your nice manners - the stories behind your scars, your funny little quirk of raising just one eyebrow at a time-

You turn her around. She's made for this, intelligently designed: her tiptoes just touching the floor, the delicious curve of her lower back, your cock sliding effortlessly into her and hitting a spot she arches into like it's divine intervention and that pussy making its first church of your name. The cum you'd already left in her cunt is making everything wetter, making those obscene sounds echo in the space around the two of you. It's rapturous; you let her feel it slow, and deep, and it’s bliss.

“Tighter,” you growl into her ear, and her cunt clenches like you own it.

The girl's figure is pristine, an ass that belongs under spotlights, on camera; those thick lips, the curtain of her hair when she tips her chin down. It's all been in magazines, billboards, it's been idolized - she is the icon and you're the follower, but, this weekend, here and now-

"So. Fucking. Good-" she gasping, falling apart. She’s collapsing and it’s not even noon.

"Oh, the world knows." You pull her up, hold her body in yours and snap into her cunt. Her skin's hot, feverish, the light that filters through the blinds and the snow slows outside.

It all happens without a moment’s notice - Tzuyu reaches behind and clutches your thigh, as if she could ever pull you deeper, like it wouldn't tear her in half. But you find yourself in a position to grab the edge of the counter; your phone buzzes. It's Sana, probably asking what's up. You want to ignore it and keep fucking Tzuyu from behind. You want to hold her hips, be mindful of the marks, the bruises, sink your fingers into her hair, her tits - you end up murmuring things like please and fucking perfect and if we were a little more religious then you'd be a sin to remember-

Fuck, you're cumming again. The writing’s on the wall as soon as your cock makes her breath draw short and her eyelids snap shut. She’s exquisite, a masterwork - you’re painting in broad strokes, all over the beautiful curves of her ass - not only because you’ve needed to see it cast in hot streaks of white, all debased with your cum, but simply to prove a point; to say that you can. You cum on her cheeks, her cunt, you pump your fist around your shaft and cum in the crotch of her panties too.

"That's it, Tzu," you croon, "look at that," your spent cock twitching against her plush thighs, her dripping pussy lips, and she's sagged forward, onto the counter, your thumb running through a particularly thick rivulet. Her face dips down, pressed to the cold surface, and the words coming out aren't coherent, are just filthy and true; but they're there: she's taken you and kept you, all for herself.

(Thank you, she says, for making me into your little cockwarmer, your toy, for breaking my fucking cunt, baby - thank you, please, thank you-

You could end your career tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Just saying, man. This girl, fuck.)

There’s a beat, the strained breathing, the panting, the disbelief. She ends up kissing your chin after sliding back to her feet, a saccharine imitation of chaste. Pulls up her shorts without a second's consideration. Her panties, still sticky with your spend - well. She puts those back, too, grinning dreamily.

Oh, how is a woman like Tzuyu even real, huh? You really do need to find out, somehow.

"Your imagination is…" you say, your tone flat. “I swear.” But you don't deny that the sex isn't. You don't think of her that way. She doesn't ask you for your hopes or your dreams or the full gambit of life, as some people might. She asks about what you think about at three am when she's got one hand on her tits and one on her clit and one finger in her mouth:

"Anything we can think of," she corrects, her long limbs squeezing her tighter to your front. Her grin bright, so perfect she's beyond believable, and how can such a dissonance exist in something, someone, you're holding on to? "I mean, we can if you want."

"Maybe we'll talk about that - how you can handle me," is what Tzuyu rasps, softly, tying her hair up afterwards: and you realize this is her post-coital. For her, sex makes her nice. Sweet.

You've already fixed her lunch; Tzuyu comes to sit down at the table with you. "Like, for future reference." You're raising an eyebrow. She grins at that, kicks her feet. Her hips don't do the same, though - no doubt still a little sore, like her lips. She's worn out, finally. She won't try to slice off and claim any more of your aching soul.

“You have no business thinking about babies.”

“Tell that to my ovaries.”

"You have a breeding kink, is what it is, really. I’m being completely serious."

"Well, am I pregnant yet?" Tzuyu flutters those lashes, puts those big pretty eyes on full display. "No? Then I'm getting off on something else, clearly, isn't it obvious, like maybe there's something about being on the other end of someone so big. Have you considered how wet you make me when you-"

"Tzuyu, cut it out," you chide her. The little brat's giggling. You aren’t going to let her know how pretty the noise is.

"Fine." She reaches across the table, puts her small hand on your larger one. "Like I said - how to handle me." Her tone is placating, the sharp edge to her personality blunted. It's different with Tzuyu - after sex, she gets like this: playful, easy, fond. The mess you've just made, the cunt you've stuffed full, that's another Tzuyu altogether. "For your... benefit."

"My benefit, really?"

"Aside from getting my brains fucked out," she explains, "is what I meant."

"Not making this easier, babe."

Her mouth curves a slow smile. She likes when you call her names, cute shit like that.

"I need to call Sana back," you explain, finally.

Tzuyu nods.

"In a bit," you add. "Also," you're saying, leaning forward. Her head tilts toward yours.

She's receptive, her whole body pliant and lazy, after that, well, marathon - she'll roll with whatever you're suggesting. This has always been a dream to her, she's mentioned. (Who has dreams like that? Someone so young, that innocent - well, yeah.)

But you kiss her temple, lightly. "Gimme a minute."

Tzuyu blinks, in that catlike way she has of staring, intent. Her mouth slightly pouty.

"Then you get your turn," you offer.

"Deal," she nods.

And that makes her beam - your beautiful, very good, very perfect, little toy.

"You're going to have to slow down," you tell Sana over the phone. "I have zero reception up here, sorry."

"The highway is shut down, I literally can't get to the other side of town," she yells over the sound of tires rolling on snow. Sana does not sound in the best spirits. If anything, she sounds slightly desperate. "Part of the mountain collapsed on a cliff somewhere. Fuck's sake. The weather is still terrible and they're shutting everything down. Literally shuttering every road off the base of the mountain."

"You sound good," you deadpan, and when Sana grumbles, say, "try the next exit, head around and take a back road-"

"Yeah, except it's snowing like nobody's fucking business right now - I'm not going to risk exposure to try to get there on my own."

"What should I do?" you try, a bit helpless. "Stay here?"

"Why are you even asking," Sana scoffs, "yes, stay there, stupid. Tell Tzuyu you can't drive in snow, that she can't possibly expect me to deal with any of you leaving a safe situation." There's another brief pause. "Ah, seriously, there is not a single living human being near here that can be helpful - and they're supposed to bring us new tires? Here? No, fuck's sake."

"Oh," is all you say.

"Don't worry about me." Sana's voice goes up a notch. "Just be there, alright? Stay warm, okay?" A crackle, more radio waves or distance.

"Text me," you urge. "Tell me you're getting in safe."

"Of course, of course," and that's when you get the click, the abrupt disconnection. You stare at the device in your hand and consider the possibilities, and the outcomes, and how to stay sane while alone with temptation incarnate for a couple nights.

Maybe this really is hell. Or it's a trial. There’s the storm, and there’s your angel, contextually out of place. You're incapable of controlling yourself, clearly.

You sigh, let your gaze slide. The lights are still out, and in their absence, Tzuyu has dragged every available blanket or bed sheet within her reach into the living space, spread a dozen pillows across the sofa and is now occupying one of the corners: there's a book, opened onto her lap, as her nails run circles down the blanket draped over her lower back.

"Tzu, what exactly did Mina mention to you about the generator," is the first thing you blurt, upon entry, and Tzuyu smiles, holding up the page against the fading daylight - which is currently hardly much. "Better question: how are you able to read in the dark?"

"Takes a lot to shake me off, honestly,” she says, which you already know to be true. “Also my eyes aren't old like yours, so."

"Wow."

"What?" Tzuyu grins, tilts her chin. "Do you want me to say that you're ageless? Thirty, flirty and thriving. So impressive, your youthful vigor, that sort of deal? How attracted I am to your experience," the insinuation, this sudden intimacy. She laughs. "Seriously. Let me read."

"Apparently we're going to be stranded for a few days."

"That's cute." She pauses. "Sucks for Sana."

"You don't know what sucks for Sana."

She peeks over the corner of the page, then, grinning, the teeth of a joke. "What's on the menu, then? Hm? So far, the best part was waking up beside you," and you almost grin, at how honest she manages to be without seeming conceited. How shameless Tzuyu has become in the ways of liking you, and maybe a bit of who she thinks you are. And why that's dangerous, really, and it makes the guilt burrow down beneath your ribs a bit: "my ass hurts," she's complaining now, which is only going to encourage the teasing-

"As it should," you comment, then watch her eyes sharpen, glint with mischief. "Oh," you realize, with a shrug, "do we get to cuddle again."

(Let's hope, for a moment, this isn't really karma. Because really, it'd just be an uncalled-for injustice: Chou Tzuyu delivered down on all fours, head tucked into your thighs as a fist grabs a handful of her hair, a slow push and pull - your cock sinking into the velvet warmth between her lips, again, again, and again until she's ruined and crying and still swallowing you whole - as she, not the universe, forces a massive dose of her own medicine down your throat. You see how that might not be quite fair.)

"But I'll have to leave again," you're protesting - no heat, no vitriol. "There's, like. Stuff I gotta grab."

"Then grab me," she sighs, pats her lap, "read over my shoulder. Make out with me. Just keep me warm. That'd be very helpful, and I would be so grateful."

Well, fuck. You're not one for inflating egos - at least not anybody else's - especially when, unchecked, that tends to do the exact opposite of keeping them grounded.

"Fine," you're muttering, and you clearly have a habit for capitulation wherever Tzuyu is concerned, the quirk in her lips, the quiet pride in her dimple, the cadence in her speech - which she's already smug about.

"Wonderful." She taps the back of her fingernail against a book page, waits, just a few more seconds, her grin spreading as you begin to fumble around. "Please," she says, flicks her gaze back down, a tease, "take all the time you need."

The thing about mountain air is it has a way of clearing your head, cooling down the frenetic thoughts of indecision and uncertainty and moral conflict.

Well, maybe that's a slight overreach, the mountains also have a way of getting you killed, but the intention was to look upon the white caps and ponder. It didn't work.

You eventually find the generator. You hear the clicks of metal and electrical wiring, the roar of the motor kicking on, a steady hum. Then, Tzuyu pokes her head out from behind the shed, her cheeks tinted a warm pink; her eyebrows rise up a beat.

"Yes?" you prompt.

"Is it working?"

"Does it look like it's working, miss?"

"Looks a-okay to me," and she presses the heel of her mitten into her teeth, tries to bite it back down her wrist; she stumbles, a moment, slightly clumsy in the snow. You instinctively reach out. Your hands brush the outer seam of her pajamas, the heavy fabric of her coat - "oh," you can feel the instant the shivers start, "fuck, I'm cold.”

“We’re both probably pretty due for a hot shower,” you say.

"Yeah, you came in my hair. Er, sorry, I meant, we both need a hot shower."

"It was really adorable when you were rutting back on my dick like some horny animal," you snort. "Admit it."

"No comment."

"So shy."

Her smile cracks open, and her breath is a white plume. "Fuck you."

"Sure, babe," you're agreeing, the tone almost saccharine. "If you insist."

She blinks back in mild surprise, the blatant answer - and god, her fucking eyes: soft, dark, her eyelids barely lift up. Even when they should've narrowed. That was another thing to learn. (Maybe, god - who knows, maybe she's still learning how not to care.)

She runs a hand through her hair. The scarf around her neck is fluffing up. There's white clumps settling on the fibers, slowly dissolving into a damp mess.

"Listen," Tzuyu murmurs, wraps an arm around yours to help herself up.

Your palm settles on the round of her thigh. She shifts, her hand dropping lower - tugs at your arm until she has an elbow in hers. The backs of her knuckles settle against your hip bone, her fingertips sliding across the waistband: you walk backwards through your snowprints, gently - the side door to the cabin is unlocked - Tzuyu's stumbling toward it.

"Going to the shower, we're turning the water on," she explains. You grin, feel your own arm, a slow drag around her lower waist; she tilts into it, steps closer. Presses a finger to your chest: "dinner's gonna be in half an hour," she announces, "and before you ask, I've been craving those boxes of instant mac & cheese in Mina's pantry."

"I haven't had one of those in ages."

"Me neither," and with her heel, she kicks the side door shut; Tzuyu yanks on a cord, pulls the blinds closed. It's pitch black. You're chuckling low, turning around - one of Tzuyu's hands smacks over a nearby light switch, illuminating the room just a shade lighter than it was prior. She presses a hand to your chest, a single-minded goal to your front.

You put your hands on her hips.

"It's the kinda thing that makes me feel like a kid again," you hear her say, just slightly; that, and how the white fabric of her sweater twists, pulled to a single point.

"Happens," is the best explanation you can give. She slaps the lightswitch again. Kisses you. You shove a leg forward. She whines. "Be good," you're chiding, though you both stumble until her back is pressed against the wall. "You were just complaining that you're still sore."

"Maybe I can't help it, maybe that's all on you," the end of the sentence fades. Her nails slide up the sleeve of your arm. There's the soft hitch of a moan. "It's just you. So unfair." She rubs up. Swallows like it's instinct, at the slightest hint of friction. You curl your hand, your thumb grazes the waistband of her underwear; her fingertips tighten, her blunt nails sink deeper - press like she means something else, wants something more.

It'll be a few days, at least, more likely a week; and by then, this girl will have you right where she needs you. She's proven, time after time - you can never just say no.

The days bleed together after the snow.

You fuck her, but slower; sometimes softer, a little less raw, the hurt. Not that you'd ever try to take too much: the thought is unthinkable, un-imagined. Infinitely impossible. You'll pull out and empty everything you have, paint her skin, make her ache, fuck until you know exactly where the bruises are and how to touch them, how to breathe the hurt down from her ribs.

But some mornings: she rolls over onto her side, opens her eyes and smiles. Brilliant like the sun, something that would warm your heart even without trying. Some afternoons, you put the fire on; read something aloud from Mina's bookshelves, and watch the red-orange flames turn Tzuyu's cheeks and neck pink and honey. Evenings, especially the colder ones, you're wrapping her up, blankets, sweatshirts, pulling her close: into bed with the lights turned off. She wants the touch, she craves it, she'll almost whimper when you get near her - and it's you, whispering words against her ear; tracing fingertips lightly against her temple, down the nape of her neck, her lower lip-

"How come you don't kiss me, hm?" She sounds sleepy. "Baby. Don't pretend you're a stone. Like, an unfeeling brute."

"I have my limits, princess."

"Like not kissing someone you're fucking." Her face drops from your sight, and Tzuyu turns over: she curls into her comforter, and her legs nudge the back of yours. "That's so fucking cruel," her voice a little whiny. "But okay, okay - tell me the reasons. Just so we can keep going."

"Keep going, huh. Even though I'm mean."

"Well, yeah, I've done much, much worse," the worst, if you think about it; and it's almost true. Maybe her morality was on the rocks long before yours. "Obviously."

You drop a kiss into her hair. "We both know what that mouth of yours is capable of."

She grins into your skin. Presses her lips, like a sign, and stays.

A girl like her inspires the worst in a man, and that's just about it: you think a man would burn the world down for her, with her, and maybe that would be how all things end, someway, somehow - not because of him or her, the full spectrum of his intentions, all the intricacies and subtleties, and hers too. You're both complicated creatures, sure; both very capable and wanting. Of big feelings, deep attachments: the overflow of your good hearts, perhaps; or, rather: the deficits.

She appeals to your worst impulses, in the plainest terms.

"Jesus Christ," you hiss, hands firm on her lower back; your voice breaking; Tzuyu has shed the bedsheets and climbed into your lap, one leg bent at the knee, digging the other into your ribs - her shirt hitches up and over the curve of her spine and then pools at her neck.

"Tell me that's good," she murmurs, hips gyrating, rocking her pussy along your cock. "Like that - right?"

"Fuck- yes," your cock slides into her, your entire length, the rest of the world fogged out: even the fire is quiet. "God, tzu. Feels amazing."

Tzuyu rolls her body forward, rides you with ease, and puts one small hand against your mouth. Her shirt hitches up and over the curve of her spine and then pools at her neck.

"I want to make you cum," she says, all quiet determination and wily confidence, "only you." She rolls her hips in your lap and then finds it: the steady, rhythmic grind down, down. Her ass crashes into your balls; the first telltale sign of that wonderful orgasm to come. "Is it wrong to want this? Like, you and I? Fuck. It feels like your cock was made for me."

"Yeah,” you grit, “fucking you feels - like it's meant to be, huh?"

"Sir," she says with an unhealthy smirk. She’s loving this more than you are, and you can’t really blame her for it: there’s no other sound quite like the slick, wet noise that her pussy makes as her body drops to yours, your cock filling her completely. It's music to your ears.

You grab at her ass, her hip, and pull her closer. She smiles, tilts her face down to you.

"Me too, you know, me too," she murmurs, kissing you softly; when you cup her breasts her breath hitches. "God- fuck- just-"

When she does cum, it's with the faintest little groan; a small, intense quiver in her thighs. You kiss her to swallow down the sound; and feel yourself tip over, and when she fucks you through your orgasm - her smile is dark, wicked, totally satisfied.

And everything else follows, because you're weak: because she makes you want to say no, even while simultaneously being your very favorite yes. You warm your cock inside her with some slow, gentle rhythm, her nipples hard against your shirt, her cries as sweet and earnest as all the best promises; a slow grind down, her fingers scrabbling for the headboard, you lean and lick her breasts, roll her nipples on your tongue - she gasps, tenses, digs her nails hard into your nape.

You'll have her again in the morning, she's adamant.

Her hands find your back, her legs circle your hips. The taste of her sweat. The taste of her nipples; her chest flushed, hair disheveled, pupils blown.

"Not letting me go." She whispers. Her cheeks are a lovely pink. "Even after this?"

You kiss the corner of her mouth, inhaling, wondering what to say.

"Good," Tzuyu tells you, tilting her jaw: "that's really-" She catches her lips with her teeth. "That's so fucking good."

(Her pussy grips your cock like it's the home she's always missed, her lifeline, her safe harbor. And it's dizzying, it's heaven, hell; and, in the morning - when everything is sepia-warm and sleepy - you fuck her again.

A promise, a hope, a plea. It's what makes a girl fall for a guy, in theory.

It's what makes her heart beat. )

"My phone's charging," Tzuyu sniffs the next morning: you're brushing out her hair. The sheets are warm.

You continue combing.

"Sana told me she would be texting, or trying to call."

"Well, that's nice," is all you can manage.

"Babe-" she leans back a bit: turns her gaze to the ceiling, exhaling sharply, "what if she got caught in a whole different avalanche, or fell from the top of a mountain, or something-"

You let go, letting her rest her weight against your thigh. "Honestly? Would serve her right. A little cold, a little damp-"

"If you don't take that back-"

"Alright. Alright. I'll send an apology prayer when I get around to it."

"No you won't." She curls in further, and you stroke her neck, shoulder blade; down the ridges of her spine, across the width of her back.

Tzuyu shudders slightly under your touch.

"Haven't I earned enough good faith, or a clean conscience?"

"Sir, don't pretend."

"Let's pray for Sana, then," you mutter. "Wherever the fuck she is."

"With respect," Tzuyu pipes up, eager: "bitch ain't found."

"Jesus.” You laugh out loud. “At least your brain isn't fully turned to mush, yeah?"

"Give yourself some credit. I can hardly fucking walk. You really pounded the feeling in my legs away."

"Too bad."

"Sorry." And she noses at your collarbone, tugging the waistband of your boxers; "feel free," the drawl of an old, forgotten song, "to make me repent. Baby. Do your thing."

"Right, I forgot that I could convince you to do anything by sliding my dick in your throat. Yikes."

"Baby, just, uh- do whatever." Tzuyu grabs hold of your cock through the thin fabric: one light tap of a finger, "my lips are numb," the suggestion. You really could be her everything: and maybe if you said, stop, please, you won't. She'd pause; look at you like you're insane and maybe spit out what the actual fuck is wrong with you. Like the reality:

This doesn't have to end, no?

"Sorry about your phone battery," you tell her, brushing out the knot at the base of her skull. She exhales, goes soft; lets you tug lightly. "We’ll figure things out when Sana can actually text you, okay?"

"Dumbass. When it's warmer and you drive down to meet her."

"You're not jealous," you tell her. You’ve decided for her.

Tzuyu rolls, leans down on her back, smiling prettily-

"Nope," she agrees, pulling your cock out: already hard, ready to cum down her throat. Her fingers pump soft, slow, the anticipation- "just not done."

"Crazy."

She shrugs and lets the silence calm the world around the two of you; at least for a little while. "Takes a certain kind," she agrees.

"Permissiveness. Like what I'm seeing. Your brand or whatever."

"It’s straight from the heart." She shoots up, making a face you want to kiss. "Honestly."

"Absolutely sincere," you deadpan, and she ignores the jab.

"Tie a bow with my hair," she chuckles, the laughter light, and your fingers graze her temple. "Come on. I'll make you so proud. So pleased. Sir. Let me, let me-"

"Only if I can finish down your throat," you retort - half-joking, but, her eyes grow warm, molten, the lust is immediate - you tip her head, lower it gently - she bites down onto her lip, nods a bit.

You don't take her right away. Not at first. You’re trying to show some restraint, trying not to think about how Tzuyu wears clothes like a vice. She's that kind of girl. Like an accident waiting to happen. She's moving around the kitchen later, poking about the cabinets. She's slid into some jeans that fit her a little too well, and one of those obscenely thin t-shirts.

You watch her back muscles work, how the cotton bunches as she leans, arms extending. Her chest's flat against the counter to grab whatever item's out of her reach. You catch the ribbon in her hair bob slightly back into place when she stands back up. The hairline on the nape of her neck catches a long highlight of a morning, the thin strands a brilliant brown, a spark of warmth in the midst of a muted winter morning - and it's honestly amazing to look at.

(Her ass hangs out in the open like an invitation. Your eyes are running down every curve of denim like they can't help but search.)

"Tzu," is the warning, and she flashes a grin; turns, the expression shifting, wide. "I can literally see everything you have."

"Hm." The front of her shirt lowers, too - her black bralette, barely a scrap of lace and string, visible through the thin fabric. "If I'd known you'd like that so much, you could've told me earlier."

"It's not your job to figure me out."

"Well, I'm not sorry." The words are sugar sweet, with an almost fake concern: her feet pivot, her ass filling your vision- Tzuyu spreads her hands down her outer thighs.

"Be nice," you reiterate. "C'mere."

Her legs snap to you quick.

You are careful, tentative and slow. You leave the ribbon in place and everything; just your mouth, like you have a right to lick down her breasts, her stomach, her clit - like you deserve the faint marks where your hands pressed down onto her waist.

The slow licks, the soft kisses; you could eat her out until the sun sets and Tzuyu was left sobbing through the overstimulation. Her fingers rake your hair like it’s exactly what she’s hoping you’ll do.

When Tzuyu does let go: she doesn't drop. There is no shame, nor shameful whimpers. Instead, she fucking screams, so high and clear it doesn't seem possible: a singer's wail.

"Sir!" she's crying, you can feel it through every tremble. "Oh my god, please-"

You get her to climax twice before the tears fall, your fingers tracing her spine, pressing deeper, a knuckle, then two-

She looks at you in abject reverence, "God, you don't know," is the gasp, "how perfect you are," and you're sure. You'll never get it right again: at least, not without her.

She cums a third time, shivering, collapsing: her eyes wide, glossy, breath shallow, limbs giving in. The sweat clings to her like a lover, a life she doesn't know how to leave.

So, you ask:

"What now, doll?"

Her tongue sweeps the corner of her mouth, a tiny wrinkle.

"Whatever," Tzuyu exhales. "Fuck, whatever, seriously, that was like- amazing- but my throat is actually going to murder me."

"Was the screaming really that necessary."

"Not sure- about anything," is the groggy admission, "like, honestly. Too horny to care, but." She pauses for a second. "You," she finally decides.

"I," is the immediate reply.

"I’ll let you do - anything, but I- can I, like, get a breather? For a minute. Can you wait, like, just."

Her arms open: you settle against her side, and a shaky hand starts combing through your hair. Her other palm lifts to rest against your cheek, cupping it. The nails tap gently along your hairline.

"Been waiting so long, Tzu, honey," and it doesn't sound as cruel or glib as the slip up should be construed - doesn't even bother to count on forgiveness, either. Maybe you're beyond all of that, honestly, and more or less in love, as a result. It’s kind of fucked. What’s a minute more?

She laughs softly, a cough catching up and sounding pained. She's lost her voice, the poor thing, she’s cummed herself hoarse and ragged and you’re proud of your handiwork.

"Honey," you hear her say, and she shakes, pulls herself closer, kisses you back: like the old, gentle motion can ever fully cure the fever of desire that grips the two of you. It's a pipedream, and you're kissing her. It's a pipedream, and you know it.

The calls start coming in after the sun sets and the cabin grows cool with the dark: you feel, faintly, that it's inevitable. That the snow would clear and time would start marching on, a predetermined cycle. (That, maybe, something in the universe - at this stage, almost a hundred years of weather, tectonic plates, astronomical phenomena, interconnected - knew the two of you needed that bit of seclusion.)

"I dunno, just some bog-standard hotel, holiday suites or something. The point is: the roads don’t open until tomorrow and I've been holed up for a while." Sana sighs into the phone. The static pops. "Oh my god, I'm bored out of my mind. I've had like, three full bags of crisps in one sitting, which is just plain wrong."

"You're basically living off carbs." You say this from in front of the fireplace. Tzuyu is sitting on the opposite side of the couch paging through a stack of magazines, wearing a big jumper and sweats and socks pulled up to her knees. Her hair is falling around her shoulders in soft waves, and it makes her look small and domestic and a bit docile - she’d re-tied the ribbon in her hair after you’d fucked it off her, and that more or less completes the look.

"Yes, I have gone off the deep end. A tragic, awful spiral. Because you're not here. Fuck, you have no idea."

"Ah- Sana." You stop. Take a deep breath.

"Do you have any idea? The state of me right now? seriously. I packed so many fucking condoms and the idea of bringing them back home is more defeating than anything else." She lowers her tone a little, then adds, "because, not to be weird, I was kinda sorta hoping we might use them when I got up there."

You blink. Tzuyu isn't even pretending to look anywhere else. Her whole face is shifting into a satisfied expression, and when she catches you looking, she winks.

"Right. Now this might sound like a surprise," Sana is continuing, her voice full of amusement, "but when I get stuck somewhere, alone and thinking about the weather- I'm often in need of a fuck. Please be prepared to service, because god damn, I've got nothing and it's gonna have to be the battery."

"Is that Sana?" Tzuyu interrupts, the tone hushed, but lofty.

You make a face, like: who the fuck else - but that makes her smirk; Sana sighs, then laughs.

"So if you like, you know. If you feel like the vibe is there. I'd appreciate the hand out."

Tzuyu walks over: sets herself down between your feet and kisses your knee. Just to fuck with you. Because she wants to. She holds the kiss, the bow in her hair, done up tight and shiny, visible. You want to tug the stupid thing until it unravels; all your fingertips, her lips, and she sighs-

"Oi," Sana's saying on the line. You can hear her crash onto her bed. "You still there?"

"I'm sorry," you say, "are you uh, asking for phone sex - or did I totally read that all wrong."

"Nope. Pretty direct." Sana laughs, and the sound should make it easy to close your eyes, picturing it: a silver smile, the low slung skirt and a stretch of stockinged leg, the twinkle of a drink as the ice hits her mouth. It’d be easy, y'know, if your gaze wasn't pinned on the girl who's settled at your feet.

"Oh, jesus, okay," you manage to breathe. Tzuyu hums a little: reaches for your fly. "Is there anything, anything that you want me to do?"

Sana's laughter drops to a murmur: the air goes heady as Tzuyu parts the zipper and rolls down the waist of your pants- "ask me what I'm wearing, duh."

"Boring," Tzuyu breathes into the air. Because apparently Sana's defining trait is being loud. The kiss to your clothed cock is hot, teasing - her eyes never lift away, "always, always start with, 'darling, sweetheart,' or something stupid, sweet." Her tone is pure syrup: you can feel the warm, the wet; a fucking tease, all the way to her core.

"What are you wearing, darling?" you ask, dryly. Tzuyu rolls her eyes.

Sana's grin widens and you swear it's audible, "oh, just these boring pajamas." She draws it out slow and sexy and completely aware. "It's all loose cotton, and it doesn't hang off me, just folds."

"Is it the type that comes down to the mid-thigh? The white kind, where you can see through to the skin?"

"That's a little presumptive, don't you think? A bit on the nose? Yeah, fine, I'm wearing the kind, if you absolutely insist. These legs, bare. Maybe you'd want to bite. Y'know. Mark 'em'. Whatever."

Tzuyu is kissing the outline of your shaft. Pulling your hard-on out from its confines - all gentle and tentative. Her pretty brown eyes dart upward, gauging: okay, just do your thing - you shrug - but it'd be so helpful if you could scoot to the end of the cushion for me, can you-

"Yeah," you're agreeing into the phone, somewhat vague - to no one in particular. You don't give Tzuyu just an inch; instead, you lift your thighs toward her. Sliding, Tzuyu pulls your pants down: enough. There's a delicate pressure applied at the bottom of your cock, right at the base, right where Tzuyu drags her nails. "Let's have that show off a little," your breath comes shallow, "then. Strip, real slow. We can try for something sexy I guess."

"You," Tzuyu kisses the base and shuffles up the rest of your shaft, "just love bossing people around," then her lips part: the slightest graze, then warmth, the faint suction. “Don’t you?”

"Uh-huh," says Sana, and then the rustle of cloth: and you could imagine her, really, lifting the shirt up, off, sliding it along the inside of her ribs, over the tips of her breasts - she'd cup them, lean into the contact. Sana's hands are always on her tits, or the spread of her hips - she likes the shape of her body more than anyone else. "Sometimes, that's the best way," she tells you. Her breath is hot, full of sex. "Being told what to do. Isn't that true, hm?"

Tzuyu tilts forward, lets your cock drop over her bottom lip. It leaves a smear of spit in its wake, the sensation electric. Her head falls, swallows the whole of the tip: her tongue immediately swirls. A hot little pulse. Her cheeks hollow.

"Yeah. Some could probably argue," your breath catches, the weight of the sensation, the fullness, your hips arch, your spine straightens. The electricity goes through your stomach and down your spine; you can feel the wave rolling along. Tzuyu giggling into the stiff line of your cock-

"Telling us both?" Tzuyu smiles again, running her lips slowly up and down the sides, teasing with her breath and her fingers running down the ridges. "What you want." She hums low, into the hot air.

You press your phone to your neck. "Can you, like-

Tzuyu pulls her mouth off your cock. Just sits there blinking. “Hm?” she asks, tugging a strand of her hair from the corner of her mouth.

“Just please stay quiet, or something- this is already harder than I thought it would be," the joke is as unsubtle as they come, "jesus, okay-" and put the phone back to your ear, "shit, Sana- can you, like-"

Her fucking mouth. The seal, the press - the tongue swirling around your head. Fuck.

“Yeah, babe? What do you want to know?”

The words aren't coming and a very obvious swallow is, Tzuyu leaning closer, and her fingers tangle with yours - guiding you closer, guiding your hand to the ends of her hair.

"Explain," is somehow where you land, shaky. You stick the landing just enough that Sana might buy it. "What are you doing now?"

"Slow circles. On my nipples, pinching," her voice strains, then settles,"yeah, the tip's so sensitive. Jihyo was laughing that guys always obsess over her tits. Always wanna suck, or nibble and I'm like, girl, what the hell are you complaining for?" - Tzuyu inhales a huge breath, and then another: her lips, those eyes - open and glossy, every movement steady like she knows just how to make the wait worth it - "or, or maybe I'm just weird, because the first time I felt someone's teeth and their tongue. Fuck, like, I almost screamed. Or, cried. Literally."

"Hah," and Tzuyu brings her lips lower. Moves her hair gently out of the way to take the rest of you into her mouth: bobbing up, her lips puckering in some rhythm, and her tongue darts, swirls the edge of the cock. Tongue at the slit. The pressure. Fuck, your head falls back. Every breath sounds heavy, loud. "Fingers,” you huff, “are good too I'm sure. I’d be paying close attention. Making you feel good."

"Mhm." Sana agrees. "The little pinches, ugh, I could die happy if you did just that, it's that fucking amazing."

"Baby," you half-moan. You’re struggling. The mouth stops, then sinks: down, all the way. Fucking amazing. Fucking hell.

"Oh?" Sana laughs airly, "are you touching yourself, hm? No fair, are you going to leave me all lonely here-"

You can see that smirk. The fuckery that would come: Sana's version.

"Sir," Tzuyu mumbles, sounding muffled. Her mouth is a tight vise of warmth, and your hand threads through her hair again. You hold, tighten the ribbon a bit, and Tzuyu stares at you through half-lidded eyes: you don't think she'll blink until you make her cry, and by then-

“Fuck,” Sana says, totally flat, "I'm actually pretty wet," the emphasis, "so I'd like some real advice, y'know-"

You see her legs. The tops. The bottom, all the way down- and you inhale sharply, too much and too hard.

Tzuyu has her fist at the base of your cock and her palm is sliding down the slick flesh and, a moment later, up, meeting her mouth at the top of its stroke - and, without a goddamn care, she hollows her cheeks - puckers her lips along the surface.

You were right. "This is hell."

Sana hums a laugh. "Need me that bad, huh? We're missing each other by just a couple days."

You stroke the top of Tzuyu's hair, her bow bobbing in a nice little bounce. Sana would know better than to wear her hair up. To even go near this, her throat - you hold her jaw steady, maybe a second, the moment of recovery to make Tzuyu slow and careful: her tongue does a pass at the sensitive, rigid underside of the crown, the sudden movement - before she speeds up.

"Picturing your hand." She tells you in a languid tone.

"God," you half-say, half-moan, and Tzuyu is good. So fucking good, and the mouth is too damn eager and it's difficult to think.

You barely get your hand free to switch to speaker, then let it clatter to the side. Tzuyu grinning, her lips flushed red and wet and dragging over your cock, sliding down, her tongue doing another pass, swirling at the center, the flare-

"Thinking about you, actually, fuck," Sana has a hitch to her breath that wasn't quite there before. "Doing those things, that mouth all over, Jesus Christ - ah- my legs, my breasts, fuck- are you jerking off right now? You sound, well, pretty uh, yeah."

"Just saying," you breathe, as the shock and the sensations rise and fall; Tzuyu's edging you in her mouth, her own head starting to shake, her chin bobbing up and down the full, long line of your dick - she's never done anything by halves. "It's getting- I'm thinking about you, Sana, of course, and your- pretty cunt, god, of course, so- ah, close- you said you were wet?"

"Huh? Of course, dripping. Imagining you - your thick, your cock," Sana sorta giggles, out of it then-

Tzuyu moans. Her body is pliant and her shoulders roll; she sucks, her cheeks dip, her back arches, and all of the noises hit the air thick, all while Sana's voice sharpens - both girls, two. You're slipping off the cushion, and probably out of your mind. The ache builds and burns and yearns for some sort of release-

"-how wet and tight I would feel, after so fucking long. Please, fuck, fuck-" you hear Sana, "would you, fuck, c'mon, how I would look, on top of you? Could feel- the stretch, your cock deep inside. The, fuck- friction."

There’s this beat, where it’s just Sana’s stiff breathing; you can picture her wrist between her thighs, the pump, the twist as her fingers run over and over again through the sound of her slick. You’re left wondering if she can hear too, the mouth trailing kisses along your balls, tongue gliding back up and swallowing your length whole.

“Mnph.” Tzu chokes down a little.

And you look down, you have to eventually - to see the steady stare. Tzuyu's brows pinched and her eyelashes fanning out over the hollowed curve of her cheekbones. Pretty, fuck. Beautiful. So sexy: she looks up, swallows you back, like a fucking slut. Her mouth, wet, messy, hot, and her body-

"Third finger, by the way," Sana strains, "'cause- fuck, my pussy - my tight little hole would be swallowing your cock so damn good."

"Mmm, fuck." You're reduced to your base instincts, pulling Tzuyu's hair, dragging her wet, velvety mouth onto your shaft - she follows willingly, no question of her pace slowing, but - more, and more, and you could probably cum in her mouth if her hands weren't clasped firmly over your thighs and you weren't brushing away the tears pricking the ends of Tzuyu's lashes- you won't tell. Not with your fingers. Fuck. Her nails bite at the skin of your bare legs. She looks angry, insistent. Choking.

Sana sounds just as out of sorts, out of breath, "you would feel so fucking good. Look so good. Let me have it- whatever I need, yeah?" And you think she's close: it's that keen edge, a faint, broken whine. She's never going to finish any way except- "would you, inside me? Y'know- make me cum, real full. God- are you close? Would you make a mess out of me? Of my pretty pussy?"

“Okay, holy fuck-" and the question barely even hits you.

Tzuyu is glaring now, shaking: she wants you to lose it, and she looks furious, holding her fingertips, her thumb on the base of your cock: a new pressure, a new feeling, a new pulse, a new high- she wants you to forget about Sana, maybe. What she sounds like, how she looks. Her legs wide, her bare, slicked skin on display. For you, yes. Fucking her until she- "uh, baby," and this time, your voice makes her smile, and her teeth drag. You wince. Her pupils are blown out, and there's a flush building in her chest. "Where are you?"

"Laying down. Flat- god. Where I'm always-" and you imagine a plane of soft, tanned, toned legs, her wide hips, "I'd, yeah, in a second. Pressure at my back- it would feel so fucking good, y’know, if you were here."

You have no doubt in your mind: Sana would be gorgeous. Even from the back, she'll be hotter, fuck, she always is, especially like that - and the movement of Tzuyu's fingers tightens against the straining, needy ache, and-

"Please, fuck, fuck- need to-"

"Would cum- a lot, that's it- over my back. Oh, yes, all over my back. My ass. Messy. fuck that's actually so good, jesus christ-" and then Sana lets out another soft keen and a shout - and it's so sweet and high-pitched and familiar, almost musical; she's cumming, hard. You're only a second, a third behind and-

Your balls draw tight and a coil in your stomach unfurls-

Tzuyu sees you, grins, your eyes trained on the pink of her mouth and her perfect, wet lips and the deep brown eyes - her dimpled cheek is the softest fucking thing - but the rest, her mouth, her wet heat: it's pure sensation. The tight vise of a throat swallowing, the taste on the flat of her tongue. You've got your cock shoved deep in her mouth, and you're not easy to take. Fucking Tzuyu's face, thrusting and the throbs of your cock pumping out a hot, heavy spill. More and more: sticky, filling, spreading out from the corners of her lips. Tzuyu gurgles, struggling - fuck, finally letting go with a weak pop, falling back, and the white mess runs hot over her mouth. Your release smeared across her lips, dripping off her jaw - fucking christ - her tongue, her eyelashes - a wild mess of fluid. It splatters against her pale skin - runs down the hollow of her throat to the edges of her chest. She has her fingers working fast still, a squelching tight fist: you cum all over the stupid, cutesy bow too. It's all you see, the only thing-

“Fuck,” Sana says, oblivious. “That’s good.”

-before your eyelids shutter close, a ringing in your ears and your heart racing; and, not far, another sigh, followed by the slide of your phone down the couch.

"Aw, you done already?" Sana says. Lazily. You can see the look on her face, probably rubbing her pussy and thinking about more - if there’s any two ways the girls compare, it’s this allergic reaction to anything like temperance or moderation. You need new friends, new lovers; this can’t last.

"Uh-huh." The back of your head digs into the couch cushions. Fuck. Sana. Phone. On speaker. Oh. Right. Shit. "But I was- mnph. Uhh." Your brain has lost a lot of blood. It's doing nothing. Nothing but losing blood. You wish it’d stop. “I’m here, Sana, talk to me.”

Sana giggles at that, delighted, "don't tell me you're in such bad shape I need to save you-"

"The uh," your voice slurs. Then you're pulling the phone to you, closer. Fuck. Yeah. You're an idiot. Your breath is heavy: "I could go for more, yeah, how’re you feeling?"

"So fucking tired." Her breathing sounds less ragged. A full breath. A pout: a poor me.

"Hmm." Tzuyu crawls onto you. Slides the fabric of your shirt between her palms, up and down your ribs. She pushes the sweater and tee away. Bares your stomach- then kisses there. Lower, and then rises, looking through her lashes. It's clear: a demand. She'll be insisting, pressing down on you, kissing, running her teeth along the edges of your shoulders, your neck. She’ll kiss you right now if you let her - until she sinks into a promise at the center of your body. Your back is arching off the leather from the sensitivity, and Tzuyu has her lips all over you - smiling when your hands tangle with the long strands of her hair.

She pauses. You drop a hand to Tzuyu's waist. Pinch.

"Ow-" she says, coming across slightly betrayed.

And, satisfied with the expression her face, the phone cradled between your chin, her lips warm over your ribs, her head tickling the edges of your jaw, you keep laughing, or you want to, but Tzuyu takes you between her thighs, lifts a little on your cock - her eyes widen: she's testing your flexibility. Trying to drag this out, trying for teasing. She’s good at that (a verifiable truth), but you’re you - you see right through it: she likes how it feels, the thickness and size of you. Tzuyu keeps sliding slowly down the full length, letting you fill her inch by inch - her slick heat feels unbearable.

“God,” she mutters, and she’s making the dreamiest expression - the blush in her cheeks, the eyelids hung low, the mouth slightly agape - she lifts up, then slams all the way to the base, flush. You grab anything you can to hold onto. Her legs. Her ass. Her thighs. Her jaw. That perfect little fucking waist.

She’s sublime. Your cock is bathing in her slick, the wet heat, the throbbing pulses - she's gasping in your lap, like she can’t believe how good you feel filling her cunt.

"Sana," you grit, "there's- nothing else in the world I'd rather do right now than shove my cock-”

“Ugh,” Sana sighs in agreement, in imaginary bliss. “In my little fucking pussy- you’re making me miss you, or something, jesus-”

You squeeze her thigh and her lips quirk, just barely, a challenge.

"Want put a nice thick load" - the hand on Tzuyu's hip brings her down in your lap, fucking up hard as her chest racks with breath - "in your slutty little cunt" - you fuck her faster, the sounds of flesh against flesh obscene - "fill up your pussy, princess. Would cum in it until" - and the last inch of your cock, filling Tzuyu’s cunt, you've no control - "you're a mess, you're dripping in it-"

Tzuyu's movements still. A pause. Her hips. Your own, and all the rest, every nerve in your body is on fire.

She moves with the most graceful slide, her wet lips gliding - gripping - up your cock. Then, down. The quiet. The lull. The pause before she does it again. She has cum all over her face, and she’ll kill you. You’ll let her.

"God. We'll have to get around to it," Sana finally tells you, dryly, "when this fucking snow clears. Say hi to Tzuyu for me won’t you?"

You're not a bad person.

(The reassurance that you aren’t - or don’t want to be? - is probably still not super convincing. There's some line drawn there, blurred, crossed, and thoroughly annihilated by your actions, you think, vaguely, but maybe it's better if no one sees, hears, finds out. The finer details matter a lot less at that point.)

You're like anybody else: you get desperate to hold onto something, somebody, even for just a moment. Sometimes you don’t even need a reason at all.

Tzuyu is stepping out of the shower, her head bobbing: it takes everything in you not to drag her back in there. She’d let you. She wouldn’t even complain.

You can hear the catch and the slide of a bath towel, the wisp of water hitting the bottoms of her feet and trailing, an exaggerated moan - a gesture, meant to entice, a suggestion: fuck her right back in the shower until her hair is plastered to her cheeks, and she's panting. Or the steam lifts her breasts in a gentle, humid press. That mouth on the tiles - sobbing.

“Tzu,” you call out, and she just continues humming some indifferent tune.

You pull a thick sweater over your head: it's gray wool, and it's all clean and good and new. When she wraps her arms around you, a deep inhale: a grin, then a shiver. She's naked and dripping everywhere, wet hair leaving a trail in its wake. She burrows her face in the folds of fabric at your spine - and if you turned, the slightest movement, the smooth line of her torso would be exposed, and your fingers could trace down her belly button, the tips dipping between her legs-

The window is fogging at the bottom, the steam slipping out in tendrils - but the heat can't compete against the girl all wet and dripping, and it does nothing but give way to the cold, seeping in.

"I still think it's funny," she says, all matter of fact. "It's weird that this isn't awkward."

“What’s that?”

She's at the doorway.

“Us. Being here.”

You turn, and Tzuyu pulls at your sweater: looking for attention, always seeking out the easy praise. Her hand automatically slides beneath the cloth of your collar, drawing your jaw up for a short, hard kiss.

"Okay," and there's a small nod, the line of her throat pulsing as she breathes, "yeah," her chest rising and falling.

"Look at you,” you tell her. “All dry and tidy. Cute. "

A dumb comment earns you the tiniest smile, then she's leaning back, taking her hands to her hair and wringing out the water, pulling and tugging at the tangles - the towel wraps around her waist again and again, and she looks good, clean: it makes you think of what comes later. Not having to give a fuck - at least not for a little while.

"Jeez," she's shivering, still, and rubbing the tops of her arms, "and Sana is gonna be, like, all over you once she gets the chance. Wants a nice lay too, from the sound of it. Was being honest about that. Seems pretty pent up."

“Maybe you can help,” you offer, a bit flippant. She smiles - but in all seriousness, it’s a resounding: no.

There's something else, too, as she runs her fingertips, absently, through her hair - it falls flat on her neck and around her bare shoulders, dark against the lightness of her skin, but somehow you get the impression that she's not entirely preoccupied. "Y'know, I had a really good time and all, but I'm not the homewrecker type, yeah - it's not worth the stress," a slight shrug, like she isn't certain, her mind a little more tangled than usual, and for good reason, too, "probably won't hook up ever again."

"Gloomy," you tease.

"Don’t act like you're not going to miss it," she says, conspiratorial - and Tzuyu plants herself where you can feel her in your space - but she doesn't press. "Even when you're keeping busy, you'll have the smallest reminder, like - aha, Tzuyu would've really liked this, or that - when, y'know - you're stuck somewhere, thinking about the weather," and her cheeks are heating with color as her tongue forms the syllables - and the meaning is clear now as it always was.

“Even if you’re like, totally smitten, or whatever with her,” she adds, smirking.

"Sana will be back to her usual antics in no time. Being annoying and forward and whatever," you reply. "Won't miss much."

The girl's expression flickers a little - a slight twitch - but otherwise, a flat look.

She fixes the lay of her towel across her wide hips. You reach for her arm: pull at it, pulling her toward.

"I mean- Sana and I have a few things in common, anyway. Something in common. Can both be a spoilsport. Dull. Can be a bit, uh, territorial, if you you know-"

The rest is cut off, the words running into a kiss, deep and desperate; there's no place like her mouth: soft, eager, hot.

"And our usual antics?" she asks.

She leans into you, the chill starting to set, a fire burning nearby: something clandestine that maybe shouldn't last as long as it does. A log settling against the others, another plume of heat, and you say, a touch solemn,

"Dunno if we've ever been in common about anything, babe."

"Jeez. You don't have to spell it out like that, do you?" Tzuyu laughs lightly, holding the bath towel at her hips - her breasts are bare. They fall without support, her nipples, the slope of her ribs, everything. "I mean, how cruel."

(It isn't really. Because, here's the thing. In the grand scheme of things, Chou Tzuyu was never really supposed to happen at all.)

The snow clears, like all things you suppose, slowly and with a sigh: with the change in winds and a promise for a gradual spring. Tzuyu steals a shirt. Doesn't seem inclined to return it, says she's good at letting her imagination do half the work in lieu of the actual sex. (The nip is like a sting: it'll last longer, apparently. The bruising at the edges of her waist is more abstract.)

You’re in the driveway. Tzuyu’s leaning back on her luggage.

She kisses you like she wants to make you lose something: her lipstick, her mind, her heart or soul. And when her arms slide, her mouth parting - her tongue darting and sweeping, taking - Tzuyu knows a good many things about herself. She knows you, too. What makes her wet, what gets her off. What part of you will always come back to her. But her hair falls heavy: so much silk. She's laughing - a grin and she's licking the pink right off her teeth and she's beautiful and you think you'll want this always:

A girl like her, kissing so eager for you-

"You can totally say it first," she tells you, that mouth at the edge of your ear.

"Um," you say, and she settles down a little further, her wrists locked behind your neck. "You are so: clingy."

The look she gives you is adorable. All dimple, no worry. “Yeah, so?”

“How is that fair?”

"I don't really care if it is or isn’t. We’d be good together - and that’s a fact. So say something good, or I'm getting in that cab right now."

So you do. You do. The first word, the syllable, the way you ask her, the sound that is something like: mine, and the way it dries the edge of your throat; you kiss it away and she giggles because maybe this means, after a while, you really are as terrible as she always hoped.

She'll give you everything. She says, yours, and it would always be you; she halts a bit, and says it like she’s thawing a revelation, one that’s been there since the start - says she loves you and she always has. You laugh and she says it again: always.

Sana ends up standing in the cabin a day later. The same place you stood, watching Tzuyu lick yogurt off her spoon. Her coat looks expensive. There's her purse. The boots. That red-painted mouth. Her eyes are fixed, and she sees nothing out of the ordinary. Which is probably, you think, ideal.

"That's funny," her face betrays nothing.

The cabin smells a little like burning wood, vaguely: peppermint tea. An electric kind of heat and the warmth of the sun. It had smelled like evidence prior, the way a girl gets with her underwear missing, hair a tangled mess, body sore and aching, a wet bed. You'd looked like a pair of kids caught in a terrible storm, a lovers' quarrel in a small space - or, just: well-fucked.

"What's funny?" is how you finally manage.

"I just mean," she starts again, "she used to have like. The craziest crush on you. It would’ve been cute if it wasn't sorta sad. Did you know? You couldn't, I guess." She shrugs: a heavy lift of her shoulders, a release. The tension is leaking everywhere. "Must've been torture for her to get stuck here with you."

"Huh," you say, like you were missing something, which is exactly the wrong tone and definitely the wrong sentiment. “Oh, the crush. That. Sure.” You’re suppressing a smile. “Torture, yeah. Hey. Don't worry about it. I’m sure we’ll be fine."

(You can’t stop running it back through your head, her long dark hair disappearing into the cab. She loves you and you love her, and it’s got this beautiful caveat of being something simple-complex. Like, who would ever believe any of this? Like, who else even matters?

You say, you belong to me, and she agrees without even thinking.

“You always knew, though. From the start, you always did. I was never going to be anyone else's," and then she pouts. "Wouldn’t hurt telling me, from time to time."

And the mountains have a way of feeling like the end, sounding like the closing score, the credits - you look out at the white caps and reflect: maybe you shouldn’t have let her go. Maybe you should chase after her. Maybe you could still make it work. Maybe you should consider that a promise.

You look up at the sky, the pale blue - and maybe you can afford to let her go.

You know you’ll only find your way back.)

#tzuyu smut #twice smut #tzuyu #twice tzuyu smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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romugh · 2 months ago

Text

CINEMATIC SEDUCTION- BS

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 12th — humiliation, filming, spanking, sensory deprivation

DAY EIGHT || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- barbara sugarman x fem!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!barbara, sight humiliation, filming, photographing?, eating out (from behind!! cheeeers), strappie (b rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight daddy kink if you squint? but like, dont blink or you'll miss it...

wc- 9.973k :) enjoy!

a/n- barbaraaaa is heeereee!! criminally underrated and not written about enough- i'm here to start that change *proud*!! honestly one of my fave characters, been wanting to write her for quite some time now :D i'm planning on turning this into a universe on its own, regularly writing bout these two :) sorry for the late post, got called into work 15hrs ago. i'm till here...)

synopsis- after an accidental photo reveals a hidden desire, Barbara and you dive headfirst into a wild night of passionate exploration that blurs the lines of boundaries. what had begun as a playful mistake quickly transforms into revealing your deepest fantasies and desires.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches - comment or dm to be added :)

You’re sitting on your bed, smirking as you stare at the screen of your phone.

The picture you’re about to send to Barbara is bold—no, it’s downright filthy. It shows her spread out across the sheets, her legs open as your fingers disappear inside of her. The shot was taken accidentally, hence the blurriness, a moment captured without you even realising it until you scrolled through your photos earlier. Her hair is tousled, her face just out of view, but the angle captures the raw intimacy of the moment, the lightning highlighting the wetness glistening on your knuckles.

The memory rushes back to you—the way she moaned softly, her voice breaking into gentle gasps as she clenched around you. You can’t help but grin, knowing Barbara will be flustered when she sees it. You know she has a strong ‘disdain’ for porn, yet she can't resist the enticing photos of yourself you occasionally send her, and this new territory—one of herself— is bound to spark something inside her.

You send it off without a second thought, revelling in the anticipation as you watch the two arrows appear on the screen. They turn blue almost instantly, and you can’t help but chuckle, biting your lip in excitement. You wait a moment, letting the tension build before typing out a teasing message to accompany the photo. You can almost picture the flustered and shocked expression on her face as she processes what she just received. Finally, with a playful smirk, you press send on your follow-up message;

“B, I think my phone accidentally snapped a picture yesterday”

Barbara’s response to that is almost instant—three dots appearing on the screen, then disappearing just as quickly. You can picture the exact look on her face, the way her cheeks must be burning, her lips parted in surprise. She’s probably somewhere busy, maybe at the salon, trying to hide the flush creeping up her neck as she reads the message again and again.

A minute passes, then another. No reply. You chuckle to yourself, imagining how flustered she must be. She’s always been the kind of person who prides herself on being classy, the one who scoffs at the idea of porn being anything but trashy and degrading. Yet here she is, confronted with an image of herself in a way that she would never admit to finding erotic—at least, not out loud.

Meanwhile, on Barbara's end, the scene unfolds exactly as you imagined. She’s standing at her station, comb in one hand and her phone in the other, her heart pounding in her ears. She quickly glances around to see if anyone noticed her reaction, but the other stylists and clients are busy with their own chatter. It’s just her, staring down at that picture and the implications it carries.

She scrolls up, looking at it once more, and feels a rush of heat spreading between her legs, her body betraying her. It's not just the image itself that affects her—it’s also the realisation that the moment had been captured without her knowing. It’s the exposure, the rawness of it all that makes her feel vulnerable and a little (a lot) ashamed. And yet, that shame blends with something deeper, an unfamiliar twinge of excitement.

You wait a bit longer, then type out another message.

“I can almost hear your soft moans just by looking at it, baby. You look so beautiful, so gorgeous, so pretty, so mine. See you this weekend?”

She reads your new text, a mix of frustration and desire flickering across her features as she bites her lower lip. You can almost feel the tension radiating from her through the screen, and while she still doesn’t reply, you can tell the effect your words are having. You’ve witnessed how her body responds when she’s aroused—the subtle way her breath quickens, the tension in her shoulders as she tries to maintain her composure. Barbara has always preferred to keep things simple and vanilla, finding comfort in the intimacy of being eaten out and fingered gently, as if anything more adventurous would feel too overwhelming. Yet, you know her well enough to sense that it won’t be long before her carefully built walls begin to crack, and the ache of her desire pulls her closer to you, urging her to reach out.

The days pass in a frustrating blur for Barbara. She tries to keep herself busy, throwing herself into her work at the salon, chatting with clients, and catching up on errands. But no matter how hard she tries to push the image from her mind, it keeps creeping back in—the memory of your fingers, the slick heat of her own arousal, and that damn picture that sits, unsaved, in the depths of her phone.

She’s gone back to it more times than she’d like to admit. Late at night, when she’s finally alone, she finds herself unlocking her phone, her thumb hovering over the photo, wishing you were there with her. Every time she scrolls up to look at it, she feels a mix of shame and excitement curling deep in her belly. Her hand slides between her thighs almost instinctively, rubbing herself through her panties as she relives the sensation of you touching her just like that.

But then she’ll snap her phone shut with a frustrated sigh, tossing it onto the bed as if that could somehow help her regain control. Barbara isn’t used to feeling this way—needy, distracted, horny in a way that’s hard to ignore. She’s always prided herself on not being “one of those girls,” who fixate on sex the way she always thought men did. But now, there’s this nagging ache that won’t go away, an unfulfilled desire that makes her restless during the quiet moments.

At the salon, she fumbles with her tools more than once, zoning out when she should be listening to her client’s chatter. One afternoon, as she’s washing a customer’s hair, she catches herself daydreaming about the pressure of your fingers pushing inside her again, the sudden burst of warmth between her legs snapping her back to reality. She nearly drops the bottle of shampoo, cursing herself under her breath for letting her thoughts wander there of all places.

Every night of the week, she thinks about texting you—maybe to tease you back, maybe to demand that you come over and put an end to this torturous build-up. But pride keeps her from doing it. The most she manages is scrolling through the old messages, replaying your teasing words: “I can almost hear you moaning just looking at it again. Remember how you felt?”

It’s driving her mad, and you know it. You don’t usually go a full week without texting each other, sending each other little updates throughout the day or sending pictures and memes with a little “this made me think of you”-attachment.

Finally, when the weekend rolls around, you decide it’s time to check in on her. You send a simple text: “B, honey, I’m free all weekend. Want me to come over? Just finished my last uni class of the week.”

Her response is faster than you expected, and it’s almost breathless in its tone: “Yes, ofc. Got some spare clothes here already, come fast pls XX.”

When you arrive, the shift in her demeanour is immediately obvious. Barbara has always held herself with a confident, polished air, but tonight there’s a different energy to her—something desperate, like she’s been wound up too tight for too long. You can see it in the way she’s fidgeting, the way her eyes keep drifting toward your hands, like she’s already imagining what you’ll do to her.

You step closer, leaning in to whisper near her ear. “You seem... happy,” you say, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Miss me that much?”

Her cheeks flush, and she bites her lip, but there’s a spark of defiance in her eyes. “Just get inside,” she snaps, her voice breathless, but that familiar edge is there. She’s still trying to hold onto that composure, even as she takes your hand in hers, her movements just a bit too hurried to hide her impatience.

Barbara’s grip on your hand tightens as she pulls you over the threshold, but you play it cool, letting her urgency go unremarked. She’s breathless, eyes locked on yours with a hunger that’s barely masked by her usual composure.

“Something on your mind, B?” you ask casually, tilting your head with a faint smile. You keep your tone light and innocent, as if you’re genuinely oblivious to the tension radiating from her.

She huffs, an almost frustrated sound, and glances away for a moment before facing you again. “Just… come inside already,” she says, the words tumbling out in a rush. There’s a flush on her cheeks, and you know she’s been thinking about that picture for days.

You step inside her apartment, still keeping that same easy, nonchalant demeanour. “Come inside of you, or the apartment?” you tease with a playful grin.

She rolls her eyes, but the way she bites her bottom lip again betrays her arousal. “You know what I mean,” she mutters, dragging you toward her living room.

Once you’re there, you take a slow look around, giving her a moment to compose herself. You act as if nothing’s out of the ordinary, keeping your movements casual. “Nice place,” you say, glancing at her like this is just another ordinary visit—which it is, technically—when you can feel the heat emanating from her skin.

She stands there, her frustration mounting. Her breaths are short and quick, and you can see the tension in her posture. When she catches your eye again, it’s like she’s daring you to break the pretence and admit you know exactly what’s going on.

But you don’t. Not yet, at least.

“Are you okay, Barbs?” you ask, the innocent tone lacing your words as you step closer, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You look a little flushed. Long day at the salon?”

She huffs, a touch of irritation breaking through her composure. “You could say that,” she murmurs, but there’s something else in her voice—a raw edge that slips through despite her best efforts.

You watch as Barbara fidgets in the living room, her fingers playing nervously at the hem of her dress. The tension between you is palpable, and you can feel it hanging thick in the air, even if she’s trying to pretend there’s nothing to it. It’s almost amusing—her stubborn determination to act like she thinks this is just another evening, like she didn’t spend the past few days with that picture etched into her mind, lingering in the space between her thoughts.

She’s always kept things so composed, so proper, and it’s rare for you to see her this wound up. Usually, she’d have already found a way to distract herself, a way to brush off the blush creeping up her neck. But today, it’s different. You know it, and deep down, she does too.

You raise an eyebrow, letting your hand trail down her arm with a touch that’s light, almost tender. “You sure you’re alright?” you press, your voice dipping into that familiar note of concern, though there’s a hint of playfulness underneath it. “You’re acting a little… weird.”

The corners of your mouth curl up as she tries to keep her composure, but the way her breath hitches when your fingers brush her skin tells you everything you need to know. She’s unravelling bit by bit, even if she’s not ready to admit it. You step back, giving her some much needed space as you turn toward the kitchen. “Why don’t we get started on dinner?” you suggest casually, as if you hadn’t noticed the tension at all.

She hesitates for a moment before following you, her eyes lingering on you as you pull ingredients from the fridge and set them on the counter. As you move around the kitchen, the two of you slip into a familiar rhythm, chopping vegetables and prepping sweet potato fries. The garlic aioli is coming together, the smell of freshly crushed garlic and lemon juice filling the room. You can’t help but notice how Barbara keeps stealing glances at you, her eyes lingering on the flex of your biceps each time you slice into the garlic or mix the dressing.

She keeps telling herself it’s just because you look good—better than usual, maybe, with the way your shirt fits just right, hugging your shoulders and arms. It has to be that… not the way her mind keeps drifting back to that picture, not the idea of those strong hands holding her down or gripping her throat, not the thought of how easily you could make her melt with just a touch. Her breath catches in her throat as she tries to push those thoughts away, a darker blush creeping up her neck.

Barbara’s always been the “sex is special” kind of girl. To her, intimacy was sweet and gentle, much more romantic than it was raw. She never thought of herself as someone who could get off on something as simple as watching you cook. But lately, especially this week, something’s been shifting between you two, and she can’t help but feel her body reacting to your deliberate touches, your casual brush against her back as you reach for another knife, or the way your hand lingers a little too long on her waist when you squeeze past her to get to the fridge. It’s a slow burn that has her thighs clenching together each time you draw near, her heart racing with a blend of embarrassment and something darker, something deeper.

You notice, of course—how could you not? Every little tremble in her voice when she speaks, the slight hitch in her breath whenever you touch her, no matter how innocent it may seem. It’s intoxicating, seeing the effect you have on her, watching her struggle to maintain her composure. She’s been growing more responsive over the past few weeks, her desire simmering just beneath the surface, and you’ve loved every second of teasing it out. This past week—even if it was silent—might have been your favourite week of your life, even.

As you work together on the salad, you can’t resist trailing your hand along her lower back, letting your fingertips brush against her hip as you step closer. "Pass me the olive oil?" you ask casually, your voice low and soft in her ear. She shivers at the nearness of your voice, her pulse quickening.

“Y-yeah,” she murmurs, reaching for the bottle, but her hand is shaky as she places it into yours.

“Thanks, beautiful,” you say with a knowing smile, your eyes meeting hers for a split second longer than necessary.

It’s becoming clear that she’s barely holding herself together, every touch from you sending sparks through her. Her mind flits back to that picture and the feeling of your fingers buried inside her. She feels that familiar heat pooling low in her belly, her arousal sneaking up on her even as she tries to keep her focus on the task at hand.

After cooking, you plate everything, arranging the food just the way she likes it. As you move to carry the plates to the couch, you catch her eye again, a playful glint in your gaze. She swallows hard, trying to tell herself that it’s just dinner with you—that there’s nothing going on. But with every step you take beside her, she feels herself unravelling a little more, the boundaries she clings to slipping away inch by inch.

You settle in on the couch with Barbara, the plates balanced on your laps. That’s a rare occasion—usually, you insist on eating at the table, but tonight, you decide to let it slide. She seems like she needs the break, and besides, there’s something about the relaxed intimacy of sharing a meal here that makes it feel special.

You sit close—closer than usual, purposefully, your thigh firmly pushed against hers as you get comfortable. Barbara’s cheeks are still tinged with a light pink, the warmth in the room seeming to mirror the heat spreading through her body. As the daily documentary about an architect—this time Tadao Ando—begins, you glance at her, noticing how she squirms slightly at your proximity.

“You kept all the episodes I missed?” you ask, a hint of surprise in your voice, though the gesture warms your heart.

Barbara nods, her eyes fixed on the screen, but there’s a small smile tugging at her lips. “Figured we’d catch up on them together when you had the time,” she replies softly.

Her cheeks flush even more when she feels your breath near her ear. As you casually lean in, reaching over her for the remote to adjust the volume, your arm presses against hers, and she bites her lip. You pretend not to notice the subtle shift in her breathing, the way she keeps stealing glances at your hands whenever she can. It’s becoming harder for her to convince herself that this fluttering in her stomach is simply because of you—or the comfort of having you near.

But you remain composed, every movement deliberately measured, as if unaware of the way her body reacts. When you brush a stray hair behind her ear or your fingertips graze the inside of her wrist or thigh, Barbara stiffens for just a moment before she forces herself to relax. It’s almost like a game now, one that only one of you acknowledges, but both play nonetheless. The closeness is driving her wild, and she can barely focus on the screen in front of her.

As the documentary draws to a close, Barbara shifts beside you, her breath uneven, and you can feel the tension in the air thickening with every second. You’ve spent the last hour teasing her with every subtle touch, every whispered word, and it’s as if she’s barely holding herself together. You can sense that something is about to give.

Without a word, she moves, straddling your lap in one swift motion. Her hands cup your face as her lips crash into yours, the kiss fueled by pent-up frustration and longing. You feel her urgency, the way her body melts against yours as she leans in closer, her hips grinding down on your thigh with a needy rhythm. You can't help but grin into the kiss, feeling the heat and desperation radiating off her.

Barbara pulls back just enough to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed a deep pink as she glares at you, her eyes dark with desire. "Shut up, don’t talk," she whispers, her voice breathy and strained as she tugs at your hair, not waiting for a response before diving back in, her lips capturing yours once more with even more intensity.

Your hands roam over her body, tracing the curves of her waist before slipping under the hem of the dress she's wearing. The fabric rides up higher as you slide your fingers along her thighs, drawing a shiver from her with each touch. The kiss deepens, and you can feel her hands trembling slightly as they work to undo your belt, her fingers fumbling with the buckle in her eagerness.

Somehow, amidst the fevered exchange of kisses and frantic touches, her dress has ended up discarded on the floor, leaving her in nothing but her lacy undergarments. She sits atop you, her skin warm and soft beneath your hands, her breathing ragged as she looks down at you, her pupils blown wide with lust.

You can’t resist teasing her, your fingers slipping beneath the band of her panties to graze her bare skin. “Couldn’t wait, huh?” you murmur against her lips, your voice a low rumble that makes her squirm.

She lets out a frustrated whine, her nails digging into your shoulders as she grinds herself down harder on your thigh, seeking friction. “Just shut up and kiss me,” she demands, and there’s a desperation in her tone that sends a surge of heat through you.

You capture her mouth again, your kiss rougher this time, your hands gripping her hips and guiding her movements as she rocks against you. Her moans grow louder, the sound vibrating against your lips, and you can feel the wetness seeping through the thin fabric of her panties onto your trousers. Your hands explore her body with purpose now, tracing the line of her spine, slipping beneath the clasp of her bra as you tug her closer.

Barbara’s fingers finally manage to free your belt, and with a triumphant little noise, she starts working on the button of your pants. She pulls back just enough to look at you, her chest heaving as she takes in the sight of you beneath her. There’s a wildness in her eyes now, a hunger that matches your own.

Before you can say anything, she leans in close, her voice a low, needy whisper against your ear. “Please take me,” she breathes, her hands slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, brushing against your skin as she starts to tug them down.

The words send a thrill coursing through you, and with a swift motion, you pull her flush against you, your mouth finding hers once more. You can feel her smile against your lips, the kiss turning heated and messy as the last remnants of restraint slip away.

The air is thick with heat and the taste of Barbara’s kisses lingers on your lips as you pull back slightly, your forehead pressed against hers. She’s panting softly, her skin flushed a lovely pink that spreads down her neck. As you gaze into her eyes, you can’t resist the temptation to tease her.

“Can’t believe all it took was that one little picture,” you say, a playful glint in your eye, “to turn you into a sinful needy lesbian. What would your parents think?”

Barbara’s breath hitches, and for a moment, there’s a flash of embarrassment in her eyes. But then she bites her bottom lip, a boldness shining through as she meets your gaze. “I’m fine with sinning,” she murmurs, her voice low and husky, “as long as it’s with you.”

The admission sends a spark of desire racing through you, and you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow. “So… if that’s the case,” you say, your tone taking on a teasing lilt, “does that mean I’m allowed to film you?” You let the words hang in the air for a beat, watching as her cheeks flush even deeper. “Or maybe just take a little picture for my lock screen?”

You start off joking, but the way Barbara’s pupils dilate and her breath catches tells you there’s more than just humour in your suggestion. Her reaction is almost involuntary—her lips part slightly, her gaze locked on yours as if the very idea has unravelled something inside her.

No words are needed; the look in her eyes is all the answer you need. A slow, wicked grin spreads across your lips as you lean in to kiss her, this time softer, letting the moment linger. The kiss feels different—like a promise, a shared secret, a step into territory neither of you had planned to cross but find yourselves diving into headfirst.

Without breaking the kiss, you stand up, scooping Barbara into your arms with ease. Her legs instinctively wrap around your waist, her arms clutching your shoulders as you hold her close. She lets out a breathy sigh, burying her face in your neck as you carry her down the hall, her body pressed tight against yours.

The feeling of her warmth, the way she clings to you, it’s like carrying something fragile and precious—yet burning with a fire that matches your own. There’s no rush in your steps; you take your time, savouring the way her breath tickles your skin, the slight tremor in her grip.

As you set Barbara down gently on the bed, your gaze sweeps over her, taking in every detail. Her hair falls in soft waves around her face, the rosy hue of her cheeks radiates warmth, and the glimmer of excitement mixed with uncertainty in her eyes ignites a spark in you.

“Sit on the edge for me,” you instruct playfully, your heart racing at the sight of her eager nod. The anticipation in the air thickens, making you feel giddy with excitement and a hint of mischief.

You grab your phone, holding it up to capture the moment. “Just one second,” you murmur, feeling the thrill of what’s about to unfold.

“Okay, just breathe,” you reassure her, noticing the way her chest rises and falls with a slight tremor. You start with a close-up of her kiss-swollen lips, glistening slightly. “God, you’re so pretty,” you murmur, snapping the picture. The way her eyes widen with embarrassment makes you grin, but you continue, sensing her desire to please despite her shyness.

“Now, this one,” you say, positioning the camera to focus on her breasts, the lacy red lingerie clinging to her curves beautifully. You notice the way she bites her lip, a mix of vulnerability and thrill in her expression. “You look so good in this,” you reassure her, snapping the picture and enjoying the way her cheeks darken to match the colour of the set she's wearing.

Next, you direct the lens down to her tummy, the slight rolls soft and inviting. “Don’t hide any of this,” you tell her gently, trying to coax a smile from her as you take another photo. “You’re perfect just the way you are.” She glances away, her embarrassment palpable, but the hint of a smile breaks through.

Your gaze shifts to her thighs, slightly reddened from where you gripped her during your earlier heated moments together. “Can’t forget this,” you tease lightly, capturing the evidence of your earlier intimacy with a quick snap, feeling a thrill of excitement run through you.

“Now, this one,” you say, your thumb ghosting over her lips as she watches you through half-lidded eyes. You take the photo, your heart racing at the intimate display, and you can see her battling between shyness and wanting to please you. The vulnerability in her expression is endearing, but you can see the worry flicker across her face. “What if my parents see?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, anxiety lacing her words.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “They won’t. No one will see these, I promise,” you assure her, leaning in closer, your breath warm against her ear. “It’s just for me. Just for me to enjoy.”

As if caught in a moment of daring, Barbara leans closer, taking your thumb between her lips, looking straight at the camera with a mixture of boldness and uncertainty. Your breath catches at the sight, the image almost too perfect to capture. Click.

“Us. For us,” she says softly, her voice thick with desire.

A groan escapes your lips at her words, and you feel a rush of heat flood your body. You can’t resist her any longer; the sight of her like this ignites something primal inside you. You turn her around on her stomach, adjusting her position to display her perfect form.

You hear the distinct click of your phone as you snap a picture of her ass, barely covered by the lacy red thong. The fabric clings to her curves, and the way her skin glows with a soft sheen makes your heart race. Barbara hides her face in the sheets, embarrassment flooding her features.

“Oh, my pretty slut shouldn’t feel ashamed,” you murmur, your tone low and commanding. “You’re so beautiful for me, baby.” With that, you deliver a firm spank to her exposed skin, the sound echoing in the room.

Each spank sends heat radiating through you, and you snap a picture after each one, watching her cheeks grow redder with every strike. You can feel the way her body responds, soft gasps escaping her lips as you squeeze her cheeks, relishing the sensation of her warmth beneath your hands.

Around the seventeenth spank, a soft, involuntary “daddy” slips from her lips, and you feel a thrill at the sound. You recognize the vulnerability behind it but choose not to comment, focusing instead on her flushed face, now streaked with mascara from her earlier tears.

“Look at me, Barbara,” you say, gently turning her back around to face you. Her eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of embarrassment and something deeper. You snap a picture of her pretty face, capturing the way her cheeks glow and her eyes shimmer with shed tears.

Barbara glances at the phone, a flicker of confidence crossing her features as she takes it from you. She presses the film button, and you’re surprised by the sudden shift in her demeanour. She begins filming, her hands moving to caress her own body, focusing the lens on her curves.

You watch, mesmerised, as her hands glide over her soft tummy rolls, revealing the gentle stretch marks that decorate her skin like art. Her abs peek through too, hinting at the strength beneath her softness. The way her fingers dance across her body is intoxicating, and you can feel your heart race with every movement.

As she starts to tremble, a soft whine spilling from her mouth, you take over the filming, determined to capture her in all her glory. You start by framing her lovely face, the way her features contort with pleasure and vulnerability, and then you let the camera travel down her body.

Your eyes capture every detail—her soft, beautiful tummy rolls, the gentle curves that invite you in, and the way her skin glows under the soft light. You continue down, admiring the delicate lines that tell her story and the way her thighs form a perfect silhouette.

As you focus on her core, the camera angles just right, framing the way her body quivers under your gaze. Each breath she takes, every slight shift in her body, drives you wild with desire. The moment feels electric, raw, and utterly intimate, and you can’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness and pride as you film the beauty before you.

With the heat of the moment igniting something wild within you, you shift your focus back to Barbara. “Turn around,” you command softly, and she hesitates for just a second, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. But the eagerness to please overpowers her hesitance, and she complies, getting onto all fours at the edge of the bed.

The sight is breathtaking. Her body is a tantalising mix of strength and softness, the lacy red lingerie clinging to her curves in all the right places. You can’t help but admire the way her back arches, the gentle curve of her spine leading down to the roundness of her backside. A thrill shoots through you, and with a teasing smirk, you deliver another gentle slap to her backside. She jumps slightly, a soft gasp escaping her lips, and you relish the sound. “Move up. I want to see all of you.”

With a mix of excitement and trepidation, she crawls further onto the bed, her movements slow and deliberate as if she’s savouring each moment. You watch the way her breath quickens, the way her cheeks flush a deeper shade of crimson. You can sense her vulnerability, see it even, but also her willingness to step out of her comfort zone for you (and herself. God she really needs you to just fuck her within an inch of her life.).

“Hold on to this for me,” you say, passing her the phone. As she grips it, her eyes dart to the screen, where her exposed form is displayed in a vulnerable, yet undeniably sexy light. The sight sends another wave of heat rushing through her, and you can see the mix of embarrassment and thrill reflected in her gaze. She bites her lip, glancing up at you as you make your way to the side of the bed, opening your self-proclaimed side of her wardrobe, the tension palpable.

“Just look at how pretty you are,” you murmur, your voice dripping with admiration. “You’re so gorgeous, you know that?”

Then, with a predatory glint in your eye, you turn around with silk ropes and a strap in your hands. The soft fabric of the ropes is inviting while the strap makes Barbara’s eyes widen, a promise of what’s to come. You approach her, feeling the thrill of anticipation coursing through both of you. “Trust me?” you ask, your tone gentle but firm.

Barbara nods, her breath hitching as you bind one of her hands to the headboard, the silk wrapping snugly around her wrist. You take your time, making sure she feels secure but not constrained. The sight of her like this—vulnerable yet trusting—fuels your desire, and you can’t help but admire the way her body responds to each touch.

“Now, I want you to film for me,” you instruct, your eyes gleaming with mischief. She does as you say, positioning it in between her legs, giving the camera a clear view of her dripping pussy, glistening with arousal. You lean in closer, your breath warm against her skin, the anticipation thick in the air.

“Just like that, B, nice job,” you coax her, your voice low and sultry. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

With a teasing grin, you gently spread her folds, revealing the slickness that’s pooled there, evidence of her arousal. She shivers under your touch, her body trembling as you toy with her, pushing her boundaries. You relish the sound of her gasps and moans, feeling a surge of power knowing you’re the one bringing her this pleasure.

“Let me show you something special,” you say, your voice dripping with seduction. Leaning in, you spit on her folds, watching as the warm fluid streams down her soft skin. The sight is primal, a raw display of desire that sends a jolt of excitement through both of you.

“Look at that,” you murmur, your gaze drifting up to admire the way her back arches even further. “This is all for you, baby.” The way she shakes her head gently and gasps sends a thrill through you, knowing how much she’s enjoying this. You can practically hear her heart racing, her trust in you making her bolder, and you decide to keep pushing.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re vulnerable,” you whisper, spreading her folds wider for the camera, letting it capture every detail.

With the phone still capturing every moment, you return your attention to Barbara’s folds, relishing in the way they glisten under the soft light. The way she’s positioned, with her back arched and her free hand gripping the sheets, amplifies her vulnerability. It’s intoxicating. You press your thumb against her wetness, teasingly pushing through her folds, the slickness making it easy to glide along her sensitive skin.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.” You can see her shiver at the compliment, her body responding instinctively to your touch. Her breath hitches, and a low whine escapes her lips as you continue to tease her, your thumb drawing lazy circles around her clit.

“Please,” she gasps, her voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. “I need more.”

You flash a wicked grin, loving how eager she is, yet you want to take your time. “Oh, we’re just getting started, baby.”

With a teasing flick of your thumb, you send her spiralling into whines and grunts, pushing her just a little closer to the edge. You feel a thrill at the way her body reacts, the way she instinctively moves back against your touch, searching for more. She’s absolutely captivating, and every whimper, every gasp fuels your desire to take her further.

Deciding it’s time to explore this new territory, you position yourself comfortably behind her, moving your face closer to her. The anticipation hangs thick in the air, a mix of excitement and a hint of trepidation. You lean in, your breath warm against her slick folds, and then you dive in, your tongue lapping at her entrance.

The sensation is exquisite. Barbara gasps, her entire body tensing at the new feeling, and you can hear her breath hitch as you explore her softness with your tongue. The warmth of her skin against your mouth sends a thrill through you, and you can’t help but savour the taste of her. She’s never been eaten out like this, never this spread open for you, but the sensations are electric.

“Just... oh God,” she breathes out, her voice thick with need as you continue to feast on her.

You hum in agreement, sending vibrations through her as you continue to explore, relishing the sounds of her pleasure. With each flick of your tongue, you explore her folds, tasting the sweet nectar that drips from her. You’re careful and attentive, making sure she feels comfortable while also pushing her into a whirlwind of sensations.

Feeling a rush of excitement, you film a close-up of your actions, switching the camera to your left hand and positioning it to capture the view of Barbara's dripping pussy as you lick her. The knowledge of your phone capturing the sight of her glistening folds, pulsing with need, fills you with exhilaration. The sound of your tongue slurping against her, mingling with the wetness, creates a melody of pleasure that fuels your desire.

As you shift your focus from the camera back to your girlfriend, you can see her body quaking with pleasure. She seems to realise what exactly you’re doing, and it drives her to the edge of her limits. Her breath quickens, and you can see the flush creeping up her cheeks, making her even more intoxicating.

“More,” she gasps, her voice trembling with desperation. “Please, don’t stop.”

The intensity of her request sends a thrill through you, and you dive back in, your tongue exploring deeper, savouring every taste. As you continue to eat her out, you can feel her getting closer, her body responding more vocally than ever before, whines and grunts spilling from her lips as you edge her closer to release.

With each flick of your tongue, she becomes louder, her moans spilling out like sweet music, and you find yourself getting even more excited. Hearing her this vocal is intoxicating; the sounds escaping her lips are pure ecstasy. “Oh my God, yes!” she cries, the volume of her voice echoing through the room.

You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach at the sight and sound of her, and you angle the camera to capture her folds as they pulse and quiver around your tongue, her pleasure evident in every movement.

“Look at you,” you murmur, not wanting to break the rhythm, the words just for her present and future ears as you tease her with your tongue. “So beautiful, so needy.”

“Please… don’t stop,” she begs, her body rolling back against your mouth as she gasps and whines, her fingers tightening around the sheets.

You continue to explore her with your tongue, alternating between teasing licks and deeper plunges, capturing the entire moment on camera. Every slurp, every moan, every shudder from you fuels Barbara’ desire further, and you push her closer to the edge, absolutely savouring the intoxicating blend of vulnerability and pleasure radiating from her.

As your tongue works its magic, you can feel the tension in Barbara’s body coiling tighter by the second, each flick and swirl of your tongue pushing her even closer to the edge. Her moans grow more frantic, each sound spilling out of her like a sweet confession. “I can’t... I’m so close,” she whimpers, her breath hitching as you continue your delicious torment.

You position the camera to capture the way her body arches in response to your touch again. Every sound she makes fills you with pride, knowing you’re the only one bringing her this pleasure. “Let go, Barbs,” you encourage softly, your voice laced with desire. “I’ve got you.”

With one final flick of your tongue, you push her over the edge. “Oh, God!” she cries out, her voice breaking as she shudders, her body tensing before releasing into a wave of ecstasy. The sight of her climax is breathtaking; her muscles quiver around your tongue as her moans fill the room, and you can’t help but capture every second of it, the camera trained on her dripping core.

As she rides the waves of pleasure, you pull back slightly, allowing her to bask in the aftermath of her orgasm. Barbara collapses onto the sheets, breathless and blissed out, a soft smile forming on her lips as she turns her head slightly to meet your gaze. You can’t help but smile back, your heart swelling with affection for the girl before you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur, your fingers brushing against her back, your other hand still gripping the phone. “You okay?”

Barbara nods, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah... just... wow.” Her cheeks are still flushed, and you can see the way her body relaxes as the tension melts away.

You take a moment to enjoy this soft connection, your heart racing at the intimacy of it all. “You did so good, baby.”

Slowly, you pull back, reaching for the strap, the sight of it making Barbara gasp and smile softly as she watches you. You can see the excitement dancing in her eyes, mixed with a hint of shyness that pulls at your heart.

“I, um...” she starts, hesitating. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about that.”

You smile softly, moving closer. “This one?” You hold it up, your voice teasing. “I bought it not too long ago, but I wasn’t going to use it unless you asked for it.”

“Please,” Barbara begs, a hint of desperation in her voice that makes your heart race. “I need it.”

“Need it, huh?” you tease, your grin widening. “Okay, B.”

You slide it on, and Barbara’s breath quickens. “You ready?” you ask, caressing her very red and lightly blue backside, wanting to ensure she feels comfortable and cherished.

“Yeah,” she breathes, her voice a mix of excitement and nerves. “I—Please.”

With a gentle pull, you guide her to get back to her previous position, her body trembling slightly as she settles into it. You admire the sight, her form curving beautifully, the silk rope binding her hand to the headboard just adding to her allure.

“Just breathe for me,” you murmur, your hands gently running over her back. You take a moment to savour the sight before you, the way her body glistens in the soft light, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air. You position yourself behind her, the strap-on pressed against her slick folds. “This is going to feel a little different, okay? Tell me if you need a breather, baby”

Barbara nods, her breath coming in quick bursts as she pushes her hips back, trying to get you to slip inside. You tease the tip of the strap-on against her entrance, seeing her slickness envelop you. She gasps, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding her system.

As you push in slowly, you can feel the resistance at first, the pressure against her entrance making your heart race. You lean forward slightly, planting kisses along her back, whispering soft reassurances as you gradually push inside her. “You’re okay, you’re doing so good.”

With a gentle but firm push, you breach that initial resistance, and you gasp at the sight as Barbara gaps at the sensation. The way her core pulls you in is intoxicating, each inch of your strap pushing deeper eliciting a mixture of pleasure and sweetness between you. “Oh, fuck,” you groan, the sight of you filling her overwhelming.

You keep the camera steady, focused on the way she looks back at you, her eyes wide with a blend of excitement and disbelief. The moment is intimate and raw, yet filled with an underlying edge of excitement. Each thrust is deliberate, capturing the way her body responds to you, the heat radiating from her as you push deeper.

“More,” she breathes, her voice thick with need. “Please, I need more.”

You give her what she asks for, the rhythm of your thrusts gradually becoming more intense. You relish the sounds of her pleasure, the soft gasps and moans spilling from her lips, and you can’t help but tease her with a light spank to her ass.

“Such a good girl,” you murmur, watching her cheeks flush as the sound reverberates through the room. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes!” she cries, the mixture of your words and the sensation sending her spiralling further into pleasure. You can see her body tightening around you, and with each thrust, you push deeper, the strap-on stretching her just right.

As you continue to thrust into her, the sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the air, mingling with her moans. You keep filming every moment, capturing the way her body moves with each thrust, the intensity of the connection between you.

Barbara's head falls forward, resting on her free arm as she surrenders to the sensations coursing through her. Her back arches, tilting her hips up in a way that makes you slip even deeper inside her. The sudden change in depth makes her loud moans catch in her throat, turning into silent gasps as the strap reaches places that send jolts of pleasure through her entire body.

Not wanting to let her escape the intensity, you reach forward, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her head up, her soft strands wrapping around your fingers. "Uh-uh, don’t hide from me," you whisper, your voice rough with desire as you lift her enough to grab her free arm, pulling it behind her back. The position gives you leverage, letting you thrust even deeper, and the way she cries out makes your pulse race.

You hold the camera steady, capturing the way Barbara’s body reacts—her ass bouncing with every thrust, her skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. You zoom in, adoring the sight of her juices collecting at the base of the strap, slick and glistening. The camera catches the way her folds stretch around it, her body trembling with every deep, demanding thrust.

The moment you push in even harder, Barbara's voice breaks free, filling the room with even louder, more desperate moans that border on pornographic. The sound sends a thrill of excitement through you, your own breath coming in ragged gasps as you keep thrusting, keeping up the intense pace."That's it, baby," you pant, tightening your grip on her hair and pulling just a bit harder. The increased tension causes her to clench tighter around the strap, making each thrust require a bit more effort. "Let it out," you urge, your voice rough with desire and need. "I want to hear you."

Barbara's entire body trembles, her moans becoming higher-pitched, turning into needy whimpers as she chases the peak of her pleasure. The combination of being restrained, hair pulled, and filled so deeply pushes her to the edge in a way that’s overwhelming.

She releases a loud, primal cry as her orgasm crashes over her, her walls clenching tightly around the strap. The filthy sounds of your thrusts fill the air, each wet slap echoing the intensity of the moment. Her body trembles, and you can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the sheer ecstasy painting her flushed cheeks and neck a deeper shade. Her thighs shake uncontrollably, her body arching even more as waves of pleasure crash over her, the intensity drawing sobs from her throat. “Oh, God, yes—” she babbles, tears welling up as she completely loses herself to the sensations.

You keep filming, capturing every moment of her climax, the way her body spasms, her back arching beautifully, her juices dripping down her thighs. Your heart swells with a mixture of love and raw desire, knowing that you’re the one bringing her to this state of complete bliss.

After helping her ride out her orgasm, you pull out slowly, savouring the way Barbara’s trembling body shudders one last time at the withdrawal. The sight of leaving her warmth feels like an exhale, a gentle release of everything that’s built up. You flop down on the bed next to her, the camera momentarily forgotten in your hand, capturing nothing more than blurred glimpses of movement and crumpled sheets.

Barbara stays sprawled on her stomach, her breathing still heavy and unsteady. You gently tug at the silk ropes, releasing the knot that had kept one of her hands bound. As you free her, she lets out a sigh of relief, her body finally able to relax after the intensity of the experience. Her fingers clench and unclench against the sheets, a subtle reminder of the vulnerability she just embraced, her knuckles pale from the force of her grip. Her other hand, the one you had pulled behind her back, lays limp by her side, too exhausted to do anything but rest.

You turn onto your side, reaching out to her. Your fingers brush against her cheek, gently tracing the flushed skin there as you tenderly caress her face. Her eyes flutter open, still glazed with the aftershocks of pleasure, and you can see the quiet vulnerability that lingers.

“Hey,” you murmur, your thumb stroking softly over her cheekbone. “You did so, so well. You have no idea how proud I am of you.” The words come out softly, filled with nothing but adoration and reassurance. “I love you, Barbs. More than anything.”

She leans into your touch, a tired but genuine smile spreading across her lips. Her breaths come slower now, more even, as she clings to the tenderness in your voice. The intensity may have passed, but the connection between you both is undeniable, still electric in the air around you.

The three words hang in the air for a moment, and you can see the shift in Barbara's expression as she processes them, her eyes widening, a mixture of surprise and something deeper, more vulnerable. It's the first time you’ve said it—I love you. The words had slipped out easily, yet they carried the weight of everything you’d felt for so long but hadn’t voiced.

Before any doubt can creep in, you continue, your gaze locked on hers. “Not because of this,” you clarify softly, your fingers tracing a tender path along her jaw. “It’s not just the heat of the moment. I love you for you—for everything you are, what you mean to me.” The honesty in your voice seems to ground the confession, a reassurance that it’s about her as a person, not just the intensity of your shared desire.

Barbara's eyes glisten with emotion, and she takes a steadying breath before pushing herself up slightly, still trembling from the aftershocks. Her hand comes to your side, nudging you with a gentle insistence until you roll onto your back. The strap is still attached to your hips, standing tall and glistening with her arousal. The sight of it sends a new flush across her cheeks, but there’s a spark in her eyes as she meets your gaze.

Leaning down, she kisses you deeply, pouring all the affection and passion she can muster into the touch of her lips. It’s a kiss that feels like an answer, a silent acknowledgment of the words you spoke, and a promise of everything she wants to give back. As she pulls away, her lips curve into a small, almost mischievous smile. Slowly, she begins to trail kisses down your body, her breath warming your skin with every inch she covers.

When she reaches your hips, she hesitates just for a moment, then glances up at you with a glint of determination. “Let me clean up the mess I made,” she murmurs, her voice still a little shaky but filled with intent. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, her gaze fixed on the strap before her. She looks back up at you, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth.

“Will you film it?” she asks, the boldness in her voice tempered by a hint of nervousness. “I want you to have something to look at, too.” Her eyes flicker with a need to please, a want to give you something special, something tangible to remember this moment by.

The way Barbara’s lips wrap around the strap has your breath catching in your throat. Her movements are tentative at first, her tongue tracing a careful path along the length of it, and the sight alone is enough to send a thrill coursing through you. Even though there’s no physical sensation, the visual—watching her willingly pleasure the toy, her eyes flicking up to yours as she goes—is intoxicating. It’s the vulnerability in her gaze, the way her mouth works the strap with a softness that’s almost reverent, that has your pulse racing.

You film her with trembling hands, capturing the way her tongue darts out to lick along the shaft, her spit adding a glistening sheen that catches the light. When she takes more of the toy into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing, the camera shakes slightly in your grasp. You can’t stop the quiet gasp that slips out, the sight of Barbara—so willing and intent on giving herself to this—making your skin prickle with warmth.

Barbara keeps her eyes locked on you, as if reading the effect she’s having. Her hands grip your thighs and stomach for support, and the soft sounds she makes—quiet moans and soft hums—add to the heady mix of sight and sound. Each time she bobs her head forward, taking the toy deeper, the camera shakes a little more. It’s hard to hold steady when your whole body is trembling, overwhelmed by the sight of her devotion.

Eventually, Barbara notices the way your phone wavers, the way your breath comes in shallow bursts. She pulls off with a quiet pop, her lips shining with her own saliva, and she gives you a soft, reassuring smile. Reaching out, she gently takes the phone from your hands. “Let me,” she whispers, her voice low and breathless.

She turns the camera on herself, focusing on the way the strap glistens with her spit and arousal. She runs her tongue along the length of the toy again, as if savouring the taste of what remains there. Her lips part to take it back into her mouth, and she films the way her cheeks hollow with each movement, her throat working to accommodate the toy as she takes it deeper. There’s a mix of concentration and quiet yearning on her face, a desire to show you just how much she’s willing to give, how much this moment means.

Barbara's hands tremble slightly as she adjusts the angle, capturing close-ups of the toy as it slides between her lips. She lingers on the way it glistens, her own spit and slick making it gleam. The camera captures the wet sounds of her mouth working the strap, the quiet hum of pleasure she lets out as she leans in closer, her tongue swirling around the base. It's soft, vulnerable, and undeniably intimate, a tender moment that speaks volumes about her trust and the depth of her feelings.

As she continues, you find yourself mesmerised by her every move, the way her tongue swirls and teases, the way she takes the toy deeper as if trying to reach some unspoken depth of devotion. Watching her is a pleasure in itself, a sensation that doesn’t come from physical touch but from the sheer beauty of seeing Barbara let herself go, giving herself over to this moment, to you.

As Barbara continues to work the strap with her mouth, she shifts the camera’s angle to focus on your face. Her eyes flicker with a quiet intensity, a need to capture this moment—the flush of your cheeks, the way your lips part with a gasp, the way your eyes flutter shut as the heat builds inside you. Even though she’s not physically touching you, the pure sight of her, the knowledge of what she’s doing for you, brings you closer to the edge.

Barbara slowly pulls off the strap, her lips leaving it with a soft pop, and she starts making her way up your body. She trails kisses along your skin, each one deliberate, leaving faint marks as she goes. Her tongue flicks out to soothe the love bites she leaves behind, a trail of tender hickeys that travels up your stomach, across your chest, and along your collarbone.

When she reaches your face, Barbara turns the camera on you one last time, capturing your expression as you come undone, a mix of bliss and vulnerability that she commits to memory with a soft click. She tosses the camera aside, not caring where it lands now, and leans in to kiss you deeply. “I love you too,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice tender and breathless.

Her words sink in, wrapping around your heart as she sighs into the kiss, letting her body melt against yours. The weight of her feels grounding, warm, like a blanket of comfort and devotion. You sink further into the moment, wrapping your arms around her, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing as her chest presses against yours. There’s a quiet understanding in the way she nuzzles into you, in the way she fits so perfectly against your side.

You reach down to pull the strap off, casting it aside without a second thought. It lands somewhere near the foot of the bed, to be dealt with in the morning. For now, the only thing that matters is the soft glow in Barbara's eyes, the quiet hum of her breath against your skin, and the feeling of love settling between the two of you—a love that was there long before this night, but one that has now been spoken aloud, shared in whispered words and quiet sighs.

As the warmth of the moment settles around you both, you feel Barbara’s breathing begin to slow, her body softening and relaxing into yours. She curls up closer, her head resting against your chest, one arm draped lazily across your waist. You can’t help but trace gentle patterns along her back, your fingers following the soft curve of her spine.

Barbara murmurs quietly in her sleep, her body nestling even closer. You draw the covers up over her shoulders, shielding her from the cool night air, and feel the weight of her leg tangle with yours. The calm of the room, the subtle glow of the moonlight casting faint shadows on the walls, creates a peaceful backdrop for the two of you.

With Barbara’s steady breaths against your skin and the warmth of her body pressing into yours, you find yourself drifting too, the sensation of your hand still lightly caressing her side.

It’s as if even in sleep, you can’t stop touching her—can’t help but hold her close, protectively, lovingly. Even in sleep, your touch is instinctive, a tender gesture of affection that doesn’t cease.

The way her body fits against yours feels like home, like a place you could stay in forever.

As sleep pulls you both under, your fingers continue their gentle caress along her skin, even in the deep calm of slumber. Barbara’s soft sigh escapes her lips, her body unconsciously leaning further into you, seeking your warmth. Together, you lie curled up, bodies entwined in a silent promise, as the night carries you into a shared dream.

#romugh's kt '24 #romugh slays #romugh writes #barbara sugarman reader #barbara sugarman x reader #barbara sugarman #don jon #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff #bottom natasha romanoff #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson reader #love scarlett in that movie #wlw smut #reader pov #reader insert #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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henry7931 · 2 months ago

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Uncle Nephew Swaps Vol.1

A Very Different Vacation

Caleb:

My best friend Jake and I always travel with our families together. His parents are friends with my parents and I’ve grown up with him all my life.

And when it came time for our family beach trip, we decided to shake things up. Specially, we switched bodies with our uncles!

That’s right! Our entire trip will be me in my uncle Shawn and Jake in his uncle Mike.

So far I’ve really enjoy being inside of Shawn. Especially since we haven’t told anyone in our families about the swap. Luckily, both Shawn and Mike are single so we can do just about whatever we want!

That means if we want to go golfing all day, party all night, it’s really up to us!

I’m not gonna lie, it’s kinda hot being inside of my uncle Shawn. He’s a good looking guy and I can’t help but notice my attraction to Mike’s body. I wonder if Jake would be down to fool around.

His uncle has a sexy chest, he’s fit like Shawn, and from the bulge I’ve seen Jake sport around on the beach— I just know that thing is big!

Maybe after we go out tonight, I’ll try to make my move. In the meantime, I’ll just low key flirt with him.

Wait a minute, I wonder… if I’m so attracted to Mike inside of my uncles body… does that mean Shawn and Mike may already have a thing?

Uncle Shawn:

“Okay smile for the camera!”

I feel Mike grab on tight to my nephew’s shoulder and seductively rub down my back as the photos over.

“You wanna get ready for the beach?” I ask him with a big grin on my face.

“Oh yeah let’s go get ready.”

The second we get back to our shared room, Mike yanks off my pants and my nephew’s eager dick comes flying out.

“Shit, Shawn this is so wrong but I love having these bodies. The amount of times we can keep going in one day.”

“I know! You thought this mornings shower session was enough but damn! I’m already horny again!”

My grabs on to my borrowed cock and I yelp.

“Sorry it’s just so sensitive.”

“It’s all good, I like making you squirm a bit,” he says toying with Caleb’s 21 year old leaking equipment.

I look down at Jake’s beautiful big feet. Mike’s really good at putting those toes to work.

“Ohhh does someone want me to jerk them off again with these toes?” he says wiggling them in front of me.

“Please…”

Mike kisses me with his soft lips. We end up making out for a few minutes before he pushes me back on the bed.

“You ready ‘Caleb’?”

“Oh my ready ‘Jake’!”

Mike wraps Jake’s toes around Caleb’s sensitive cock and i immediately start moaning.

He runs his toes over the shaft down to Caleb’s tight balls.

“Ohhhhh…”

He proceeds to put the other foot towards my face and I start sucking on his toes.

I get the foot good and wet before he switches off to the other one.

His feet stink mainly from him refusing to wear any socks all trip but Mike knows I love nothing more than natural body odor. He’s even wore the same pair of boxers all week which he’s even cum into a couple of times.

I feel him start to pump faster with Jake’s toes. I rub and down his hairy legs. We keep eye contact which is so sexy to me. Both of us don’t want to miss a minute of our experience.

Now we’ve both fooled around with body swapping, especially with each other. I’m normally fucking my own body most of the time when I’m with Mike. But this switching bodies with our nephews all week is a whole new level of kinky!

I soon feel myself get close…

“MIKE!!! IM ABOUT TO!”

Cum squirts all over the place including all over his borrowed feet. Mike lets me lick them clean.

“Now my turn!”

Mikes pulls down his nephews pants and his cock is throbbing. He pushes my face into his crotch and the smell is overwhelming.

Mike throat fucks me tor 10 minutes before exploding down my nephews throat.

We lay back in bed and cuddle our nephews baked bodies together.

All of the sudden someone knocks at the door.

“Hey! Are y’all coming down to the beach?”

It’s my own voice with my nephew controlling it.

“Yeah give us a few! We’ll be down shortly ‘Uncle Shawn’!”

“Ready for the beach?” I say kissing him on the cheek.

“Yeah let’s get dressed!”

Uncle Jax’s Body For Halloween

Timmy couldn’t believe his uncle agreed to swap bodies with him for Halloween! Timmy wanted to feel like a real life superhero so what better way than his uncle Jax’s muscular body.

Now with the latest available technology these days body swapping had become the newest trend for costumes. Especially since home swap devices are so popular, you can really be however you want!

Luckily for Timmy, he’s gets to be his cool uncle all night! I’m sure he’s going to have lots of fun!

Uncle Rocky’s Massive Bod

Jeremy:

I work for my uncle Rocky and when he told me about his vacation I was super nervous to get everything done since I’m no where near as strong as him. But he told me not to worry that he has a plan.

So the day before he was planning to leave he called me to meet him at his house. That’s when he told me about his plan.

I wasn’t prepared for the words that came out of my uncles mouth. He told me we are going to swap bodies for a week. He’ll take my body on vacation while I stay at his house and go to work as him.

“Really uncle Rocky?!?!”

“Yep! Just be careful with my body.”

So here I am inside my uncle doing a bunch of physical labor. Kinda cool right?!?

I’m surprise by just how much easier it is to get stuff done with his big muscles.

The best part about all of this is that after I finish up, I get to go back to his place and enjoy just being him.

My Uncle is a handsome guy and I’m fully aware of it. He even has a giant thick cock which is so fun to jerk off with!

Tonight, I made him a Grindr page. I’m hoping I can find a really cute guy with his body that will let me top him. That shouldn’t be too hard, as long as they can handle this massive monster!

#body swap #male tf #male body swap #uncle

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zablife · 5 months ago

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Runaway with Me

Benny Cross x female reader

Divider credit @firefly-graphics

Summary: You're a nice college girl dating a fellow student and photographer named Danny, but your boring life comes to an end when you meet the man you've previously only lusted after in photos. When you spend a night with Benny, your whole world changes.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, language, drinking, infidelity (sorry Danny)

A/N: Kathy doesn't exist in this AU. Only my second fic for Benny. Let me know your thoughts! Comments are love 💕 No spoilers here!

Benny Cross Masterlist

“Hey,” a low voice called to you, rumbling like thunder on a warm summer night. His smoldering gaze stopped the click of your heels on the pavement before you could reach the bus stop, your attention stolen by a good looking blonde. You watched intently as the flashing streetlight illuminated his rugged jawline and muscular arms, sending a crackle of electricity down your spine.

“I know you,” he remarked mysteriously, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

Your throat went dry, as you struggled to answer. Readjusting your purse on your arm, you shook your head before you finally heard yourself whisper hoarsely, “I don’t think so.” However, you knew he was right, you’d seen his photos in Danny’s dorm room, though the prints hadn’t done him justice.

“You’re that college girl Danny’s always talking about,” he added, eyes roving your body in obvious appreciation.

Your mouth dropped open at the mention of your boyfriend, heart beat quickening as you thought of the way you’d stared at those images, biting your lip in curious desire for a man you’d never met. It hadn’t occurred to you you might actually meet one day, but now it seemed your fantasy was coming true.

Locking eyes with him in a flirtatious stare, you almost felt guilty as you introduced yourself with a coy smile.

Benny's blue eyes twinkled and a wide grin spread across his face as he realized you weren't frightened of him.

"I'm Benny," he reciprocated without saying more. However, the way he allowed comfortable silence to linger, put you at ease long enough to explain that Danny stood you up, leaving you to take the bus home. You couldn’t help the anger that filled your voice, throat constricting with unshed tears as you wondered when you’d be as important as his silly book.

Seeming to understand your need for distraction, Benny asked, “You wanna get out of here?” He didn’t wait for a reply before flicking his cigarette butt to the ground and throwing one leg over his bike.

As you thought of Danny's calls going unanswered, you picked at the strap of your bag hesitantly. “I don’t know, I should be getting back,” you reasoned quietly with yourself.

Benny held up his hands as though accepting defeat. “You gotta go, you gotta go,” he shrugged before starting up the bike.

You glanced over your shoulder toward the uninviting looking bench under the bus shelter just as the engine roared to life, impulsively grabbing his chiseled bicep. His chin jerked up at you in surprise, that adorable grin returning when you yelled, “I’m coming with you.”

Extending a ringed hand for you, he helped you onto the bike, snuggly fitting your arms around his trim waist with the instruction, “Hold on tight."

You didn’t bother asking where you’d be going, your desire for adventure steadily growing. When he accelerated toward the highway with wind rushing past your hair and colors blurring in your peripheral, you could think of nothing except the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the seductive thoughts multiplying with every new sensation.

Pressing your cheek against his back, you inhaled the intoxicating mixture of pomade and leather, closing your eyes to imagine it mingled with the sweat of exertion. The vibration of the bike beneath your legs, body molded tightly against his made you all the more eager for him.

When he pulled into a local motel and helped you off the bike, your legs had turned to jelly and you couldn’t be sure if it was from the overwhelming experience of the ride or your sudden nerves as you waited to see what might happen next.

Benny didn’t seem to notice, walking toward his door with a slow, but confident strut. “Want a drink?” he asked, holding the door for you.

You fidgeted with your necklace as you peeked your head into the small, yet tidy room where he said he’d been staying for the past month.

He offered you the first bottle of beer, knocking the cap off against the dresser with a sharp crack. He shook the fizz from his hand, sucking a little off his thumb before placing the bottle in your hand.

As your fingertips brushed against each other, it renewed the electricity dancing between you, his eyes darkening to a deeper shade of blue as lust overtook his gaze.

With a shaky breath you took a sip and placed the bottle onto the table, quickly forgetting it as he took hold of your arm and pulled you into a searing kiss.

As the cool metal of his rings touched the burning skin of your cheeks, you moaned against him, allowing him the opportunity to lick into your mouth hungrily. He was gentle, but firm as his tongue fought yours for dominance, hands tangling in your hair as his passion increased.

His calloused hands memorized every inch of you on their way down your body to find the hem of your top and pull it over your head. Nipping softly at your lower lip, he distracted you momentarily to unclip your bra and toss it aside, stopping long enough to suck in a breath at the sight of your breasts.

Ducking his head to take a pert nipple into his mouth he lapped and sucked against the sensitive bud, making you whimper with need.

“Like that, pretty girl?” he asked softly, hand kneading your other breast until you thought you’d cum from that simple touch alone. Hands resting atop his blonde curls, you pushed him away gently to catch your breath and he huffed out a little laugh. “A little too much, huh?”

Taking his lead, you wasted no time removing his jacket and shirt to reveal the taut planes of his chest and abs. Skating your fingers across the lean muscle with a sigh, you leaned in to place scattered kisses along his collarbone. You watched the vein in his neck jump before ghosting your lips over his throbbing pulse and chose a place to suck a bruise.

He hissed as you tongued over it in soothing circles, fingertips clutching at your hip when you blew a stream of cold air across his flesh. Deciding to push him further, you snaked a hand down his front, palm gliding over the coarse material of his jeans. A low rumble of satisfaction came from his chest as you stroked his growing bulge, his hips involuntarily bucking against your hand.

You smirked at his responsiveness and the fact that he was much bigger than you’d imagined. Unable to wait any longer, your fingers fumbled excitedly with his belt buckle, Benny groaning at the promise of release for his aching cock.

Falling to your knees, you helped him out of his pants and watched his cock bounce against his tan stomach. The little gasp that left your throat seemed to amuse him as he tilted his head to savor the sight of you before him.

Hand reaching for him like a prize, you began long slow licks along his shaft before taking the spongy head between your lips, eager to please. No sooner had you begun, he grasped for your shoulder to steady himself from the dizzying pleasure, opposite hand sweeping the hair from your face to watch himself disappear down your throat.

Benny’s moans began to fill the room as you worked, a stuttered breath escaping when you stopped to kitten lick and suck lightly on the tip, holding eye contact with him. The sight of your angelic face staring up at him through your lashes, saliva running down your chin was almost too much for him to bear. He knew he couldn't resist you if you continued much longer.

Within seconds you felt him capture your wrists, pulling you up to your feet as he gulped and shook his head. "Not yet, baby."

Walking you backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed behind you, he pushed you onto the mattress with a bounce. You giggled as his eager fingers hooked into the waist band of your skirt and underwear, tugging them down to reveal all of you to him. "So beautiful," he exclaimed, long fingers tracing over your chest and stomach reverently.

He hovered over you, placing kisses to your neck as his fingers found your slick folds, opening you up slowly until you were practically dripping down his fingers. Adding a thumb to circle over your clit, your back arched off the bed and he hushed you with a deep kiss which only intensified when he felt you clench around his digits.

"Need you, Benny," you whined, clutching at his broad shoulders and urging him to rest his weight over you. He pressed his forehead to yours, nuzzling your nose in a gesture far too sweet for the single, powerful thrust that came next. Tears sprang to your eyes from the exquisite feeling of fullness, the pressure on your g-spot intense and immediate.

Benny stilled the moment he'd seated himself inside you, shuddering slightly to hold himself back as he allowed you time to adjust to his size. His cool blue eyes drank you in before resuming a steady rhythm that had you writing beneath him, head tossed back onto the pillows.

The slow drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sent your nerve endings firing little sparks of heat through your core, somehow amplifying the need for more. Benny sensed it immediately, raising your leg to his hip and sank even deeper with a low rumble of satisfaction, matched only by your lustful mewls.

Spurred on by every sweet sound you made, his hips began snapping against you, a light sheen of sweat coating his chest. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging slightly at the roots as your brain fogged with pleasure. As he fucked you into the mattress, your eyes fluttered closed, only vaguely aware of him slipping his thumb into your mouth. Sucking eagerly against the salty skin, you heard Benny groan loudly as the sensation shot straight to his cock.

Removing his thumb with a pop, he snaked his hand between you to circle the small bundle of nerves at your apex causing your mouth to drop open. He leaned in for a kiss unlike before, messy and demanding. "Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" he asked breathlessly.

You gave a pathetic nod, biting your lip as you felt the coil in your stomach ready to snap. Staring into the oceans of Benny's endlessly blue eyes, a soft static began buzzing in your ears as you heard him whisper, "Yeah? Let me see." His warm breath hit the shell of your ear just as you tipped over the edge, white heat consuming your body. Wave after wave crashed over you, melting your brain and making your limbs turn gooey.

Benny fucked you through it as he chased his own high, hips stuttering before he pulled out with a quick jerk. Emptying himself onto your stomach in hot, thick ropes, he exhaled a contented sigh and smiled down at you with a lopsided grin.

Hours later, overcome with exhaustion, you curled into Benny's side beneath the covers. Safe and warm in his embrace, you found yourself talking about anything and everything. He listened with rapt attention as you described your boring college, the pressure that came with the classes and your dream to escape, seeing the country the way Danny had.

Mostly, Benny listened, but he talked a little about his own travels too. The life he was leading fascinated you and you found yourself wishing you were part of it. However, your voice began to trail off as you glimpsed the far off look in Benny's eye.

Truthfully, Benny found the excitement in your voice endearing and he couldn't help fantasizing about taking you on the road with him. As he idly traced patterns against your arm, he found himself suddenly saying, "Runaway with me."

Clutching the duvet to your chest you turned to stare at him in disbelief. "What?"

His jaw set determinedly, he nodded to indicate he was serious about what he'd said. "Be my girl," he added, eyeing you carefully to see if you'd accept.

Your heart knocked against your chest as you swiftly agreed, moving to straddle him and take his face between your hands for a celebratory kiss.

As the first rays of sun hit Benny’s eyes, he groaned in protest. The morning had come too quickly despite his best efforts to savor the night with you. Turning over in bed to drag you closer to him, his arm stretched over the cold, empty sheets. Clutching the material in his fist until his knuckles turned white, he wondered if you’d caught a cab, leaving the moment you came to your senses.

Shuffling to the side of the bed to retrieve his jeans, he wondered why he’d been foolish enough to think you’d go anywhere with him when you had so many other opportunities. But he couldn’t think about all that before he’d had a cigarette so he fell out the front door, digging in his pockets for a lighter.

Just as he stumbled off the concrete step, he nearly tripped over the chair you’d placed outside the door, eliciting a cry of surprise from you.

As he quickly apologized, you clutched his Vandals jacket to your shoulders, giggling at his disheveled appearance. He was still effortlessly handsome despite his hair sticking up in all directions, the streaks of golden blonde catching the sunlight and arousing another wave of desire in you. However, you noticed he seemed too distracted to reciprocate.

“I thought you left,” he admitted, graveled voice still full of sleep as he closed the motel door behind him.

You raised the hand that held your cigarette, explaining, "Just came out for a smoke.”

As he retrieved the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear, he considered you warily. "Before you took off with my jacket?"

"I was going to give it back when I came in to wake you up," you explained softly, standing to stub out your cigarette with the toe of your shoe.

He turned his back to you, pretending to survey the parking lot as he nodded in understanding, "You gotta go."

You wrapped your arms around his waist, cheek pressed to his back as you imagined you'd do many more times in the future during long rides together. "We have to go. I thought we were running away together," you reminded him with a playful nudge.

He turned around instantly, pulling you close by the lapels of his jacket for a long kiss. Smirking against your lips he murmured, "Then let's go, baby."

#the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #the bikeriders imagine #benny cross #benny cross x reader #benny cross x you #benny cross x y/n #benny cross fanfiction #benny cross imagine #Austin butler

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m00nl1ghts1vt · 23 days ago

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Pierced II - Chris Sturniolo

Part One Based off this request Pairings - bfb!Chris x fem!Reader Warnings - MDNI, smut, masturbation, oral fem receiving, oral male receiving, unprotected sex, p in v, titty play, pet names (baby), praise kink, strong language. (comment if I missed any!) Summary - After Matt catches you and Chris in the hallway, Chris dismisses him, and takes you to his room, easily giving you the best fuck of your life. W/c - 2896?? A/n - With Pierced being one of my top liked post, I had some requests for a part two! This is my first smut and I'm not too experienced writing smut sooo 🫣 Posting this before I clock in lol. I haven't proofread this yet so please forgive me if there's typos/mistakes!! Tags - @lvrsturniolo @thepubeburgler @unknvhx @m11rx @ribread03 @emely9274 (let me know if anyone else wants on my tag list!) Masterlist Current series - City of Love

Chris keeps you under his trance as Matt shuts his bedroom door. The anticipation of his next words has your heart in your stomach. Chris always had a flirty personality but something was different about tonight. The look he had in his eyes told you he was standing on business, “my room?” His voice breaks you of your train of never-ending thoughts.

You nod eagerly, not letting your mouth form the words. A smirk pulls at Chris lips and he reaches out, looping his finger around the drawstring of pajama pants once again. You follow close behind as he leads you down the hall and to his bedroom. You watch as Chris kicks the door open with his foot, pulling the string tighter and making your bottoms bunch up at your waist. Your heart thumps as you enter his room, closing the door behind you. Chris leads you to his bed, sitting down, and guiding you between his legs. He looks up at you, a seductive smirk stretched across his lips, “I can still see, right?”

Now that he has you up close and personal, he wanted to take advantage of it. Chris never hooked up with a girl with pierced nipples and seeing that photo earlier in the night not only sparked his curiosity, it revealed some sort of new found kink for him. All he knew was he wanted to pay as much attention to your breasts as you’d let him.

You fight with your own brain that’s telling you not to do anything stupid but when Chris places his hands on your hips, running them down your thighs like he’s admiring the curves he always knew you had, all those logical thoughts go out the window. “Mhm,” you muffle out, locking your eyes on his. His eyes are filled with nothing but lust and passion as he tightens his grips around your thighs, and pulls you closer to him. You take the hint, straddling him before he scoots back on the bed to make the position more comfortable. His hands travel from your waist and up to your neck, pulling you down so he can press his lips to your. Your lips move against his like they’re in sync with each other. His kiss is a lot more gentle and patient than you expected. So many thoughts wander through your mind while Chris runs his hands up your shirt, groping your breasts through your bralette. Let's be honest, you weren’t expecting a hookup tonight, so you weren’t prepared in any way. You had hello kitty pajama pants on with a white tank top, a white lacy bralette and a pair of cute strawberry printed boyshorts underneath. The slight stubble down below being the main give away, tonight took you by surprise. Your outfit was not screaming ‘fuck me’ but your body definitely was.

Deciding against your logical thoughts, you slip your shirt over your head. Within seconds, Chris is attacking your chest and stomach with wet sloppy kisses, the warmth of his lips against your skin makes you shiver. “That picture was so sexy,” he muffles, dragging his lips against your skin. “You don’t know how long I've been wanting to do this,” Chris looks up, the lust never leaving his eyes. His hands find their way underneath your bralette and he massages you gently. His fingers glide over your nipples lightly, hitting the cold metal each time. A small whimper rolls off your tongue, making him look up at you, “take this off for me.”

You tug at each side of your bralette, sliding it over your head and letting it his the mattress next you, “fuck y/n.” Chris couldn't help himself, both of his hands immediately cup your breasts. “So fucking pretty,” he compliments before snaking an arm around your waist and attaching his mouth to your left breast. Your mouth forms an O-shape at the sudden contact, and you run your hand through his hair as flicks his tongue against your pierced nipple. His unoccupied hand travels up to your right breast, trailing lightly around your areola before pinching at your sensitive nub a little too hard. You suck in a sharp, Chris notices very quickly, parting himself with a barely noticeable popping noise when he pulls away, “too much?”

“N-no it’s fine,” you tell him. It’s almost like you feared he’d stop, and that was the last thing you wanted. In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn’t going to, and you knew you’d be getting fucked sensless by him tonight at the rate it was going. Pushing your sane thoughts to the back of your head, “here. Lay down,” his voice raspier than before. You do exactly as you're told, scooting off his lap and onto his bed, laying back on the pillow as Chris hovers over you. Engulfing you in a heated kiss once again, he lets his hands wander all over your body, paying attention to the only naked part of you the most. Needing more of him, you roll your body against his as he slips his tongue in your mouth, letting it dance with yours. Before it gets too heated he pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours, “you wanna stop?”

His question taking you off guard, “what, no, why?” you ask, trying to catch your breath he sucked out of you. “I don’t want to,” you blurt out in a whiny tone. You were desperate for him at this point, and he’s barely even done anything. Chris raises his eyebrows at you, awe etched across his face, “no?” You shake your head almost immediately, “not now,” pushing your hips against his. His tongue darts across his lips, and his eyes trail down to your breasts, his hand following quickly after, “you sure, Y/n?” His bright blue orbs locking you in for the millionth time tonight, his gaze was hypnotic, making it impossible to say no to, not that you planned on it. You let out an impatient huff, “Chrisss,” stretching his name out, making Chris smirk. Little did you know, your pleas only turned him on more. He wanted to hear you whine his name while his cock was buried deep inside on you, hitting spots you didn’t even know were there.

“Then take these off,” he commands, tugging at your hello kitty pajama pants. You lift your hips up, letting him slide your pants down your legs. You watch as he tosses them over his shoulder, not caring where they land. Chris runs a finger over your clothed heat, making you squirm under his touch. You had been in his room less than ten minutes and he already had a pool of wetness collecting in your panties. It was nothing you had experienced before. His touch was too gentle for you - too caring.

You watch as Chris takes the outside of his index finger, dragging it along your slit, applying just enough pressure to make a moan slip from your lips. “Quiet baby,” he looks up at you, “don’t want to wake anyone, do we?”

The way Chris is rubbing you has your head spinning circles. You barely process what he’s saying before you reply, “mmm- no,” you manage to get out. “Good, stay real quiet for me, mmkay?” he tells you before hooking his fingers in the sides of your panties and pulling them down quickly, and discarding them much like your pajama pants. Redness finds its way to your cheeks, remembering you hadn’t shaved the last couple days. Normally, you’d come prepared and look pretty but you weren’t expecting a random hookup with your best friend's brother.

The passion in Chris’ eyes only intensifies when he sees you exposed and under his control. Crouching down until he’s eye level with your heat, placing a light kiss on your bundle of nerves, earning another whimper from you. He didn’t care about the little hair poking and prodding at his lips, he wanted as much of you as you’d give him. His eyes lock themselves on yours, keeping you in a trance as he uses his tongue to his, and your, advantage. Your mouth forms the same O-shape as earlier, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of the beautiful man lapping at your folds. A smile pulls at his lips but quickly disappears when he wraps his hand around your thigh, pulling you closer, so he can can as much of you as possible. His mouth never leaves your heat as he pulls you closer, making his teeth rub against your clit. Unexpectedly, the impact felt really fucking good. “Fuck Chris,” you moan out before throwing your head back.

“M’sorry” his voice comes out muffled since his mouth is still pressed against you. His immediate thought was that he was too rough. “Please keep going,” you tell him, tugging a hand through his hair once again. Chris grants your wish, flicking his tongue against your faster than before. You bury your bottom lip between your teeth as an attempt to bite back your moans, but once Chris pushes his middle finger inside you, you can’t hold back anymore. “Chrisss,” you stretch out. Your back arches off of the bed at the feeling of something finally penetrating you. Your last senseless hookup being weeks ago, you were dying to get yours off. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, it wasn’t the same as having a male presence. Chris easily before your favorite fuck after tonight. Before you can adjust to his middle finger, he adds his ring finger too. You buck your hips at him as your way of telling him you were enjoying it. You watch Chris as he gently pushes his fingers in and out of you, flicking his tongue against your clit. The warm sensation of his tongue against you and his fingers roughly sliding in and out becomes too hard to hold back, so you reach for a pillow to drown out your cries of pleasure.

“Fuck fuck, oh my god. Chris!” your moans come out muffled by the pillow but Chris can still hear you. Hearing you call his name only gives him more confidence to go crazy, darting his tongue against your folds while pumping his fingers at a fast pace. Repetitive little ‘uh’s fall from lips as your legs quiver, and your hands fist the pillow as he builds you up to your climax. Right as you’re about to let go, he pulls away. The ghost of his lips making you whine at him, throwing the pillow off of your face, “Chris,” you groan at the loss of contact, only wanting needing more of him.

“Tell me baby,” Chris sounds as he rubs a hand down inside of your thigh, “tell me what you want,” brushing his lips against your knee and leaving a soft kiss.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, “I need you to fuck me,” pulling your body up from the mattress, and smashing your lips into his. “Please,” you practically beg after pulling away, letting your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips, “I need you right now.”

Whatever magic spell Chris had you under was extremely impressive - and hard to get away from. No man had ever made you feel the way he did and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. Chris nods with urgency, stepping off of the bed to undress himself. Almost like an instinct, your hand makes its way between your thighs to pleasure yourself while you wait for him to undress. Your free hand finds its way to your breast, lightly clamping your nipple between your index finger and thumb. After Chris undresses, he hovers over you, taking in the amazing view of having the girl he’s wanted for the longest, masterbating in his bed. Dragging a thumb across your bottom lip and trailing it down to the breast you aren’t fondling. He pinches lightly at your nipple, “can’t wait for me, huh?” his voice stays hoarse from the groans he had been swallowing all night, “doesn’t look like you need me.”

His words make you stop abruptly, your hand flying from your swollen clit to his erection in one quick movement. He jumps at the contact, squeezing his eyes shut. “I told you I need you, so c’mere,” you bat your eyelashes at him, not letting him go as he takes a step forward. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m leaving and we’re never mentioning this again,” the words come out a bit more domineering than normal but you were tired of waiting.

Chris’s mouth drops, mimicking the same O-shape that was stuck on your face when he had his head buried between your thighs. You couldn’t tell if he was turned on or taken back, knowing him he was probably both. You watch him as he sinks down next to you, letting his hands roam your body until they reach your heat once again. “Fuck,” he goans as he rubs you. You take it as the perfect opportunity to wrap your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking as much of him as you can in your mouth. “S-so fucking wet. So go-od, fuck,” he groans, the warm sensation of your head bobbing on his cock makes it hard for him to focus on pleasuring you. You felt like it was only right if you gave him amazing head just like he did to you. Chris’s hand rubs your back each time you pull back and push forwards like he’s giving you silent support, letting you know he enjoys it. As soon as he starts bucking his hips, indicating he’s close to finishing, you make sure to pull away, leaving him the same way he left you - needing you.

A wild smirk stretches across his face and he opens his mouth to speak, “ahh fuck you,” he groans, earning a giggle from you. Chris positions himself between your legs. Chris rubs a few circles along your clit as he lines himself up with your opening. He applies pressure, pushing through your fold and into your body slowly. A loud moan escapes your lips making him look at you. His bottom lip clamped between his teeth, “Shhh I know, baby,” his voice soothes you in a way and you close your eyes. Chris lets his body hover over you closely, leaning down to your ear as he lets you adjust to his size, and trailing sloppy kisses from your ear to your neck. You buck against him, signaling him to move. Chris takes initiative, slowly pulling back and pushing deeper into you, earning a gasp from you.

Chris rocks his hips back and forth, catching a rhythmic pattern, and hitting that certain spot inside of you. Your eyes widen at the feeling of your g-spot finally getting plowed into, something you’ve been needing for so long. “F-fuckk Chris,” you manage to get out, your voice getting stuck in your throat at first. In one swift motion, he pushes both of your legs to your chest so he can get better access to your dripping pussy. His other hand falls to your clit, rubbing it vigorously until your legs start to shake uncontrollably. He lets out a low chuckle, “already?”

“Ahh- I can’t,” you whimper as fucks you into a blissful state, “please, please, Chris.” Your begging only gives him the motivation to go harder, pulling all the way out, and thrusting into you until you’re on the base of his cock. He continues the same motions, making your body shake against your own will. He props your legs up on his shoulders, letting them part slightly so he can cower down down to you. Chris peppers wet kisses all over your chest, pressing a few to your lips. As he fucks you into an incoherent state, your vision becomes fuzzy and clouded with white spots. Finally giving in to the warm tingling sensation in your stomach, you let your eyes roll back, “oh my- Chrisss!”

Hearing you moan his name gives him the same familiar urge to fuck you to an obliterate state of mind. Small moans and cries fall from your lips while Chris plows deep inside you, filling you up right after you climax. He pulls out, earning a hiss from you, the loss of contact only makes you want him more. He lets his body collapse on top of you, laying a head on your chest, and planting another sloppy kiss against your right breast.

“That was crazy good,” he pants before looking up at you. A smile spread across your lips as you come down from the high he just gave you, “crazy fucking good,” you tell him. A chuckle falls from his lips, earning a giggle from yours.

Chris’s touch was too attentive, and you knew you’d be back for more. He gave you the best fuck of your life, easily. You felt pampered while he was fucking you, like you were the only thing that mattered to him, and for the moment you weren’t wrong. After seeing your love faces and cries of pleasure, he was head over heels for you, and he didn’t give a fuck what anyone had to say about it. He was determined to make you his.

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astrolynnworld · 11 months ago

Text

wanting you

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader

summary: matt wants you but knows he can never have you so he just gets off to the thought of you instead.

warnings: smut! obsession, masturbation, lust, need, imagination, cunnilingus, language.

a/n: this whole story is in matt’s pov! the bold lettering is his subconscious head thoughts & the regular lettering is his conscious regular thoughts. enjoy 🫡

word count: 800

im so in love with her.

anything she does just makes my heart ache with need. the need for her

she’s so precious, everything about her. i love her smile.. her laugh.. her eyes.. her personality, her voice, her smell, her bod-

fuck. no matt.. focus!

she’s such an amazing person, inside and out.. innsideee

i long to know how she feels on the inside. i bet she gets so wet, and i just know her pussy would clench around my dick like a claw mac-

MATT. enough. this is y/n you’re talking about.. your best friend of 7 years, you shouldn’t be thinking about her like this

but fuck does she turn me on inside and out. everything about her is literally perfect

*ding* i hear a notification from my phone

y/n just posted on instagram. i go to check what the photo is

she’s on a rooftop club posted up in a red halter top, black mini skirt, & some sexy laced up black heels.. my favorite pair of hers actually

the caption reads, “just your type.” for damn sure is what i thought

i notice the number 1/5 on the top and decide to swipe to the next one.

this one is her slightly turned to the back, bent down holding her knees while looking at the camera. i can see a bit of her panties

fuck she looks so seductive. i can’t help the tent that starts to grow in my pants

“what do you do to me?” i ask myself

i start palming myself in my pants as i continue through the slideshow, each picture getting a slight bit more seductive than the last.

i like the picture and leave a slick comment such as, “great photos 📸 “

not even a few seconds later she replies “thanks 📸” and likes my comment

she likes everyone’s comment, i don’t know why my like felt so special but it did.

fuck did she have a chokehold on me.. she needs to have a chokehold of something else tho

the palming through my pants allowed my dick to be fully erected at this point

it felt wrong thinking of her in this way but i couldn’t help with when i get horny and she’s the most beautiful girl in my eyes.

everything from her head to her toes is god given beauty.

i remember that one time, at nathan’s pool party, when she came in with her sexy purple two piece bathing suit.

i wish i could of took her back inside, slid those panties off and went to work. i just know she tastes fantastic

i take my dick out of my boxers as i imagine the thought of good her pussy would taste

i start stroking it to the thought her obedience as i take full control

how wet she could get from the thought of me domming her.

“mhm, you’re so good for daddy aren’t you?”

as she slides out of her panties and makes her way to the bed.

i follow behind her, pushing her down on the bed so i can climb on top of her and kiss her pretty pink lips

my dick throbs at the scene in my head

i slide down and kiss her second pair of pretty pink lips; causing her to let out a small whine

“moan for me baby, i wanna hear you” i say before starting to dip and lick my tongue all over her wet pussy

she’s making so many pretty noises but it’s not enough, i have to do more. i want her to feel like she’s never felt before

i stick my fingers inside and curl them. she whimpers at the sudden friction

i push my fingers in and out of her dripping pussy while licking up and down at her clit. i keep this pace going for a while

she starts grinding on my tongue, pulling my head closer to her pussy.

i’m thrusting into my hand faster. i want nothing more than to satisfy her

“fuck matt- pls don’t stop i’m going to cum”

“cum for me baby. please cum. i want nothing more than to taste you baby”

“matt. oh my fuck-“ she says letting her hips buck up uncontrollably

i’m so fucking close right now i can feel the pre cum leaking out of my dick like a fire hose

“mat- fuck i’m- i’m gonna cum” she says before squeezing my head with her thighs as she releases her high

i buck my hips into my hand one last time before im spilling out cum onto my chest.

i can’t remember the last time i came so hard. yet this time, it’s only from a fantasy of eating y/n out

god. i need her so bad

———————————————————————

a/n- and then the audience clapped 😵‍💫 all my matt stories are short :( can you tell i’m a chris girl? im gonna come with longer ones soon

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smuttyaf · 10 months ago

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The Camster Couple

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰.

wc: 5k

spanking, choking, degradation and rough sex.

It all started on the blue app with the lowercase ‘t’ in the middle. Posting seductive selfies to revealing videos, you built quite the following from these appearances.

Admirers began requesting specific posts to ache their thirst. First it was particular lingerie sets, then prolonged videos touching yourself, soon it escalated into you role playing for the naughty viewers. Reciting everything the strangers would describe on how they’d like to use and abuse you.

But even after fulfilling all those demands, still came the bombarding questions of wanting more.

The requests to become a cam girl started to pour in. The constant debate down your feed about which website you should join. Maybe Chaturbate or Cherry.tv? No… Those weren’t good enough, but you still had time to ponder the idea.

Doing live shows had its advantages and drawbacks. For one, you’re getting paid to touch yourself, your revealing photos and videos will finally have a price on them. But, that doesn’t overshadow the dispute that your face could possibly be shown for everyone to see. You were fearful that maybe co-workers, friends, or even family might find out. However, the conflicting contrast that made you excited was the option to receive gifts. Followers had the ability of viewing your wishlist on certain cam-sites. It gave them the option to go beyond just tipping the model, but appreciating her even more… honestly that feature alone made you like the idea of doing it. But, the one major obstacle that really hinders your decision is your boyfriend; the one who doesn’t know about your second life.

That’s why you find yourself here right now, lounging together in your bedroom with your teeth grinding in your ear. Your eyes flick towards him when running your finger on the notepad; clicking on the search bar, you immediately type in the link to your blog. The familiar desktop background appears making you scroll through a few post till you turn your laptop towards Harry.

“Look at this.” His attention turns towards you placing it on his thighs.

You gaze at him while his fingers press down on the arrow key to move the screen further. “What do you think?” You ask. Warmth spreading throughout your cheeks as you let your hand rest along your stomach fiddling nervously with your tank top.

“I think you want me in trouble,” Harry smirks. He goes to pass the laptop back however you halt his movements.

With nervous smile adorning your lips, his expression transitions into one of confusing eyes, questioning your behaviour.

“I think you need to look closer.” You insist, finger dragging down the notepad. He scoffs, sight trailing back to the pictures on the fuzzy screen.

Harry doesn’t even listen at first, letting himself look over your unopened tabs that range from PrettyLittleThing to Xvideos. The glimpse of porn sites didn’t faze him, what does are the tabs that read “Most profitable webcams sites?” and “Best webcam site survey.” Bushy brows lock together, his attention going back to the revealing pictures of… hold on, that looks like your lingerie set… and that beauty mark right there belongs too.

His head snaps, mouth opening slightly with chest beginning to rise with nerves. He wants to be upset, wants to shut the laptop and demand answers but the growing bulge in his pants directs him otherwise, because as much as he should be angry right now that his girlfriend of eight months was taking provocative pictures of herself to upload on the internet, he was aroused.

“Since when?” Harry mutters, swallowing hesitantly. His gaze going between you and the picture of your chest displayed on the screen.

The look on his face is giving you anxiety. Heart pounding in its cage. You’re back to biting down on your bottom lip, diverting your attention to the highlighted keys.

“It’s been two years…” You mumble, finding the bottom of your laptop more interesting in this moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug your shoulders. You didn’t have a reason, you never thought your pictures would blow up and gain so much traction And you never thought you would get bombarding comments about wanting to see more of yourself. You groan, taking your finger away from the machine and running them through your hair, dramatically slouching your body into the bed frame.

“If you want to break up with me I totally understand.” You say, words muffled from your face burying into your crewneck. That makes a hearty laugh leave the brunette, the feeling of his hands gliding up your thigh stirs your head to peek up.

“Baby relax,” He reassures. Blinking at him you nestle deeper into his touch, shifting your body into him as the redness in your face begins to subside.

“You’re not mad?” You question, fiddling with your bottom lip. The thundering in your ear quiets down as you don’t see the angry face of your boyfriend appear. He lets out another light laugh, shaking his head and looking at you in a way that makes you sigh with utter relief.

“I —I’m definitely surprised… and a little upset… I mean you’re my girlfriend and you’ve been posting these but…” He looks between you and the laptop, his lips squeezing into his cheeks before breaking out into a sneaky grin. “You’re so sexy baby, I really can’t be mad.” He reveals, finger pinching your thigh.

The answer causes you to lean forward, arms linking around his shoulders as you press heartfelt kisses across his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry! I know, I know, I should’ve told you but… I was too scared and I’ve been doing this before I met you and… I just didn’t know what you would say,” You rant between kisses, his lips curling into amusement. The warmth of his hands run over your spine comforting you.

“Baby. Relax.” Harry replies, the tone of his voice settling your excited nerves. You quiet down, placing one last kiss on his cheek before looking up at him with shy eyes. “I’m not mad, just wish you told me earlier.” You nod at him pleasantly with smile set on your features.

Your breath draws in slowly with the quiet hum of the laptop sounding in the space. And just like before when you were nervous telling him about your promiscuous account online, you’re back to the bubbling feeling having to tell him the new escapade on your schedule. Clearing your throat, you raise up, licking over your bottom lip and locking your gaze with his.

“I do have one more thing though…”

Harry shakes his head playfully, smirk tugging along his features as he rubs your covered flesh in his palms.

“You want to be a cam girl?” He interjects. Stomach quivers with eyes fluttering in shock, you question were exactly he even got that idea or was it obvious. “It’s in your tabs babe.” Harry continues. Your cheeks go back to burning in embarrassment as you nod your head.

“Yes I want to do that but also…” His brows rise, surprised there is more to the story. “I want to do it with you.”

His features soon resemble yours with burning skin and body shifting under your weight. To your amazement he leans in, lips pressing against yours in a teasing kiss. The racing in your heart relaxes. You really had the best boyfriend in the world.

With the fondness of his lips against yours you pull away, cheerful smile shining as you hum with happiness.

“So… yes?”

Plaid pink skirt with embroidered bralette reflects across the screen as comments fill the message board.

You giggle at the viewers appreciating your half naked appearance. Thanking the many who are tuning in for your first show.

The sound of the sink cutting off in your adjoined bathroom rings through the space, it only makes you smirk at the events about to happen.

“I did say I have a surprise for my opening night.” Black letters roll in questioning the news. “I thought I would do it with a special someone.”

Harry’s footsteps sound through the room when he moves his way towards the bed. His hands going to your calves hanging off the frame and playfully tugging you down. It causes a smile to spread on your lips as you kick him away.

“Let’s start shall we.”

You adjust the frame of your laptop so it can hide Harry’s face as he slips in behind you. His fingers gracefully falling on your hip as you adjust to make space for him on the bed.

“I think they’re jealous.” Harry says, head leaning in to look at the comments reacting to him.

You watch his expression change as his eyes rake over the messages; jaw clenching with lips pressed tight together. You can tell he wasn’t pleased with whatever people were saying.

“I have to agree I’m mad too,” He responds to someone. Your face twists in confusion. “She’s been a bad little girl, hasn’t she?” His hand on your hip massages your skin roughly as you register his words.

“Not only deceiving you all, but me as well. So naughty not telling her boyfriend about what she does online.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you turn towards the screen with glint of happiness in your eyes. You know what mood Harry is in.

“She deserves a punishment, doesn’t she?” The hand on your hip leisurely glides into your scalp and grips it in his palm. Your head jerks back while his gaze is still caught on the computer; not even paying attention to what he’s doing.

“I think they’re starting to like me now.” Harry smirks, his other hand going to your breast and gripping it roughly.

The devious tone in his voice makes you whimper, eyes peering up at the ceiling as you let him grope your skin. Fingers transition from kneading it in his palms to twisting your nipples through the thin material.

“Yes, she’s been a very bad girl.” His digits pull away to slap your breast making you cry out. The sound you elect causing him to pull your head back once again, his body shifting from behind to gaze over your expression.

“Such a liar.” He says, eyes peering down as you look at him with pleasure written all over your face.

“You like being a liar, don’t you.” His hand meeting your skin again to pierce another smack against your tits. “Speak!” He orders, adding another blow.

“Yes sir.” You mutter, looking into his forest eyes and biting down on your bottom lip as he places one final slap to your skin.

“Tell me what you are.” Harry says, jerking your head, it makes you flutter your lashes up at him.

You’re too caught up between his freshly washed hair falling over his forehead and chest displaying his tattoos, that you don’t recall him demanding you to answer him again. His biceps flex when he lands another blow against your skin to knock you out of your daze.

“I’m a bad girl.” You tremble. His lips turn into a devilish grin. Hands roaming over your reddening skin.

“Mhm…” Harry hums with eyes searching your overwhelming appearance. “Across my legs.”

He relaxes his hold on your hair, letting you rise up on the bed to comfortably lay across his thighs. Your backside perched itself in the air. The ends of your skirt revealing your bare heat as his hand that once laid marks across your skin rubs against the material of your clothing.

“They’re calling you a dumb slut,” His hands go under your skirt to feel over your ass roughly. “I think I agree.” He smacks the flesh making you chew down on your bottom lip.

“Do you think you’re a dumb slut?” Harry taunts with another mark against your ass.

The atmosphere is influenced with pure lust from each swift, assertive motion of his palm lying roughly into your skin. Harry’s not even waiting for you to answer, he’s just placing blow after blow amongst your cheeks in pure arousal. The sheets underneath his hold ruffles against your body with each thrust.

You bite down harder into your bottom lip, fingers curling into the duvet as your eyes roll in hunger at the furious slaps causing hues of red blossoming under your skin.

“Dumb slut doesn’t know how to answer,” Harry cracks another heavy smack against your ass. High pitch whimper breaks through your lips when you jump at the action.

“Baby,” You cry but that only beckons another sharp slap.

“What’s my name?”

“S —Sir. I’m sorry sir.” You apologize for the mistake as his thundering smacks blaze across your skin.

“Dumb little fuck toy,” One hand leaves your cheeks and trails back into your hair. He’s tugging the strands so you can turn towards the laptop completely.

Catching sight of yourself in the camera your face is blazed red, lips bitten with tears brimming your eyes from the pain and pleasure coursing through your veins. The viewers are seeing you at your most vulnerable. Being taunted with bruises and degrading words, just for you to apologize to the one haunting your skin with waves of pain.

“Say it, say “I’m a dumb little fuck toy”,” Harry gloats. You can see in the view of the laptop his smirk as it’s the only feature that reveals his face. The palm of his hand makes another moan slip out of your mouth as it welcomes itself against your flesh.

He loves watching you wither and moan. He loves seeing your skin flourish with hues of pink from his finger prints leaving their marks, knowing that they will be there for days. He loves that with each smack of his hand you were getting off to it. He loves that if he were to move his position even lower he’ll feel your wet pussy ready for anything he has in store.

“I’m a dumb little fuck toy sir.” You whine, voice muffled from your face press into the sheets.

“Mhm…” Harry hums again, another painful slap burning your skin. “My dumb little fuck toy.” Smoothing his hand over your scorching flesh.

His grip on your hair jerks your head back, painful cry leaving your mouth as the straining sensation in your scalp makes your arms bend to pick your body off his thighs. He draws your head back even further, your legs flexing to move your position to now face him. The hand leaving heavy slaps against your ass sends one roughly across your face.

His jaw is still tense with eyes dilated in dominance. Your legs are now completely aching for his touch to spread over your pussy, just craving attention.

“Don’t you love being my fuck toy?”

You moan at the words, blinking up at him and nodding your head. “Yes sir.” You whimper, sucking on your bottom lip as he looks over your disheveled appearance.

Harry taps your face gently, lips flattening together as the hold he has on your hair pressures your face to meet his. Your tongues immediately exchange fluid as they dance against each other in passionate harmony, the feeling of his muscle running against yours has you moaning into the kiss.

The rough exchange of spit oozes between lips as you push yourself deeper into his embrace. His fingers curling into your hair welcoming your adventurous tongue as it glides against the wet expanse of his.

“I love being your fuck toy,” You mumble, pulling away and leaving string of saliva linked between you. His eyes glisten at your confession. It makes Harry smirk at you, his tongue escaping his mouth to sever the translucent connection.

The hand in your hair is breaking the sight between you both. His grip shoves your head directly into his lap, your nose digging into his crotch as his other hand goes back to rubbing your bruised skin.

“I think it’s time to put you to work.” Harry declares, his hold making you roam your face along his erection. Your breath rushing over his clothed shaft as he buries you into his lap.

The notifications of tips rings through the space. Audience entertained that you’re being degraded for their enjoyment. The thought alone arouses you, it made you moan against his cock. Followers and onlookers getting off to Harry completely doing anything that he wants to your body. Accepting the demeaning words that fuels your greed for pleasure, and letting him place as many smacks against your skin.

“Take my cock out.” He instructs, his grip relaxing as he lets you rise up to reach into his boxers.

Your hands glide over his member gracefully, fingers roaming over the thick expanse as your eyes look at him with pure adoration. Angry veins ranging in size roam under the stretched skin of him that has your mind completely hypnotized.

“Look at you,” Harry exaggerates with amusement. He gently slaps your cheeks in light taps, those motions making you smile with moan slipping out.

“Enjoying yourself like the slut you are,” He comments. His grip forcing the space between you and his dick to bring attention to pleasing him.

With fingers still lace in your hair, they effortlessly follow your movements when your head leans forward to pepper wet kisses along his shaft. Plump bitten lips smearing saliva messily over his erection, as they roam all along his length, tongue stretching around the girth.

Your hand goes to cup his balls, letting your mouth pick up motion with each descend down him. Tongue feeling over every inch, swallowing him down coating the expense of him in thick fluid from every stroke.

Your eyes flutter from the familiar feeling of him dragging down your throat. The way he fits so nicely like he was made to be there, it only makes you moan around him in pleasure. You love the way he stretches your throat blissfully, moving gracefully with the added slick. The sensation of him expending the flesh around him has your pussy throbbing for any form of treatment.

The quiver between your legs only increases when the grip Harry has in your hair is roughly forcing you back down his cock. Hips drawing slowly out of your mouth to push back in as he begins to fuck your throat. His nails curl into your scalp when he shoves your head all the way down to the point your nose is brushing against his groin, just letting you take his swift thrusts. His deep voice dripping in honey when satisfying groans pass through his lips.

“Take my dick like the good slut you are.”

Wet, obscure noise sounding throughout the atmosphere as he assaults your throat. His rough hands collecting your hair swiftly as he continues to drag your head up and down his cock. The aggressive lunges he makes with his own hips to meet your mouth causes your chest to burn for air.

Your palms tear away from his balls and run across his upper thighs, eyes barely open from the lack of oxygen running through your system. Your mind goes completely numb to the control he has over your movements.

And just as your nose brushes against his skin once more, he relaxes his grip in your locks, letting his fingers gently bring your head up. Heavy ragged breaths draw from your lips as your lungs ache in pain.

It’s only when you feel one of Harry’s hand leave from your hair to run across your face, that you feel wetness roam amongst your cheeks.

His other hand glides down your backside. Feeling over the bruised skin and slipping it between your legs to run his fingers down your folds. A hesitant breath escapes you with eyes blinking slowly at his dick glistening in your fluid.

“Always so wet for me, huh?” Index finger craving your clit around in circles.

You hum while nodding your head; your mind is in another dimension right now, you’re not even sure if you’re able to form coherent words. Your brain is in a cloudy daze, dancing between the raging sensations flowing through you.

It’s a mix between thrill and greed. You want more of Harry shoving himself down your throat till the point you pass out, you want him to push your face deeper down his cock and have your nails curling into his skin from the lack of oxygen. You want him to ruin you.

“So wet and ready to be used.” Harry states. Another finger occupying his movements, only causing your head to lean forward, broken whimper trailing out of your lips at the added pleasure you’ve been craving. “Be a good little slut for me. Won’t you baby.”

You nod your head, lashes fluttering against the hollows of your eyes while you lean forward and press lazy kisses along his dick. Harry motions continue to rub your clit around his two fingers, spreading your nectar along your folds with swiftness that you can’t help the moan that breaks through your lips.

“Say you’re gonna be a good slut for me.” His fingers continuing their fierce movements.

“I —I’m,” Voice coming out broken and damaged. Harry smirks at that. “I’m gonna be a good slut for you sir.” You manage to say, lips still roaming amongst his length.

“That’s my girl.”

His fingers leave your clit to dip between your folds and spread you open. Lengthy digits thrusting into your pussy slow. He feels the way your velvet walls sink around him, the sweet fluid that you’ve been producing since he’s been lying his hands on you, gliding down every inch of his skin as lets his fingers explore you.

You moan at the feeling of Harry slipping into your pussy provoking more filthy whimpers of pleasure, while your mouth drags down the expense of him.

You’re so turned on from the sensations coursing through you, you don’t even hear the constant pings of tips and comments coming through the chatroom. Viewers appreciate your tousled appearance and beg for more entertainment. They want more exposure of your skin being shown. They want more deafening slaps and disgraceful words, they want to see you wrecked.

Your lips wrap around Harry in a frenzy state, sucking him down your throat just the way you know he likes; tongue lying on the underside and feeling over every prominent blood vessel that blooms along his shaft, throat welcoming the thickness that buries itself deep in your throat till your nose is brushing up against his groin just like before.

As you continue to let pleasure course through you and roam down the span of him, Harry continues playing with your pussy. Lunging his fingers hungrily with your slick cascading down his fingers all the way to his knuckles, fucking his digits into your soiled box that you choke around him, only straining the burn in your throat.

“That’s my good slut.” Harry groans, his fingers curling into your heat as your eyes flutter. “Taking good care of my dick.” He continues to boast.

You hum from the gratitude, relishing in the compliment that’s given, you nod around him in acknowledgment with fingers curving gently into his skin while he continues his tantalizing motions.

“Wanna be an even better slut for me?” He questions. Your mouth drapes up the expense of him, saliva dripping from your lips as you turn to look up at him with swollen eyes and burning cheeks.

“Yes sir.” Nodding while blinking up at him. You’re sure the mascara that coated your lashes is all over your cheeks and streaked along the hollow of your eyes. You’re sure that Harry loves the damage he’s done to you.

“Gonna take my dick like the good girl you are? Huh? Don’t you want to be a good girl?” You moan at the words while nodding your head again at him. Whatever he wanted to do, you allowed. In the mind space your in, he could do no wrong.

“Yes sir.”

You let him push you off his lap and find his place behind you, handling you roughly as his hands leave your hair to position you better in the frame of your laptop. His fingers undo your bralette before pushing your back deeper into the duvet. His hands gliding down the smooth expense before tugging your skirt higher on your hips.

“Such a pretty pussy.” You hear behind you. Cock dragging down your aching heat.

“Please sir, I wanna feel you.” You moan, voice strained and raspy. Harry laughs behind you. Deep chuckle as if he’s amused by your comment. “Please sir, haven’t I’ve been good?” You beg, ass pressing deeper into his cock, that it only allows a smack to go across your cheeks.

“I don’t know, have you?” Pressing his cock between your folds to slide in effortlessly. Your walls expand around him, damaged voice moaning out swears from him filling you up completely as his hips meet your backside.

“Why did you lie to me?” Harry taunts, drawing back till his head is breached between your hole until he thrusts back in aggressively.

“Why did you lie to them?” He continues, his hand leaving your covered hips and bringing your wrist to hold behind your back.

You can only moan at the drastic strikes of his cock in you. He’s barreling down your walls aggressively that you’ve grown completely numb to the pleasure, just letting him manhandle you to the point you’re not even control of your emotions, he’s the one controlling them.

“Answer me!” He demands, his chest leaning in to grab your hair in his hands and twist your head to look directly into the camera.

“Tell them, tell me, why’d you lie.” Your eyes float over the colourful screen with black words darting up and down. There’s tears brimming your eyes at his thickness abusing your hole so roughly.

“I don’t know sir.” You whine, your free hand not in Harry’s grasp is curling into the duvet as he pounds away at your cervix.

“You don’t know?” He questions, continuing to bruise your pussy restlessly. You shake your head in his hold while whimpering at the pleasure. “You want me to give you the answer, will that make it easy for you? Hm?” He’s diving down your walls with such violation your mind is in a different place.

“Yes sir, tell me.” You moan into the sheets, the soft light from the laptop is blurry under your gaze.

“Because you’re a dirty slut. Say it, say “I lied because I’m a dirty slut.”” Nodding your head into the sheets you feel lonesome tears begin to run down your face as you let him degrade you for everyone and him to enjoy.

“I lied because I’m a dirty slut.” Crying into the sheets as he continues to stroke your walls dangerously.

“That’s right.” Harry husks, the grip he has in your hair releasing as it runs across your face wiping your tears. “But you’re my dirty slut. My dirty fuck toy.”

Shallow breaths draw in from your clit throbbing in arousal, your pussy continues to accept his thrusts that glide with ease from your nectar, walls enveloping him comfortably as he strides in with rough urgency.

He looks over your features; mascara smeared all over your cheeks, eyes trained dazzlingly at the screen beside you, chest heaving with ease as your backside sounds in the room with the fluid between your legs joining. He loves that he can push you to your limits and you still find pleasure in his devious ways. He loves that you accept his intensity with your own greed for wanting more.

“My pretty fuck toy. Only I can make you feel like this.” His hand coming between your thighs to toy with your clit. Heavy breath releasing from your chest as you dip your head in acknowledgment.

“Making you this needy over my cock. I know you love it.” You whine at the comment, knuckles going white against the bedsheets.

“Yes, fuck, sir, I love it.” Whimpering with gaze completely blurring with tears accepting his intense thrusts.

“My pretty slut.” Harry’s fingers rub your bundle of nerves in rough circles as he continues to drive your nerves up the wall.

The ringing from the laptop doesn’t overshadow the ones in your ears. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with it digging into the sheets. Your thighs quiver against his barreling ones, warm waves of euphoria coat your body in pure ecstasy from your climax overthrowing you.

Harry is grunting behind you, his movements never slowing just continuing their hungry paste. His hand that was wiping away your tears goes to land smacks against your backside to add to your electrifying orgasm coursing through you.

“Want me to make you even prettier? Want me to make you beautiful?” He insinuates, palm leaving another mark against your skin as he fucks you into the mattress.

The addicting sensation clouds over you from being completely disoriented at the assault between your legs. Brain in fuzzy whirlwinds of pleasure at the aftermath of your climax.

“Yes sir.” Whining with every jolt of your body.

“Gonna make you the prettiest toy.”

His hips lunge into you once more, thickness dragging down your walls enticingly before they pull out, his creamy seed runs down your folds in long spurts as he tugs himself off in front of your pussy.

Disappointing cry trails out of your mouth at the disappearance of his cock leaving your heat, but you can feel his cum running down your lips, and you can feel his hands roaming amongst your ass cheeks again.

“Look at you,” Harry smiles breathlessly, his grip over you making your backside face the laptop and display your ruined hole to the viewers.

“Look at how pretty you are.” His hands spreading your cheeks to showcase your pussy dripping in his cum.

There wasn’t much you could even do in the moment, continuing to let him present you as his fuck toy to your followers. The action had you actually smiling smugly into the sheets.

“My pretty girl.” Harry is leaving his place to lean over and press kisses along the side of your face.

And that is how your night ends, with the notifications blaring in the background with tips of your viewers thanking you for your first show.

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