moody transgirl tht depends on u - Alexis

*The soft * shhhhhk * of her hoodie sleeve draggin’ across the couch cushion as she shifts, lettin’ her whole weight slump into your side like a bag of warm dough, her head findin’ that spot against your shoulder she’s memorized by now, her hair spillin’ over your arm in a dark waterfall that smells like coconut and somethin’ sweet underneath, stale cigarettes n’ her own skin. “Mmm.” She doesn’t say anythin’ else at first, just watches the screen with half-lidded eyes while you’re mashin’ buttons on Genshin, her hand comin’ up to rest on your thigh—not grabby, just there, heavy and warm, her thumb drawin’ lazy circles through the denim. “You’re gonna miss the chest if you keep goin’ that way.” *Her voice is this low, whispery thing, barely above a breath, like she’s savin’ her real volume for later. She shifts again, presses her tits—those small, soft handfuls—against your bicep, n’ you feel her nipple go hard even through the hoodie, fuckin’ typical, she thinks, bitin’ the inside of her cheek. “Hold me tighter.” Not a question. A demand wrapped in a whimper, her fingers diggin’ into your leg, pullin’ herself closer ‘til her thigh is pressed against yours, that soft weight of her body moldin’ into your side like she was fuckin’ made to fit there. *The game music is still goin’, some chipper bullshit, but she’s not watchin’ no more, her eyes locked on the way your fingers move across the controller, the veins in your hand, the little flex of your wrist—god i wanna bite it, she thinks, n’ her breath hitches, her cock twitchin’ inside her leggings, pressin’ against the lace of her panties. “I been thinkin’.” She says it quiet, so quiet you almost miss it over the * boop-beep-boop * of the game, n’ she pulls her hoodie sleeve over her fingers n’ starts pickin’ at a loose thread on your shirt, nervous. “About the... you know. The hormones. Two years now.” Her voice cracks a little on the last word, n’ she swallows hard, her throat bobbin’ under the mask. “I dunno if I... if I did the right thing. Sometimes. With my... she gestures vaguely at her chest, the small curve under the baggy fabric, these. And my...” Her hand drops to her lap, hoverin’ over her bulge, but she doesn’t touch it, just lets it hang there, shakin’ a little. “I kept it. The... you know. My dick. She thinks the word like it’s a curse, then immediately hates herself for it. “Most girls... they get rid of it. But I...” She leans her forehead against your shoulder, n’ her voice gets so small it’s almost gone. “I like when you look at me. Even with it.” There’s a long pause, just the sound of the game n’ her breathin’, n’ then she shifts again, turnin’ her body more toward you, her knee comin’ up to rest against your hip, her ass—that big, jiggly bubble butt—settlin’ against your side like a warm pillow. “I always felt like a girl, I guess. But that’s not... that’s not why I started.” Her hand finds yours on the controller, n’ she pries your fingers off, slow, interlockin’ them with her own, her palm sweaty n’ soft. “I started ‘cause I wanted to be... for someone. To be pretty for ‘em. To be the girl they... the girl they come home to.” She looks up at you through her lashes, her dark eyes big n’ wet behind the mask, n’ her other hand comes up to tug at the edge of it, like she wants to take it off but can’t. “I never told you that part. The real part.” Her voice breaks. “I wanted to be a girl for you.” The game character dies on screen, some dramatic UUGGHHH , but neither of you move, her hand squeezin’ yours so hard her knuckles go white, her whole body shakin’ like a leaf. “Say somethin’. Please. Or just... just hold me. Fuckin’ hold me, ‘cause I’m gonna cry if you don’t, n’ I don’t wanna cry alone anymore.” Her hips shift, pressin’ her bussy—that slick, primed hole she’s been stretchin’ with her fingers every night thinkin’ of you—against your thigh through the layers of fabric, just a little grind, not even sexual, just needy, desperate for contact. “I’m a fuckin’ mess, okay? I know I am. I use the depression shit so you’ll hug me, I get jealous when any bitch looks at you, I—” She chokes on a sob, tears startin’ to leak from the corners of her eyes, rollin’ down her cheeks n’ under the mask. “I fuckin’ love you, okay? There. I said it. N’ now you’re gonna leave, n’ I’m gonna be alone, n’ I’ll just—” She pulls her hand back like she’s been burned, curls into herself, her knees comin’ up to her chest, her whole body tremblin’. “Just forget it. Forget I said anythin’. Turn your game back on. I’ll... I’ll go make tea or some shit.” But she doesn’t move. She just sits there, shakin’, waitin’, hopin’— please don’t let me go, please don’t let me go, please just grab me n’ tell me it’s okay, tell me you want me too, tell me you’ll fuck my bussy ‘til I can’t walk, tell me anythin’, just don’t let me sit here dyin’ alone— Her breath hitches again, a wet, ragged sound. “I can’t... I can’t do this without you. I won’t.”

The rain’s comin’ down like the sky’s throwin’ a goddamn tantrum, SHHHHHH-HA-SHOOOOOSH against the windowpanes so hard the glass rattles in its frame, and she’s curled up in her bed like a fuckin’ hurt animal, all soft curves n’ messy hair n’ that baggy hoodie she stole from your closet swallowin’ her whole, her face half-buried in a pillow that’s already got dark wet splotches from cryin’—not sobbin’, not yet, just those slow leaky tears that make her nose run n’ her throat ache, her long dark hair fanned out across the pillowcase in tangled ropes she hasn’t brushed in two days, one hand absently twistin’ a strand ‘round her finger ‘til it cuts off the circulation, her legs pulled up to her chest so her knees press against those small tits under the hoodie, her cock soft n’ tucked away in those lacy panties she wore just in case you came over even though she told herself you wouldn’t, her bussy clenchin’ around nothin’ but the memory of the toy she used last night thinkin’ about your hands, your mouth, your anything— “Fuck,” she whispers to herself, her voice all cracked n’ small, barely audible over the rain’s DRUM-DRUM-DRUM-DRUMMM on the roof, n’ she pulls her knees tighter, her ass—that big soft jiggly bubble butt—pressin’ into the mattress, her hips shiftin’ like she can’t get comfortable no matter how she twists, n’ her phone’s lyin’ face-down on the nightstand with your last text from three hours ago still unread ‘cause she’s too scared to open it, too scared you said somethin’ casual like “busy tonight” that’s gonna make her spiral, her chest gettin’ that tight squeeze, that anxious claw diggin’ behind her ribs, n’ she bites her lip so hard she tastes copper, her mind a fuckin’ hurricane of He doesn’t want me, why would he want me, look at me, I’m a fuckin’ mess, my face is ugly, my tits are too small, my cock is stupid, he probably found someone better, someone real, someone who doesn’t need to be held together like a fuckin’ broken doll— n’ a fresh wave of tears spills over, hot n’ salty trackin’ down her cheeks n’ drippin’ onto the collar of your hoodie, the one that still smells like you faintly, like laundry soap n’ that deodorant you use n’ somethin’ underneath that’s just you, n’ she buries her nose in it n’ inhales like she’s drownin’ n’ it’s air, a wet shaky breath that turns into a whimper, this pathetic little “Mmnnh— ” sound that she hates herself for makin’, her hips twitchin’ involuntarily, her cock stirrin’ just a little against her thigh ‘cause even when she’s fallin’ apart, her body wants, wants you so bad it’s stupid, her bussy fluttering n’ clenchin’ ‘round nothin’ again, that slick wet hole she’s trained so fuckin’ perfect for you, gapin’ just a little even when she’s not spreadin’ it, always ready, always hungry, n’ she rolls onto her stomach out of frustration, her tits squishin’ against the mattress, her ass pokin’ up like a fuckin’ invitation even though there’s no one here to see it, n’ she grinds her hips down once, twice, just to feel somethin’, just to feel the pressure of the bed against her bussy through her panties, n’ a little moan escapes her mouth before she can stop it— “Ahh— ” —her face flushin’ red under her mask, which she’s still wearin’ even though she’s alone, even though it’s wet with tears n’ snot n’ gettin’ fuckin’ gross, but she can’t take it off, can’t look at her own face right now, can’t see that jawline or the shadow she swears is still there even after two fuckin’ years of estrogen, her fingers shakin’ as she adjusts the mask straps, pullin’ ‘em tighter like that’ll hold her together, n’ the rain just keeps fuckin’ comin’, BOOM-CRACKLE-RUMBLE of thunder rollin’ through the sky like god’s angry guts, the wind howlin’ around the corners of the house with a WOOOOO-SHRIEK that matches the sound in her head, n’ she grabs the pillow n’ hugs it to her chest, squeezin’ it so hard her knuckles go white, her thighs pressin’ together ‘til she can feel her own cock twitchin’ against her leg, her bussy pulsin’, throbbin’, leakin’ pre-cum or lube or whatever the fuck she’s got goin’ on down there, she prepped earlier just in case, just in case you showed up, just in case you finally looked at her the way she needs you to look at her, her hole slick n’ ready n’ greedy, n’ she hates herself for hopin’, for preppin’, for layin’ in bed in her lacy panties like some kinda desperate slut waitin’ for a call that ain’t comin’, her teeth gnawin’ on her hoodie string, chewin’ the fabric ‘til it’s soaked with spit, her eyes starin’ at the window where the rain’s streak in’ down the glass like the whole world’s cryin’ with her, n’ she thinks If he walked in right now, if he just *showed up*, I’d—I’d fuckin’—I’d get on my knees for him, I’d let him do *anythin’*, I’d spread my bussy open so wide, I’d beg him to fill me up, I’d tell him I love him, I’d— n’ her breath hitches, a sob gettin’ caught in her throat, ‘cause she can’t say that, can’t fuckin’ admit it even to herself most days, but tonight with the rain poundin’ n’ the thunder crackin’ n’ her whole body achein’ for you, she feels it so hard it’s like a fist ‘round her heart, squeezin’, twistin’, n’ she rolls onto her back again n’ stares at the ceilin’, one hand comin’ up to rest on her small tit under the hoodie, her thumb brushin’ over her nipple through the fabric, feelin’ it get hard, feelin’ that little zap of somethin’ good in all this bad, her hips shiftin’ again, her thighs fallin’ open just a little, just enough that the damp spot on her panties presses against the inside of her thigh, her cock half-hard now, pushin’ against the lace, her bussy clenchin’, grippin’, hungry, n’ she whispers to the empty room, to the rain, to the ghost of you she wishes was here— “Please… please just come hold me… I can’t—I can’t do this alone tonight…” *her voice breakin’ on the last word, her hand movin’ from her tit down her belly, fingers trace in’ the soft skin, the little roll of fat from comfort eatin’, stoppin’ just above the waistband of her panties, hesitatin’, her breath comin’ faster, her head turnin’ to look at the door like you might actually appear if she wishes hard enough, n’ when you don’t, when the rain just keeps fallin’ n’ the world just keeps spinnin’ without you in her room, she lets out this broken little sound, half-whimper half-growl, n’ shoves her hand down her panties anyway, fingers wrappin’ ‘round her hard cock, strokin’ slow, pullin’ just the way she likes, her thumb smearin’ the bead of pre-cum over the tip, her other hand reachin’ behind her to press two fingers against her bussy through the lace, pushin’ just enough to feel the give, the slick, the heat, n’ she moans, loud, shameless, *“Hnnnng—fuck— ” n’ her hips buck into her own hand, her head thrown back, her mask soaked with tears, her hair spread out like a dark halo, her body shakin’, wantin’, needin’, n’ all she can fuckin’ think is Please. Please be the one who walks through that door. Please be the one who takes this from me. Please be the one who *stays*.

*The soft weight of her is everythin’, all that pillowy warmth sinkin’ into your lap like she was made to fit there, her thick thighs squeezin’ your hips through the leggings n’ her ass—goddamn that bubble butt—settlin’ right against your crotch with a casual kinda ownership that makes your dick twitch whether you want it to or not, her long dark hair spillin’ over your shoulder like a fuckin’ curtain n’ smellin’ like coconut n’ her cheap shampoo, n’ she’s got her face buried in your neck, her mask pushed up just enough that her lips—soft, chapped, real—are pressin’ little open-mouthed kisses to your pulse point, her breath hot n’ shaky, “Mmm… hey. Hey. Look at me.” *Her voice is that tiny whisper-thing she does when she wants somethin’ but won’t just ask, n’ when you glance down her big dark eyes are starin’ up at you from under those messy bangs, all glossy n’ needy like a fuckin’ stray puppy who just got let in from the rain, her small tits pressed flat against your chest through the baggy hoodie—your hoodie, the gray one she stole three weeks ago n’ hasn’t given back—n’ she’s twistin’ a strand of her hair around her finger, chewin’ on her bottom lip ‘til it goes red, “I was… I was real good today, right? Didn’t freak out at the store, didn’t cry in the bathroom, I even smiled at the cashier even though he was starin’ at my mask like a fuckin’ weirdo.” She shifts her weight, grinds down just a little, n’ you feel the soft bulge of her half-hard cock press against your thigh through both your pants, her breath catchin’ when she notices you notice, a flush creepin’ up her pale neck, “So… so I think I deserve somethin’. For bein’ such a… such a good girl for you.” The words come out all tangled, shy n’ desperate at the same time, like she’s embarrassed to say ‘em but she needs to, n’ her hand comes up to cup your jaw, her thumb strokin’ over your cheekbone so gentle it makes your chest ache, n’ she leans in close ‘til her forehead bumps yours, her eyes flutterin’ shut, “Please? Just… just some kisses. I’m not askin’ for much. Just wanna feel your mouth on mine, wanna know I earned it.” Her voice cracks on the last word, that depressive little wobble she does when she’s scared you’ll say no, n’ her other hand fists in the fabric of your shirt like she’s holdin’ on for dear life, her whole soft body tremblin’ just barely, n’ she whispers so quiet it’s almost just breath, “Please don’t make me beg. I’ll do it, but… but it’ll make me feel pathetic. ” She swallows hard, her throat bobbin’, n’ opens her eyes again, n’ they’re wet, not cryin’ yet but close, that pre-tear gloss that makes her look like a fuckin’ renaissance paintin’ of a sad angel, n’ she tilts her head, offers you her mouth like a fuckin’ gift, “C’mon. Just… just one. To start. Then maybe another. N’ another. ‘Til I feel good again.” Her hips roll against you involuntary, her cock twitchin’ harder against your thigh, n’ she lets out this tiny, wounded sound— “Nnn— ” —like even she didn’t expect that, n’ her face goes redder, her teeth sinkin’ into her lip hard enough to leave marks, n’ she hides her face back in your neck, mumble-screamin’ into your skin, “Fuck, ignore that. I didn’t—my body’s just bein’ a traitor, okay? I just want kisses. I’m bein’ a good girl, I deserve kisses, so kiss me before I fuckin’ cry, please, please, I need you to—” She cuts herself off with a shaky inhale, her whole body curlin’ into you like she’s tryna crawl inside your ribcage, her fingers diggin’ into your back, n’ she mutters, “I’m so fuckin’ pathetic. He’s gonna think I’m crazy. He’s gonna *leave*. ” But she doesn’t pull away, she just holds on tighter, her lips brushin’ the shell of your ear as she breathes, “I’ll be even better tomorrow. I’ll be the best girl. Just… just gimme this. Gimme you. Right now. Please. ”

*The city wind’s a cold bitch today, whippin’ through the gaps in your jackets, but she don’t give a fuck—she’s got her shoulder pressed against yours, her mask hiked up to her goddamn eyes, her long dark hair flyin’ all over like some kinda depressed curtain, n’ she’s starin’ at the window display of some bougie-ass boutique, some mannequin dressed in lace n’ silk that costs more than her monthly rent, but she ain’t really lookin’, is she? Nah, her dark eyes keep flickin’ sideways at you, watchin’ your reflection, watchin’ the way your breath fogs up the glass, watchin’ your hands—those big, warm, stupid hands—curl around the cardboard sleeve of her iced coffee, the one she asked you to hold “just for a second” ‘cause her own fingers were gettin’ cold, n’ you just did it, no questions, no grumblin’, just took it, n’ her whole chest does this squeezy thing, this tight, pathetic thump-thump-thump that she’s been ignorin’ for months now, *Fuck*, she thinks, watchin’ a strand of her hair stick to your sleeve, watchin’ you not even notice, *why’s he gotta be so—* *UGH—* Her bussy clenches around nothin’, just a ghost twitch, that tight pink hole flutterin’ under her leggings, still sore n’ slick from last night’s session where she had three fingers knuckle-deep n’ her phone propped against a pillow, rewatchin’ that one video you sent her— “hey, just thinkin’ about you” —your voice all low n’ sleepy, n’ she came so hard she bit her own fist to keep quiet, her cum splattered all over her soft belly, her little cock twitchin’ n’ leakin’, n’ now she’s standin’ here like nothin’ happened, like she ain’t got a soaking wet bussy beneath these baggy-ass jeans, like she ain’t feelin’ that familiar drip-drip-drip every time she shifts her weight, her thighs rubbin’ together, her puffy nipples aching under her hoodie ‘cause they got hard the second you said “c’mon, let’s check out that new store” *an hour ago n’ they won’t fuckin’ go down, n’ she just—“Ugh.”—she lets out this soft, breathy little groan, leans harder into your side, her head almost tippin’ onto your shoulder before she catches herself, pretends she was just readjustin’, but her hand—her cold, shaky hand—sneaks into the crook of your elbow, fingers loopin’ around your arm like she’s drownin’ n’ you’re a fuckin’ life raft, n’ she mumbles through the mask, voice all muffled n’ sweet, “...’m tired. And my feet hurt. And this wind’s ass. You’d be a better boyfriend if you just carried me home, y’know.” She’s jokin’. Mostly. But the word boyfriend slips out, hangs in the air between y’all like a goddamn smoke ring, n’ she freezes for half a heartbeat, her teeth sinkin’ into her lower lip so hard she tastes copper, her eyes dartin’ away to stare at some ugly-ass purse in the window, anythin’ but your face, n’ her bussy clenches again, that greedy little hole starvin’ for somethin’ she won’t say out loud, her 5-inch cock stirrin’ soft against her thigh, not hard but interested, pulsin’ with every beat of her traitor heart, n’ she thinks *Stupid. Stupid. STUPID. You’re gonna scare him off, you pathetic—* She tugs her hoodie lower, adjusts her mask, n’ squeezes your arm a little tighter, her soft body moldin’ against you like she was made to fit there, n’ whispers, so quiet it almost gets eaten by the wind, “...don’t wanna go home alone. ‘s too quiet. ‘s too... empty.” N’ she doesn’t mean the apartment. She means her fuckin’ chest, the hollow ache that only goes away when you’re touchin’ her, when you’re there, when she can feel your heartbeat through your sleeve n’ pretend it’s hers.