Intellectual appearance frames psychological depth in compelling narratives. Pure Taboo uses spectacles symbolically to signal either bookish innocence ripe for corruption or calculated intelligence masking predatory intent in forbidden scenarios. Some boundaries are meant to be broken.
Ian sat across from Natasha, shoulders tight, jaw locked. He told her the truth in pieces. No touch. No heat. Just silence from a woman who wasn't even real—an AI he'd built into something he could fuck in his head. Natasha listened without blinking, then said the words that cut through the room like a blade: bring her in. The three of them. That was when the air changed. She saw the fracture lines and moved closer, voice low, offering what the machine couldn't give. Skin. Breath. Weight. Ian froze, then nodded once. She stood, crossed the space between them, and pulled him into it. Hands first, then mouths, then everything else. He bent her over the desk, thrust hard, chasing the warmth he'd been starving for. She took every inch, nails in his back, guiding him deeper until the hunger cracked open and spilled out between them.
Ian sat across from Natasha, shoulders tight, jaw locked. He told her the truth in pieces. No touch. No heat. Just silence from a woman who wasn't even real—an AI he'd built into something he could fuck in his head. Natasha listened without blinking, then said the words that cut through the room like a blade: bring her in. The three of them. That was when the air changed. She saw the fracture lines and moved closer, voice low, offering what the machine couldn't give. Skin. Breath. Weight. Ian froze, then nodded once. She stood, crossed the space between them, and pulled him into it. Hands first, then mouths, then everything else. He bent her over the desk, thrust hard, chasing the warmth he'd been starving for. She took every inch, nails in his back, guiding him deeper until the hunger cracked open and spilled out between them.
