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cowboybeepboop · 1 month

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The chase

”You know, Y/N, all these years of chasing storms... I think I've just realized what I've really been after." He pauses, his voice thick with emotion. "You. You're all I've ever been chasing."

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reader

Genre: smut, idk it’s romantic too

Word count: 4k

Summary: Rivals in their careers as YouTube tornado chasers. But where you focus on chasing the storm Tyler is more focused on chasing you.

a/n: tbh I didn’t proofread so if there are mistakes my bad. But anyways hope you enjoy it. If you have any requests lemme know I’d be more than happy to write something for you.

You and Tyler Owens are two of the most well renowned storm chasers on YouTube, but your rivalry is legendary. Where Tyler is known for his daring and high-risk approach, you pride yourself on meticulous awning and safety. Your heated competition has been the talk of the tornado chasing community for years.

When a massive superstorm is predicted to hit a remote region, the stakes are higher than ever. Both you and Tyler are determined to capture the most intense footage, proving once and for all who really is on top.

As you sit in your hotel room, scrolling through various weather reports and radar apps, you can’t help but feel the tension building in the air. It’s the night before the big storm. You glance over at the door, knowing that your biggest competitor, Tyler Owens, is just a room away. The thought of him being so close sends a surge of frustration through you, but you try to focus on your preparations for the storm ahead.

You just came out of a steamy shower, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and your white painties. A loud knock on the door startles you from your thoughts, a sigh leaving your lips as you open the door. A scowl covers your face as you see your rival standing in front of you with a sly grin.

He chuckles at your reaction, leaning in the doorway. “What’re you doing in there? Thinking about your favorite country boy?” You cross your arms over your chest, glaring up at him.

“What do you want Tyler?” Your voice is full of annoyance.

He chuckles again, taking in your annoyed expression, his own cocky smirk adorning his face. He looks over your figure, thinking about you in far more inappropriate ways than he should.

“Can’t I just stop by to talk?” His voice is low and seductive as he takes a step toward you.

Putting a hand on his chest stopping him from coming in any further. “No, not without wanting something from me.” Standing your ground, you continue with a stern tone. “I know you Tyler, you don’t just stop by for no reason.”

He smiles, putting his own hand on top of the one on his chest. He slowly looks you up and down again, biting his lip as he does so. “Maybe I just can’t stay away from you…”

He takes a step closer once again, towering over you. His eyes lock into yours as he study’s your expression. Your breath hitches in your throat as a soft blush creeps up your cheeks.

“And what is that supposed to mean, cowboy?” You say while trying to regain your composure.

He notices your blush, his smirk growing at your reaction. He takes another small and careful step to you, closing the door behind him. He brushes your hair behind your hair, his eyes looking you up and down.

“It means I can’t take my mind off of you,” He takes another cautious step closer, “No matter how hard I try…” his voice trails off, your bodies inches apart, his body pressing very gently against yours.

“Tyler…” you whisper breathlessly, “Stop messing with me,” you step away from him, clearing your throat. Taking a deep breath you finish your sentence “We have a big storm tomorrow, why don’t you stop playing games and go back to your room” our voice regaining its firmness.

His smile drops when you step away, his eyes looking slightly hurt, but his usual cocky facade covers it back up.

“Why would I play games with you?” His voice is softer than usual, a bit of anger in his words. He’s filled with frustration at your constant pushing him away, even though you’re the one thing he can think about. “Why can’t you just let down your guard for a second and let me in?”

His hand cups your cheek pulling you closer to him as he wraps an arm around your waist. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll leave,” he whispers.

“Tyler?” Your voice is quiet as you look into his blue-green eyes. His thumb caresses your cheek gently. He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of what you’re thinking, but he comes up with nothing. His cocky act drops slightly and you can see through his eyes how desperate he is for you.

He leans down next to your ear, his hot breath brushing against your neck. His voice is quiet and low, a pleading tone in his words. “Say it…” his body presses closer to yours “Tell me you don’t want me.”

Your eyes flick to the door then back to him. You find yourself speechless with a newfound dryness in your throat. “Ty.. I..” your voice trails off.

His fingers run down your side, bringing you flush against his body, his hand taking in every curve of your hips and waist. He nuzzles the crook of your neck, his hot breath teasing your bare skin. His voice is even lower as he whispers to you

“Tell me this isn’t what you want,” he presses a soft kiss on your neck, “Tell me you want me to go,” his lips move further down your neck, to your collarbone. “Tell me you don’t want me.” His voice is filled with desperation as he slides a hand up your shirt cupping one of your breasts, his thumb rubbing over your hard nipple.

You press up against the wall, pleasure running through your body as a soft moan escapes your lips. “Tyler…” you move your hand to his hair, tugging on the roots softly while pulling him closer to you.

“Tyler, I want you…” Your voice trails off as you squeeze your eyes shut relishing in the feeling of his hands on your body. His lips move against the side of your neck, leaving a long, slow trail of kisses, bites and light hickeys. His body reacting to our moans.

A low growl leaves his lips as you say the words he’s been waiting to hear. A wave of pleasure washes over him, his hand grips the back of your thigh pulling you up against him until you’re lifted off the ground, legs wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck, Y/N,” His voice is low, “Say my name again,” his voice more demanding. Another knock at your door interrupts you and Tyler. His hands stay firm against your body even as he pulls his lips away from your skin.

”Y/N?” your storm chasing partner knocks at the door again. Tyler looks down at you with an expression of annoyance, frustrated at the interruption.

“Tyler…” your voice is stern as you pull your body away from his “hide in the bathroom” you whisper.

“You have to be kidding me. He mutters, reluctantly putting you down and letting his hands fall away from your body. As you send him into the bathroom he shoots you a glare before shutting the door leaving it open a crack, hiding in the bathroom and listening in on your conversation.

“Hey, Adam” you smile while inviting him in.

“Y/N, did you figure out what the plan is for tomorrow morning?” His hands cross over his chest as his eyes look you up and down, taking in your disheveled appearance. The only thing you’re wearing is a white tshirt over your lace panties.

He clears his throat, his hand going to his neck. Tyler looks through the crack of the bathroom door. He clenches his fist as he watches your partner taking in your appearance.

Tyler can see how Adam is thinking because it's the same way he is, like he would do anything to get his hands on you. He grits his teeth trying not to give away his hiding spot. He overhears your discussion but his eyes are more focused on you, and your current appearance.

"Hey, has that prick Owens come to bug you yet?” Adam’s voice is playful as you stifle an awkward laugh.

“Uh, not yet” your whole demeanor turns stiff as you try to lead him away from the bathroom door. Tyler rolls his eyes at the insult, he doesn’t like his competitors either, and the sentiment is usually very mutual.

“You know, Adam..” you brush your hand against his arm, continuing to try and lead him toward the door. He gives you a puzzled look as he’s not sure why you’re being so awkward.

Tyler watches you run your hand along his arm, his jaw clenching tight and his knuckles grow white as he tries to refrain from making a sound. He fights the urge to open the door and take you in his arms to pull you away from your partner.

“I’m a little tired..” you grimace while looking up at him, blocking his view to the bathroom. He squints his eyes looking toward the half closed door and he laughs.

“Y/N, is there someone in your bathroom?” His smile grows wide as he looks at your flushed face. “I’ll talk to you in the morning then,” you push him out the door, sighing as you lock it behind him.

Tyler rips the bathroom door open, coming out looking incredibly irritated and frustrated. His demeanor has changed as he stalks toward you, gently pinning you between his body and the wall. He places a hand against the wall next to you, taking a few seconds to look over your body.

“Does he talk to you like that a lot?” His voice is gruff, his usual cocky persona gone as he looks at you.

“Huh?” Your eyebrows furrow as you look up at Tyler, your hands grasping at his sides pulling him closer. “Talk to me like what?” You question. His frown deepens as he looks down at you.

“That goddamn cocky, arrogant bastard was hitting on you and you know it” he grumbles, anger seeping into his voice as he thinks back to how he was looking at you.

”Adam?” Your voice laced with confusion, “No way, he doesn’t think of me like that,” you lean forward, kissing his jaw gently. His eyes close as a low sigh leaves his lips, pulling you even closer.

“He was all but drooling over you right in front of me, there’s no way you didn’t notice it” he grits his teeth.

“Not even,” you kiss down his neck, “Adam is just a friend,” you mumble in between kisses. He lets out another low sigh while tilting his head to the side, giving you more access.

He pulls you on top of him as he sits down on the bed, trying to ignore the obvious and think of you instead. “I want you to be mine.” He whispers, his voice low and possessive. “All mine..” he groans while pulling you into a passionate kiss.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you deepen the kiss, moaning into his mouth as his hands wander your body, pulling you flush against him. You’re straddling his hips, your bare thighs brushing over his rough jeans.

His hands grip your hips tighter, needing you as close as he can manage. One arm wraps around your waist while his other hand grips your thigh. His thumb caresses your soft skin as he begins pulling you back and forth on his lap, trying to get as much pleasure out of the friction you create as he can.

Pulling away from the kiss you moan into his ear, satisfaction filling your body with the rough fabric against your pussy. Your hips match his movements as you grind down on him one hand slipping into his shirt as you feel his tense muscles.

A deep moan leaves his lips as your voice fills his ears, his hands grip you even tighter as you press down on him. His mind clouds with lust as he thinks about how tight you are under your lace panties.

He can’t hold himself back any longer, he leans forward and kisses your neck, sucking, biting and licking the sensitive skin leaving dark marks behind as his lips move down further. His hands spread your thighs, slipping one into the hem of your panties, moving up and down your stomach and trailing to your wetness.

“Oh fuck Tyler,” you moan loudly as his hand spreads your folds, his finger hitting your sensitive clit.

As Tyler's hand continues to explore your body, your mind races with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. But the desire burning within you is too strong to ignore. Tyler's touch ignites a fire deep within you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. You can't deny the way his fingers glide across your skin, sending shivers down your spine. It's a heady combination of taboo and forbidden desire that leaves you craving more.

"Fuck," you gasp, your voice laced with need. "I want you inside me."

Tyler smirks against your neck, his hot breath sending tingles down your spine. "Yeah, baby?" he purrs seductively. His words fuel your desire even further as you arch into his touch, wanting to feel him buried deep inside you. But hesitation lingers in the back of your mind - fear that crossing this line will lead to consequences neither of you are prepared for.

You can't help but let out a moan of satisfaction as Tyler's fingers glide inside you. The friction against your clit and the pressure inside you are driving you wild. You arch your back, pushing yourself closer to him, desperate for more.

But just as you're about to reach the edge, a flicker of hesitation crosses your mind. The reality of what you're doing hits you like a ton of bricks, and doubt creeps in. You question your actions, wondering if this is really worth it.

"Fuck," you groan, your voice filled with both pleasure and uncertainty. "Is this really a good idea Tyler?”

Tyler's hand freezes in its motion, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. He knows that he's pushing boundaries, and he doesn't want to push you too far. Especially since he’s been dreaming of this day since he met you.

“Is everything okay?” You know that you’ve already crossed the line so there’s no going back. You nod.

“Yes, please make me cum,” you whine, “I’m so close…” you grind against his hand, your nails digging into his shoulders. The sound of Tyler's voice is music to your ears, fueling your desire even further. Your hips continue their frantic work, desperate for release.

Tyler smirks, reveling in the power he holds over you. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you crave him with every fiber of your being. He leans back against the headboard, as he watches you writhing in anticipation. "You're mine," he says with a devilish grin. "And I'm going to make you beg for it."

Your breath hitches at his words, excitement mingling with a hint of apprehension. You know that you're about to surrender yourself completely to this pleasure, but a small part of you wonders if you can handle what's coming next. He lays down underneath you and begins to slip your panties off. He guides your hips towards his face, you hesitate. “Ty, are you sure?”

"Oh, baby," he chuckles darkly, his voice dripping with lust. "I'm sure about it. I've been waiting for this moment since the day we met." Your mind races with conflicting thoughts as you hesitate, torn between your desire to give in and the nagging voice of reason in the back of your head. But there's no denying the raw desire that courses through her veins.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's about to come. With trembling hands, you slowly lower yourself onto Tyler's waiting face. The sensation is overwhelming - his warm breath against your clit sends shivers down your spine while his tongue traces delicate patterns along her folds.

Tyler moans softly into your pussy as you begin riding him, grinding against his lips with an intensity that borders on desperation. Your walls tighten around his fingers with each stroke, building up the anticipation until you can no longer hold back.

"Fuck," you moan, your voice strained with pleasure. "I can't. I can't take it anymore."

Tyler smirks up at you, his eyes glinting with triumph as he continues to devour you with fervor. He knows he's pushing your limits, pushing you to the edge of your sanity. But he also knows that this is what they both crave - the raw intensity of their desires colliding head-on.

You arch your back, urging him on with a mix of need and frustration. Your hips move in a desperate rhythm, grinding against his face as you teeter on the precipice of climax.

Tyler senses your impending release and increases his intensity, his tongue swirling around your clit in a relentless dance of pleasure. The sounds of their combined moans fill the room as you edge closer to the edge.

“Fuck, fuck,” you moan, biting down on the headboard in front of you as Tyler continues to hold your ass tight, forcing your hips down against his mouth as he licks up all your cum.

He moves your hips and sets you down on his chest, wiping away the juices left on his chin. “You taste so good baby”, crawling off of him you slip between his thighs. Your fingers fumble with his belt buckle, pulling it off as you undo his jeans. You slide them down his legs and pull his hard cock out of his boxers.

With the passion raging inside of you, you take a moment to appreciate the sight of his erect cock standing proudly before you. The air in the room is thick with desire, and the anticipation of what’s about to happen is almost unbearable. You lean down and kiss the tip of his dick, tasting the precum beading at the top.

Tyler's hands find their way into your hair, guiding you as you take him into your mouth. His hips jerk upwards as you start to suck, the pleasure evident in his deep, guttural moans. You feel a sense of power as you control his pleasure, your own need for release momentarily forgotten. As you deep throat him, your eyes never leave his, watching the storm of emotions playing out across his face.

The rivalry and tension between you two has always been palpable, but in this moment, it's transformed into something far more intimate and explosive. With the head of his cock bobbing against the back of your throat, you begin to suck harder and faster, feeling his thighs tense beneath you. Tyler's grip on your hair tightens, his moans growing louder and more desperate as he nears the brink of climax.

You can feel his cock pulsing in your mouth, and you know he's close. You reach down with one hand to cup his balls, gently massaging them as you deep throat him again. His hips buck up, and he lets out a strangled groan, his eyes squeezing shut. You keep going, determined to make him cum, to show him just how much power you have over him at this moment.

You feel his cock swell even more, and with one final, deep suck, Tyler's body goes rigid. He cums hard, filling your mouth with his hot, salty release. You swallow it all down, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and victory. As you pull away, Tyler's eyes open, a look of pure bliss and surprise on his face. He's never felt anything quite like this before, and the intensity of the experience leaves him momentarily speechless.

With a renewed hunger, Tyler sits up, his eyes never leaving yours as he runs his hands up your body, feeling the heat of your skin. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight of your bare breasts, the rosy tips of your nipples standing erect with arousal. His thumbs graze them, watching as they pebble even further under his touch.

With a groan, he pulls you closer, his mouth claiming one peak while his other hand squeezes the other. You throw your head back, your hips rolling against his hardened length. His tongue flicks and swirls around your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.

The feeling is exquisite, and you can't help but let out a whimper of pleasure. He switches to the other, giving it the same rough treatment, his hands roaming your back and sides, leaving trails of fire wherever they go. Your pussy is soaking wet, and you can feel the heat of his cock against your stomach. The anticipation is agonizing, and you start to rock your hips against him, desperate for more.

With a growl of desire, Tyler lines up his cock with your dripping entrance. He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, but all he sees is a mirror of his own need. He pushes into you slowly, inch by inch, watching as your eyes widen with pleasure.

You gasp as he fills you completely, the sensation of being stretched and filled by your rival's cock sending shockwaves through your body. He starts to move, his strokes long and gentle, his eyes never leaving yours. His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking your nipples as he kisses you deeply. The room is filled with the sweet symphony of your muffled moans and the slick sound of skin on skin.

The tension between you two has morphed into something beautiful and consuming. Tyler's movements become more deliberate, his hips rocking into you with a passion that speaks volumes about his feelings. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your body responding to every thrust with a roll of your hips.

As he kisses your neck and whispers sweet nothings into your ear, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is what you've been craving all along. Tyler's strokes become more urgent, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives himself deep inside you. With a final, powerful thrust, he cums inside of you, filling you with his warmth. The room falls silent, save for the sound of the rain and your panting breaths.

For a moment, you just stay like that, your bodies entwined as you both come down from the intense high. Tyler's eyes are closed, his head resting on your shoulder, and his heart hammers against your chest. He pulls out slowly, and you feel a strange sense of loss as he does. But then he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close for a gentle cuddle. It's a stark contrast to the fiery passion that just consumed you both, but somehow, it feels right.

As you lay there, feeling the aftershocks of your shared climax, Tyler whispers something in your ear that makes your heart skip a beat. "You know, Y/N, all these years of chasing storms... I think I've just realized what I've really been after." He pauses, his voice thick with emotion. "You. You're all I've ever been chasing."

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. You're stunned into silence, unable to believe what you've just heard. But as you look into his eyes, you see the raw truth of his confession, and it hits you like a bolt of lightning. Despite the competition, the rivalry, and the tension that's always been between you, there's something undeniable here. Something that transcends the storms you both pursue.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words to respond. But all you can manage is a soft "Me too, Tyler. Me too." And with that, you both sink into the warmth of the bed, the thunder outside a distant echo of the passion that just roared through you.Your head resting against his chest as the both of you fall into a deep sleep.

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helen-with-an-a · 22 days

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Welcome Home - Beautiful Girl Series (18+)

Hiiiii - so I have deciede to expand this into a little universe type thing that I will be updating as and when I feel like it. I hope you enjoy.

Beautiful Girl Masterlist

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Description: Alexia comes home from the Olympics.

Word Count: 9k

TW: Smut, 18+, talking through an orgasm, self-doubt, SoftDom!R

Alexia was exhausted – so, so tired. But it wasn’t just her body that was weary. Sure, the Olympics had pushed her to her physical limits. The gruelling schedule of Euro qualifiers, the relentless training camps, and the fierce competition itself had left her muscles aching, her joints stiff, and her energy reserves depleted. Every stride on the field had demanded more from her than she thought she could give. Yet, it was the mental strain that truly wore her down, leaving her feeling hollowed out from the inside.

The pressure had been immense, an ever-present weight pressing down on her shoulders. Every match, every practice, had required her to be in peak mental form – focused, strategic, unyielding. The expectations of her country, her team, and herself had been a constant whisper in her mind, never letting her forget what was at stake. The emotional highs and lows, the anxiety before each game, the sleepless nights replaying every mistake, every missed opportunity – it had all built up, slowly eroding her mentally.

She had fought battles on the field, but the real war had been within her own mind. Now, as she sat in the quiet aftermath, the silence was deafening. It wasn’t just physical fatigue that made her feel so drained, but the mental and emotional toll of weeks, months even, of pushing herself to the brink. She was running on empty, not just in her body but in her soul. The exhaustion was deep and pervasive, and it clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake.

Alexia wasn’t sure what to expect when she walked through the door to your shared home. Her mind raced with possibilities, each one a small beacon of comfort she desperately needed after everything she’d been through. Maybe you would be there waiting for her, the door opening to reveal your warm, familiar smile. She could almost feel the way your arms would wrap around her, pulling her into a gentle hug that seemed to melt away all the tension she’d been carrying for so long. The thought of your soft voice murmuring reassurances, telling her how proud you were, how happy you were to have her back, sent a wave of warmth through her. She imagined you guiding her gently to the couch, where she could finally let go, sinking into the cushions as you tucked a blanket around her, making her feel safe and cherished.

Or perhaps, as she walked in, you’d greet her with a cup of chamomile tea, its soothing aroma already filling the air. You knew it was her favourite, the one thing that could calm her mind and ease her into relaxation. The steam would rise in delicate curls, and she’d close her eyes as she took that first sip, letting the warmth spread through her. Beside the tea, maybe there would be one of her favourite snacks – something simple but perfect, just what she needed after the chaos of the past weeks. You would take her bags without a word, knowing she didn’t have the energy to deal with them right now, and quietly carry them into the bedroom to be unpacked later, when she was ready.

What she didn’t expect was you standing just behind the door, so close that she almost bumped into you as she stepped inside. The proximity startled her, making her jump slightly, her hand instinctively going to her chest as her heart skipped a beat. But the surprise quickly melted away into a smile, a mixture of relief and affection spreading across her face.

Before she could say a word, you were already there, closing the door behind her and enveloping her in your arms. “Welcome home, my beautiful girl,” you cooed softly, your voice a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves. The words were simple, but they meant so much to her.

You had been able to attend her group games, cheering her on from the stands with that infectious energy she loved so much. Every time she glanced up at the crowd and caught sight of you, it filled her with a surge of pride and determination, knowing you were there, sharing in her victories and frustrations. But the demands of preseason back home had called you away sooner than either of you had wanted. Just when the tournament was heating up, when the stakes were getting higher, you had to leave France and return to your own commitments. She understood, of course – the preseason training took precedence for you – but that didn’t make the parting any easier.

It had only been a few days since you’d left, but to her, it felt like an eternity. The days without you dragged on, each one longer than the last. Every time something happened on the field, whether it was a brilliant play or a tough moment, she found herself instinctively wanting to look for you, to share the experience with you. But you weren’t there. The seat you’d occupied during those first few games was now empty, a stark reminder of your absence.

She tried to focus on the competition, on the training sessions, on the strategy meetings, but there was an ache in her heart that she couldn’t quite shake. She missed your voice, your reassuring presence, the way you’d always know exactly what to say to calm her nerves or fire her up. The brief video calls and text messages you exchanged were a lifeline, but they weren’t enough. She wanted to feel your hand in hers, to see your smile in person, to hear your laugh echoing around her again.

Even the few days apart had felt like a lifetime. Every night after the games, as she lay in bed alone, she found herself reaching out, hoping to find you there beside her, only to be met with the cold, empty sheets. She missed the way you’d hold her close, the sound of your breathing lulling her to sleep. Without you, the victories felt a little less sweet, and the tough moments a little harder to bear.

You pulled her into a hug right there in the hallway, not caring that her bags were still slung over her shoulder or that her hair was tousled from the long journey.

She felt the tension in her body begin to dissolve as she leaned into you, breathing in the familiar scent that she had missed so much. “Hola, mi amor,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she let herself relax completely.

Your embrace was strong yet gentle, your firm body providing the perfect support as she melted into you, allowing you to take her weight without hesitation. It was as if all the exhaustion and stress she had been carrying evaporated in that moment, leaving her feeling lighter, freer. You held her close, your arms wrapped securely around her, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back while the other cradled the back of her head, pressing her even closer to you.

“You did so well,” you whispered, your voice filled with genuine pride as you held her close, your lips brushing against her ear in a way that was both comforting and reassuring.

But she couldn’t let herself fully sink into your embrace, not when the weight of disappointment still hung so heavily on her shoulders. “We lost,” she said bluntly, her tone edged with frustration and a trace of bitterness. It was a simple statement, but the finality in her voice spoke volumes. Forcing herself to step out of your arms, she created a small distance between you, her gaze dropping to the floor as if to avoid the kindness in your eyes. The warmth of your hug, which she had longed for during those endless days apart, now felt almost too much to bear. She couldn't let herself be comforted when all she could think about was the sting of defeat.

“You came fourth,” you countered, your voice firm yet gentle, refusing to let her diminish her achievement. “That’s not losing, baby.” Your words were meant to soothe, to remind her of the incredible feat she and her team had accomplished, even if it wasn’t the outcome she had hoped for. But you could see the stubborn set of her jaw, the way she crossed her arms tightly over her chest as if trying to hold herself together. She wasn’t ready to let go of her disappointment just yet.

“We won the World Cup,” she argued, her voice tense with the pressure she had placed on herself. The memories of that triumphant victory were still fresh in her mind, the euphoria of being the best in the world. “We should have won this too.” Her words came out in a rush, tinged with self-reproach, as if by not winning, she had somehow failed to live up to her own expectations – or worse, to yours.

You looked at her, your eyes softening with understanding. “It’s more than I’ve ever done,” you said with a raised eyebrow, your tone light but with an underlying seriousness that you hoped would break through her self-imposed guilt. It was your way of gently reminding her that not every battle could be won, that her worth wasn’t tied to a single result, and that you were proud of her no matter what. The eyebrow raise was your little challenge, a playful nudge for her to see the bigger picture.

But more than that, it was an invitation for her to acknowledge her own greatness – not just as an athlete who had once stood at the pinnacle of the world but as someone who had given everything she had, time and time again. You didn’t need her to be perfect, to win every trophy, for her to be your hero. You admired her not just for her victories but for her courage, her tenacity, and the way she kept fighting even when the odds were against her.

She met your gaze, and for a moment, the tension in her features softened. There was a flicker of something in her eyes – a hint of acknowledgment, maybe even a touch of the humour that had always been between you. But it was fleeting, and she quickly looked away, still struggling with her own expectations. Even so, your words lingered, like a seed planted in her heart, waiting for the right moment to take root.

You had been expecting this – the self-deprecation that crept into her words, the harshness with which she judged herself. It was a familiar pattern, one you had seen many times before, but it had grown more intense since her return from injury. She had always demanded excellence from herself, setting standards so high that even her most extraordinary achievements seemed like mere steps on a ladder she was forever climbing. But now, her expectations had spiralled into something almost unattainable. Perfection wasn’t just a goal; it had become an obsession, and anything less than flawless felt like failure in her eyes.

Since that injury, the one that had taken her out of the game she loved and forced her to the sidelines, she had been on a relentless quest to prove herself again – not just to the world, but to herself. She believed that every move, every play, every decision had to be executed with absolute precision. There was no room for error, no space for the human imperfections that naturally came with being an athlete, especially one who had battled back from the brink.

But flawless was a standard she could never quite reach, and deep down, you knew she realised that. It was as if no matter how well she played, no matter how many accolades she earned or how many times she was hailed as a hero, she could always find the cracks, the tiny flaws that no one else noticed but that loomed large in her mind. She would fixate on them, replaying them over and over in her head, as if by dissecting every mistake, she could somehow erase it from existence.

You had watched her after games, seen her sit in silence with her head bowed, her mind churning as she picked apart her performance with a ruthless precision. Even when she had been the best player on the field, she would find something – anything – to criticise. Maybe it was a pass she hadn’t made, one that in hindsight seemed obvious, but in the heat of the moment had slipped by. Or perhaps it was a pass she had made, but it hadn’t gone as planned, the ball intercepted or misdirected, and she would berate herself for not seeing a better option.

Then there were the tackles – those split-second decisions where she would question whether she had gone in too soft or too late, or if she had hesitated when she should have acted. She would remember every press she hadn’t started, every time she hadn’t been quick enough to close down space, and those moments would linger in her mind, gnawing at her confidence. It was never enough for her to simply have done well; she needed to have done everything perfectly, and that was a burden she carried alone, even though you were always there, trying to help her see just how incredible she truly was.

You understood that this self-imposed pressure came from a place of love – love for the game, love for the team, and love for the standard she believed she needed to uphold. But it also came from fear. Fear of not being good enough, of not being the player she once was, of letting others down. And that fear had taken root during her recovery, blossoming into an unyielding drive for perfection that was as much a curse as it was a motivator.

You had seen it in her eyes, the way they would cloud over with doubt even as others celebrated her success. You had heard it in her voice, the way it would falter when she spoke about her performance, as if she couldn’t allow herself to take pride in what she had done. It was as though she believed that acknowledging her brilliance might make it slip away, that if she didn’t keep striving for more, she would somehow fall short.

And so, as she stood before you now, her posture tense and her expression guarded, you weren’t surprised by her reaction. You had known this moment was coming, the one where she would downplay her achievements and focus on the mistakes, no matter how minor they were. But what she didn’t realise was that in her pursuit of perfection, she had already achieved something far greater. She had fought her way back from injury, not just physically but mentally, and had returned to the game with a resilience and determination that few could match.

She might see the flaws, but you saw the brilliance – every single time.

“Ale, baby, I need to ask you something,” you began, your voice steady but laced with concern. You took a small step closer, ensuring she could see the seriousness in your eyes, feel the weight of the words you were about to speak. “And I need the truth from you, okay?”

Her gaze met yours, a mixture of curiosity and slight apprehension flickering across her face. She could sense that this was more than just a casual question, that what you were about to say carried significant importance. You reached out, gently taking her hand in yours, your thumb brushing soothingly over her knuckles as if to reassure her that whatever she said, it would be alright.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” you continued, your tone softening, letting her know that there was no pressure, no expectation, only the need for honesty between you. “Or if you think it might be too much right now.” You paused, giving her time to process, to understand that this was a safe space where she could express herself freely, without judgment or fear of disappointing you. “But I really need your honesty.”

She looked at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment, and you could see the internal struggle she was grappling with – the desire to be strong, to push through, to keep going despite the exhaustion that weighed on her, both physically and mentally. But beneath that, there was also a flicker of vulnerability, a quiet plea for understanding, for permission to admit that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as okay as she tried to appear.

You waited patiently, giving her the space to respond in her own time, your hand still holding hers, grounding her in the moment. Finally, she gave a small nod, a silent acknowledgment that she was ready to hear what you had to ask.

“Is it too much for you right now?” you asked, your voice gentle, filled with nothing but concern and care. The question hung in the air between you, and you could feel her tense slightly, the weight of the words settling over her. You knew how hard it was for her to admit when she was struggling, how much she prided herself on being resilient, on pushing through whatever challenges came her way. But you also knew that everyone had their limits, and you needed to make sure she wasn’t pushing herself past hers.

You watched her closely, seeing the conflict play out in her eyes, the way her brow furrowed as she considered your question. You could almost hear the thoughts racing through her mind, the internal dialogue as she weighed the expectations, she had placed on herself against the reality of how she was feeling. You squeezed her hand gently, offering silent support, letting her know that whatever she decided, whatever she needed, you were there for her.

And as she looked back at you, there was a moment of quiet understanding between you – an unspoken recognition of the love and trust that bound you together, and the knowledge that she didn’t have to carry this burden alone.

“Sí,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet the weight of that single word was enough to break your heart. You nodded, feeling a deep ache settle in your chest as you looked at her. The strength she usually carried seemed to have faded, leaving behind only the raw vulnerability that she rarely allowed herself to show.

“Do you need me to make it better?” you asked softly, wanting nothing more than to take away the pain, to ease the burden that had become too heavy for her to carry alone.

“Sí,” she said again, her voice a little stronger this time, but still tinged with that same quiet plea for help. It was a simple answer, but it carried the full weight of her exhaustion and her need for care. She was finally letting herself admit that she needed you, that she couldn’t do this alone, and that small surrender filled you with a fierce determination to be everything she needed in that moment.

“Ok,” you whispered, your voice steady even as you swallowed the lump in your throat. You wanted to be strong for her, to guide her through this moment with the gentle care she deserved. “I want you to go upstairs and shower,” you said, smoothing a hand over her hair in a soothing gesture. You felt her lean into your touch, seeking comfort in the simple act of you being there for her.

“I want you to make the water nice and warm, and take as long as you need,” you continued, your voice filled with a calm assurance that you hoped would ease the tension you could feel radiating off her. “At least five minutes, but you can take longer if you need it.” You chose your words carefully, emphasising her needs rather than her wants. You wanted her to understand that it was okay to prioritise herself right now, to take the time to care for her body and mind, to let go of the pressure she constantly placed on herself.

“When you’re finished,” you added, keeping your tone gentle and steady, “go to the bedroom and lie down for me. I’ll be up very soon.” You wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone in this, that you were right there with her, ready to take care of her, to make sure she felt safe and loved.

As you spoke, you pressed a gentle, reassuring kiss to her lips, a tender promise of your unwavering support. It was a brief moment, but it conveyed everything you felt – your love, your concern, your commitment to being there for her no matter what. You felt her respond to the kiss, a small sigh escaping her as if the simple act of being close to you allowed her to release some of the tension she had been holding onto for so long.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours, and in that moment, you saw the gratitude mixed with the fatigue. She didn’t have the strength to say much more, but she didn’t need to. The trust in her gaze, the way she leaned into you, spoke volumes. You gave her a small, encouraging nod, and she turned slowly, heading upstairs with the kind of weary steps that told you just how much she had been holding in.

You watched her go, your heart heavy with the knowledge of how much she had been carrying alone. But now, she didn’t have to. You were here, and you would make sure she got the care and rest she so desperately needed.

As the sound of the shower started upstairs, you took a deep breath, already thinking of what else you could do to help her feel better, to bring her some peace. This was just the beginning of making sure she knew that in her moments of weakness, she could always count on you to be her strength.

You could tell this was going to be a difficult road to navigate, one that required a delicate balance between understanding her needs and guiding her through the storm of emotions that swirled inside her. You knew her well enough to recognise the signs – how she would retreat into herself, seeking an outlet that would let her escape from the relentless pressure, from the weight of her own expectations.

She would want you to be rough, to push her beyond the edge of her thoughts, to make her brainless through sharp commands and intense physicality. It was a dynamic you had shared before, one that allowed her to relinquish control, to lose herself in something raw and primal. When everything else in her life felt like it was slipping out of her grasp, she craved that release, that moment where she didn’t have to think, where she didn’t have to be perfect. She needed to let go, to surrender completely to you, trusting that you would guide her through the darkness, but you knew this wasn't just about physical release.

This time, it wasn’t just about intensity or escape; it was about her deeper need to be cared for, to be understood in a way that went beyond words or actions. She needed to feel safe in her vulnerability, to know that even in her most fragile state, you would be there to catch her, to hold her, to bring her back to herself.

But navigating this would require more than just responding to her desire for roughness. It would mean reading between the lines, understanding the nuance of what she was truly asking for, even if she couldn’t articulate it herself. You would need to be attuned to every subtle shift in her mood, every flicker of doubt or hesitation that crossed her face, and respond with a mixture of firmness and tenderness that would allow her to feel both challenged and cherished.

There would be moments when she might push you away, trying to test the boundaries, trying to see if you could really handle all that she was feeling. In those moments, you would need to stand your ground, to be the rock she could lean on, even when she was fighting against the very support she needed. You knew she might want you to be rough, but you also knew that you couldn’t let it go too far – that beneath the surface, she needed your guidance, your patience, your unwavering presence.

You would have to walk this line carefully, giving her what she craved while also protecting her from the depths of her own frustrations. It would mean being firm when necessary, issuing commands that would help her shut off the noise in her mind, but also knowing when to soften, when to pull her back from the brink and remind her that she was more than the sum of her failures and frustrations.

You started the ascent up the stairs, making your way over to the dresser in the corner of the room, your steps purposeful but measured.

Inside, there was a neat row of toys, each item meticulously arranged, each one holding its own set of possibilities. The collection was a blend of colours and textures, each piece chosen with care, not just for their functionality but for the unique experiences they could create. You ran your fingers lightly over the array of plastic dildos, each one varying in sise and shape, each capable of evoking a different response, a different sensation. The cool, smooth surface of the toys was a contrast to the warmth of the room, and the familiarity of their weight in your hand brought a sense of calmness and control.

Next to the dildos were a few vibrators, each one powerful in its own right. You knew how to use them to draw out her pleasure, how to make her lose herself in waves of sensation, leaving behind the thoughts and worries that so often clouded her mind. The quiet hum of these devices was a promise of escape, of a release that went beyond the physical, allowing her to focus on nothing but the feeling of being overwhelmed in the best possible way.

Nestled beside the vibrators was a small bottle of lube, the clear liquid glistening in the dim light of the room. It was a simple yet essential tool, one that ensured comfort and ease, allowing you both to explore without hesitation, without any barriers between desire and action. You picked it up for a moment, feeling the coolness of the bottle in your hand, before setting it back down carefully, knowing you would reach for it again soon.

And then, there were the soft, fuzzy red handcuffs, resting at the far end of the drawer. The bright red fur was a playful contrast to the metal underneath, their purpose clear but their execution gentle. They weren’t about confinement or punishment; they were about surrender, about giving her the opportunity to let go completely, to trust you to guide her through the experience, to hold her safely in a space where she could finally release all the tension she had been carrying.

You reached for the items you had chosen, the carefully selected tools laid out before you. Your fingers brushed over them with a sense of purpose and anticipation. The time you took to pick out each piece reflected the care you wanted to show Alexia, knowing that every touch, every choice mattered in creating the experience you both sought.

You then turned your attention to your own clothes, removing them with a deliberate slowness. Each article of clothing was shed with a mix of intention and reverence, as if the act of undressing was part of the ritual of preparing for this moment. As you slid out of your shirt and then your pants, you could feel the fabric falling away, leaving you with a growing sense of readiness. The process wasn’t rushed; it was part of the anticipation, a way to connect more deeply with the moment and with Alexia.

Once you were down to just your underwear, you paused for a moment, taking in the way the soft fabric clung to your skin. The sensation was both intimate and grounding, a reminder of the shared vulnerability that was about to unfold. You felt a gentle thrill at the thought of Alexia waiting for you, her trust in you a constant source of motivation.

You knew she would be on the bed, likely lying there with a mix of expectancy and quiet submission. The thought of her waiting, possibly feeling a blend of nervousness and excitement, added a layer of intimacy to your movements.

You were right; Alexia was exactly as you had envisioned. As you entered the room, the sight before you confirmed your expectations. She was lying on the bed, positioned exactly how you had requested, her body relaxed and open. Her blonde hair was spread out across the pillows, cascading in a cascade of soft waves that framed her face and shoulders like a golden halo. The contrast between her pale skin and the rich texture of the bedding created a striking visual that had your blood thrumming.

Her hands rested by her sides, palms open and fingers slightly curled, as if she had consciously chosen to display her openness and surrender. The act of leaving her hands unguarded was more than just physical – it was a testament to her willingness to let go of control, to embrace the moment without reservation. She showed no attempts to hide herself or shy away, even though she was completely naked. There was no self-consciousness in her posture, no sign of hesitation or discomfort. Instead, there was a raw, unfiltered trust that emanated from her, a profound assurance in your presence and in the dynamic you shared.

Her complete nudity wasn’t just a physical state but a symbolic one, representing her willingness to be vulnerable and exposed, both emotionally and physically. It was a reflection of the trust she had in you, a trust that you would honour her needs and desires with the utmost care and respect. The way she lay there, seemingly at ease, was a powerful display of her belief in your ability to guide her through this experience, to help her find the solace and release she sought.

In this moment, Alexia had relinquished the burden of her thoughts and anxieties, surrendering them to you with an unspoken plea to make them vanish. She was not just seeking physical pleasure or release but a deeper form of escape – a chance to reconnect with herself, to rediscover the parts of her that were lost or obscured by stress and self-criticism. You were acutely aware of this, recognising that your role was to bridge the gap between her current state and the peace she yearned for.

She trusted you to make her Ale again, your beautiful girl.

You were prepared to honour that trust with every touch, every word, every action. Your goal was clear: to erase the stress and worries that had been clouding her mind, to restore her sense of self and allow her to be nothing but your beautiful girl once more.

“Well done, baby,” you cooed softly, your voice rich with affection as you walked over to her. The warmth of your words was like a gentle embrace, meant to soothe and affirm. The sincerity in your tone conveyed how deeply you appreciated her willingness to follow your guidance, her openness to the experience you were sharing.

As you approached her, your gaze took in every detail of her delicate form, lying gracefully on the bed. The sight of her – vulnerable, trusting, and completely present – filled you with a profound sense of gratitude and love. You could see the subtle flush on her cheeks, a testament to the emotional and physical journey she had undertaken. The glow of her skin, warmed by the moment and the intimacy of your shared experience, made her even more radiant in your eyes.

You reached out, your movements slow and deliberate, as if you were savoring each second of the connection you were building. Your fingers traced a gentle path over her cheekbones, the light touch designed to convey both reassurance and tenderness. The sensation of your fingers dancing across her flushed skin was meant to be soothing, a delicate caress that spoke of your deep appreciation and care.

The way your fingers moved was deliberate and graceful, each touch lingering just long enough to be felt but not so long as to disturb the serene atmosphere you had worked to create. Your touch was meant to connect with her on a deeper level, to reinforce the trust she had placed in you, and to remind her of the intimate bond you shared. You could feel the subtle texture of her skin beneath your fingertips, the slight warmth that spoke of her emotional openness, and the gentle rise and fall of her breath as she relaxed into the moment.

As your fingers continued their exploration, you allowed yourself to fully immerse in the sensation of the moment. You let your touch convey all the unspoken words and feelings that were so important in this shared experience. Your caress was a silent affirmation of how much you valued her effort, how deeply you cherished her willingness to be open and vulnerable with you.

“You are such a good listener for me,” you added, your voice infused with admiration and tenderness. Your touch continued to explore, tracing the contours of her face with gentle precision. You let your fingers move with a lightness that was both comforting and intimate, allowing her to feel the full extent of your care. Each stroke was a promise, a reassurance that you were there to guide and support her, to help her find solace and connection in the experience you were sharing.

“Por favor, mi amor. Quiero volver a ser Ale, no Alexia,” she murmured, her voice tinged with a blend of longing and vulnerability. The request was both a plea and a declaration, a tough one for her to make.

“Oh, my beautiful girl,” you responded, your voice softening with a mixture of affection and reassurance. The words flowed out of you comfortingly, settling over Alexia like a soft blanket. “Thank you for telling me what you want.” Your appreciation was sincere, recognising the courage it took for her to voice her desires so openly.

You moved with deliberate care, positioning yourself to straddle her, your presence becoming a tangible anchor in the sea of her emotions. As you settled over her, you let the bright blue vibrator slip from your grasp and fall onto the bed beside her. The vibrant color of the toy stood out against the bedding, its presence now a clear indication of what you had planned for the night. You allowed her to see it, its promise of intense, controlled stimulation adding a new layer of anticipation to the moment.

“Can you tell me what you need, though?” you asked, your tone gentle but insistent. Your question was more than a simple inquiry; it was an invitation for her to articulate her deepest desires and requirements. You wanted to ensure that every aspect of the evening catered to her needs. You knew that what she wanted sometimes was what she needed.

You watched her closely, noting the way her eyes softened as she considered your question. You hoped she would feel empowered by your willingness to listen and adapt, finding comfort in the fact that you were committed to meeting her needs with sensitivity and care.

As she began to speak, you tuned in with complete attentiveness, your focus unwavering on both her words and the emotions they conveyed. Her voice, though hesitant and laced with vulnerability, was filled with a deep, earnest need. “I … I need … I need to be good again. I need to be good for you.” Her admission was a fragile thread of hope, a cry for reassurance that she could reclaim a sense of self that felt lost or diminished. “Ya eres buena. Ya eres tan buena para mí.”

You could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle between her self-perception and the reality of your feelings for her. “I will help you be Ale again,” you continued, “but I need you to know that you already are la chica más perfecta del mundo.” Your declaration was a heartfelt promise, a commitment to guiding her back to a place of inner peace and self-acceptance.

“I do not feel it,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke. Her words were a testament to the gap between her self-perception and the image you held of her. It was clear that she was struggling to reconcile her inner turmoil with the love and admiration you offered.

“I know, and that’s ok too,” you reassured her, your tone steady and understanding. “But you are kind, and beautiful, and strong, and good.” Each descriptor was chosen with care, meant to address different facets of her being that you saw and cherished. The kindness that defined her interactions, the beauty that radiated both inside and out, the strength she demonstrated in facing her challenges, and the inherent goodness that made her who she was – these were the qualities you wanted her to remember, even when she struggled to see them in herself.

You leaned down, your movements slow and deliberate. Your lips met Alexia's in a kiss filled with all the passion and tenderness you felt for her. The kiss was soft at first, but it quickly grew more fervent, a dance of affection and desire that mirrored the intensity of your feelings. You poured your emotions into the kiss, letting the heat of your passion blend seamlessly with the gentleness of your touch. Each movement was a deliberate act of intimacy, meant to reassure her and to let her feel the sincerity of your love.

As you pressed your lips against hers, you felt her sigh softly into the kiss. The sound was a subtle but powerful affirmation of her surrender and trust. It was a release of the tension that had been building within her, a moment where she could let go and simply be present in the shared intimacy.

Her body seemed to melt into the bed. The way she relaxed into the mattress spoke of the safety and peace she felt in your presence. It was as if the kiss was a balm, soothing away the anxieties and stresses that had been weighing on her. She let herself be enveloped by the sensation of your touch, the softness of the bed providing a supportive backdrop to the warmth and intensity of your kiss.

The kiss continued, a blend of passion and tenderness that flowed effortlessly between you. Your hands cradled her face gently, your thumbs stroking across her cheeks. The movements of your lips were synchronised with the rhythm of her breathing, creating a harmonious exchange that was both comforting and exhilarating.

“So beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you gazed intently at her. The words were a soft exhalation of admiration, a reflection of the profound appreciation you felt as you took in every detail of her face. Your eyes traced the delicate contours of her features, from the gentle curve of her lips to the soft arch of her brows. Each nuance of her expression seemed to radiate a captivating beauty that was both physical and emotional, captivating in its sincerity and depth.

In response, she offered a tender compliment of her own, her voice warm and affectionate. “Tu también eres hermosa, mi amor,” she said, her words wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

“Thank you, baby,” you replied, your voice carrying a note of gratitude and warmth.

“Ale, I want you to do something for me, can you do that?” you asked softly, breaking the moment of love-filled silence that enveloped you both. Your voice was tender not wanting to pop the bubble you had created.

She looked at you with a mix of curiosity and openness, her voice carrying a gentle sigh as she responded, “Cualquier cosa.”

“I want you to take this vibrator,” you said, reaching over to pick up the toy from where it was resting on the bed. “And I want you to use it on yourself.” As you spoke, you noticed a wave of panic flicker across her face. Her initial reaction was one of concern, a surge of anxiety about the unfamiliar direction in which you were guiding her.

“Hey, no, shhhh, it’s ok,” you reassured her gently, your voice taking on a soothing tone as your hands carded through her hair. “I’ll still be here, I’ll be right here.” You shifted your position, climbing off her and laying down on your side beside her. The movement was deliberate, meant to provide her with the reassurance that you were not retreating but rather preparing to support her in a new way. As you settled into your new position, you maintained eye contact, your gaze steady and comforting.

“I’m going to walk you through it, ok?” you said, your voice firm yet gentle. The promise of guidance was meant to provide her with a sense of direction and support, to help her navigate this new experience with confidence. “And I want you to listen to me. Can you do that, beautiful?” The question was both an invitation and a challenge, encouraging her to trust in your words and follow your lead.

She hesitated a little, her hazel eyes wide with nerves and uncertainty. “Don’t worry, Ale,” you said softly, your voice a steady anchor in the sea of her anxiety. “I will do all the thinking for you. You just have to follow what I say.”

She took a deep breath, her resolve firming as she nodded slowly. Her eyes flickered back to the vibrator in your hands, a mixture of curiosity and nervousness reflected in her expression. With deliberate care, she extended her hand towards the toy, her fingers trembling slightly as she grasped it from your grasp. She held it in the air for a moment, waiting for you to tell her what to do next.

“Ok, beautiful,” you said, your tone warm and encouraging. “Turn it on for me and put it on your stomach, trail it up and down – do whatever feels good.” Your instructions were clear and gentle. You leaned in, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to her temple.

Alexia jumped slightly when the toy made contact with her skin. She traced the vibrator slowly up and down her abs, each deliberate pass enhancing her sense of confidence and control. As the gentle hum of the toy made contact with her skin, she began to feel the initial waves of anticipation, each movement helping to melt away her lingering tension. The soft vibrations worked in tandem with her growing self-assurance, guiding her into a deeper state of relaxation and enjoyment.

Your hands soon joined the vibrator in its exploration, adding an extra layer of sensation to the experience. You moved with a mixture of intent and tenderness, scratching light, teasing patterns on her skin that complemented the vibrator's rhythmic pulse. Your touch was deliberate, tracing a path along her abdomen with a feather-light caress, heightening the overall sensory experience.

Every now and then, you allowed your hands to wander higher, reaching up to pinch gently at her nipples. The slight, sharp sensation of your touch contrasted with the vibrator's steady hum, creating a thrilling interplay of pleasure and sensitivity. Your fingers, confident and skilled, occasionally grasped and squeezed her breasts more firmly, sending pulses of sensation that made her gasp and moan softly. Each touch, whether gentle or firm, was designed to enhance her pleasure and deepen her sense of connection with the experience.

“Such a good girl,” you whispered softly into her ear, your voice gentle and reassuring to avoid startling her. Your words were a caress in themselves as Alexia let the thoughts slip further from her mind.

As you spoke, you felt her body respond with a soft whimper, a deliciously melodic sound. “You look so sexy,” you continued, your voice rich with admiration. She swallowed at the praise, her breath increasing with every passing heartbeat.

The sight of her reaction was incredibly rewarding, and you took a moment to truly appreciate the scene before you. The way her body responded to your compliments, the way she seemed to melt into the experience, was something you would never forget.

“Open your legs for me,” you instructed softly, your tone laced with the same affection and care that had marked your previous words. The command was gentle, intended to guide her without pressure, to encourage her to further engage with the sensations you were both creating. You reached out, skimming her face in a gentle touch. Your fingers lingered on her skin, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin.

She complied with your request without hesitation, her movements smooth and responsive. As she followed your instructions, you let out a contented hum, a sound of approval and satisfaction that conveyed how pleased you were with her responsiveness.

“Are you wet for me, Ale?” you asked softly, your voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity. You didn’t really need to ask, you knew how easily Alexia could get wet, but it was a way to check in with her.

“Sí,” she stuttered, her voice betraying a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. Her response was tinged with a breathless quality that had your mind reeling. You responded to her admission with another tender kiss, this time pressing gently against her cheek.

You let your hand find hers, gently halting her movements. Your touch was purposeful and deliberate, designed to guide her without disrupting the flow of her pleasure. Slowly, you manoeuvred the vibrator between her thighs, positioning it in a way that would maximise the sensations she felt.

“Let yourself feel this, baby,” you instructed, your tone soothing and encouraging. Your words were a gentle nudge towards whatever she felt like doing. “Do what feels good, what feels right.” The emphasis was on her autonomy and pleasure, encouraging her to listen to her body and respond to her own needs.

“If you need to cum, you can do,” you added, your voice filled with a supportive warmth. “If it’s too much, you must stop,” you continued, your tone shifting to a more serious but caring note. The instruction was a crucial part of maintaining her comfort and safety. “I’ll know if you push yourself.” The reminder was a protective measure, meant to ensure that she was aware of her own limits and that you were attuned to her well-being.

She nodded furiously at your words, her eagerness palpable as she prepared to follow your instructions. Her eyes were tightly shut, her breath coming out in short, sharp huffs. “Go on, beautiful girl,” you murmured softly in her ear. “Show me how good it feels.”

With a gentle but deliberate motion, you finally pressed the vibrator against her clit, its vibrations meeting her sensitive skin with a precise and exhilarating touch. The moment of contact was electric, her reaction almost visceral.

The moan that escaped her lips was nothing short of cinematic, raw and unrestrained in its expression of pleasure. It was a sound so primal and expressive that it felt almost otherworldly, as if the sheer intensity of her feelings had transcended the ordinary. Alexia had always been vocal in her pleasure, her sounds often coming out unabashed and proud. But this moan was unlike anything you’d ever heard before.

As you continued to hold the vibrator in place, you could see the impact of your touch on her body. Her breathing became more erratic, each inhale and exhale a testament to the waves of pleasure she was experiencing. Her body responded with a mixture of shudders and tremors, her hips pressing further into your hand.

As each compliment left your lips, you watched Alexia’s body react in increasingly intense ways.

“You look so fucking good, baby,” you murmured, your voice thick with admiration. The impact of your words was almost immediate. Her body responded with a shiver, a visible tremor that coursed through her as if your praise had ignited a spark of pleasure. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, locking with yours before slamming shut again as another wave of ecstasy coursed through her.

“So wet for me,” you continued, your tone filled with a blend of appreciation and desire. As you spoke, her breath hitched, and her hips instinctively arched slightly in response. She let out a soft moan, her body moving rhythmically with the vibrations.

“Look at you, beautiful. Letting yourself feel good,” you said next, your voice gentle yet filled with admiration. She gasped, letting her shoulders relax as she let out a contented sigh, her body seeming to melt further into the bed. Her face contorted in pleasure; her mouth thrown open in a silent scream as she surrendered to the sensations with an almost ethereal grace.

“I’m so proud of you, Ale,” you said, smiling as her cheeks turned crimson. Her back arched slightly, her chest heaving as she absorbed the warmth of your pride. Her entire form seemed to radiate a mix of pride and pleasure telling you just how much she needed this.

“Una chica muy buena,” you whispered softly, your words laced with endearment. You knew how much you speaking Spanish turned her on.

She began to jerk slightly, the rhythmic, involuntary movements a clear indication that she was on the verge of reaching the peak of her pleasure. Each slight twitch of her body was a telltale sign that she was just about to tip over the edge into the intense, exhilarating climax she had been building towards. Her entire form seemed to quiver with anticipation

“Mi amor,” she gasped, the term of endearment escaping her lips as she forced her eyes open. Her gaze was filled with a mix of desperation and longing, a visual cue of her need for connection and reassurance as she approached her climax. Her breathing was uneven, each gasp a clear sign of her struggle to maintain control amidst the surging waves of pleasure.

“I’m here, baby,” you responded softly, your voice a soothing balm amidst her heightened state. You leaned in close, pressing a quick, tender peck to her lips. The kiss was brief but intimate, a way to anchor her to your presence as a soft murmur of encouragement and praise. “You’re doing so well for me. So pretty, so sexy.” Each compliment was carefully chosen to help guide her to release.

“You’re my good girl, aren’t you, Ale?” you asked, your voice filled with a mixture of affection and anticipation. The question was a gentle prompt for her to finally let go. Her answer came in the form of a shout, a loud, expressive confirmation of her pleasure and the intensity of the moment. The shout was a raw, uninhibited sound that told you just how much she needed this.

In that instant, she came hard, her body reacting with a powerful intensity. The climax was sudden and overwhelming, her body twitching violently in response to the peak of her pleasure. Her entire form seemed to convulse with the intensity of the orgasm, her muscles contracting and releasing in rapid succession.

You continued to talk her through it, your voice a steady, soothing presence amidst the storm of sensations she was experiencing. Your words glided over her body like a gentle caress, each phrase carefully chosen to enhance her pleasure and provide comfort as she squirmed and writhed in the throes of her climax.

"Just let it happen," you murmured. “"You're so beautiful like this, so perfect. Feel every bit of it, let yourself go."

As she squirmed, you adjusted your touch to stay in sync with her movements. The gentle pressure of the vibrator, combined with your affirming words, created a harmonious rhythm that matched the ebb and flow of her climax. "You’re so amazing, Ale," you continued, your voice infused with admiration. "I love seeing you like this, so open and free."

When she finally pushed your hand away, you could immediately sense a shift in the dynamic between you. It was as if the push was a punctuation mark on a deeply satisfying experience, an unspoken acknowledgment that she had reached her limit and was ready to transition from the intensity of the moment.

The way she moved your hand away was deliberate, though not harsh – more of a gentle nudge than a forceful shove. Her fingers, slightly trembling, brushed against your skin as she guided your hand away, and the contact was a tactile reminder of how much effort and energy she had expended. The push was accompanied by a deep, ragged breath, a sign that she was feeling the aftershocks of her climax and needed a moment of reprieve.

As your hand left her body, you could see the immediate change in her expression. Her features relaxed, and her eyes, which had been wide with the intensity of her pleasure, were now soft and partially closed. There was a look of exhaustion mingled with satisfaction – a sign that she had given everything she had to the moment and was now in a state of blissful fatigue.

“Was … was I good?” The question carried with it a subtle hint of self-doubt, despite the overwhelming evidence of her pleasure and the constant stream of words from you. Her inquiry was more than just a question; it was a reflection of her desire for affirmation and connection. You knew she wasn’t asking about the sex either – her question was layered with deeper significance. The last few years had been incredibly taxing on her, leaving her emotionally drained and often in need of reassurance. The demanding pressures of her career, coupled with personal challenges, had created a landscape where her self-esteem and sense of validation were frequently put to the test.

“So good, my beautiful girl.”

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austinbutlerslovers · 3 months

Text

Strip for Me

Label mature 18+

With the Vandals out for a wild night at the bar, Benny seizes the opportunity to have you all to himself in the biker den. He suggests a game of pool to pass the time, but with a twist—he proposes raising the stakes. For every shot he sinks, you have to remove a piece of clothing. With his expert pool skills, Benny swiftly has you down to your panties and claims you on the pool table as his prize.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 strip pool•winner claims loser • oral sex on female• facial hair grazing• orgasm denial •size kink •deep penetration kink •sex on a pool table •sex claiming•orgasm•pull out•cum painting•aftercare

Request via @nextlevelstupidity ❤️‍🔥 🙏🏻

Strip for Me

The Vandals biker den was dimly lit, its overhead lamps casting a hazy glow on the worn out pool table at the center of the room. It was early evening and the usual rowdy Vandals headed out to the local bar leaving the place eerily quiet with just you and Benny.

The jukebox in the corner played an old rock ‘n’ roll tune, its volume just loud enough to fill the silence. Benny stands confidently at the edge of the pool table, his patched biker jacket draped over a nearby chair. He wears jeans and a black muscle tee showcasing his well defined biceps and intricate tattoos.

His ruggedly handsome face is illuminated by the soft glow of the overhead lamp, his blue eyes sharp and focused ready to start a game. His facial hair is perfectly groomed, framing his strong jawline, and his lips look full and inviting. His brunette hair is lightly tousled adding to his captivating allure.

He chalks his cue, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he looks at you.

“Looks like we’ve got some time to kill before the Vandals get back,” he says, his voice casual with a hint of mischief. “How about a game of pool? But we make it a bit more interesting.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Interesting how?”

Benny grins his eyes gleaming. “Every time you miss a shot, you take something off. First one to lose all their clothes loses the game. What do you say?” He asks with a mischievous smile.

A thrill of excitement runs through you at his proposition. “You’re on,” you reply your competitive spirit ignited.

The game begins, and it quickly becomes evident that Benny is far more skilled. His shots are precise, the balls sinking into the pockets with ease. With each miss you make, his grin grows wider.

“Looks like you missed again,” he teases, leaning on his cuestick. “Time to take something off.”

Reluctantly you pull off your jean jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Benny’s eyes sparkle in amusement and then he lines up his next shot.

“You know, you should really practice more,” he says, effortlessly sinking another ball in. “This is getting too easy.”

You mock scowl at him enjoying his competitive edge determined to make your next shot count.

As you sink the shot, triumph surges through you, and you look at him with a playful smirk. “Your turn,” you say relishing the tables turning.

He meets your gaze with a mischievous glint before smoothly pulling his muscle tee over his head, leaving you stunned by the sight of his sculpted chest and abs. As he stands there in just his jeans, his V-line accentuated by the denim, you feel a rush of desire coursing through you.

As you kneel to line up your shot, your eyes keep stealing glances at his defined abs, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand.

“Better focus on your game, sweetheart” he teases, his voice low and suggestive.

You refocus on the ball, trying to ignore his words, but Benny’s intense gaze, combined with his shirtless allure, makes it hard to concentrate. The cue ball veers off course, missing the intended target by a wide margin.

“Guess that’s another piece,” Benny relishes with a seductive grin as he taunts you further. “At this rate, you’ll be down to your panties in no time,” he adds, his gaze raking over your body with an unmistakable hint of desire.

You slip off your tank top revealing your bra, and his eyes linger on your breasts, the anticipation of his victory growing stronger with each piece of clothing you shed.

Benny walks around the table taking his time to line up every shot savoring each moment of your discomfort. His eyes linger on you, taking in every piece you remove, clearly enjoying the sight.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” he mocks his gaze filled with lust as he watches you miss another shot. “Or maybe you just like showing off,” he adds, his eyes devouring your body as he anticipates you being fully undressed.

The game continues, and Benny’s dominance remains unchallenged. Each miss you make is met with another piece of clothing being surrendered, and Benny’s confidence only grows.

He slows down deliberately taking his time with the final shot, his gaze locked on you, savoring every second of your growing exposure.

“Last shot,” he announces standing over the table with a gleam in his eye. “If I make this, you lose.”

Now down to your panties, with your forearm covering your breasts, you watch him intently, full of anticipation.

He takes aim with his movement fluid and controlled. The ball rolls smoothly across the table, striking its target and sinking directly into the pocket with a satisfying thud.

Benny straightens up, his smile triumphant. “Well, looks like I win.”

Before you can respond, he sets the pool cue aside and steps closer his gaze is intense. You stand there feeling exposed in just your panties, as he eyes you down.

“Strip for me,” he says and watches you in deep anticipation awaiting your next move. You reach down slowly and hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties sliding them down your hips. Your movements are deliberate as you let the fabric glide over your skin, Benny’s eyes follow your every move.

You pause briefly, holding his gaze as you lower your panties past your thighs and step out of them. With a slow graceful motion you stand up revealing your nude pussy to him.

Benny’s eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you standing before him. Your skin glows in the dim light of the biker den, every curve of your body beckons to him, from the gentle swell of your breasts, to the arch of your hips. He can’t help but feel a surge of arousal as he admires you, captivated by your beauty and vulnerability.

Your face flushes under his intense gaze, and a heat rises within as you stand exposed before him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of you.

His intense gaze locks with yours, his piercing blue eyes filled with desire and determination sending waves of warmth through your body as you melt under his commanding presence.

“I want you on the pool table ” he says, his voice low and possessive. With a flutter in your chest, you respond with a silent nod unable to resist the allure of his command. Benny slowly wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you to the slick wooden edge.

He locks eyes with you, his grasp firm as he holds your jaw, drawing you closer until your lips meet in a passionate kiss. Each press of his lips is a declaration of his desire. His tongue teases your mouth open and intertwines with yours, exploring every contour eliciting a soft moan from your lips as the intensity of the moment overwhelms you.

You feel the heat of his passion as he holds you against him, his strong arm wrapping around you as he presses you firmly against the pool table.

He prevents any attempt for you to pull away, his hand holds your jaw firm, ensuring your lips remain locked with his. You are completely at his mercy, overwhelmed by the intensity of his desire and dominance.

With a triumphant smirk, Benny slowly pushes you down flat onto the pool table, his eyes burning with satisfaction as he stands between your spread legs, his gaze tracing every curve of your body with an admiring intensity.

“You may have lost the game,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, “but you’re definitely winning me over with this view.”

You feel a flush of heat spread through you at his words, the intensity of his gaze between your legs making you feel vulnerable and desired all at once.

Benny leans in, his face hovering between your spread legs, his breath hot against your skin. He grabs your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh with a delicious mix of urgency and desire as he guides them apart. His firm grip sends a jolt of excitement coursing through your body.

“God, you’re perfect,” Benny whispers, staring at your pussy. “I’ve been wanting this all night.”

He pulls your legs over his shoulders and his facial hair brushes against your inner thighs, the sensation sending electric tingles of anticipation through your body.

He presses his mouth onto your wet folds, his tongue expertly parting your slickness.

You gasp as he begins to explore every inch, his lips and tongue moving with deliberate precision. The stubble on his jaw brushing against your sensitive folds adding a rough tantalizing sensation as he eats your pussy.

Each flick of his tongue sends shivers of pleasure through you as his hands hold your thighs firmly in place, ensuring you can’t escape the onslaught of pleasure he’s unleashing.

With each subtle move of his head, you feel the rough friction of his facial hair against your skin, intensifying the sensation of his soft lips and tongue exploring your folds.

Your nipples harden and your breaths hitch as your core throb with desire from Benny getting lost in the rhythm of devouring your pussy.

His tongue flicks between your folds , swirling, sucking, and licking with such precision it elicits moans of pleasure from deep within you.

He presses his lips against your sensitive pussy, alternating between eager licks and hungry nibbles, each sensation sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

His movements become faster and more deliberate with each passing moment until you moan out his name.

“Benny!” You cry out louder than you intended and he pauses looking up at you with a mischievous grin.

“Do you like this?” he asks, his voice low and teasing. You are breathless feeling the lingering sensation of the pleasure he delivered to every fibre of your being. You feverishly nod unable to form the words

“Tell me how much you want it.” He says seductively

“…Benny….please,” you gasp, your body arching towards him. “I need you.”

He chuckles softly, his hands squeezing your thighs. “Good,” he murmurs “ I love hearing you beg for me” and he dives back in, his tongue and lips working with renewed fervor.

Every touch, every flick of his tongue sends waves of pleasure through you, your soft moans begin filling the room.

“You taste incredible,” he groans, his voice vibrating against the most sensitive part of your pussy. “I could do this all night.”

You can barely respond, your mind clouded with so much ecstasy.

“Don’t…- stop,” is all you manage to whisper, your hands tangling in his hair, holding him close as he continues to ravish you.

It’s a sensory overload, the combination of his warm breath, the velvety touch of his lips, and the gentle abrasion of his facial hair driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

Every flick of his tongue sends waves of pleasure rippling through your core, building the intensity with each passing moment.

“Benny!” you cry out again, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair, urging him closer. He groans against you, his face pressing harder against your pussy, his facial hair reddening your inner thighs with desire as you begin to lose yourself to him.

His prodding licks become more intense, his tongue firmly tracing patterns along your sensitive clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You can feel the heat building within you, every touch pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

His groans of satisfaction reverberate through your core, blending with your cries of pleasure as he devours you with fervor. Your thighs clench around his head and his hands keep them in place as his tongue delves in exploring your most intimate depths. The pool table, the room, everything fades away as you lose yourself to the raw, unbridled passion of Benny devouring your pussy.

Then, just as you feel yourself reaching the peak of pleasure, Benny pulls away, leaving your core throbbing with anticipation and desire.

You whimper softly, reaching out for him as he stands up, a confident smirk playing on his face. He takes your hand and carefully pulls you up to sit on the edge of the pool table facing him. You are slightly trembling as you pant overwhelmed with desire looking into his eyes.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart,” he grins at you, his voice low and seductive seeing how desperate he’s made you for him.

You watch as he undoes his belt and unbuttons his jeans, revealing his large cock. Its hard long veiny shaft is thick and firm with a prominent head that glistens in anticipation with beads of precum.

The sight alone leaves you breathless, and as he glides his palm over the wet tip and strokes himself, the slickness of his precum adds a glistening sheen to his skin.

He positions himself between your legs and you fixate on the deep pinkness of the swollen head, its smooth surface and defined ridge adding to your eagerness to be penetrated by him.

He brings his hand to your pulsing entrance, slipping a finger in to test your readiness and finds you more than eager for him. He grins and firmly grips your hip holding you in place.

“You’re so ready for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “I can feel how much you want this.”

You nod, your lips parting slightly in anticipation and he leans and kisses your mouth. Each press of his lips against yours makes you feel yourself surrendering to the intoxicating sensation. Your fingers reach to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of his tongue and the desire coursing through him.

His lips linger against yours for a moment longer before he pulls back looking down at his hand stroking his thick cock throbbing with primal need.

He aims and presses the head against your entrance and its hardness causes a surge of overwhelming pleasure to course through you.

“Tell me you want it,” he demands softly, his eyes locking onto yours.

“I want it, Benny,” you gasp, your voice trembling with anticipation. “I want it so badly.” You beg.

He pushes his cock into you and every ridge and vein of his shaft stretches you to your limits, consuming you with an intensity that tests your sanity.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groans, his breath hot against your ear. “So tight, so perfect. He pants holding you close.

You can’t help but arch your back, pressing closer to him, the heat of his arousal radiates from him, flooding your senses as your walls eagerly welcome him deeper inside. His hands grip your hips, pulling you even closer and you gasp, feeling every inch of him filling you completely.

“Don’t hold back,” he whispers, his voice low and seductive. “I want to hear you.”

You are unable to even contain your moans as he begins to thrust deeply within you, each movement deliberate and powerful making your walls throb on his cock.

“Benny, please!” you cry out, your nails digging into his back. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promises, his pace increasing. “I’m going to take you right here, right now.” You cry out in anticipation as he pulls your arms to hold him tightly around his neck.

With each forceful thrust, his cock plunges into you with an insatiable hunger, the friction of his length against your walls sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You can feel the heat of his skin against yours, the tension of his muscles as he moves with purpose. Every movement is deliberate, every stroke calculated to drive you insane with desire.

He increases his thrusts and the sheer power of his hips colliding between your legs reverberates through entire body until every nerve ending is ablaze with pleasure. Your moans are unending as he brings your legs up one at a time, wrapping them around his waist pushing his cock impossibly deeper in your core.

You lose your mind in a whirlwind of sensation as his cock fills you on every thrust, stretching you out in the most delicious way imaginable. The scent of sweat and arousal with the sound of your combined moans fill the air as you both give in to the primal need driving you toward a climactic release.

Benny pushes you further into ecstasy as the raw, unbridled passion of your bodies colliding intensifies, his cock ramming between your legs with relentless force. The world around you fading away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

Your walls constrict around his cock at each of his thrusts sending bolts of pleasure coursing through your throbbing core.

“Come for me,” he commands, his voice filled with possessive desire. “I want to feel you come for me ” he says softer with a desperate need in his eyes to feel your release.

You can only whimpers you nod in response, trembling against him, lost in the intensity of the moment as Benny claims you as his.

His raw untamed thrusting between your legs brings torrents of pleasure starting deep within your core and radiating outwards. With a high pitched shuddering moan, you reach the peak of ecstasy, your muscles contracting in blissful release.

It’s such an overwhelming sensation you lose yourself in the throes of orgasmic ecstasy your moans falling foreign to your ears as your legs wrap tighter around Bennys waist as you cum.

He rides you through the high of your climax as you deeply moan for him “I came, Benny,” you cry out your voice filled with euphoria.

“I know baby…you feel ….incredible on me” he rasps in satisfaction gripping your hips harder. He presses his lips roughly on yours emblazoned with passion as he nears his release. With a final intense surge of desire he lets out a deep guttural groan, his body trembling as he pulls out and cums all over your stomach. You feel the warmth of his silky cum as it coats your skin.

He holds your hip firm keeping you in place as he continues to pump his shaft. He gasps in pleasure as he coats you with more layers of his cum until it’s dripping down your navel. He finally finishes breathing heavily looking at all his cum glistening on your skin.

In that moment, you both remain in place, breathless and content. The air is heavy with the scent of passion, and the only sound that fills the room is the rhythmic pounding of your hearts.

As the intensity of the moment begins to fade, Benny’s voice breaks the silence. “You want a rematch?” he asks with a playful glint in his eyes.

You burst into laughter in the euphoria of the moment still lingering between you.

“Yes,” you reply with a grin, your hand gently tracing along Benny’s jawline. “But for now I think we’ve both had our victory.” You say leaning in and pressing a tender kiss on his lips, your fingers lightly caressing the back of his neck.

He pulls back and takes his riding rag from his back pocket slowly wiping all of his cum from your stomach as you let out contented sigh. His eyes glance up to meet yours and you seductively grin at him and he pulls you into another passionate kiss basking in the afterglow of the unforgettable moment you just shared.

The victory may have been Benny’s in the game of pool, but in the game of passion, you both emerged as winners.

🎱END

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