𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲

He really shouldn’t love this . She could hurt herself , he could lose her because she did such a dangerous and stupid thing as touching herself with one of his firearms , one he doesn't remember telling her where he cautiously hid it . Pope fucked his fist faster . He didn’t care if her viewers could hear him . He didn’t even care that she could hear him . His cock grew even harder as he imagined her fingers around it instead of the gun . Her manicured stiletto nails decorating her limbs , wrapped around him . Her free hand would play with her tits through the fabric of whatever shirt she had on or snuck between her legs , under her short skirt .

“ Fuck . ” He muttered . His hooded eyes never ran away from her figure . She moved the barrel faster inside her , loud squelches echoed in the room .

“ Oh yes . ” She purred while her free hand pinched her nipple through the pink lace . She twisted it between thumb and pointer finger , aligning the speed with her occupied hand . “ I’m so close . . . ”

Her walls fluttered around the gun , slick drenching it vulgarly as she drove it home faster . Before she could even add anything else , the coil in her stomach snapped and she was already cumming .

“ Yes yes yes ! ” Hearing her chanting, his balls tightened and soon enough he would follow her . Eyes closed , thick ropes of cum spurting from his cock and coating his fingers . When he opened his lids , her tongue was out and already licking a long stripe from the bottom to the edge of the barrel to clean off her own come .

゛⠀🧺 ⠀⠀..⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˖͢⠀⠀⠀ 𝒔𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞⠀ .ᐣ

readers & au’s . ⠀ ▐ ⠀bimbo ! reader masterpost . ⠀ ▐ ⠀tag navigation .

　⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱

⠀⠀ 𝒾.⠀ 𓂅 ⠀·⠀⠀⠀　𝒕𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⠀ : @pittsick @rh1nestcned @mtcloudsworld @blehbarbie @mcthsman , ⠀𓊆 to be added to the taglist , comment under this post or fill up the form 𓊇⠀.

Your relationship started around three years ago—a threesome. Something that was supposed to be quick and simple for all of you; however, during the aftermath, you talked and got to know each other.

Gojo and Geto had already been a thing, then you entered the equation. They had kept their relationship under wraps but you stepped in and made them expose their love for each other without shame—oh how you loved to see your sweet boys loving each other.

While a poly wasn't what you expected on your visit to Japan, you weren't mad at it.

“I see three moons…Am I crazy?” Gojo’s head was thrown back, staring up at the night sky full of stars, his eyes drifting back and forth.

“For seeing three moons? No, you're drunk. In general? Yes, you're an egotist psycho.” Geto replied, hands stuffed in his pockets, smug pride all over his face.

“That's hilarious coming from you.” Your sarcasm interrupted their conversation as you jumped on a bench.

“That's exactly what I was thinking.” Gojo agreed, following your footsteps and climbing onto the bench with you.

Geto rolled his eyes at both of you and stopped his steps in front of the bench.

“Can you get off the bench?”

“Nuh uh.” You both replied in sync.

“Please?” Geto's foot tapped impatiently.

“Neh.” Gojo shook his head, going to stand on the arm of the bench.

“Okay.” Geto reluctantly sighed and moved forward.

First, he slid his hand underneath your armpits and lifted you off the bench.

“Ah!” You squealed.

Then as he was going to grab Gojo, the blue-eyed demon leaped onto his back, arms clasped tight under his neck.

“Unhand me you troglodyte.” Geto's eyes slowly twisted to the Gojo whose head was resting on his shoulder.

“You love me.” Gojo replied, teasingly with his obnoxiously boyish grin on his face.

“You're very lucky I do.” Geto signed in annoyance, carrying Gojo on his back and holding the back of your skirt to keep you close.

You two were chaos, pains in the ass, adult children, but in the end, you were his and no matter how badly he wanted to shove melatonin down both of your throats and lock you away in the basement for a day of silence, he loved you two.

—

The car ride was smooth and quiet, just the small hum of the AC and the sound of tires gliding over the roads.

You and Gojo rode in the backseat as Geto drove, and you stared out the window observing each building and piece of woods you sped by. Your body leaned over Gojo’s to get a clear view and Gojo's eyes traveled your body with desire struggling to ignore his growing arousal.

You were immersed in staring until you felt a small graze on your inner thigh, then his fingers inched closer.

You looked back at your boyfriend and his lips curled into a ‘o’ with a small and quiet shush flowing from his lips as his large fingers dragged down your lips.

You compiled and spread your legs for him. A smirk grew on his lips and he pressed the padding of his fingers against your clit, building a slow circular motion.

A cold shock ran through you, causing a jolt from the sudden stimulation. His finger arched in, curling forward and steering against your pulsing clit. You felt your ichorous lubricant pour itself out of you, inundating the thin pink cotton of your panties.

Each gradual stroke of his fingers built your ecstasy and brought those lewd thoughts to your head— oh, the things you would do to him when you got home.

He dragged his digits between your vulva, gathering your dripping excitement that melted down his fingers.

You bit your lip to contain the moans that sat at the tip of your tongue. He hushed you once more before slowly tugging your damp undergarment to the side, little did he know that Geto knew.

He glanced back and forth between you two and the road, pushing his hips forward to handle the bulge pressing the zipper of his jeans that just continued to get tighter.

—

“We're here.” Geto pulled the car to a halt and cut off the engine.

Gojo pushed the door open with ease, and a dried residue was on his fingers as he wrapped them around the handle. You climbed out behind, biting your lip, and a lustful gaze, running over him. Your filthy thoughts grew more intense the closer you approached your house.

Gojo was oblivious to how both of you were looking at him, eyes full of burning desires and minds full of raw thoughts and fantasies that were destined to come true.

Geto wasted no time unlocking the door and moving into the house, he left you to lock the door while he dragged Gojo away to the room to get him ready for both of you.

“Ugh, I'm exhausted-” Geto cut Gojo off with a kiss rich with passion and heat. Gojo involuntarily moaned into the kiss, his hands creeping up Geto’s chest.

You followed into the room and locked the door behind you. Geto broke the kiss, a glint of excitement in his dark eyes, knowing exactly what was about to happen in the room.

He stripped Gojo out of his clothes, jacket, shirt, then pants, then his boxers till his lean body was nude and exposed to both of you and your dirty intentions.

You stripped yourself, leaving your undergarments wrapped around you. After you made your way to the bottom drawer of your dresser to grab your favorite ‘toy’.

“Damn.” Geto huffed, grinning as he observed the two people he got to call his own.

“I see what you two want tonight.” Gojo teased, sitting down on your king-size bed. As if both of you weren't about to engulf him from the inside until he was unable to move.

You stepped into your strap-on and hooked it around your hips. Meanwhile, Geto removed his jacket, then unhooked his pants painfully slow in front of Gojo– a torture tactic to make Gojo pulsate with elation.

Geto spread his legs in a ‘v’ shape, with his knees lifted slightly. Gojo's eyes shifted to his boyfriend's erection, a sudden need to please him running through his mind, and he crawled forward on all fours bending down and dropping his mouth open.

Geto wrapped his cold slender fingers around his throbbing length, the sensation of his fingers sending a jolt through his sensitive cock. He pressed the crown of his shaft against Gojo's pink lips wet with saliva, pushing past them and allowing his tip to enter Gojo's warm mouth:

You stood on your knees behind Gojo, fondling the softness of his ass. Spreading him open, you sent a wad of spit riding down between his ass for lubricant. Then you spit into your hand and stroked your cock, after doing so you teased— rubbed the tip over his hole, pushing the head in then pulling back, teasing his ass with small slaps from your cock.

Gojo's hand reached back, folding around your rod trying to shove it into him. A smug smile of satisfaction filled your lips and you slapped his hand, swaying it away.

“No, you be a good boy and wait until I'm ready.” You hissed, slamming a slap against his ass.

Gojo moaned around Geto's dick, sending twitchings through Geto. His mouth sealed around Geto, deliberate sloppy sucks up and down his cock, the corners of his lips poured out spit that rode down to Geto's sack.

Geto felt sparks watching Gojo become a male slut for his inches, wanting to praise and admire the work his boyfriend was doing.

“Aahh,” Geto released a broken moan, “good, you're doing so well, keep goin’ just like that.” Geto cooed and encouraged his beautiful boyfriend.

You felt a fire ignite in your chest, a dosage of an indubitable power over Gojo, a dosage that gave you a high.

“Fuck, you're such a dirty slut,” you snarled, proceeding to crash your cock into his tight hole, gapping him apart with your six inches of length.

“Mmh!” Gojo’s muffled moans erupted once he felt you plunging inside of him, the warm silicon dragged along in him a sensation that brought out another side of him. With each thrust plowed in him, his hole widened then clasped back around the inches.

You rolled your hips with a relentless cadence, the vibration of domination rumbling through you making each thrust harder than the last. Each hammer into Gojo's sensitive dome was made with determination and want of supremacy, you hauled yourself out then back in deeper than the last time.

Geto watched you attentively, each tough plow of your hips against Gojo's pelvis, each huff and pant you released while keeping your eyes on the man you were splitting open, and every smack and rub you brought to Gojo's got him ready to take you and put all of himself in you.

However, the luscious feeling of Gojo's sealed warm mouth around his length, his tongue stroking the underside, and throat closing around his hot tip. His cock twitched, knocking Gojo's throat making him gag, dewy spit gleaming as it rolled down his cock, salty tears soaking the poor man's cheeks as he struggled around his cock and was overstimulated by the overwhelming pleasure.

Gojo’s cock toughened and he felt a buildup in his pelvis, cock leaking small droplets of pre-cum.

“Ahh, fuuck!” Gojo pulled away from Geto's cock and cried from his intense climax, his cum draining and leaking all over the bed.

Geto watched pumping his cock, hands coiled tightly around his hard-on, his pace frenzied, desperate for his building orgasm. Pre slid down his knuckles, the white cream coating over them, and his cockhead. His hips twitched involuntarily, a small pulse in his stomach before he gushed out on his hands and the bed, the milky climax ran down his hands, cock, and thighs.

Gojo's face flushed with heat watching Geto's climax and he excitedly began to lap up all of his milk.

“Good, that's my boy.” Geto praised, running his fingers through Gojo's white locks.

Geto looked up at you, eyes gleaming with exhilaration and ecstasy— obviously not ready to finish just yet.

—

Behind you was Geto, lining himself up with your throbbing hole, and in front of you was Gojo, legs spread apart and a split hole ready for you.

Your wetness from watching the prior activities, leaked down your inner thighs and smothered you completely. Geto towed his long fingers through your folds, scooping up your sappy arousal and rubbing it over his pulsing tip mixed with his remaining cum.

Geto was precise with his thrust, calculated and international. He rode himself in your warmth, a slow deep push inside of your walls, and steady hands clasped around your hips.

“Fffuck.” You released a shuddering breath, his cock filling out your walls making your cilt pump faster.

Gojo spat on his fingertips and rubbed them over his thumbing hole, coating it for you. You slowly pushed your strap back into him, rolling your hips to gain a steady but merciless pace.

Geto drew his cock back, letting you folds tease him then bucked back into, Geto's impact made you propel harder into Gojo, causing both you to shake and quiver.

“Ahh, yes.” Gojo released a frantic moan from his throat, hands curling the sheets into his fist as he bit hard at his lip.

Geto controlled the whole situation, with each pump he made was one you made into Gojo.

A gentle thrust would gain a lazy:

“Yees, baby,” from both of you.

A hard thrust would gain an:

“Fuck, just like that,” from both of you.

Either way, he had control and he loved it. He rocked his hips back and forth, knocking in and out of you hitting your sweet spot on each thrust. Your walls embraced him tightly and icky and wet ‘plaps’ filled the room, his balls slapped against you leaving your dripping all over him.

You could feel his warm breath grazing your face as he stayed silent, focused on a sharp pace destined to bring your orgasm out of.

Meanwhile, Gojo could barely contain himself between the high of his previous position, watching you both, and his climax still hanging. He could feel the pressure hardening him, it made his back arch up, toes curl, and shaky breaths fall from his lips.

Your clit twitched, aching for stimulation and your pending orgasm. You pulsated around him, clasping tightly while your hips jerked from pleasure, you could feel that hot sensation blooming ready to coat Geto's cock white.

Unable to focus on both of your men at once, Geto gained your attention with his calculated and attentive thrust, which you forgot Gojo was squirming from the build-up and didn't realize it until:

“Oooh, yes!” He exclaimed, steamy cream spraying over your thighs and lower stomach. He huffed and rolled over, panting like an exhausted dog while he struggled down from his high.

Your eyes followed your boyfriend who had given up, then you looked at your other one, who was determined to make you reach your high.

“G-Geto—baby, oooh fuck!” You followed behind Gojo, your heat gushing from you and coating Geto's rod. The high made you squirm, hips pulsating, walls streaming out your release while opening and closing, thighs trembling and soaked, and then finally—the collapse.

You fell forward, the mattress sank and creaked from the impact, you curled into the warmth of your damp sheets, and caught your breath.

The aftermath hung over the room, now quiet with pants and huff. The aftermath was heated and intense till Geto gently draped a blanket over both of your bodies, a gentle act of aftercare and intimacy that calmed the air.

You shivered from the sudden cool air that blew from under the sheet but all was at peace once you felt Geto's arms wrap around you and Gojo's hand caressing your stomach gently.

𓃦⠀ ⠀ ͙ ⠀ ⠀elegant . . graceful . . those are the words used to describe white swan ! reader . she is perceived as the embodiment of delicacy & perfection .

𓃦⠀ ⠀ ͙ ⠀ ⠀she’s a loyal , devoted friend & lover . white swan ! reader will always prioritize her romantic relationships while also taking care of her platonic ones and her self .

𓃦⠀ ⠀ ͙ ⠀ ⠀always mistaken for the pure and fragile person because of her appearance and style whilst she’s extremely brave , courageous .

𓃦⠀ ⠀ ͙ ⠀ ⠀loves intricate make up using a baby blue & white color palette . wears cluster lashes with a very cute lash map . she also maintains high looks and has a healthy hygiene .

𓃦⠀ ⠀ ͙ ⠀ ⠀her notes ? pear , litchy and amber . . you will find most of her perfumes to have a flowery or sweet smell coming from them , she loves surrounding herself with delicate scents .

𓃦⠀ ⠀ ͙ ⠀ ⠀likes chanel bags , high heels , cat eye glasses . . . not much of a fashion lover , but she dresses very well .

⠀ 𓃹݁ 𓈒 ⠀𓏲 ⠀ ⠀𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 ⠀ ⠀:

bucky barnes ⠀ ⸝⸝⠀jack abbot ⠀ ⸝⸝⠀crowley mcleod ⠀ ⸝⸝⠀gojo satoru ⠀ ⸝⸝⠀andrew ‘pope’ cody ⠀⁺ ⠀ more𓈒

⠀ 𓃹݁ 𓈒 ⠀𓏲 ⠀ ⠀ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ⠀ ⠀:

none yet ⠀.

⠀ 𓃹݁ 𓈒 ⠀𓏲 ⠀ ⠀ 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 ⠀ ⠀:

all fics ⠀ ␥ ⠀ tag navigation ⠀ ␥ ⠀ moodboards .

⠀ 　⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱

　𝒕𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⠀ : @pittsick ༝ @rh1nestcned ༝ @alasdecas ༝ @mcthsman ༝ @mtcloudsworld ༝ @cup1dssorrow .

he’s shirtless. slutty low slung black sweats, white hair falling soft over his forehead, two cameras pointing towards his gaming chair.

“alright chat, y’all have been in my comments for weeks! so yeah… my girlfriend’s here. try not to be too jealous.” you try not to laugh at how crazy this is.

he kinda gestures to you like you’re a prize on a game show and you wave shyly, hearing pings go off like crazy.

he pulls you close from behind, chin hooking over your shoulder, mouth near your ear. “just relax, okay?” he murmurs, just for you.

one second you’re still half dressed, the next you’re completely naked, skin prickling under the lights as he guides you into his big gaming chair. he stands behind it, already looking in the camera.

“first way to make a girl cum,” Gojo says to the camera, voice smooth and instructional even as his fingers find your nipples, pinching them hard enough to make you gasp, “is by fingering her right. and obviously, everything should be consensual and respectful.” he gives your tits a firm, appreciative squeeze, rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers. “but once you’ve got permission? you can be as nasty as you want.”

he pinches again, just to make you whine. “nipple play is criminally underrated. write that down, chat.”

the comments are moving too fast for you to even read. you can see the numbers climbing in your peripheral vision, but you also want to die of embarrassment.

his breath is hot against your ear as he leans down, still talking to the stream like you’re just a prop for his little lesson. two long fingers drag slowly down your stomach, and you can already feel how wet you are, thighs instinctively parting for him.

Gojo’s hands slide down, fingers curling under your thighs and hooking them back, opening you up to the camera. the light catches the slick shine between your legs, your panties tugged to the side, exposing everything.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, but the mic picks it up crystal clear.

he spreads your folds slowly with two fingers, watching the way they part, the way your arousal strings between them. then he drags his middle finger up, from your entrance to your clit, pressing flat against the sensitive nub before sliding back down.

“this is the basics,” he says, voice a low rumble against your ear as his hand works between your legs. “you start slow, listen to her, tease her. let her get used to the sensation before you really go in.”

he switches to his thumb, rubbing tight, wet circles over your clit while his other fingers dip lower, teasing your entrance without pushing in. your breath hitches, a shaky exhale escaping as you press yourself deeper into the chair.

"alright, watch," he says, voice dropping into a calm, instructional tone. his eyes flick to the camera, then back down to where his fingers work. "right now I'm applying steady pressure. see how she's shivering?"

you pout up at Gojo, slightly embarrassed that your pussy is on display for thousands to see. but oh well.

a donation pops up on the screen, flashing.

$2,000- @monstrousdcktoji: FINGER HER ALREADY U BLUE EYED FUCKER

"second rule," he chuckles, "once she's wet and sensitive? you can switch to direct stimulation, but slow. like this."

he slides his middle finger down, gathering slickness from your entrance, then brings it back up to circle your clit with deliberate precision. the pad of his finger glides through wet folds, tracing the hood.

your hips buck involuntarily, trying to chase more pressure. “toruu!” you mumble impatiently, closing your mouth as soon as his finger presses down a bit harder.

"yeah, there she is," he chuckles. "her body knows what it wants. but i'm in charge of giving it to her." you wanna roll your eyes so bad.

"now, imitation of what a tongue would do. use your fingers to trace the shape of her clit. circle. don't jab too much."

he demonstrates, two lazy, wet circles around your clit, then a soft downward stroke. the tip of his middle finger dips into your entrance just barely, teasing, then slides back up. over and over. a rhythm that makes your stomach tighten and your cunt leak all over his chair.

"you prep ‘em with lube or natural wetness… then you go slow."

he watches your face the whole time, furrowed brows, the tiny whine slipping past your lips like a sigh.

"see?" he explains calmly into the mic, "you don’t just jam your fingers in there. that’d hurt." a second finger joins and he presses them both in together carefully. not forcefully, just gradually stretching as you adjust around him.

you inhale sharply through clenched teeth thighs tensing against his palms where they're still spread open. and another quiet whimper escapes when his two fingers curl upward slightly inside.

"you hear that?" he says to no one and everyone,"that little whimpering? she likes it rough but not too fast… you gotta find your partner's rhythm."

$1,500- @purpleclu123: GO FASTER

Gojo smirks at the screen but obeys, the tips of his ring and middle finger curl slightly against that sweet spot deep inside. he watches your reaction like a scientist studying an experiment, how you arch subtly forward, how one hand flies from the chair down toward where he's touching… only for him to catch it mid air.

"nuh uh, no touching." he tsks like the big meanie he is, showing how nasty and creamy you’ve made his fingers.

“mm sorryy- fuck.” you whine, eyes focused on his hand’s movements.

“now you have to remember, not all girls like the same thing. some are realllyy sensitive and others aren’t as sensitive. some like it rough and some don’t. my girl likes it both ways, but if you’re rougher you gotta make sure not to hurt them.”

at this point your eyes are rolling back, bottom lip wedged between your teeth. “ffhuuck- toru.” you whimper, making Satoru coo in your ear.

Gojo’s breath hitches at the sound of his name whispered, all soft and desperate. the way you say it, half sobbing with your lip trapped between teeth? it hits him right in the chest. and in the dick.

he loves the sounds you make, your voice turning into high, needy whimpers because of him.

Satoru leans down instantly, pressing a hot kiss to your ear before murmuring,"yes baby?" his voice suddenly tender beneath that usually cocky tone.

“faster please?” you mewl, stomach in knots. he hums and you forget there’s actually people watching your boyfriend finger you.

"chat, she likes it fast when she's already wet... but if i were too rough right off? might scare 'er." he says into the mic again for content sake, though his eyes never leave your dazed expression.

you’re too fucked out to roll your eyes at his antics, hip movements growing more desperate. you try tiny lifts toward him whenever he removes his fingers completely, only for him to sink back in, and each time your front wall gets stroked by curled fingertips.

$300- @blueballs: kiss her already!!!

Gojo grins at screen but finally gives in without hesitation.

without missing a beat [because of course Gojo would prioritize this], he leans down and crashes your lips together.

warm tongues sliding against one another gently despite everything else being intense. it’s affectionate, loving even, amidst all this lewd content he’s broadcasting live to thousands of fans.

you whimper into the kiss as Gojo finger fucks you harder, making the mess between your thighs even worse.

“don’t you wanna thank all the viewers for donating? they’re watching for you baby.” Gojo says mischievously, watching your eyes struggle to stay open.

“ngh, aahh-thank you sooo muchhh.” you whimper out enough before he uses the pressure of his hand to grind his palm against your clit.

"i love when her clit gets all puffy… and her pussy starts leaking… and she can’t even do anything but take it." Gojo damn near cums in his pants talking about you.

“pleaspleaseessatoru im gon- fuck!”you cry out, squirting from the constant jabbing of his fingers against that spot.

$200- @blrbunny: omg make her squirt again

Satoru moans with you, mocking your mewls and cries. “fuckkk, unghh my pretty girl and this leaky fucking cunt. you’re so fucking adorable. ” he says, slapping your pussy hard enough to make you jump.

he keeps going, ready to rip a bigger orgasm out of you just for fun.

$1,000- @naoyawthebigcock: fuck her properly!! now

“you greedy fuckers are so impatient! that’s for the next lesson.”

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

​You walked back into your bedroom just wanting to crawl into bed and stare at the wall. Your phone was vibrating against the wood of the nightstand, a continuous, irritating buzz, but you ignored it. You knew if you picked it up and started replying to the groupchat, the house would stay half-cleaned, and your brain couldn't handle the visual clutter on top of everything else.​

When you finally reached for it minutes later just to check the time, the screen flashed a single, menacing red bar: 2%.​

"Fuck," you muttered, the word a tired, ragged sigh.​

You grabbed your charger, shoving the white plastic into the port. Nothing. You twisted the cord, angling the base just right and pressing your thumb into it until the little lightning bolt finally appeared. But the exact second you let go, the screen went black again. You inspected the wire, your thumb brushing over the neck of the cord where the rubber casing had split away to expose the frayed silver copper underneath. It sparked a tiny, pathetic prick of heat against your skin—a final, useless twitch.

It was completely done.​

You stared at the dead screen, the absolute silence of the room pressing into your ears, realizing you had to put on shoes and drive to the store.

-

The white fluorescent lights of the store are a harsh contrast to the warm, naturally sunlit refuge of your room. You’re weaving through the aisles, the linoleum floor squeaking under your sneakers. You only came for a charger, but somehow, your basket is already carrying a gallon of spring water, a carton of fresh berries, and a bag of salty-sweet plantain chips.​

"Hey, girl!"

​The voice is bright and loud, cutting through the dull hum of the grocery store. You turn around and your face immediately lights up, the heavy tension in your shoulders dropping for the first time in minutes.​

"Destiny!"

She looks incredible. Dressed in bright, flowing boho pants and a crisp white crop top that shows off her smooth skin, her locs are neatly styled into two playful space buns. She catches your eyes, a warm, affectionate grin lighting up her face. Before you can even take a step forward, Destiny closes the gap between you and pulls you into a tight, lingering hug. She wraps her arms completely around your waist, drawing your soft frame flush against hers. She smells of fresh air and her signature sweet-blossom perfume. Having her back feels like an instant, grounding shift in the atmosphere.

When she finally pulls back, she doesn't let go completely. Her hands loosen around your waist and settle on your upper arms, her fingers squeezing gently as her eyes scan your face. "It feels like it’s been forever!" she beams, her smile widening. "How have you been?"

"I've been good," you say, trying to force some energy into your voice. But you’re wearing your girlfriend’s graphic t-shirt and the comfortable shorts you’d scrambled into after the sink incident. While you look neat, there’s a slight fray to your hair and a glassy, exhausted look in your eyes that contradicts your words.

Destiny’s grin fades into a knowing, skeptical look as she takes you in. ​​"You say you've been good, but..." Destiny trails off, her head cocked. She reaches up, her fingers gentle as she brushes the pad of her thumb across your cheekbone, her hand lingering against your jawline a second too long. "How have you really been? You look like you're about to cry, babe."​

You let out a long, ragged sigh, the kind that makes your whole chest heave against your shirt. "Well..."

​Destiny laughs, a warm, easy sound that feels comforting. She drops one hand from your face but slides her arm through yours, hooking her elbow with yours as you start to move. "Oh, that's a 'start from the beginning' sigh. Come on, tell me everything."​

As you walk down the snack aisle together, completely tucked into her side, the words start spilling out. You tell her about the geyser in the kitchen, the scorched silk in the laundry room, and the dying charger that was the absolute final straw—and then, to top it all off, some crazy driver cut you off, making you slam on the brakes so hard your soul almost left your body. Destiny listens intently, rubbing her arm against yours sympathetically and letting out a loud, defensive, "No way," when you get to the driver part.​

"I am so sorry, babe," she says, leaning her hip against her cart as you finally reach the checkout lane. She shifts closer, her shoulder brushing yours as she watches you stack your items. "Today has been rough, but listen to me, it’s gonna get better right now."​

She bags her small amount of groceries, her eyes sparkling as she turns her full attention back to you. She reaches out, playfully squeezing your forearm. "You got plans for the rest of the day?"​

You pause, thinking about the quiet, empty house and the half-charged phone sitting on the counter. "Nope."

​"Perfect," Destiny says, as her hand slides down from your arm to wrap around your wrist, pulling you slightly closer. "There’s this new Boba place two blocks over. They do the real-deal brown sugar pearls and they have these spicy udon bowls that'll make you forget all about your shitty day. My treat. You in?"​

The warmth of her hand on your wrist and the thought of hot, spicy noodles sounds like heaven compared to going back to a semi-fixed sink.​

"Yes," you breathe, a real, genuine smile finally tugging at your lips. "Please, yes."​

-

The boba place is tucked away behind a row of tall succulents, the interior smelling faintly of caramelized brown sugar and toasted sesame. It’s clean, cute, and quiet. You’re sitting at a small table right by the wide front window, the low afternoon sun catching the thick condensation on your plastic cup. The spicy udon is exactly what you needed. Hot. Deeply savory. And thick enough to soothe the restless thrum of your nerves.​

Destiny is mid-sentence, her fork waving as she gets into the thick of the drama. “And then he has the audacity to text me, ‘I saw you at the airport,’ like okay? And? You want a travel voucher or something?” She rolls her eyes, leaning her elbows on the table so she can tilt closer to you. “I swear, it’s like he thinks his attention is a gift I’m supposed to be begging for. Then there’s my dad... he’s bought out half the lumber yard. Thinks he’s gonna build a whole deck by himself.”

​You’re listening attentively, chewing your noodles as a soft laugh bubbles up in your chest. The heaviness of the exploded sink and the ruined shirt is finally starting to recede, replaced by the easy, comforting cadence of her voice. You reach for your pocket, your fingers brushing against the fabric of your sweatpants. And that’s when it hits you.

​The phone.

​It’s sitting on your nightstand, a black, useless brick. That was the whole reason you’d even left the apartment to go to the store, but the moment you saw Destiny, the frustration of the day just... evaporated. You’d gotten completely caught up and forgotten about the charger.​

“You really need to stop picking these nonchalant types,” you say, shaking your head as you use your straw to stir your boba pearls. “You keep going for these guys who act like they don't care, but they’re secretly obsessed and just end up being assholes. You need someone sweet. Someone who actually tells you how they feel without the riddles and extra stuff.”​

Destiny scoffs, taking a long sip of her tea, her eyes locking onto yours over the rim of her cup with a playful, elusive look. She reaches across the small table, her fingers lightly tapping the back of your hand. “Sweet men? In this economy? Please. If they exist, they aren't being drawn to me. I think I have a ‘drama only’ magnet on my forehead.” She pauses, her gaze lingering on your face, a soft, teasing smile on her lips. "Unless you got a twin hiding somewhere that you haven't told me about."

​​You just shake your head, a flustered smile on your lips as you ignore the flutter of her overly friendly comment, taking a long sip of your sweet drink. The late-day light turns everything in the cafe an amber, hazy gold, completely washing over the table.​

6:27 PM.

As you pull into your apartment complex, the atmosphere is peak summer. You slow down, watching a few kids chase a soccer ball across the grass and the smoke from a neighbor's grill drifting through the trees. Then, you see it.​

Her car.​

It’s parked in her usual spot, the chrome reflecting the orange glow of the sunset. A little jolt of giddiness hits you. She’s home.​

You hop out, grabbing the two bags of groceries and the food you got for her. You head up the stairs, your heart thrumming. You pass Amelia on the landing, the sweet older woman from next door who’s currently watering her marigolds.​

“Evening, Amelia!” you chirp.​

“Good evening, mija. You look happy!” she calls back with a wink.​

You unlock the door, the cool air of your apartment hitting you as you step inside. The house is quiet, but you can smell the faint scent of her perfume.

“Baby?” you call out, walking down the hall toward the bedroom, swinging the grocery bags slightly. “I’m home! I got you something.”

​You push the bedroom door open, a wide grin on your face, but it falters the second you see her.

She’s sitting in the center of the bed, her back against the headboard. She isn't moving. She’s just staring at the wall, her eyes completely unblinking and her arms crossed over her chest. The air in the room feels different—more tense. She doesn't even look up when you walk in.

You set the bags down on the dresser, your brow furrowing as the giddiness dies a quick death.​

“Hey,” you say softly, stepping closer to the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn't move. She just sits there, her dark eyes tracking the shift in your posture, watching the easy, sugar-high grin dissolve off your face until your shoulders go rigid. She looks incredible—she’s wearing minimum makeup, just a touch of gloss on her plump lips, and a sharp, tailored outfit that hugs her frame perfectly. She’s dressed up. The scent of her expensive perfume is heavy in the room, cutting through the lingering smell of your cleaning supplies.​

“Where were you?” she asks. Her voice is level, flat, and completely devoid of the warmth that usually greets you.​

You swallow hard, the weight of the silence in the room pressing down on your chest. “I, um… my phone died. It was on two percent and the charger completely fried. I went to the store to get a new one, but then I ran into Destiny. She just got back into town and—”

​The second Destiny’s name drops, the atmosphere in the room doesn't just shift; it solidifies. Her jaw tightens so hard the muscle cords along her neck. Her dark eyes pin you to the floor, narrowing into something cold and flinty.

“You look really good,” you venture softly, your voice small as you try to bridge the sudden distance between you. “Did... did you have plans tonight?”

​“Reservations,” she says, the single word dropping like a stone. “At seven. The place you’ve been talking about for three weeks. I told my mom I had to leave early because I wanted to surprise you. I’ve been sitting on this bed for forty-five minutes dialing a dead phone.”​

The guilt hits you like a physical slap to the face. Your stomach drops, a cold, heavy lump settling deep in your gut as you look at her—really take in the fact that she did exactly what you told her not to do, cutting her family time short just to dress up and treat you after your horrible morning. And you forgot.

You completely forgot.

You drop your keys on the nightstand, the metal clatter echoing in the quiet room, and crawl onto the bed. You approach her on your knees, your heart slamming against your ribs.​

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” you whisper. You reach out to touch her knee, but she flinches and pulls her leg back, avoiding your hand completely. “I didn't mean to. I just got caught up talking to her and lost track of time. I’m so sorry.”

​​“You got caught up,” she repeats, a contemptuous edge finally bleeding into her tone. She leans forward, her shadow eclipsing yours in the dim amber light of the bedroom. Her eyes wander down your body, taking in your soft curves, the slight, familiar pudge of your stomach over your waistband, and the way you’re already trying to think of a way to talk her out of her righteous anger.​

“You forgot about me because you were too busy giving her your attention,” she rasps, her voice dropping into that low, territorial register that always makes you nervous, yet strangely thrilled that she feels so strongly about you. "I’ve already told you twice I don't like how friendly she gets with you, and the first thing you do when your phone dies is go sit in a restaurant with her for two hours?”

​“We just got fo—”

​“Stop talking,” she snaps.

The command stings, sharp and authoritative, hitting your defense mechanisms dead-on. When you’re wrong, when you’re overwhelmed and cornered by your own guilt—your instinct is always to lash out, to poke the bear just to stop feeling so small.​

You pull your hands back, your mouth twisting into a self-justifying line. “You’re overreacting. She’s my friend. I didn't do it on purpose, but you’re sitting here acting like I committed a crime just because I had a cup of tea.”

​She doesn't argue.

She doesn't even blink.

She just holds your gaze with a long, utterly unimpressed look before swinging her legs out of bed, her shoes hitting the floor with a quiet, definitive thud. She stands up, ready to walk out the door and leave you entirely alone in the cold apartment.​

The second her weight leaves the mattress, your bravado shatters. The childish pride melts away instantly, replaced by a sharp, panicking rashness.​

“No—wait, please,” you cry out, reaching out grabbing her wrist. You pull her back with everything you have, your fingers digging into the fabric of her sleeve. “Don't go. Please don't leave. I’m sorry. I’m stupid, I’m sorry.”

She lets you to pull her back to the edge of the bed, but her posture remains entirely rigid. She is like a wall of beautiful, angry stone. Scrambling closer, you throw your arms around her neck, burying your face in the intoxicating heat of her perfume before pressing your lips to hers.​

You kiss her deeply, the movement frantic and sloppy with your own mounting desperation. Your tongue slides against her lips, a silent, breathless plea begging for entry.​

But she doesn't kiss back.

Her mouth stays closed, heavy and unresponsive against yours. Her eyes remain open—dark, cold, and fixed on your face, watching you struggle against her silence. It’s an agonizing kind of torture.​

You pull back a fraction of an inch, a thin string of silver saliva stretching between your lips before it breaks. Your breath is hitching, the room blurring as hot tears well at the corners of your eyes.​

“Please,” you mumble against her mouth, your grip on her neck tightening. “Please kiss me back, baby. Don't be mad at me. Please.”

She doesn't yield immediately. She just sits there, her breath ghosting over your damp cheeks, her gaze tracking the beat of the pulse in your throat. Watching your face crumble, she can tell you are completely heartbroken by your own mistake. She knows you're actually more upset than she is right now, recognizing that familiar, scattered forgetfulness that always takes over when you're under too much stress.

Slowly, her palm slides down your back. Her fingers are warm, rough against your skin as she slips her hand beneath the waistband of your pants, anchoring herself directly against the bare, soft curve of your ass. She squeezes hard, her fingers digging in until a sharp gasp escapes your lips.​

And then, she takes the lead.​

She leans forward, her mouth crashing into yours with a sudden, vicious hunger that steals the breath right from your lungs. It’s a deep, merciless make-out—all tongue and slick, bruising pressure. She tilts your chin up, her thumb catching the corner of your lip to force your mouth wider, drinking you in until you’re completely dizzy. Your hands thread through her hair, holding onto her as the apartment's chill completely vanishes, swallowed by the heat of her possessiveness.

Her tongue slides deep into your mouth, slick and heavy, tasting of the sweet gloss she’s wearing. Leaning into the kiss, you shift your weight, pressing her back until she’s lying flat on the mattress beneath you. She yields to the movement, letting you take the space. Her hands come up to stroke your back, her palms hot through the cotton of your shirt, tracing the line of your spine with a firm, grounding pressure.​

You’re already so turned on. Your chest is heaving, the friction of your shorts rubbing against her thighs making a dull, desperate ache blossom in your pelvis. You break the kiss, panting, and look down into her dark eyes. They’re still hooded, tracking the way your mouth is swollen and wet from her.

You lean down, burying your face in the crook of her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against her skin, catching the heavy scent of her perfume mixed with the salt of her skin. Your hands crawl up under the hem of her shirt, your palms scraping against the soft skin of her ribs as you try to bunch the fabric up and pull it over her head.​

She catches your wrists, her grip solid and unyielding.​

"Take off your clothes first," she murmurs, her voice a low, gravelly vibration against your ear.​

You swallow hard. Moving to stand beside the mattress, your hands shake a little as you reach down, peeling your shorts and then your damp panties down your legs, kicking them off the edge of the bed. You pull your shirt over your head, unhooking your bra and tossing it aside.​

Standing there completely bare, you feel a pang of self-consciousness. The amber lamplight catches every inch of you.​She reaches up, her hands wrapping around your waist to pull you right back down onto her. She doesn't look away; her eyes wander over your skin with a heavy, deliberate slowness. Her warm palms glide upward, cupping your breasts, weighing them in her hands before sliding down to handle the soft, thick curve of your thighs and the slight, pudgy swell of your stomach. She digs her fingers gently into your softness, holding you, letting you feel just how deeply every inch of this body is loved by her.

​"Fucked up my whole day," she mutters, her thumb rubbing a slow circle into the soft flesh of your stomach, her voice thick with irritation and a dark kind of hunger. "Seriously. I don't even know what to do with you sometimes."

​Before you can manage a response, she handles your hips and shifts your weight, pinning you flat on your back against the pillows. She doesn't waste a single second. Grabbing your ankles, she hauls your legs up to drape your thighs over her shoulders, exposing you completely to the cool air of the room and the intense focus of her gaze.​

She reaches down, her long fingers sliding between your folds. She rubs a single, slow finger down your slit, and the wetness is immediate—a heavy, creamy gloss that smears across her skin with a quiet, sticky sound.​She lets out a low hum, her thumb circling your swollen clit. "Look at this. How do you get so fucking wet just from kisses, hm? Leaking all over yourself."

​She leans down, pressing a hot, lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh, her breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. "I shouldn't even be between your legs right now. Not after you stood me up. But you had such a hard day, apparently."​

The condescending edge in her voice makes you ache, the need between your legs tightening into a painful knot.

​"I'm sorry," you whimper, your fingers bunching the sheets as she rubs the slickness over your head again. "Baby, I'm sorry."​

"Mhm. I know," she mutters against your skin.​

Then, she opens her mouth and licks you—one long, wet, upward stroke of her tongue right across your sensitive slit, gathering the cream on her tongue.​

You gasp, your hips bucking instinctively off the mattress, your vision blurring at the sudden shock of the friction.​

She holds you completely still, her hands clamping tight around your hips to lock you to the mattress, keeping your legs securely draped over her shoulders. She pulls back just enough to look up at you.​​

"Now talk to me," she commands, her voice dropping into that flat, authoritative register. "Tell me about your day. Start from after the sink call. Tell me why my beautiful girl had such a hard day that she forgot all about me, and let another woman handle her bad day while her phone sat dead. Talk."

​Looking at her, you can tell she's still furious. The rigid tension in her jaw says it all: she plans to wring every single drop of that frustration out of both of you before the night is over.

​You take a shaky, ragged breath, your thighs trembling against her shoulders as you start. "After... after the sink..."

Her tongue stays flat and wet, lapping up and down your pussy in long, deliberate strokes that gather the heavy cream coating your lips. She moves higher, her lips parting to seal around your swollen clit, drawing it into her mouth with a firm, rhythmic suction that makes your thighs shake against her shoulders.​

“The... the shirt,” you choke out, your head tossing back against the pillows as you try to force the words past the static in your brain. “The silk one... it burned in the dryer. Right down the middle... I can’t wear it anymore.”​

She lets out a low, vibrating hum against your sensitive mound, her tongue swirling around the head of your clit before she pulls back just enough to speak. “Mhm. I know you loved that one.”​

“I have... I have the backup one,” you stammer, your fingers clawing at the bedsheets as her thumb settles over your clit, rubbing in heavy, agonizing circles. “But it’s different... it doesn’t fit right like the first one did. It made me feel... feel good. A-and I got it when I was visiting family out of state... I can’t even get another one. And the sink... I had to turn the valve off, but I think something’s still wrong with it... and the charger stopped working...”

​You’re babbling now, the frustration of the day spilling out in a jagged, breathless rush because you can't focus—not with the way her hot mouth is moving, her tongue sliding deep through your folds to lap you up. Her hand is wrapped around your thigh, her grip solid, anchoring you as your body tries to escape the sheer intensity of the friction.

She pulls her face away, her chin glistening with your arousal, her dark eyes hooded as she looks up your body. “What happened next?”

​You tense beneath her gaze, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I... I went to the store. Got a new charger. Some spring water, plantain chips... and then I saw Destiny.

The displeasure darkens her features instantly, a heavy shadow of jealousy washing over her face. “Did you hug her? Say hi and run to her like the sweet girl you are?”​

You pause, a heavy beat of silence hanging in the humid air. “Y-yes,” you whisper.​

In reality, Destiny had been the one to pull you into a tight embrace, telling you how good you looked and asking why you seemed so stressed. But you know how your girlfriend is—possessive to the bone—and you can see the white-hot flash of anger in her eyes before you can even form an explanation.​

She shifts her weight, crawling up your body. Without a single word, she slides two fingers straight inside you.

​The loud, wet squelch echoes filthily in the quiet room. Your mouth goes completely dry, a fragmented gasp ripping from your throat as she hooks her fingers deep, hitting that exact, devastating spot in your core.

​“You’re so bad,” she chastises, as she starts to pump her fingers inside you. “I can’t believe you... letting another woman put her hands all over you like that. I understand your day was hard, baby. But still.”​

“I-It wasn’t... it wasn’t like that,” you whine, your hips bucking up instinctively to meet the hard, rhythmic slide of her hand.​

“It was,” she counters, her thumb pressing down hard against your clit with every deep thrust of her fingers. “You’re just so sweet. So pretty. You think everybody’s just being nice to you.”​She leans down, pressing hot, lingering kisses against your mound, then moves higher, her mouth tracing up the pudgy, soft swell of your stomach. She digs her fingers deep into your thighs, squeezing the heavy, beautiful weight of your flesh, before she finally comes all the way up to crash her lips against yours.​

The kiss is deep, messy, and frantic. She forces your mouth open, her tongue sliding in to make you taste yourself—the sweet, salt-tinged flavor of your own cream heavy on her tongue. You groan into her throat, your hands threading through her hair, pulling her down as your body catches fire from the inside out.​

She breaks the kiss slowly, a thin string of silver saliva stretching between your lips before it snaps. She stares down at you, her eyes dark with a unfathomable amount of adoration.​

“You’re such an amazing girl,” she whispers, her thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek while her fingers keep working inside you, slow and cruel. “Your body is so beautiful... every single inch of you. Your personality is everything. You’re so fucking stupid if you can’t see how other people look at you. Even your long-time friends. They see what I have.”​

She gives her fingers a sharp twist inside you, making you jolt. “You like that attention, hm? You like her touching you?”​

“No,” you sob out, your head thrashing against the pillow. You reach up, pulling her face back down to kiss her jaw, her neck, anywhere you can reach. “Just yours... baby, I’m yours.”

​She lets out a low, rough laugh—pleased, dark, and deeply satisfied by the broken down sound of your voice. “Damn right you are.”​

She slides back down between your legs, and this time, there is absolutely no mercy.

She buries her face in your wetness, her lips locking around your clit, sucking on it with a hard, drawing pressure while her two fingers drive into you with a blurring, relentless speed. The sounds filling the bedroom are incredibly lewd—the constant, sloppy schlick-schlick of her hand, the ragged hitch of your breath, and the thick, white strings of your cream webbing and snapping between her fingers and your skin with every single stroke. It’s coating her tongue, smearing across her chin, completely drenching the sheets beneath your ass.​

She’s talking through it, her voice a muffled, filthy vibration against your flesh. “Look at you... look how wet you are for me. Taking my fingers so good... such a good, sloppy little slut for your girl...”​

The praise burns through you, pushing the pressure in your gut past the breaking point. Your nerves are so sensitive you can barely breathe, your vision whiting out at the edges as the friction turns into a white-hot roar.​

“Baby—baby, wait, I’m gonna—”

​“Do it,” she murmurs, against your clit, her fingers shoving deeper, hitting your spot with a brutal, mechanical force. “Cum for me. Make a fucking mess. Let it out, pretty girl.”

​And then you break. Your body convulses violently, your pussy clamping down on her fingers in tight, crushing waves as you cum right into her mouth. You let out a high, broken scream, your back arching off the bed, your thick thighs trembling against her shoulders as the fluid gushes out of you.​

But she doesn’t pull away.​

She stays buried in you, her tongue lashing against your hyper-sensitive clit, her fingers continuing to pump inside you right through the orgasm. The overstimulation is agonizing, a sharp, electric heat that has you sobbing into the pillows, your hands clawing desperately at her back.​

“Please,” you wail, your voice completely wrecked as your body continues to twitch around her hand. “Please, stop... baby, please, it’s too much... stop!”​

She keeps going for three more hard, wet thrusts, milking every last drop of the release out of you, until you’re completely limp and shaking beneath her.

-

The chaotic, angry edge of the evening has completely melted away, leaving the room heavy with a thick, heady warmth. She has you flat on your back now, her body hovering directly over yours in the quiet, dim light. You’re both completely bare, skin-to-skin, the remaining sweat on your bodies making you stick together every time she shifts her weight.​

She’s moving inside you with slow, agonizingly deep strokes of the strap, the thick silicone gliding smoothly through the heavy, white cream you’re still leaking. You lie there with your head sunk back into the pillow, just staring up at her face. In the amber glow of the lamp, she looks so beautiful—her hair a bit messy now, her pretty eyes completely focused down on the junction of your thighs.​

She got you to spill your guts, wrung all the stress and the honesty right out of you, and now she’s just taking her time, keeping you completely anchored in bliss.​

One of her hands is splayed flat against your inner thigh, holding you spread wide open for her, while her other hand stays lower, her thumb rubbing over your swollen clit in slow, heavy circles. She leans forward slightly, her eyes tracking the precise line where the strap disappears inside you. You watch her jaw slacken slightly, a quiet, rough hum vibrating in her throat as she watches your cream coat the slick plastic, webbing in wet strings against your skin with every lazy thrust.​

“Look at you,” she murmurs, her voice a low, gravelly caress that makes your chest heave. “So soft... so beautiful for me.”​You let out a soft, trembling moan, your hips tilting up instinctively to swallow the fat head of the strap down to the hilt. The depth of it makes your stomach flutter, a dizzying, sweet pressure building deep in your core.​

She reaches down, her large, warm hand leaving your thigh to squeeze the soft, thick meat of your waist that spills over her fingers. Her eyes trace over your curves, lingering on the way your stomach jiggles just a little with the steady thump of her hips. There’s no rush in her movements now, no anger—just a heavy, consuming worship. She loves every single inch of your fullness, and she shows it in the reverent way her fingers hold your flesh.​

Her touch shifts, slowing even further as her palms smooth over your hips. You can tell just how deeply she adores you in the way she pauses there, her thumbs catching on marks etched into your skin. Her fingertips trace and caress your stretch marks with a tender, aching slowness, following the lines as if mapping out a constellation meant only for her. There is no judgment in her touch, only a profound gratitude that this is the body she gets to hold.​

“S-so perfect,” she stutters out, her breath hot against your shoulder as she slides deep again. “Every bit of you. You hear me, baby? You’re so fucking beautiful. Don't ever think otherwise.”

She shifts her weight back for a second, her hands sliding down the back of your calves. She catches your ankle, lifting it slightly, and presses a soft, lingering kiss right over the thin gold chain of the anklet she bought you last summer. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the delicate metal, heated from always being against your body, pressing firmly into the clammy skin of your ankle. The contrast between the warmth of the gold and the heat of her lips makes your breath hitch. She hooks your leg over her hip, locking you into a wider, deeper angle that makes you gasp.​

“I love you,” you whimper, your voice cracking as the strap rubs right against your spot. “Baby... c’mere. Kiss me.”

​She doesn’t make you beg this time. She slides up your body, her breast pressing firmly against yours, and meets you in a sweet, sloppy kiss. Her tongue slides into your mouth, slow and wet, tasting the salt of your tears and the lingering sweetness of the evening. You rub your hands up her arms, your nails scratching lightly against her shoulders, pulling her down as close as physically possible until there’s no space left between you.​

Her thumb keeps a steady, merciless friction going on your clit while her hips maintain that deep, heavy grind. The sounds in the room are incredibly lewd—the constant, wet squelch of the strap surging through your pussy, your muffled cries into her mouth, and the sweat-slick slide of skin against skin.​

“Mmm... baby,” she moans into your throat, her pace picking up just a fraction as she feels you start to twitch and squirm against her. “You’re getting close... aren’t you? Tell me.”​

“Yes—fuck, yes,” you urge, your head thrashing against the pillow as your vision starts to white out. “Right there... don’t stop... please...”

​“I’m not stopping,” she huffs, her grip on your waist tightening, burying herself to the base with three hard, sharp shoves that hit your spot dead-on. “Take it all. Let it go for me. Come on.”​

Your moans turn high and broken, your legs quivering against her sides as the pressure crests. Your pussy clamps down violently, milking the strap in heavy, crushing waves as your climax rips through you. You breath her name into her neck, your hands fisting in her hair, your whole body shaking as the flood hits, drenching the sheets completely beneath you. She sighs softly against your skin, leaning into the warmth of your release. Every movement becomes drawn and deep, a gentle, firm friction against your walls that leaves you both completely breathless.

Slowly, she collapses flat against your chest, her weight a comforting warmth as both of you sink into the mattress, your hearts racing together. She weaves her fingers through yours, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone.

​The quiet of the room settles around you, and the lingering guilt finally pushes you to speak. "I'm really sorry about missing your calls," you murmur softly, your voice thick with emotion. "I swear I didn't mean to. And about going out with Destiny, I—"​

Before you can even finish the thought, she shifts against you, lifting her chin to press a finger gently to your lips, stopping you.​

"Hey, stop," she whispers, her eyes soft and full of regret. "You don't need to apologize for that. I'm the one who's sorry. I was being jealous, and I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm sorry your day went wrong, baby."​

You let out a breath you feel like you've been holding for hours, the last bit of tension draining from your body. You squeeze her hand, pulling her back down against your chest.​

"Let's reschedule dinner. We'll go to the restaurant next week." she suggests, her voice dropping into a warm, comforting hum against your skin. "...And another thing about earlier; don't call yourself stupid."

〰・▪︎♡▪︎・〰〰・▪︎♡▪︎・〰〰・▪︎♡▪︎・〰〰・▪︎♡▪︎・〰〰〰

Dividers by @/dollywons

💌: A/N, when I first received this request, I was a little stuck. I usually associate jealousy with rough sex, whereas body worship feels more gentle and praisey to me. Plus, I've only mildy written body worship twice before 😭 I ended up getting a bit lost in the sauce, but I hope you enjoy it. Feedback is always appreciated!

〰♡𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓫𝔂 𝓡𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰♡〰

You shook your head frantically, your face pressing into your crossed arms as another wave of pleasure made your thighs tremble. "Y-You didn't... you didn't give me a chance," you stuttered out, your voice trembling as you tried to catch your breath. "You just—ahnn.. grabbed me."​

She let out a short, mocking laugh, the sound vibrating through her chest and straight into your back. "Please. If you really cared about anyone seein' you, you wouldn't let me do this to you. You'd be telling me to stop, baby girl."

​The squelching, wet sounds of her fingers churning through your natural juices were loud in the silence of the diner, a filthy, steady sliding that made your face burn with a heavy, internal heat. It was embarrassing. Completely exposing. But it felt too good being stretched out and fucked while your insides were still tender and raw from last night was an intoxicating sensation.

"You would've done what I told you to anyway," she murmured, her pace shifting, her fingers curling upward to hook against your internal walls. "Stop actin' like you got any decency. We both know you don't."​

You let out a weak whimper, your jaw clenching as you turned your head back to look at her over your shoulder.​

She was wearing a fitted black tee that stretched tight across her chest and the thick muscle of her biceps, her dark cargo shorts riding low on her hips. Her locs are down, hanging over her shoulders and framing her face in thick, shadowed ropes. In the dim light of the diner, her brown skin looked incredibly smooth, catching the faint glow along her jawline and the soft, full curve of her lips.

The metal on her face gleamed under the low lighting—the sharp glint of her eyebrow ring, the subtle sparkle of her surface piercing, and the micro-dermal shining against her cheekbone. She was so pretty, so effortless and sexy, it made your chest tight just looking at her. She wasn't even looking at your face; her narrow, feline eyes were fixed entirely on your lap, watching the way your pussy was swallowing her long fingers down to the palm with every stroke.​

"Look at you," she said, her voice dropping into that smoky, hypnotic register. Her knuckles pushing their way past your soaking wet lips. "You're so easy... you're dripping down my wrist, all down the inside of your thighs. So nasty."​

Then she finally looked up, her dark brown eyes locking onto yours. You were biting your lower lip, trying to stem the noise, and to her, you looked so cute like this—completely ruined and exposed under her gaze. Your eyes were glassy and hooded with a helpless, focused arousal, and the neat, laid edges of your hair were completely frizzy and messy now, baby hairs curling wildly from the sweat tracking down your temples. Your long braids were slipping out of their loose bun, cascading over the side of your face.​

The sight of you looking so messy seemed to shift something behind her eyes, a heavy, possessive fondness softening her expression for a fraction of a second.

​"C’mere," she murmured.​

Before you could answer, she grabbed your left leg, lifting it easily and hooking your knee over the top of the counter, forcing your pelvis to tilt at a sharp angle that laid your swollen pussy completely bare. With her free hand, she reached up and wrapped her fingers around the back of your neck. Her grip was heavy and certain, her thumb pressing into the side of your throat as she pulled you backward, forcing your spine to curve until your back and head were resting flat against her chest.​

The heat of her body swallowed you whole. Her hot, tobacco-and-vanilla breath hit the side of your neck in ragged puffs, making your skin break out in goosebumps. The position—the absolute, unyielding restriction of her weight against your back—instantly made you think of how she had you pinned to the prep table last night, holding you down until you forgot your own name.

You let out a loud moan, a sharp curse slipping past your lips as her fingers suddenly hit deeper. The blunt tips of her fingers brushed against the sensitive ring of your cervix, a deep, heavy impact that made your stomach drop. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, your body automatically trying to jolt away from the pressure. She knew you didn't enjoy that blunt ache, so she seamlessly adjusted her angle, pulling back an inch before driving her fingers upwards, targeting your g-spot with fast, deep pumps.​

"O-Ohh—fuuck —" Your hand scrambled backward, your fingers locking onto her forearm, your nails digging into the dark ink of the vines curling across her skin.​

"Yeah, right there," she whispered against your ear, her tone a condescending, sultry purr as she kept up the relentless, deep rhythm. "Look how good you take it when you're behaving. Such a good slut for me, aren't you? Keeping my spot warm before the sun's even up."​

The degradation mixed with the praise made your head spin, your internal walls contracting violently around her fingers in tight, desperate pulses. You needed her mouth on yours; the distance was making you ache.​

"Kiss me," you begged, your voice cracking as you tilted your head back into her shoulder, looking up at her with a needy, desperate expression. "Please... kiss me."​

She slowed her fingers for one agonizing second, looking down at your pouty, wet lips. "You gonna cum again if I do?"​

"Mghnnm—yes..."​

She let out a low, satisfied hum, the sound tickling against your neck before she leaned down and caught your mouth. It was a sloppy make-out, her wet tongue sliding past your teeth to claim yours with a heavy, all consuming hunger. She sucked on your tongue, swallowing your ragged gasps while her lower half quickly picked up the pace again, her fingers churning your slickness into a thick, creamy white foam between your thighs.

The hard, laminate edge of the counter was putting intense pressure directly against your lower stomach as she pulled you back, and the combination of the internal thrusting and the external pressure was driving you crazy. You wanted to come so bad. Your toes curled against the floorboards, your hips involuntarily twitching against her hand.

​She broke the kiss, a thick string of spit connecting your mouths before it snapped. Her hand left your throat, sliding down the front of your uniform shirt to grope your breast, her thumb rubbing hard over your stiff nipple through the thin cotton.

"Fuck, you're makin' a mess," she teased against your cheek, her fingers inside you turning into a relentless, blurring hook that hit your spot over and over. "C'mon. Take it. Tell me how it feels."

​"It's s-so good—ughnn—I'm gonna—"​

"Cum for me, baby girl. Make a mess," she commanded, her voice constantly coaxing. "Mhmm, let it out for me."​

You lost it. Your spine arched violently off her chest as a high, broken shriek tearing from your throat as your walls clamped around her fingers like a vice. You squirted, a hot, frantic rush of fluid pulsing straight out of your heat, spraying across her wrist and dripping heavily onto the floorboards below.

She didn't stop.

She kept fucking you straight through the entire orgasm, her fingers relentlessly driving into your pulsing, sensitive walls, wringing every last drop of surrender out of your body while you thrashed helplessly against her grip, your vision whiting out completely, your head lolling back against her shoulder as you panted heavily into the quiet room.​

The tempestuous movement finally slowed to a stop, her wet fingers sliding out of you with a soft, plap sound that made your thighs twitch one last time.​

She stayed there for a moment, her chest heaving slightly against your back as she let you catch your breath in the dim green light of the dawn. Then, slowly, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against your damp cheek, her heavy locs brushing like silk against your shoulder.​

"Good girl," she praised, her voice returning to that flat, professional tone as she stepped back, letting your leg drop from the counter. She wiped her hand on a rag from her pocket, her narrow eyes tracking the way you slid down to the floor, your legs barely capable of holding your weight. "Now, get yourself together. You're cleaning that floor before we open."

ೃ࿔ ͙✟ 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✟ೃ࿔ ͙

Lace cross divider by @/pommecita