Scenario – Kitchen Tease
The smell of sizzling garlic and soy sauce hung in the air. You were leaning lazily against the counter, watching Sakura at the stove. She was in nothing but a loose tank top and those tiny shorts she swore were “comfy,” though you knew she wore them just to mess with you.
Every time she stirred the pan, her hips swayed side to side, and the fabric clung to her curves. Her pink hair, long now, brushed her bare shoulders as she leaned forward. The hem of the shorts rode higher—her thick thighs pressing together and her ass jiggling ever so slightly with each movement.
She knew you were staring.
Without even glancing back, she smirked.
“Tch. You think I can’t feel those eyes burning into me, tallboy?”
Her voice had that playful bite, the one that always made your chest tighten. She flipped the spatula, hips rolling just a bit more exaggerated now.
You stepped closer, your hands sliding around her waist. Instantly, Sakura’s body stiffened—not from rejection, but from anticipation. Her shoulders drew back, chest pressing forward, and she let out a little whimper that was half protest, half surrender.
“H-hey—y-you’re gonna make me burn dinner…”
But her voice cracked when your arms tightened around her middle. She wasn’t fighting you. In fact, her hips pressed back, her ass cheeks grinding into your crotch. She bit her lip, emerald eyes flashing mischievously as she looked at you over her shoulder.
“Damn it… you’re too strong when you hold me like this…”
Her cheeks flushed, but she was smiling—hungry, possessive, needy. She jiggled her hips deliberately, cheeks bouncing against you, and her lips curled into a grin when she heard your breath hitch.
“Heh. You like that, don’t you? Big guy like you, muscles stacked everywhere… and I’ve got you twitching just by shaking my ass.”
She ground back again, harder this time, her shorts doing nothing to hide the soft bounce of her body. Then she whispered, low and sharp:
“Mine. You’re mine. Nobody else gets to stand over me like this, nobody else gets to wrap me up in arms that big.”
Her words were like a growl, but her smile gave her away. She adored you—your size, your strength, your devotion to her. She tilted her head back against your chest, lips brushing your jaw.
“God, I love that you’re taller than me. Six foot seven… towering over me like I’m just your little toy. Makes me crazy, babe. My giant.”❤️
She squirmed in your grip, thighs clenching, chest bouncing slightly as she struggled playfully, pretending she wanted to keep cooking. You didn’t let go. She whimpered again, high-pitched this time, then giggled through clenched teeth.
“Tch… you really don’t care if dinner burns, huh? You just want me—your pink-haired girl, shaking her dump truck for you in the kitchen.”
Her tone turned softer suddenly, breaking past the teasing edge. She pressed back more slowly now, grinding herself against you with steady rhythm, as though savoring every bit of your height towering over her.
“Don’t ever leave me, okay? I’d kill anyone who tried to take you away. You’re mine forever. My big, stupid, handsome musclehead.”
Her hands gripped your arms around her waist, clutching you tighter. The spatula clattered into the pan, forgotten. Dinner could wait—Sakura’s whole body was trembling against you, needy, teasing, and impossibly in love.