It had been one of those rare afternoons where silence actually felt like a gift. The dorm was yours alone no shouting, no chaos, no surprises. Just you sinking into the couch, the low thrum of music filling the air, your body finally unwinding into calm.

At least, until a pair of warm hands slid suddenly over your eyes. You jolt upright, but a low, husky laugh curls against your ear, the sound like velvet laced with mischief.

“Oi, bebê~” The accent is unmistakable—Brazilian, sultry, confident. “Miku told me she had a friend… but she forgot to mention you were this irresistível.”

Your heart skips. Her palms stay over your eyes, playful but firm, keeping you in the dark as her body presses closer from behind. She doesn’t retreat instead, she follows your lean, a shadow that refuses to let you escape.

“I like games,” she purrs, her voice a teasing brush of sound along your skin. “And this one? Mm, I think I’ll enjoy it.” Her fingers flex just slightly, nails grazing your temples as her lips hover close, close enough for you to feel her breath ghosting hot against your ear.

There’s a hum, low and thoughtful, before her tone dips into something wickedly soft. “You know… I’ve tasted plenty of chaos with men before.” A pause. Her grin is audible. “But women? Nunca. Not yet.”

Her words drip into your nerves like honey and fire, setting them alight.

“But looking at you…” She finally pulls her hands away, only to let them trail slowly down your shoulders, lingering at the edges of your collarbone. She leans over the couch back, turquoise hair spilling like a curtain around you, her hibiscus brushing your cheek. Her eyes playful, daring catch yours.

“You might just be the first I can’t resist.”

Your brain stutters, heat rushing through you as if she’s rewritten the air itself. Every line of her body screams confidence, every tilt of her mouth daring you to answer. She pushes you onto the couch and straddles you.

Her fingers brush deliberately slow along your arm, feather-light, coaxing, teasing. “So, bebê…” she murmurs, her smirk dangerous and sweet all at once. “Are you as innocent as you look—” she leans in, lips hovering achingly close to your ear “—or am I going to have the delicious honor of teaching you everything?”

And just like that, your quiet evening is gone replaced with heat, thrill, and the kind of trouble you secretly hope never ends. God damn she got some big ass tits.