i love sepi

Her bottom lip gets trapped between her teeth as she tries to hide her pathetic moans, finding it hard to keep quiet as you make out with her bulge while your fingers unzip her jeans.

You honestly have no idea what you’re doing. You’re going off pure instinct, pure horniness. All you know is that you need Trinity inside your mouth. You need to feel the tip of her butchcock pressing against the back of your throat until you start gagging.

Tugging her jeans off, throwing them across the room aimlessly, you grip her strap in your hand. You gulp loudly as you stroke it up and down, mouth watering at the fake veins.

“You’re so big,” you pant, swiping your thumb across the silicone tip.

Trinity’s hips buck forward as if she could feel it, and it makes something deep in your stomach whirl with arousal.

“Think you can take all of me?” she asks in a whiny voice, placing her hand on the back of your head, nails gently scratching your scalp.

You nod dumbly. “I can. I will. Wanna feel you cum down my throat.”

Trinity groans and pushes you forward, clit throbbing as she watches you wrap your lips around her strap, breath hitching at the sound of your pretty moan. She has to remind herself to breathe as she ogles the way you flatten your tongue along her shaft and lick up before swirling it over her tip. Little by little, her strap disappears into your mouth. Each time you gag, it makes Trinity moan, and her hips involuntarily thrust forward to make you choke even more.

“Doing so well,” Trinity whimpers, eyes fluttering and desperately trying to stay open to watch you take her length. “Fuck, you look so good. You sound so good trying to swallow this cock.”

Placing your hands on her hips, you leverage yourself as you bob your head up and down on Trinity’s dick. Your own gagging sounds and wet noises your throat makes has your pussy leaking so much. It’s ruined your underwear. It’s uncomfortably wet, and your thighs are incredibly slippery. The throbbing in your clit has you pushing yourself to make Trinity cum down your throat. Doesn’t matter if her cock is fake.

Tears are trailing down your cheeks as you suck off Trinity. She finds it hot, and her body heats up whenever you sniffle and catch your breath before wrapping your lips back onto her cock.

Her strap is wet with your spit. Strings of it cling to your lips and chin whenever you have to pull back for a quick breather. Trinity thinks you look pathetic, but she can’t find it in her to tease you for it because she’s so turned on that she can’t even speak. All she can produce are moans and pants and hisses as you dig your nails into her hips and choke on her butchcock.

If this thing were actually attached to her, she thinks she would’ve shot her rope down your throat not even a minute in.

Taking a break from abusing your throat, you stroke Trinity’s strap while looking up at her. It makes a noisy wet sound that has both of you dripping with heat, and Trinity swears she could cum through the strap when you sit up a bit and spit onto her cock.

Her head dips back in pleasure, and you stare at her throat as she moans out your name. She bucks her hips into your hand, mumbling how close she is as you jerk her off and lean down to nip at her thighs.

“Cum down my throat, Trin,” you beg, hand speeding up and squeezing tightly around her tip. “Please? I wanna taste you so badly.”

Your moans and whines are muffled as you lean forward and attach your lips to her cock again, forcing yourself to relax your jaw as you feel her brush against the back of your throat.

A few seconds later, Trinity’s gasping and cumming hard, shaking as her orgasm wracks through her body.

You’re so horny and dumb, and you greedily swallow down your own spit and drool as you suck her strap. You moan at the taste, imagining how sweet and salty Trinity must taste for real.

Trinity shudders and mutters incoherently as she comes down from her high.

“Oh, fuck… Holy shit.”

When she looks down at you with her dark, glazed-over eyes, you feel your brain get all fuzzy. You look back up at her almost sheepishly and mumble out, “Was I good?”

⠀⠀❪ 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ❫ perv!reader who’s not even subtle about how badly you want her half-dressed. you love when she’s still in her work shirt, the top buttons undone, the fabric tucked messily into her slacks while her belt hangs open like a promise. it makes your pussy wet in that helpless, embarrassing way, slick gathering between your folds while you sit there pretending you’re not imagining her pushing you down and fucking you with her trousers only shoved low enough to free her cock. baran can see it all over your face, the way your mouth parts, the way your knees press together, the way your eyes follow her hands whenever they move near her waistband. she doesn’t rush for you. she lets you suffer because she knows you like the waiting almost as much as the fucking.

⠀⠀❪ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ❫ perv!reader who starts sending baran nudes while she’s at work because you’re needy, bored, and absolutely shameless about wanting her attention. you know her schedule well enough to only do it when she’s alone or on break, but that doesn’t make it any less filthy. you’ll send her a photo of yourself in bed wearing one of her work shirts, the fabric pushed up around your waist, your pussy spread open with your fingers so she can see how wet you are for her. you make sure the angle is obscene, your clit swollen, your hole slick and messy, your thighs trembling slightly because even taking the picture turns you on. then you text her something awful like, “look what your shirt did to me,” and wait with your heart pounding for those three little typing dots to appear.

⠀⠀❪ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ❫ perv!reader who gets off on imagining baran opening those messages with that composed look on her face. you picture her sitting in her office or standing somewhere quiet, glancing down at her phone, and going perfectly still when she sees your pussy on her screen. you imagine the tiny crack in her control, the slow inhale, the tension in her jaw, the way her thumb would hover over the image for half a second too long. it makes you wetter just thinking about it. your fingers slip between your legs while you wait for her reply, rubbing slow circles over your clit and smearing your own slick around because you want to be even messier by the time she answers.

⠀⠀❪ 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ❫ perv!reader who sends a second photo when she takes too long to reply, because patience isn’t your thing when it comes to baran. this one is worse, your legs spread wider, two fingers sunk into your pussy, your wetness shining on your thighs. you make sure she can see the way your cunt stretches around your fingers, the way your body is practically begging for something thicker, something hotter, something that belongs to her. then you type, “it’s not enough. i need your cock,” and hit send before you can pretend to have shame. baran’s reply comes back controlled and devastating. “you’re going to regret teasing me at work, joonam.”

⠀⠀❪ 𝐒𝐈𝐗 ❫ perv!reader who doesn’t regret it at all. in fact, you get worse the second she gives you attention. you tell her your pussy is dripping for her, that you keep thinking about the outline of her cock in her trousers, that you want to crawl under her desk and suck her until she forgets how stressful her shift is. you’re filthy about it too, sending voice notes where your breath keeps catching because your fingers are still moving between your legs. you let her hear how wet you are, the slick sounds of your fingers fucking yourself slowly, your voice soft and broken as you whisper her name. baran doesn’t answer immediately after that one, and somehow the silence feels like her hand around your throat.

⠀⠀❪ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ❫ perv!reader who starts begging her to send something back because pictures of yourself aren’t enough anymore. you want proof that you’re getting to her too. you want to see her lose control, even a little. so you text, “please show me your cock,” then immediately follow it with, “please, baran, stroke it for me. just once. i need to see what i’m doing to you.” it’s needy and greedy and humiliating, but that’s part of why you like it. your pussy clenches around your fingers after you send it, because the idea of baran reading that in her calm, professional clothes makes you feel feral.

⠀⠀❪ 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ❫ perv!reader who almost comes untouched when baran finally sends a video from somewhere private and locked, the camera angled low enough to show her shirt still tucked in, her belt undone, and her cock heavy in her hand. she doesn’t show her face at first, and somehow that makes it hotter. it’s just her work clothes, her open trousers, and her thick cock flushed and leaking at the tip while her hand moves slowly over herself. you can hear her breathing, quiet but not steady, and that tiny loss of control makes your whole body burn. she doesn’t rush the strokes either. she does it slowly, deliberately, like she knows you’re watching with your fingers buried in your pussy and your mouth open.

⠀⠀❪ 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ❫ perv!reader who replays that video until you’re shaking. you watch the way her hand wraps around her cock, the way her thumb drags over the wet head, the way a bead of precum slicks over her skin before she spreads it down her shaft. her cock looks so good in her hand, thick and flushed and obscene against the neatness of her work clothes. it makes you whimper because you want your mouth on her so badly you can barely think. your pussy is soaked by then, puffy and sensitive, your fingers slipping in too easily because you’ve been dripping over yourself since the first photo. you text her, “i want your cum in my mouth,” because at that point you’re too far gone to be anything but honest.

⠀⠀❪ 𝐓𝐄𝐍 ❫ perv!reader who loves when baran talks to you through it, low and quiet, telling you exactly what to do while she’s still at work pretending to be composed. she tells you to spread your legs wider. she tells you to show her your pussy again. she tells you not to come until she says you can, and you hate how badly you want to obey. you send her another video, this time with your fingers fucking into yourself faster, your slick making everything messy and loud. you’re moaning softly, saying her name like a prayer, begging her to come home and fill you up. baran answers with, “keep yourself wet for me. i want to see how desperate you are when i get there.”

⠀⠀❪ 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ❫ perv!reader who gets caught in the worst way when she finally comes home. you’re still in her shirt, still bare underneath, still lying with your legs spread because you wanted her to see exactly what she did to you. your pussy is swollen and slick, your thighs damp, your fingers sticky from trying not to come without her permission. baran stands in the doorway for a second, taking you in with that dangerous calm on her face. she’s still in her work clothes, still beautiful, still half-composed, but her eyes are dark now. “you’ve been playing with yourself all day,” she says, voice soft. “and you still look this needy?”

⠀⠀❪ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 ❫ perv!reader who can’t stop staring when she starts undoing her belt in front of you. the sound of the buckle makes your whole body react, your pussy clenching around nothing, fresh wetness slipping down onto the sheets. baran sees it and smiles like she’s enjoying your humiliation. she pulls the leather through the loops slowly, then leaves it hanging loose while she steps closer to the bed. you’re already reaching for her, but she catches your wrists before you can touch. “no,” she murmurs. “you wanted to act like a filthy little thing all day. now you can watch until i decide you’ve earned it.”

⠀⠀❪ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❫ perv!reader who nearly loses your mind when she finally frees her cock right there in front of you. she’s hard, thick and heavy, the head wet from where she’d been stroking herself earlier because of you. that knowledge makes you moan before she even moves. you made her leak. you made her touch herself. you made baran al-hashimi, calm and controlled and impossible to shake, stand alone at work with her hand wrapped around her cock because your needy little pussy was spread open on her phone. you tell her that out loud because you’re too pervy not to, and her eyes flash. “careful,” she says. “you sound proud of yourself.”

⠀⠀❪ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❫ perv!reader who is proud. you’re proud when she pushes her cock between your lips and makes you taste the precum still gathered there. you’re proud when her hand slides into your hair and her breath catches because you take her so eagerly. you’re proud when you look up at her with spit on your mouth, eyes wet, tongue dragging over the underside of her cock like you’ve been waiting all day to worship it. baran’s composure starts cracking in tiny, delicious ways. her hips twitch. her fingers tighten. her voice drops into something rougher when she says, “that’s it. use that pretty mouth since it got you into trouble.”

⠀⠀❪ 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❫ perv!reader who gets so wet from sucking her cock that baran can feel it when she pushes her fingers between your thighs. she laughs softly against your hair when she finds your pussy messy and open for her, your slick coating her fingers immediately. “all this from a few videos?” she asks, like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s done to you. you nod with her cock still in your mouth because you can’t answer properly, and the sight makes her swear under her breath. she pulls back just enough to watch your lips drag off the head, then smears her thumb over your mouth. “you’re disgusting,” she says softly. “and you like when i say that.”

⠀⠀❪ 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❫ perv!reader who loves being fucked while baran is still half in her work clothes. her shirt is open, her trousers shoved down just enough, her belt still hanging from the loops while she pushes into your soaked pussy. the stretch is perfect, thick and slow, making your mouth fall open as your cunt takes her inch by inch. baran keeps her eyes on your face like she wants to memorize every needy little reaction. “this is what you wanted all day, isn’t it?” she asks, pressing deeper until your thighs shake. “you wanted my cock so badly you couldn’t even behave for a few hours.”

⠀⠀❪ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❫ perv!reader who admits everything because being full of her makes you honest. you tell her you touched yourself to her work shirt. you tell her you thought about her cock while she was saving lives, charting, walking around like she wasn’t ruining you just by existing. you tell her you wanted her cum on your tongue, on your pussy, on your thighs, anywhere she’d give it to you. baran fucks you harder when you say that, her hand sliding up to hold your jaw so you can’t hide your face. “there she is,” she murmurs. “my needy, shameless girl.”

⠀⠀❪ 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❫ perv!reader who loves when she comes inside you after making you beg for it. baran doesn’t give in quickly, because she’s mean in that quiet, patient way that makes you dizzy. she keeps you pinned beneath her, cock dragging deep through your wet pussy, forcing you to say exactly where you want her cum. you’re babbling by then, telling her you want it inside, want to feel it, want to be full of her after thinking about her all day. when she finally comes, it’s with a broken exhale against your neck, her cock pulsing inside you while warmth spills deep into your cunt. you cling to her shirt and shake through it, completely ruined and still somehow wanting more.

⠀⠀❪ 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ❫ perv!reader who gets even softer and more obsessed afterward. you’re sticky between your thighs, her cum leaking slowly from your pussy, her work shirt wrinkled beneath your hands, and all you can do is stare at her like she’s hung the moon. baran catches you looking, of course. she always catches you looking. she brushes your hair back, thumb gentle against your cheek, and says, “still staring?” you smile, dazed and shameless, because yes. always. especially when she looks like that, composed again, like she didn’t just fuck you open and leave you full of her.

⠀⠀❪ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 ❫ perv!reader who absolutely sends another nude the next time baran has a long shift, because learning your lesson was never the point. this time, you’re wearing nothing but her belt around your waist, your pussy spread open beneath it, her cum still something you think about when you’re alone. you type, “miss you,” like the photo isn’t completely obscene. then you add, “miss your cock more,” because you’re a menace and baran knows exactly what she signed up for. her reply takes less than a minute. “you’re going to be the death of my patience, azizam.” and your first thought is good. your second is send me another video.

© CUMKISSED ♡ | EST. JUNE 2026 ˎˊ˗ all original content found here belongs to me. canon material belongs to its respective owners. don't repost it, don't feed it to ai, don't translate it, don't archive it elsewhere, and definitely don't pretend you wrote it. ♡

you looked down at your figure, your bra was gone, but you were wearing an oversized dark t shirt and cotton shorts that definitely didn’t belong to you. the shirt smelled exactly like baran.

your body started heating up. you barely remember anything from after the couch. did she carry you up here? your heartbeat sped up embarrassingly fast at the thought.

the room looked exactly like the rest of the house, looking back to your side you saw that it was perfectly untouched.

so baran did sleep somewhere else. something about that made your chest ache unexpectedly.

you pushed the blankets away and stood carefully, still feeling groggy. the shirt hung loose on your body, slipping slightly off one shoulder when you moved.

the house was eerily quiet when you stepped into the hallway.

“baran?” you called softly.

nothing.

you wandered slowly through the house barefoot, trying not to feel weird about being here alone in her clothes like this.

the morning light made the entire place look different. it looked soft during the day. a coffee mug sat abandoned near the kitchen sink. one of baran’s jackets hung over the back of a chair.

you found yourself smiling slightly despite yourself. then, you felt warm arms wrapping around your waist from behind. you gasped clutching the person’s arms.

baran’s chest pressed against your back as she tucked her face into your neck inhaling your scent, one arm secured around your middle.

“i missed you,” she murmured sleepily against your neck.

your body melted instantly at the sound of her voice.

“you scared me.”

“i saw you wandering like a lost puppy.”

“sorry, i woke up and you were nowhere to be found.” you said leaning back against her like you couldn’t help yourself.

“i was called in for rounds.”

“you left for work?”

“and came back,” baran answered, her chin brushed your temple lightly. “you were asleep.”

“did you carry me to bed?”

“yes. well, more like dragged you.”

you laughed and quickly hid your face with one hand. baran’s soft laugh against your hair echoed through your head.

“you put me in pajamas?” you asked chuckling.

“couldn’t make you sleep in your work clothes, now can i?” she smirked, her arms tightened slightly around your waist.

you turned around just enough to get a proper look at her. she looked unfairly good for someone who’d apparently just got home from a shift at the er.

“you own very expensive pajamas.”

“they look better on you.”

your stomach flipped, and baran noticed the way your eyes widened slightly at the comment. a small smile appearing at the corner of her mouth before she slipped away slowly.

the warmth of her arms were still on your body as you watched her make her way to the kitchen table.

“come eat, i’ll make you something.”

“wait, do you have a toothbrush i could use?”

“yeah, in my bathroom in the cupboard.”

after freshening up in baran’s massive bathroom that could fit your entire apartment, you giddly made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen.

you sat at the table drinking coffee while baran cooked eggs like this was something that happened every morning. like you belonged.

she set a plate in front of you before taking a seat across the table.

conversation flowed as naturally as they could in circumstances like these during your one night stand with a celebrity doctor.

“there’s a charity gala in two weeks,” baran spoke when it got quiet, almost like she was soft launching a first date.

“the foundation event?” you glanced up at her.

“you know it?”

“my magazine’s covering it.”

baran tilted her head slightly. “you’re attending?”

“unfortunately,” you nodded. “me and like six other writers are basically getting deployed there for coverage and interviews. it’s gonna be miserable.”

baran laughed softly under her breath, hand going up to her hair to free it from the bun she was wearing. everything she did distracted you.

you looked down at your place before she could notice you drooling.

“i didn’t think…you’d invite me somewhere public,” you blurted out to fill the silence.

baran’s brows furrowed.

“i’m inviting the magazine,” she said calmly, too calmly. “you happen to come with it.”

if she would’ve told you she hated you and kicked you out naked it would’ve felt better than that. you stared at her in disbelief.

a teasing smile crept onto her face. “the realistic answer offended you?”

“a little.”

baran leaned in a little, her hand open for you to hold. you hesitated before placing your hand over hers.

“i wanted to see you there,” she added, her thumb brushing the back of your hand.

and just like that, you were nervous all over again.

-

the rest of the weeks leading up to the gala, you spent almost every day at baran’s house. you’d leave work early on days she was off so you could spend as much time as you could together.

everything about it was an unfamiliar domestic feeling to you. not just the sex. it was also the obsession slowly making it’s way up your neck and biting you there leaving marks of her everywhere.

she would casually text you throughout the day when you two weren’t together. your body reacting before your brain every single time your phone buzzed.

make sure to eat something before noon today.

her texts always sounded like she was constantly concerned about you. like you were on her mind every second of the day. then she texted you things during nights where you couldn’t go over to hers.

i’m drunk.

i wish i could taste you right now.

and go down on you.

my beautiful girl.

you smiled too much at work during those weeks. your phone glued to your hands, checking for baran’s texts.

“someone’s happy,” sofia teased one morning while dropping into the chair beside your desk.

“as happy as someone can be answering emails at nine in the morning,” you responded.

“did you have sex?”

“what?”

“you have that after sex glow,” she pressed further.

“i don’t want to talk to you about my sex life.”

“oh, you so had sex,” she laughed. “tell me, who’s the lucky bastard.”

“we’re at work.”

“fine,” she frowned dramatically. “but i won’t stop asking.”

you ignored her, reaching for your coffee. the emails kept piling up after you released your interview with baran. suddenly everyone wanted to put their hands on you, offers from bigger magazine comapnies, interviews with movie stars, and even movie premiere invites.

it was a high you never wanted to come down from. your dad had even started forwarding the interview to relatives before you even woke up the morning it was published. he kept introducing you to people as “my daughter, the journalist” with a big grin on his face that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

you couldn’t stop chasing that feeling.

sofia beside you shifted a little. “wait.”

“what?”

she looked down on her phone and started typing quickly.

“i’m putting together background blurbs for the foundation gala attendees,” she squinted at her tiny screen. “and i swear i read something weird about al hashimi.”

your fingers tightened around the coffee cup.

“oh.”

the sound made your chest hurt, like it punched straight through.

impatient you asked her. “what oh.”

sofia’s face turned into something of confusion then understanding. “did you know she was married?”

the cup nearly slipped from under your hand. married? she can’t be married. she let you in her house, she had sex with you, she let you wear her clothes.

“what? no i didn’t–”

sofia turned the screen toward you. an old article with a photo of baran standing next to another woman in a navy gown, one hand resting on the shoulder of a little boy smiling at the camera.

the caprion underneath blurred slightly when you tried to read it.

dr baran al hashimi attends annual pediatric fundraiser with wife and son.

“she has a kid?” you whispered.

“apparently,” sofia shrugged.

everything inside you went cold. you thought about her hands on your skin, the way she kissed you, sleeping in her bed, her texting you every hour checking in on you.

all of it turned sour instantly.

you felt a wave of humiliation before the anger got the chance to settle in. because suddenly you saw yourself the way you imagined everyone else would, a stupid younger journalist sleeping with a powerful woman who probably did this all the time.

has she laughed about you afterward? had there been other girls walking around in her clothes thinking that they were special too?

the thoughts were ugly and underneath it you felt an inevitable sense of grief. because the way baran looked at you like you were something precious, you had naively started believing this was becoming real.

and now you felt stupid for every second that belief cemented in your mind.

sofia was still talking, but her voice sounded far away now.

you felt embarrassed for how hard your feelings crashed into you. you barely knew this woman. so why did your chest hurt like you’d been betrayed already?

“hey, are you listening?” sofia waved a hand over your face. “you okay?”

“fine. i just need to finish the donor profiles.” you turned to your computer screen before she could say anything else.

shortly after your phone buzzed with a text from baran

looking forward to tonight ;)

you stared at the message until it started to feel weird before locking the screen without answering.

-

the fundraiser event felt unbearable from the moment you arrived. you did your best trying to avoid baran, but it didn’t work. the days after you found out about her wife and kid you went radio silent, and she wasn’t having it.

she showed up at your apartment at midnight the day before the gala, knocking on the door repeatedly until you answered.

“what the hell?” you groaned, getting out of bed in a hurry almost tripping over the sheets.

you opened the door to find a very confused baran, lowering her hand once the door fully opened.

“baran?…it’s like three in the morning.”

“why are you not responding to my texts?”

you froze your arms coming up to hug yourself for some sort of comfort. you were never good with confrontation, it was one of your worst traits.

“i’ve been busy,” you shrug.

baran tilted her head slightly, not believing a word you were saying.

“all day?”

“yeah i uh…i had to work on the donor profiles for the foundation event.”

baran nodded slowly and walked closer to you, it took every nerve in your body not to flinch. she brought her hands up to your arms and squeezed.

“if there’s anything going on, you know you can tell me right?” she mumbled, her eyes searching your face for a hint at what you’re thinking.

you held yourself back from yelling at her. you have a wife and a kid. why are you touching me like this? like i’m worth something more? you felt sick looking at her hands all over you.

and when she leaned in to kiss you, her lips were the only ones pressing. you weren’t kissing her back the way you usually did. how could you when she was hurting you like this.

she pulled back her eyes still full of concern. “if there’s anyth–”

“yeah to call you, i know. i just want to sleep right now, it’s been a long day.” you sigh moving away from her hold.

respecting your wishes, she didn’t say anything as she nodded and left your apartment. you wanted to cry, scream, and punch her at the same time. tell her to come back and explain to you why she was doing this to you. she didn’t get to make you feel bad when she’s the one in the wrong.

she texted you that morning checking in again, you despised the affect she had on you.

i couldn’t sleep all night. please tell me if there’s anything going on.

i’m always here for you.

now at the event, the ballroom glittered underneath massive chandeliers. wealthy donors drifted between tables in designer gowns and tuxedos, champagne glasses glowing beneath the light.

everything looked picture perfect.

you felt like you were everything but ready to face baran again after that night in your apartment.

your coworkers occupied nearly half the room. writers moved around collecting quotes and information about all the rich gossip while photographers snapped pictures near the entrance.

normally events like this thrilled you. they were a sea of opportunities for you to swim in. but tonight, your head turned and your stomach twisted every time the doors opened.

when baran arrived you felt the entire room tilt, she wore a black dress that was wrapped around her body, the low back exposing her warm skin. diamonds at her throat.

she looked too good for you to stay mad at her. but you couldn’t help but go back to her wife, she probably brought her to events like this. arm wrapped around her waist, whispering sweet nothings to each other. the thought made you physically sick.

baran spotted you instantly across the ballroom, like you were a force she couldn’t pull away from. her face softened into a smile, like she’d been looking for you specifically.

then she excused herself from the conversation she was having with a group of people and made her way toward you.

panic started crawling up your body, you turned away before she could reach you. coward.

you made your way to the bar, going to the most crowded space so she wouldn’t be able to follow you. it was impossible to avoid her, you eventually felt her attention find you again.

and every time you looked back, she was already staring. the third time you made eye contact, she looked concerned. the flirtatious smile now an invisible frown.

your phone buzzed in your clutch

baby, what’s wrong?

you stared at the message trying to come up with an excuse.

nothing.

busy.

the typing bubble appeared, it stayed for a full minute before disappearing. no response from her.

eventually, your body caught up to the stress that you were feeling and panic started showing on your face.

the bathroom was empty when you walked in, running your hand under cold water before bringing it up to your neck. you needed to calm down before going back out there, but you knew you couldn’t. not when baran is here.

you stared at yourself in the mirror, makeup was still perfect, but your face wasn’t. you shut your eyes briefly trying to remind yourself that you were here strictly for work. nothing else.

the door opened behind you then quickly shut. you flinched, turning around to see baran standing there.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said smiling softly. “why can’t i get a moment with you?”

you brought your hand up to your earring, fixing it when it didn’t need to be fixed. anything to calm your nerves.

“i’ve been running around with sofia all day.”

baran nodded and started walking toward you, her perfume wrapping around you. a feeling of heat pooled in your stomach. you hated how your body reacted to her, like it couldn’t handle a normal interaction with her.

she studied your expression for another second before her eyes looked down at your mouth. then she leaned in slow enough for you to have the chance to back away. another inch and she would’ve kissed you. and god part of you wanted her to so bad.

then the image of her wife and son flashed through your head again, like a warning sign. you stepped back without saying anything, her face turning back to a confused frown.

“okay, you have to tell me what’s going on,” she chuckled humorlessly, like she couldn’t believe you pulled away from her.

without another word, you left the bathroom while baran was still in there wondering what it is she did to make you not want her anymore.

the rest of the night was a blur of people talking to you and you not listening to a word and your coworker sofia asking you if you’ve reunited with baran yet. reunited is surely one way to put it.

at first you told yourself you needed just one drink to calm yourself down, and to stop thinking about baran. then came another because you could still feel your hands shaking. and then another becsuse every time you glanced around the room you saw baran pretending to function normally while she wore the tension on her shoulders.

when you downed your fourth glass of champagne, your thoughts had turned ugly. you wanted nothing more than to march over to her and yell at her.

the fifth glass of champagne made the world around you spin and light blur. sofia caught your wrist gently near the bar.

“okay,” she said carefully. “you need water.”

“i’m…literally fine.”

“you almost fell over,” sofia’s face softened then. “what happened?”

your eyes blurred instantly. and because you were so drunk, drunk enough now for your emotions to stop sitting neatly inside your chest, the truth almlst spills out completely.

“i really liked her,” you whispered.

“oh,” sofia’s brows furrowed as she took a seat next to yours. “your sex buddy? is she here?”

“what? no” you reply defensively, you couldn’t tisk sofia knowing about your affair with a woman twenty years your age, who was a celebrity to add more fuel to the fire. “it’s nothing i’ll tell you…later.”

you got up then without waiting for sofia to follow you, as you made your way to the donors table. aceoss the ballroom, baran noticed the second you nearly stumbled into the water fountain.

you laughed it off, grabbing the edge of the table in front of you to steady yourself while a poor waiter stands in front of you, with his hand out to help you stabilize.

baran eyes were still on you. she’d spent the entire night trying to give you space after whatever weirdness happened in the bathroom, but now you were flushed, visibly drunk, and laughing too loudly at something a board member said.

she crossed the ballroom toward you just as nearly tipped over a waiter. a hand caught your elbow firmly.

you look up to see baran standing there, anger visible on her face. “oh no,” you whispered.

“how drunk are you?” baran asked, her grip tightened on your elbow.

“i-i don’t know,” you hesitate, looking down at her dress and the way it hugged her just right. the way her chest rose in anger. that honestly felt unfair at this point.

she was standing looking like something out of a commercial and your eyeliner was smudged beneath your eyes and your cheeks were red from the entire disaster of tonight.

“i’m taking you home,” she said releasing her grip to reach for her phone in her bag.

“the home where your wife and son are?” you blurt out, drunk enough to confront her now.

baran froze then, confusion flickered across her face while she tried to catch up with the conversation. realization hit her hard after that.

“huh?” she whispered.

baran looked away for a second tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek while she processed what you were implying.

“you kiss other girls…and…and fuck them in your bed while your wife’s not there?” you spat angrily, vision blurring at the edges.

baran said nothing as you kept throwing claims at her.

“did you have sex with her on the same sheets as well? hm? touch her while you had your fingers inside me not even hours ago?” you stepped closer, the alcohol giving you a new sense of courage. “do you have any idea how disgusting i felt when i found out? i’m an idiot for thinking… this actually meant anything to you.”

she kept listening with this increasingly stunned look on her face. “you thought i was cheating on my wife with you?”

“yes!”

“i had a wife.”

“that’s wh–”

“i’m divorced.”

the color from your face drains as you register her words at the best of your abilities while alcohol was present in your body. you stared at her silently as you replayed every humiliating detail in your head.

oh.

oh, you fucking idiot.

divorced? you didn’t think to ask her. you were too afraid to confront her and lose what you’ve been craving your whole life that you didn’t think to ask her of all people.

“i’ve been divorced for four years.” baran exhaled, one hand sliding to her hip. “you thought i was married this whole time?”

you couldn’t answer. because yes you did think that and now that you knew the truth, every second of your behavior towards her felt like a humiliation ritual.

fuck.

you accused her of cheating, of bringing women home behind her wife’s back. all while she stood there looking confused and worried and trying yo figure out why you secretly hated her.

“is that why you were acting strange?”

still complete silence from you. what would you even say? sorry that i projected an entire fake marriage onto you and then tortured myself with it for days?

you looked away not handling the disappointment that’s apparent on her face. coward coward coward.

“you could’ve just asked me,” baran’s voice softened.

guilt settled in deep inside of you that it almost made you nauseous. you remembered every time she genuinely looked relieved when you paid attention to her tonight, even if it was brief.

meanwhile you were standing here calling her a cheating psychopath.

baran waited for you to say something back to her, explain yourself. but all you could do was stare at your feet in embarrassment and guilt.

she shifted closer. “you should see your face right now.”

that made the shame worse, you pressed your lips together tightly. you wanted the floor to crack beneath you.

baran’s mouth twitched slightly at the sight of you filled with shame and embarrassment.

drunk tears burned behind your eyes from pure humiliation, your hand going up to gently wipe them to not make baran notice.

but she did.

baran didn’t say a word before walking around you and leaving you standing there. the gala continued around you normally like nothing had happened.

a new wave of panic rushed through you. did she just break up with you? if your relationship could even qualify for one.

you barely survived the rest of the night, clinging to sofia’s side as much as you could. you smiled at people you barely heard, nodded through conversations, even walked into the wrong elevator when you were trying to leave.

the entire drive back to your apartment felt like it was too much to handle. sofia in the drivers seat kept turning around and looking at you in concern and also the fear of you throwing up in her car.

“please don’t do anything stupid,” she said as you were leaving her car.

“when have i done anything stupid?” you asked, even though everything you did recently was the most idiotic anyone has ever acted before.

“you know what i mean, call me if you need me i’m always here.”

where have you heard that before?

you didn’t say anything when you left her car, quietly thanking her as you closed the door behind you.

when you stepped into your apartment, the ache in you chest hurt so bad you physically couldn’t sit anymore.

at some point you flipped your phone over completely and let the screen buzz itself exhausted against the countertop while you sat on the kitchen floor with your knees pulled to your chest.

you didn’t know how long you sat there, thinking about how you messed up, how you were going to make it up to baran.

when you picked your phone back up again there were three missed calls from your dad. he was probably worried about you because you weren’t returning his calls.

you couldn’t stay another second in your apartment, you lasted exactly thirty minutes, before calling an uber and going to baran’s house at almost one in the morning.

-

the lights were still on when you arrived, her car in the driveway instead of inside the garage. you almost turned around twice before reaching the front door.

you gathered whatever courage the alcohol provided you at this moment and knocked.

no response.

you knew she was home. you could hear your own heartbeat in your eardrums now, as the panic started to make you feel nauseous again.

you knocked again. still no answer.

“baran,” you called through the door. “please.”

a few seconds later, you heard footsteps approach the door before it opened. you almost fell face flat into her floor because you put half your body weight on the door.

baran stood there in a pair of grey sweatpants and the same t shirt you wore the first time you slept over at hers. she looked tired and her hair was damp like she just hopped out of the shower.

her eyes moved slowly over you, still in your gala outfit, your makeup is now a mess you didn’t want to deal with, and your breath smells like alcohol.

you couldn’t think of what was the appropriate thing to say at this moment.

“can i…come in? please?” you swallowed, bracing yourself for rejection, for her to slam the door in your face.

instead, she quietly stepped aside.

you followed her awkwardly into the kitchen, baran leaned against the counter, her arms folded loosely now. waiting for you to speak.

and suddenly every prepared sentence vanished from your brain entirely.

“i’m sorry,” you blurted out. “i was insane tonight, okay? i know that i sounded crazy and jealous and–”

baran didn’t move when you stepped closer to her and dropped to your knees. you didn’t realize what you were doing, drunk and needing baran to forgive you. she looked down at you.

“baran,” you whispered shakily.

nothing, she wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of forgiveness. not until you keep begging for it.

the silence was like a knife to you because she wasn’t reassuring you anymore, she wasn’t softening just because you looked upset.

she was letting you sit in it. in your guilt, your shame, your embarrassment. letting you feel exactly what you’d done.

your hands gripped helplessly at the fabric of her sweatpants near her knee. “i didn’t mean it like that, i just– i saw the article and i freaked out and i kept thinking about–”

“you thought i was disgusting,” the calmness in her voice hurt worse than anger.

“no.” your eyes burned as you looked up at her.

baran finally looked away for a second, her jaw tightening slightly you could almost miss it.

“you asked me if i brought women into my bed while my wife wasn’t home.”

hearing it repeated back to you verbatim made you physically flinch.

“you thought i would do that to someone. and still came to my house.”

your breath caught, you couldn’t tell what she really wanted from you.

she looked down at your hands gripping her clothes then back at you. at the sight of complete mess and desperation. something dark washed over her. she was enjoying this. you on your knees for her begging for forgiveness. she wondered how far she could push you.

“you look pathetic right now,” she smirked.

the words should’ve hurt. they should’ve made you stand up and leave to keep whatever dignity you had in you.

but all you felt was heat rush through your body and straight to your core.

your fingers tightened against her knee. “i know.”

baran’s eyes darkened at how quickly you agreed.

“you punished me for something i didn’t do,” she whispered. “even looked at me like i was a liar.”

“baran, please.”

“no,” her voice stayed calm. “you’re going to listen to me now.”

baran’s hand dropped down to your hair, pulling lightly at the strands. it didn’t hurt, but it made you whimper.

“look at you,” she murmured softly. baran’s thumb slowly brushed against your lips. “open your mouth for me.”

you parted your lips and she slipped two fingers inside of your mouth, pushing all the way back until you gagged.

“you know you really disappointed me.”

you nod weakily, eyes getting wetter every time she pushed her fingers against your tongue.

“did you think i would lie to you?”

you shook your head.

“you’re on your knees desperate for me to touch you, huh baby?” she cooed at your tears.

you whimpered around her fingers. the feeling making you dizzy, you needed her to touch you but you know you didn’t earn that yet.

a quiet breath left her through her nose while her gaze dragged over your face.

“such a pretty apology,” she murmured. you close your eyes at the sound of her voice. “look at me when i’m talking to you.”

you opened your eyes and looked back up at her, a tiny smirk now on her face as she pulled her fingers out of your mouth, wiping the spit on your cheeks.

“you wanna know what i think?” she asked. “i think you hated the idea of someone else having me.”

yes you did. you hated it more than anything else in the world.

“i’m so sorry,” you begged, clutching her hand but she pulled it away. “let me make it up to you, let m-me make you feel good.”

baran’s composure shifted slightly at your words. “oh yeah? and how are you going to do that?”

you didn’t say a word as you grabbed at her sweatpants and pulled them down, revealing her bare pussy. she wasn’t wearing underwear, and it only made the heat in your core grow hotter.

baran looked down at you, holding back moans as you licked a line from her knee all the way to where she needed your apology most.

you looked up at her before dipping your fingers into her heat, she was dripping. all the begging you did had her too worked up.

you stroke her clit and that drew a low moan from baran above. you slipped your tongue inside her pussy feeling the tight warm clench around you as she grinded her hips into your face.

your tongue delved deeper into her slick folds, savoring the musky sweetness that coated your lips, a taste that was purely baran. you moved with intent, your mouth repeating apologies as your tongue pressed on her swollen clit.

baran’s thighs trembled around you, her fingers tangled in your hair as she kept the rythm of her core against your face.

the sounds of you lapping at her wetness filled the kitchen, your own arousal building with every moan escaping baran’s lips.

“good girl,” she moaned throwing her head back as your fingers teased her hole again. “fuck you’re–oh shit baby. right there.”

two fingers sliding effortlessly into her, earning you a low guttural moan. you pumped your fingers in and out, curling upward to stroke that sensitive spot.

“baby.” she whimpered, her voice breaking into a nasty plea, her hips bucking against your fingers as you played with her clit.

“i’m so sorry baran,” you pouted as your fingers kept pumping inside her. “i never meant to hurt yo–”

she nodded quickly. “yes, yes i forgive you. shut up and keep making me feel good, sweet girl.”

your fingers started moving faster, a pace that made baran’s eyes flutter shut and her mouth hang open in pure ecstasy. her orgasm fastly approaching as you bit her thigh, making her yelp and grasp onto your hair.

her nails were digging into your scalp as the pain and pleasure twisted together in a delicious haze. your free hand roaming upward slipping beneath her shirt squeezing at her bare breast, pinching the hardened nipples until she let out another yelp.

the intensity of the moment stripped away all of baran’s anger toward you, leaving only the turth of her desire, and that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t resist you.

you felt baran clench around your fingers as she came, moaning your name. she pushed your hand away when you wouldn’t stop, overstimulating her bringing her to tears.

“enough–”

“tell me that you were thinking about me all night.” you murmured, looking up at her, your mouth and chin coated with her release.

you fingers delved back into her already swollen pussy sensitive from her orgasm. the overstimulation sparking jolts of pleasure and pain that made baran’s hips buck involuntarily.

her eyes opened to look down at you. a smirk on your face, the alcohol in your blood making you enjoy this more than you’d like to admit.

you stood up and kissed her cheek, while she was falling apart on your fingers. “where did your words go?”

baran’s half lidded eyes glared at you, as her mouth dropped open and arched into you when your fingers found a deeper spot in her wet heat. your lips attached to a spot you knew left her squirming on her neck, sucking, biting, marking her in a place everyone would see.

“i’m-fuck…,” she tries to speak but the way you were rubbing her clit made her see stars. “i hate you.”

you lift your head up from her neck, stopping your movements. baran’s eyes widened as she gripped your wrist and pushed your fingers into her again.

“pathetic,” you whispered.

baran’s eyebrows shot up. she heard what you’d said loud and clear. “pathetic?”

you nodded smirking at her, relishing in the dominance you suddenly possessed. it didn’t last long as baran pulled your fingers out of her and brought them to your lips.

“suck.”

fuck.

you wanted so bad to be a brat and say no, to wipe your fingers on her shirt and shove her away. but the way she spoke to you, voice low and demanding, made you want to crawl to her and obey her every command.

her fingers pushed into your mouth. the taste of her sweetness on your tongue made everything in you tingle with need.

“good, good girl,” baran said hazily, watching you clean your own fingers of her cum.

without another word baran pulled her sweatpants back on and walked to the living room, looking back at you to follow her.

she settled back against the cushions, her frame relaxed but her gaze wasn’t, her arms crossed. you felt the air around you thicken with anticipation, the faint scent of her arousal still hanging heavy.

“i want to see every inch of you,” baran murmured, her voice that same commanding tone that made your pulse quicken.

your hands trembled slightly as you reached for the zipper of your dress, the fabric clinging to your sweat dampened skin. you peeled each piece of clothing off slowly, revealing your naked figure to baran.

she didn’t move, didn’t touch, didn’t speak, her eyes roaming over every inch of exposed flesh. the way your pussy glistened with arousal, your thighs clenching together slightly in search of relief. your drunken state not helping your case, only making you grow wetter from everything she did.

the intensity of baran’s stare, unblinking and starving, drove you to the edge. your body aching for any sort of contact, for the release only baran could provide.

“baran, please,” you whimpered, your voice cracking into a needy whine as you stood there trembling.

your hands hovered over your breasts with uncertainty, waiting for permission from baran to touch yourself. the heat between your thighs grew unbearable, your clit throbbing with unmet need, the slickness of your arousal evident as it trickled down your inner thigh.

“i can’t take this–baran, please, i’m begging you,” you pleaded, words coming out in a breathless rush.

baran was still silent as her eyes stayed on your nude form. with an agonizing slowness, she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of her own pants, her fingers delving into the wet folds of her pussy, circling her swollen clit, as she watched you stand there.

the soft sounds of her own touch filled the silence, provocative moans spilling out of her mouth which only made your desperation worse.

your resolve crumbled under baran’s stare, your hands twitching at your sides as the need pulsed through you, a deep ache in your pussy begging for attention.

you couldn’t hold back any longer, your fingers crept downward, brushing lightly over your sensitive clit, the small contact sending an electric jolt of pleasure through your core that made your knees weaken.

but the moment you did, baran’s eyes flashed with fury, her hand pausing, voice cutting through the silence like a whip.

“did i give you permission to do that?” she snarled.

your hand froze mid air, a flush of embarrassment and arousal washed over you. baran’s own fingers resuming their pace on her clit, as if to reclaim the power.

your heart raced as you stood there, looking at baran trembling, her breaths turned into sharp gasps, her movements growing messier as she rubbed herself harder.

she was a work of art, head thrown back pressed into the cushions behind her as she kept getting closer to her release.

“this…this is what you do to me,” she moaned her hips bucking into her hand as she came with a loud cry. “y-you make me a fucking mess.”

you couldn’t help but stand there and drool at the sight before you, her hands moving up and into her mouth as she cleaned fingers of her own release staring at you.

you needed her so bad, worse than any moment before this. she was electric, every part of your body tingling with need as she teased you. tears started pouring out of your eyes at the ache she was letting you deal with.

it was almost like she wanted you to suffer, to stand there and be humiliated. the same way you made her feel with your accusations. she only let her eyes focus on the way your thighs were rubbing together slightly. she had you exactly where she wanted you.

“come here.” almost like she decided you’ve had enough as she takes off her sweatpants.

your legs felt like they were about to give out as you stumbled toward her. baran shifted forward, parting her legs slightly as she granted you permission with a nod patting her thigh, allowing you to straddle her.

“take what you need, you’ve been a good girl.”

you sank onto her thigh with a whimper, grinding against the thick muscle, the heat of her skin searing through your own. tears streamed down your flushed cheeks, the glasses of champagne that you had started to amplify the raw vulnerability clawing at your chest. “baran, i’m sorry-shit. i’m so sorry.”

you sobbed, your hips rocked faster, forehead resting against hers as your swollen lips sliding against the curve of baran’s leg, the friction bringing on a pleasure you’ve never experienced before. your hands roamed down barans front grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head.

your breasts brushed against hers with each movement, the room spun making the sensation more intense. the salty taste of your tears on your lips, the musk of arousal around you, the pressure building deep as you chased your release.

“fuck, i’m so close.”

baran’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you with a possessive touch that only fueled the storm of emotions between you. her dark eyes locked on your tear streaked face. “shh, baby, i’ve got you–let it all out.”

your drunked haze only made your movements grow sloppier, desperate, as your cries turned into a mix of pleasure and sadness.

your clit throbbed against her thigh, your walls clenching around nothing while you were mumbling nonsense into baran’s neck. a mix of pleas and apologies drowned in your pretty moans.

the wetness of your arousal coating baran’s leg in a sticky trail, every thrust a silent plea for forgiveness. in that moment, the lines between lust and love blurred, your tears a testament to your devotion, baran surrendering as the weight of reconciliation, intertwined with the way you were grinding down on her.

“come for me.” she whispered in your ear.

as your orgasm gets closer, you threw your head back and baran’s hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb playing with your nipple before she wrapped her lips around it, drawing out the last shudders of release. your body twitched as you came until it fell slump on top of baran’s.

she held you tighter, one hand rubbing up and down your back soothing you through your release. she slowed the movement, running her fingers instead through your hair while you internally die.

you groan into her shoulder. “i’m never speaking again.”

“that’s a bit dramatic.”

you don’t remember falling asleep, only that baran’s fingers on your scalp lulled you to a deep slumber.

waking up the next morning was hell, your head pounded with a terrible ache. you forgot almost everything as soon as you opened your eyes, the alcohol doing its job in making you not suffer last nights events.

but it slowly started coming back in pieces.

you at the gala, drinking your sadness away, baran walking away from you, crying on baran’s kitchen floor, the humiliating way you begged for her forgiveness.

“what the fuck?” you whispered into the pillow.

beside you, baran made a soft sound that suspiciously resembled amusement.

you closed your eyes instantly. “no.”

baran’s voice came out rough with sleep behind you. “no what?”

“i’m leaving the country.”

a quiet laugh warmed the back of your neck, as she shifted closer her arm coming to wrap around your waist pulling you back against her chest.

“like i’d let you out of my sight,” she whispered kissing the back of your neck.

“can we agree to never mention last night ever again?”

“i don’t think i’ll be able to. the sight of you on your knees for me will always be burned into the back of my head,” she said biting your ear. “you should upset me more. need you on your knees again.”

you felt an ache grow slowly between your thighs at her words. you made a strangled noise into the pillow, willing your head not to remember any part of you on your knees.

“you’re never letting this go.”

“no chance.” she giggled softly. “you in my kitchen crying about my imaginary wife?”

“that didn’t happen!”

“oh, it absolutely happened.”

the rest of the morning passed lazily. you stayed tangled in baran’s sheets while sunlight moved slowly across the room, warm against your bare skin. at some point she disappeared into the kitchen and came back with coffee, one mug balanced carefully in her hand while you sat up against the headboard still trying to recover from the hangover.

baran sat back down beside you, entirety too calm for someone that emotionally tortured you for several hours.

you looked down at your mug for a second before speaking.

“so what happens now?”

“what do you mean?” baran glanced at you.

“i mean…” you hesitate. “are we still doing whatever thing this is?”

baran leaned back against the headboard, studying you with a teasing smile.

“you think last night scared me off?”

“it should’ve, i mean i was a nightmare.”

“it didn’t.”

you looked down quickly to hide how much relief hit you from those two words alone. baran reached over, fingers hooking lightly beneath your chin until you looked back at her.

“come here.”

you moved immediately, setting the coffee down before sliding closer until her arm wrapped loosely around your waist. your head rested against her shoulder while her fingers moved lazily through your hair.

for the first time since meeting her, your chest didn’t feel tight with confusion or longing or uncertainty.

just warmth.

“you can stay.” baran smiled faintly against your hair.

you tilted your head back slightly to look at her.“you want me to stay?”

“i wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

After you text her, you get up and lock your bedroom door. You slip your underwear off but keep your shorts on, because you don’t wanna waste any time when she gets here.

Samira arrives ten minutes later. She’s parked a few houses down from yours, and she sneaks in through the side of your house. She quietly taps her knuckles against your bedroom window, and her lips form into a big smile when you draw the curtains back to greet her.

You help her inside, and the second her feet touch your bedroom floor, she’s got her hands and lips on you.

Immediately, you melt into her touch.

Samira’s soft lips press against yours, and she hums at the bitter taste of wine. Her tongue drags over your bottom lip before she pushes it into your mouth, massaging your tongue with hers. She starts sucking on it while her hands grope you all over, making your body flush with heat. The kiss is broken for a few seconds when she helps you out of your shirt. Once it’s off, her lips attach themselves to your neck. You sigh and lean your head to the side to give her more access to your neck as she places needy kisses on your skin. As she pushes you back toward your bed, you mumble out, “Parents are still awake. We have to be quiet.”

The back of your knees hit the mattress, and you fall back onto it. Samira’s above you, looking at you with eyes full of desire and lust. You watch her peel off her shirt, your mouth going dry when it’s revealed she’s braless. Her perky nipples are just calling out for you, begging to be in your mouth. Samira crawls onto your lap and places her hands on your shoulders.

She leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear. “I can be quiet, but can you? Think you can keep that mouth shut when my strap is buried deep inside your guts?”

You groan under your breath. Your hands slide up her waist, gripping tightly as she licks the shell of your ear.

“Stop being a tease and just fuck me already,” you reply breathlessly.

Fifteen minutes later, and you’re face down, ass up on the bed. Samira’s slamming her strap into you, filling the room with obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your moans are muffled into your pillow, and there’s a little wet spot from your drool on the sheets.

“…Mira,” you whine out, hands grasping at the mattress as her thick strap thrusts in and out. “S’good…”

Your body is completely limp, and it’s only held up by Samira’s hands. She’s fucked you dumb. Maybe it’s embarrassing how little it took for her to get you drooling and whimpering in bed, but you can’t really care about that right now.

Samira bottoms out and pulls your hips down so you feel her deep inside of you. A smile appears on her lips as you squirm and arch your back while pressing your face into the pillow to hide your moans and whines.

“Fuck yourself on my strap,” Samira commands, loosening her grip on your hips slightly. She glances down and feels her throat get dry at how messy your pussy is. She wants to watch you make even more of a mess.

You let out a weak grunt and push your ass back into Samira, biting your lip but failing to conceal your moan when you feel her fingers brush against your clit. Your cheeks heat up at how loud you just were. Gripping the edges of your pillow with both hands, you shove your face into it while you fuck yourself on Samira’s thick strap. Your walls clench around her length as she whispers praises to you, telling you how good you’re doing, breathy voice telling you to go faster and harder.

That, mixed with her fingers on your clit, has you feeling insane. You desperately and sloppily push your ass back into her hips, sometimes trying to push down into her hand when she strokes your clit faster. She takes over when your hips start stuttering and when you start begging for her help because you can feel your orgasm approach. You know you’d be able to cum just from cockwarming her strap while she rubs your clit, but you wanna feel her cock thrust and touch your guts when you cream all over it.

“Gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you rasp out, hands twitching against the bed as the pressure builds and builds inside your stomach.

Samira bends over your body and pushes you into the mattress, her entire weight now on you as she stuffs you full of her strap. The bed bounces, and you thank God you don’t have a headboard because you know it would be banging against the wall.

“Cum for me, baby,” Samira coos, her warm breath hitting your cheek. “I wanna feel you squeeze my cock as you cum.”

A few more harsh thrusts and you’re creaming on Samira’s strap, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your orgasm washes over your entire body. You go limp as she keeps thrusting, Samira’s breathy whines filling your head and making it feel fuzzy. Seconds later, she cums with a choked groan and collapses on top of you.

Both of you take a few moments to catch your breath and just hold each other. Samira places tiny kisses on your flushed skin.

“You did so well for me,” she says. “I love you.”

Samira pecks your nose. She adjusts herself on top of you, and you whine at the feeling of her strap moving deeper inside of you. Chuckling quietly, Samira apologizes.

“I love you more,” you mumble tiredly, worn out from being fucked dumb. “Do you wanna stay the night? Or at least until I fall asleep? I know you work tomorrow.”