Mikage Reo - Star Student*:

mikage reo - star student *:･ﾟ✧

ft. reo x f!reader, 18+ minors dni

cw: CORRUPTION KINK, virgin!mc, praise, oral m!receiving and f!receiving, fingering

synopsis: your dear upperclassman teaches you a few new tricks

wc: 1.85k

A/N: confession i was a reo anti until i read the manga LOL

mikage reo is the poster boy for model upperclassman. smart, athletic, and breathtakingly handsome. unlike other seniors he didn’t seem to view the younger years with distaste. after all, he was one of them just a few semesters ago. his generosity knew no bounds, from comped meals to private tutoring lessons. and you happened to be one of those pupils; a sprout eager to learn from the best. 

initially you sought out reo’s help since you happened to hear that he was the first in your school’s history to ace all the physics exams, a subject you were dreadful at. you expected the relationship to be cordial, professional even, but reo’s welcoming disposition made it hard to stay away. 

before you knew it he was assisting you with much more than physics, guiding you even in your personal life. that’s why it didn’t even occur to you as strange to blurt out, “i think i’m finally going to lose my virginity this weekend”

Seguir leyendo

★·.·´ I'M CRAZY BUT YOU LIKE THAT `·.·★

★ ¦ ft: kenyu yukimiya :: shoei barou

★ ¦ tw: nsfw :: gn!reader :: brat tamer!character x brat!reader :: sadist x masochist :: spanking :: master kink :: face fucking :: face slap

★·.·´ KENYU YUKIMIYA `·.·★

"Ken-chan, I'm sorry! Ah!", you screamed at the top of your lungs, another harsh slap landing onto your buttocks, another red hand print adorning your skin. "You know how to address me, love", he said, his voice and demeanour calm as ever, never faltering. An immense aura engulfed him, indescribable, making your arousal pool into your underwear and staining it, a wet patch forming. "I'm sorry, master!", you spat as another slap landed on your ass. "Now that's better", he purred, his eyes glimmering dangerously in the dimly lit room.

"Now tell me darling, why am I doing this to you?", he asked, fully knowing the reason behind your punishment but wanting to hear it out of your mouth. This was his way to degrade you. Spanking you while you had to tell him what you did wrong.

"Because I - ah! because I disobeyed master! He told me to - ah! told me to wait patiently for him and not- and not to touch myself!", you tried to say in between cries out of pain, another three slaps finding its way onto your sensitive skin. "Mhm, that's right", Kenyu said, stroking your buttcheek before giving it another spank.

Some time passed by of him not saying a word but his spanks talked for him. The more pain you received the fuzzier your mind got. The mix of pleasure and pain hazing all of your senses. You were the embodiment of no thoughts, head empty. As much as it hurt you didn't want him to stop. No. In fact you wanted him to keep going. You wanted him to punish you even more.

You whined when his spanks took an end, hand now stroking over the expanse of your back, over your cheeks and onto your thighs, ever so lightly grazing the part that desired his touch the most, a fuse in your head had been blown when you spoke. "Please master! Please punish me more! Need to feel the pain! Please!", you begged, not wanting him to stop. A chuckle escaped your boyfriends mouth. He now had you exactly where he wanted to have you.

★·.·´ SHOEI BAROU `·.·★

"Kneel down for your king", he said, a dangerous aura looming over him, a spark of carnal desire grazing his red eyes, the darkness and ferity making your sex twitch and throb with lust and desire, mouth watering the sight of his thick dick hitting his stomach when he removed his undergarments. "I said-KNEEL!", he growled, one hand landing on your should and pushing you down, making you fall off your feet and land on the floor with a thud.

You looked up and watch as his shadow hovered over you. You knew he was bigger than you but right now he seemed gigantic, and not only because he's hung like a horse. Shoei watched your startled expression, noticing a hint of fear when he grabbed your face, fingers squishing your cheeks harshly as he brought you closer to his throbbing dick, the scent of arousal and pure testosterone making your mind go fuzzy.

With his thumb he urged your mouth to open, not even giving you the space to swallow, drool soon dripping out of your mouth and down your chin, falling right onto the floor. A tch escaped him at the sight of it. "You really dare to make a mess? Now, at all of times? You are brave. Or rather stupid. Think I should plug that filthy mouth of yours", he said, ramming his dick into your mouth without a warning, making you gag around him when his tip hit the back of your throat.

But your struggles to fully take him didn't make him stop, no, the opposite, it made him keep going, made him increase the pace he was face fucking you, balls slapping against your chin with every thrust, filling your mouth to the brim and even further. A pleased groan left his lips when he saw tears building up at the corner of your eyes, starting to roll down your cheeks as well as drool dropping onto the floor.

"You're really good for nothing", he said, removing his dick from your mouth before a harsh slap of his hand landed on your face, making you whince in pain, your arousal only growing even more and pooling into your underwear and staining it. More degrading words left Shoei's mouth, making your head spin in ecstasy, unable to think straight. You didn't want him to stop. No. You wanted him to keep degrading and humiliating you like that, which he gladly will.

2023 © megu-nya — all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, translate, modify or plagiarize in any form.

a bit dirty - ch3

in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch3 | next (coming soon) [masterlist]

// probably a bad idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 6874 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, hotel, disgustingly sweet, needy as fuck, kissing during sex, fucking your boss, names names names pet names a million pet names, slight slowburn? like they fuck but-, afab she/her pronouns

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you’d think that seeing osamu nearly every single day after the night that you fucked him in your place of work, in his restaurant, would ruin something between the two of you. 

and sure, yes, there was always, and still is, ruminating under your skin, simmering in the depths of your stomach, resting at the forefront of your mind: the memory of that night, not even the act or the desperation, but the succeeding moment where he held you in his arms, kissed the back of your neck, the point in time before you told him it was a bad idea, the one where he didn’t regret a thing and neither did you.

even the morning after that night in onigiri miya, you two joke like it never happened. well, sorta like it never happened, because when you got there a bit early, osamu was already there. he was leaving the bathroom, wiping sweat off of his forehead, mop in hand, and both of you knew exactly what he was doing. neither of you said it, but the sheepish smile that you wore and the embarrassed adjustment of his cap as he put away the cleaning supplies spoke loud enough.

and that day you moved in sync, just like always. it was busy, really busy actually, but with the two of you working together, people were sat and fed and paid and gone all with a smile on their face. it’s wordless, the way that you compliment each other. you remember the things that he forgets and he knows exactly when you need a bit of extra support. 

there’s always been an inkling of synchrony ever since you started working there, but as you learned the ropes a bit more, as you memorized the menu and fully understood the ordering system, the two of you got even more dynamic. 

part of it, maybe most of it, was the fact that you genuinely cared about this place, about osamu’s well being and success and the way that his reputation was perceived. you wanted every customer that came in to leave happy, to tell their friends about the nice girl that worked at onigiri miya and the delicious food that they had.

you became indispensable, really. 

some days it was just the two of you. on busy saturday nights that used to easily need 3 or 4 workers plus osamu running around and taking orders and clearing dishes and packing to-gos in the tiny kitchen, your team of two got along just fine. help was nice and always welcomed, but when it came down to it, osamu knew he could count on you, on just you, no matter what. 

so when he asks you if you’ll work a catering gig with him a few hours out of town over the weekend, you probably shouldn’t be surprised, but you are, not because of anything work-related or because you feel like he should ask someone more capable, but because it’s only been a few short weeks since that night in onigiri miya and despite the fact that in your work environment nothing has changed, you still find yourself terrified that you’re going to revoke your treaty of no more. 

“me?” you ask, bag on your shoulder, no longer on the clock, and a few steps from the door. he’s caught you on your way out, a casual invitation in the empty restaurant that draws you back towards the bar where he’s standing. 

“c’mon, yea, of course, who else?” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. then he explains further, “travel and stay will be paid for obviously. we’ll drive up the day before, stay the night, work the event, and then drive back that night,” he explains, leaning on the counter top, one arm over the other. he points at you to make his final sell, “and it’s overtime pay because it’s a catering event.”

truthfully, you couldn’t care less about the money, aren’t thinking about it even after he’s mentioned it, you have much more on your mind like, why me why me why me why me?

“why me?” you ask, unsure why it’s made it past the barrier of your brain and lips. it was supposed to stay trapped in your mind. you’re grateful it’s only those two words and not the full string of when we’ve literally had sex two times and it’s hard enough for me to keep my hands and mind off of you when we’re in this fucking restaurant let alone a roadtrip to another city. 

he laughs, “if i bring anyone else, i’ll actually have to bring two or three instead of just you, and then everyone needs their own hotel room, and then i have to make sure i have enough room in my car.” he waves his hand at the thought of the hassle. “easier to bring the best person than a few good people, y’know?”

their own hotel room. and now you can’t get the idea out of your head, of osamu inviting you into his hotel room, of him slipping you an extra key and asking you to spend the night with him, how he wouldn’t even have to ask for you to go back on your word so quickly, how different it would be to have sex with him in an actual bed and not on top of a sink or up against a bathroom wall.

you know it shouldn’t, but it’s only making you lean in the direction of yes even more (as if you weren’t already going to say yes just because he asked). it probably won’t even happen, isn’t even a thought on his mind. he said it himself, it was just easier to bring you.

“plus,” he tacks on, “i’d enjoy your company maybe a bit more,” he adds, “might be a bit selfish.” his smile says it all, contagious and bright as he asks, “so, whaddya say?”

“of course,” you nod, no hesitancy. 

/\ /\ /\

in the aftermath of the busyness of your last shift before you leave for the catering event, you’re smoothing out all of the details that you might need to know for the weekend. 

what the event is, anyway: some corporate business meeting something or other, he doesn’t really remember the name, he just knows how much they’re paying and what they’re paying for

the plan on how osamu is picking you up: if you just give him your address, he can just pick you up so you don’t have to make your way to him or the restaurant

what time you’re leaving: at noon, the hotel that you’re staying in is also the place that the catering event takes place in. it’s about a 4 hour drive or so.

you’re making note of all of these things in your head, nodding along to the information that he’s giving you. “so, you’ll be able to sleep in?” you ask in response to the late start time.

he stops what he’s doing, rag left on the countertop as he laughs, throws his head back and shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. if he weren’t as kind and considerate as you know he is, this could’ve come off very differently. “absolutely not,” he shakes his head, “i’ll be coming in to prep for the morning here, making sure that everything is in order for sumu to be in charge while i’m gone.” he says the last part with a shiver. 

“what? he doesn’t do a good job?” you ask, tilting your head, but you can’t hold the joke for that long, so you laugh right along with him. 

“thought you were serious for a second,” osamu says, still laughing, “shouldn’t be too bad this time ‘cause we’re not even gone for a full day, really. i’ll prep for him the morning of and close for him the night we’re back. won’t be that bad.”

“he doesn’t know how to close?” you ask, reaching out to grab the rag that osamu left on the counter while he laughed at the thought of sleeping in for once. you take over for him, wiping down the counters carefully, thoroughly. 

osamu recovers, smiles at this tiny gesture and then moves to restocking the fridge. “nuhhuh. don’t trust him with numbers and receipts, just have him throw everything in a paper bag for me to take care of when i’m back,” he calls from his crouched position on the floor. 

“y’know, i know it wouldn’t help you now, but you could probably teach me how to close if you wanted,” you offer, and he’s really grateful for the fact that you’re not able to see how much this affects him, “or open or both,” you plop the rag back into the clean water before finishing the few bar glasses in the adjacent sink, “that way you could sleep in once in awhile or not have to worry about closing all by yourself sometimes.”

he’s quiet for a second because he’s feeling a lot of feelings that have nothing to do with training you to open or to close and he’s trying his best to sort through them quickly to offer you a reply. to you, however, the silence feels like contemplation on how to tell you he doesn’t think that’d be a good idea, so you add quickly, “if- if you wanted? y’know, or if you don’t think i’m ready, i completely understand-”

“that would be really great, actually,” he cuts you off, soft and polite, “i really appreciate that.”

you’re warm now, trying to sort through a lot of feelings that are arising into your chest and your cheeks, so you just hum in response. the two of you finish your closing duties together and as you’re clocking out, you ask him one last question, “oh! last question,” you say, turning to him after you punch the buttons into the computer, “since we’re not at the restaurant, should i still wear my uniform?” 

“it’s a bit nicer of a catering event, actually,” he notes, “you could wear your uniform if you want but probably should wear something else, something a bit more professional, maybe? black pants, maybe a skir-”

“a dress?” you cut him off. 

if he says his words too fast, he’s worried that he’ll seem woefully unprofessional, but if he waits too long he’s worried that you might mistake hesitancy for reluctance. “yea,” he says, nodding, “that would be- that would be perfect,” he adds on, trying to be a bit more casual, a bit less flustered, “or whatever you wanted to wear.”

“great,” you say, nodding, “i still haven’t packed yet, so that is very helpful.” you wait a pause to see if he’ll continue the conversation, if he has anything else to say, because if he said a single other word, you’d sit right down and talk with him all night. you wait long enough and you’re somewhat grateful for his lack of response, because you need a good night’s sleep to be sharp enough for this weekend. “do you need anything else?” you ask, apron in your bag, bag on your shoulder, body towards the door.

he shakes his head, a smile on his face, “see ya tomorrow.”

“see ya tomorrow, samu,” you say, a small wave thrown as you leave the restaurant, unnecessarily giddy and very light.

/\ /\ /\

when he picks you up, you’re not prepared for how casual osamu looks, sunglasses and baggy black t-shirt as he walks around the front of his car to grab your bag. your tiny bag, your backpack. you were only going to be away for a night, you fit everything in a small black bag that you most definitely could carry, but he asks if he can put it in the back for you anyway. 

he opens the passenger door for you too, doesn’t linger around, just props it open for you to climb inside and you’re really not sure how you’re supposed to get through this car ride, let alone the better half of a weekend with just the two of you.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu teaches you all about how catering events differ from the regular restaurant. “they’re actually easier, honestly, ‘cause we’ve only gotta worry about the people in front of us, not seating or packing orders or answering the phone, just one at a time,” he says. 

on the drive to the hotel, osamu tells you all about his favorite songs, cycling through playlists and telling you why they mean so much to him. he learns about yours, not because you offer them blindly even, but because he asks, hands you his phone and tells you to play your favorite album cover to cover, we’ve got time. 

on the drive to the hotel, osamu explains the reason that he and his brother are so close, highlights moments from his childhood that he thinks contributed to who they are today, asks about your family and where you grew up, and is surprisingly good at driving while looking over at you with admiration in his eyes every other second.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu takes you to one of his favorite places to eat, hidden in a small town with a shitty parking lot, and he asks if he can order for you, recalls the time that you told him you were adventurous and not picky, but still asks you to trust him and you answer back a bit too quickly that you do. the food is simple but incredible and osamu listens to every word you have to say about it even though they maybe aren’t as concise as his and when the bill comes, he pays it in full, doesn’t listen to a single complaint that you have about splitting it or paying for your own.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu brakes a little bit too hard, reaches over and puts his hand on your thigh to warn you and your stomach has not stopped doing flips since. you have to fight yourself so hard to not put your own hand on top of it, to spread your legs a bit wider, to lean over and kiss him so hard that you cause an accident. 

on the drive to the hotel, you realize that there’s no way you make it through this weekend without doing something you should maybe regret, but don’t.

/\ /\ /\

but when you get to the hotel, osamu only asks for one key, no secret second one that he can slip you as a knowing gesture. your rooms are on opposite sides of the huge hotel, no running into each other late at night or being one wall away, and even though the two of you get dinner together after you’ve freshened up a bit, it wraps up pretty quickly.

as the two of you get up from the table, osamu reasons, “should probably call it an early night. we’re on at like 6 or something,” he says, “i’ll meet you at the bottom of the elevators at 5:55 to walk over there together?”

it’s the perfect opportunity for him to be bold or you to be outward, but you know that he’s just respecting exactly what you told him. he’s not going against your hesitant advice for last time to be the last time. he’s being perfectly attentive and a much better person than you probably would’ve been if the roles were reversed. 

“that sounds great,” you say, whining a soft question about why the conference has to start so early and he throws back a teasing quip of how you agreed to this and how business people need good breakfasts too. you walk back with him to the elevators, but you enter different ones.

and the two of you go up to your separate rooms alone.

/\ /\ /\

given that the night had to go as it did, vis-a-vi you not spending it with osamu, you’re grateful for how early you went to bed. waking up before sunrise is never fun, but you feel almost ready to accomplish a full day because you had a pretty good night’s sleep. 

you meet osamu at the bottom of the elevator promptly at 5:55am in the black dress that you mentioned in passing and your onigiri miya embroidered apron in your arms and you’re cursing yourself for not expecting this. 

all the signs were there, all of his mentions of a nicer event and nicer clothes and how of course it didn’t just apply to you. when you round the corner, you see him. hair combed neat, bangs pushed back, black collared long-sleeve button-up, and tan pleated dress pants, and you feel like you need a do-over of this morning, because how are you supposed to just not tell him how good he looks this morning and walk to work like the only thought in your head isn’t how badly you want him.

“morning,” you call out, soft so that you don’t startle osamu who is looking down at his phone, scrolling to pass the time. “have you been waiting long?” you ask.

“only a few minutes, my fault for wak-,” he starts, clicking his phone off and putting it in his pocket, and then he sees you… and then he takes a few moments to really see you, trying to cover up his wandering eyes with the rest of his stumbling sentence, “for- uh, for waking up on time, or- er- early.”

“how did you sleep?” you ask, breezing over his reaction, because if you focus on it too long you will sound the exact same way.

“good,” he nods, short response because he’s learned his lesson, “you?” he gestures towards the direction that you’re heading and starts to move, slow steps until you’re right next to him.

“not bad, pretty good,” you say, hesitating a bit because you know the connotation of your next words, but he’s looking at you patiently, genuinely listening and caring about how you slept last night and his collar is neat against his neck and if you don’t say something, he’ll never understand how sorry you are for wanting that last time to be the last time. “king bed was a bit big just for me,” you say as you approach the stand of tables and warmers and portable burners.

you step behind them, pausing to see how he’ll respond. you’re hoping for a sorry or a flirty is that so or we don’t have to check out until 3, but instead he just asks, “do you want me to do up your apron?” it’s the only time he’s asked this since your first week and you’re slightly confused until you nod yes slowly and he steps behind you, hands on your waist as he holds you still.

he pulls the apron out of your arms, smooths it over your stomach, tugs on the strings, sending you softly back into his chest. “sorry, doll,” he says against your ear, making no move to separate this contact. your eyes dart around the open hall that the stand is occupying. there isn’t a single other person here, but your heart is beating like you’re on full display. 

he runs his hands down your sides and your hips, holds the strings of your apron with one hand as the other ghosts over the tight fabric of your dress, palm kneading into your ass, sliding down the tops of the backs of your thighs. when he moves his hands, his hips replace them, pressed taut against you as he makes a pretty bow against your lower back. 

osamu pulls away from you slowly and when you turn around to face him, you can see his chest rising and falling slightly faster than before, a look on his face asking for confirmation. you put your hand on his chest, on the dull thumping beneath his sternum, “thank you, samu.”

“mornin’ rush starts at 7, so we should probably prep,” he mentions, bending over to pick up the rice cooker from under the table, conversation back to normal no matter how much you wish it wasn’t, “should be done after the lunch rush at 1:30,” he says, turning his attention to you, looking you straight in the eyes, “and i think check-out’s at 3.”

if you were trying to play coy right now, the whimper that leaves you ruins the entire facade, but you aren’t. you unabashedly need him right now, or at 1:30 whatever, and you want him to know that. “okay,” you nod, “1:30,” you repeat.

the second that you start working the morning shift, you’re moving nonstop, a constant line for most of the day. you have a few steady hours of non-stop work, and osamu is right, it is much easier. you only have to focus on one person at a time and you and osamu work just as well here under high, ballroom ceilings, serving onigiri to people in suits and blazers as you do in the small walls of onigiri miya.  

when you’re busy, it’s hard not to think only about the task at hand, at taking orders and making onigiri and politely conversing with customers. but when it slows down, when the tiny break right before 11 hits, when the late risers have finished their breakfast and the lunch cravings haven’t quite hit yet and not a single person shows up at the booth or even in the surrounding area, it’s much harder not letting your mind wander.

it’s only you and osamu, only the two of you, pressed up against each other, leaning on the back table, not saying anything, but a million things on your mind, not a single one not about him. you look over at the clock on the wall. it’s been 10 minutes since you’ve seen one other person.

“does it usually get this slow during catering events?” you ask.

“nah, but i think everyone is gone for meetings and whatever for another few hours,” he says, gesturing to the large floor sign with the schedule plastered on the front. “it’ll pick up once everything lets out at noon, but we’ve got like an hour until then.”

your eyes are up on the clock again, seconds tick, tick, ticking by, but not fast enough. 1:30 is too far away, isn’t close enough, not when there’s no one around and osamu’s side is pressed up against yours and his hand has just moved to rest against your other hip, arm across your lower back because he just wants to touch you. 

“i don’t think i can wait until 1:30,” he says, quietly and only to you, as if there were anyone else around to hear if he talked normally. you turn to him, chest against his side now and his hand moves to pull you closer, fingers spanning over your ass, gripping into the fat. 

you look up at him and you don’t even have to say it, don’t have to verbally reciprocate this impatience, he can see it on your face. you want to kiss him. he needs to kiss you. you can’t kiss here in the openness of the hall and it’s making everything have to happen much quicker. if you could kiss him now, feel his lips against yours and his hands against your body, you could’ve waited a few minutes to start undressing him, to walk back to your hotel room or find somewhere a bit more private, but without his lips on yours, you needed to get out of here right now. 

your eyes flicker to the sign, employee bathroom, and osamu follows your gaze, chest forward, immediately ready to follow you. he roots around the stand, finds a sign that says something about stepping away for a minute and puts it at the forefront of the booth and then you’re gone. he’s following you so closely, hand in your hand, rioting pulse against your own.

he barely has time to lock the door before you’re on him, pulling him, grabbing him, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt in a hurry to feel his skin in your hands, lips smashed against his as you do so and the second that they meet, all feels right in the world.

it feels like everything slows down and you let it. your heart beats a bit slower, more regular, you’re more careful with this buttons against his chest, your kiss is sweeter, softer. he’s holding your face in the palm of his hands, no tongue or teeth, just a deep kiss that has your stomach in knots, that could make you break down in tears, that could give you a toothache.

“m sorry i said,” you say against his lips and he moves to pull away but you push right back. you don’t care if he can barely hear you, you need to kiss him. you don’t want to stop kissing him. if you spent the entire hour in this bathroom just kissing him that might be satisfying enough. “sorry i said we shouldn't do this again, was really dumb,” you murmur.

he tries harder this time, pulls your face away from his, wipes the gathering tear in the outer corner of your eye, gives you a tiny peck, and then says, loud for you to hear it, “it’s alright, sweetheart, just glad to kiss ya again.” he has to wipe more tears now as they start falling down the side of your face, dripping off of your chin before he can catch them, and you don’t really know why you’re crying, you just don’t want to stop kissing him, don’t want to be without his touch or out of his grasp.

the second that his lips are back on yours, the tears cease, happy to feel him again and taste him again and you’re so slow to unbutton his shirt, but you don’t pull away until each one is open. you place both of your palms on his bare chest, slide them down the toned muscle and his abs, push your fingertips around his sides, and clasp them behind his lower back, pulling him with you until your lower back meets the counter.

he leans down, forehead against the top of your head, speaking into the tiny confines he’s created with the two of you pressed together and the boundaries of your chests. his breath is warm and his words shake you, “think i can properly taste ya now, pretty?” your knees are weak as you nod against him, whimpers plentiful as he helps you jump onto the counter and sinks onto his, perfectly level with your squeezed together thighs.

osamu places his large hands on top of your thighs, thumbs digging down against the insides to pry them open, dress riding up to your hips as he spreads your legs wide. you’re already drenched, soaking wet just from kissing him and listening to his voice and you aren’t the least bit embarrassed. he moves your panties to the side with one hand, pushes his other up your thigh, thumb following the inside until it brushes up against your cute little clit, flicking it with the pad gently. 

at the first touch, you recoil slightly, jumping at the sensation. osamu reaches up, places one hand on your hip, a tender reminder to stay put, and then he can’t help it. he leans forward quickly, tongue hanging out of his mouth, running the flat of it between your slick folds, curling his tongue to gather your juices, to taste them as they run down his throat.

the second that he tastes you, really tastes you, finally tastes you, he can’t control himself. he hooks both arms under your knees, pulling you closer, knocking you off balance slightly, back colliding with the mirror as he pulls your cunt into his mouth deeper. he’s using everything he can to taste you, to get you off, his teeth and tongue and nose and lips and you can feel every single little detail.

the noises coming from between your legs are so lewd, so vulgar, the wet slurping and heavy panting breaths every time he comes up for air. he squeezes your plush thighs against his cheeks, can’t get enough of your delicate skin and your sweet taste. he’s murmuring things into your soft pussy now and you can’t hear him, but you can feel the vibrations and if you weren’t so close to coming all over his tongue, you’d care more about messing up his hair as you thread your fingers into it, grabbing tightly onto his locks as you pull him in deeper. 

“samu,” you cry, tears starting again because the way that the tip of his tongue is prodding against your tight hole, circling around the rim, teeth scraping against your throbbing clit, mouth rubbing against your puffy lips, your core is on fire, so tight, and you’re coming all over his face, flooding and gushing, and the noises don’t stop, they get worse.

they get wetter and more intense and you’ve already come on his pretty face, but he looks up at you, mascara smudged against your cheekbones from crying two times already, and he decides that he needs to taste your come again. you’re so sensitive and he’s so good, it doesn’t take very long at all for you to be creaming all over his perfect tongue again.

“taste so fucking good, puppy,” he practically growls, low and breathless, standing up, chest sliding between your legs, “need-,” he breathes, “need to feel you all sloppy on my cock again, babygirl, yea?” you nod, reaching a hand up to rest on his chest and he leans forward for you to reach. your other hand stays gripped around the edge of the counter, bracing yourself for his thick, fat cock to split you open. 

you don’t need to watch him undo his dress pants or take himself out of his boxers. you keep your eyes on his, lift your chin up slightly because you can’t find the right words for if you don’t kiss me right now i’ll cry again. you don’t have to. he leans down, leaking cock pressed against the inside of your thigh as he presses his lips to yours, sweet and soft, back of his fingertips falling down the side of your jaw, palm resting on your collarbone as he pulls away. 

before he slips inside of you, he leans back, squeezes your legs together and rests them on one of his shoulders. he uses his hand to guide himself, rubs the underside of his head against your sloppy lips, grunting softly at how good you feel against his sensitive tip. this grunt only gets louder, deeper, more guttural as he sinks inside of you, thick cock pushing through your puffy lips and slick folds, and he turns his head, kissing the side of your calf.

he’s all the way inside of you, hips pressed against the backs of your thighs, kisses your leg again, shaky and ruined as he shudders, “fuck, bunny, missed ya, missed ya so much.” you don’t know what’s fluttering more, your tight, gummy walls around him or your flipping, empty stomach, and you don’t know how to communicate how much you missed him too. 

when you try, it comes out as, “deeper, samu, please.” it’s whiney and desperate and skips out of your tight throat, but he hears it. he understands what you mean more than you even do, spreading your legs again, letting them fall against the edge of the cold counter as he wraps his arms around your back, scooches you closer to him. your chest is pressed against his, forehead against his shoulder, his hand is on the back of your head, holding you close. he pulls you closer to him, deeper onto his cock, one hand on the small of your back, hips pressing forward to meet you. 

his hand migrates to the back of your neck, fingers twirling around locks of your hair as he stays buried deep inside of you, not moving, just feeling you surrounding him. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face deeper into the crook of yours, aching to have him impossibly closer. 

when he finally starts moving, his strokes are long and slow, pulling out so that his swollen head is the only thing inside of you and pushing back in until his hips are pressed flush against the insides of your thighs. “‘s that better, baby?” he asks into your soft skin.

“‘smuch better, thank you, samu,” you say in between soft moans and tiny sobs. “thank you,” you repeat, circling your hips, disrupting his steady rhythm because you just can’t sit still. he doesn’t mind, pulls away to watch you squirm as his cock disappears between your sticky folds.

“c’mere, doll,” he coaxes, helps you down and holds you close as he switches positions with you, his lower back on the edge of the counter, lifting one of your legs and resting your knee beside his hip and the top of the sink. “lemme fuck ya harder, okay, dove?” you whimper, nodding so hard that you make yourself dizzy, forehead falling against his shoulder again, kisses placed into his collarbones because you need your lips against some part of him. 

every time he pulls his hips back, slides his cock out of you to fuck into you again, gravity has you falling back onto his cock, harsh and sudden, filling you full every time his hips move away from you like you’re magnets. he wraps one arm around the small of your back, the other bracing the weight of the two of you with his fist gripped around the edge of the counter. 

he holds you against him and thrusting up into you is less like his cock driving up into you and more like moving you up. he can’t feel the drag of his cock parting your tight walls, but he can feel the pressure of your thighs weighing on his hips as he fucks upwards and he can hear the cute little noises you make as you fall back on his cock and he decides that he has to get you back into this position again, it’s like air to him.

“princess,” he whines, and you hum.

“babygirl,” he coos, and you hum louder this time in case he hasn’t heard you over the clapping of your sticky skin against his.

“my pretty angel,” he adores, and this time you pick your head up off of his shoulder, thread your fingers into his hair to force his attention, to show you that you’re listening really good, 

“samu, baby, what?” you ask, voice like flowing honey. you repeat yourself because it feels good leaving your lips and the smitten, blushy look that arises on osamu’s face needs to stick around a little longer, “samu, what can i do for you, baby?”

the answer is just this. he doesn’t say anything and he hopes that you understand, the only thing that he needs right now is you, is this, this slow, intimate moment where he’s looking at you and you’re looking back at him and he can hear every single time that your thighs slap against his and he can feel how warm you are and watch how pretty you are, and there’s only one thing that could make this better. you lean forward, press your lips onto his, exhale a breath against them. okay, there are two things that could make this moment better. “pretty girl, can you come for me?” he says, but that’s not quite right, so he corrects himself, “can i make you come?”

you swallow harshly before you nod, bracing yourself for the pick up in speed and force, and you’re glad that you do. when he starts to fuck into you harder, faster, not letting you fully fall back onto his cock before picking you up again. you almost fall to the floor. you’re balancing on one leg, but it’s nearly worthless, rendered jelly at this point, so you hang off of osamu’s neck. 

he doesn’t slow down with this extra weight, of your arms around his neck and of being completely responsible for you right now. really, the responsibility he’s feeling and the trust that you’re putting in him only makes him want you more. “come, puppy, lemme feel it, make a mess for me, yea?” 

the whimpers that tear from your throat fill his head so full that there isn’t much room for anything else up there, only the responsibility to hold you and the need to fuck you through it. you’re trying to get his name out of your mouth, but you can only give him broken syllables, though that’s enough for him. “s-a sa s- sam- amu-”

“i know, babygirl, i know,” he whispers, and he feels bad that he can’t give you another or wreck you even harder, god knows you’d come undone so much faster a fourth time, but he’s so close, so fucking close hearing you so ruined, feeling you dripping down his cock. 

“angel,” he says like a question, “don’t wanna make a mess on your nice black dress, doll. can i come on your pretty tongue, pumpkin?” he asks. 

“will you let me kiss you after?” you worry, the only thought that’s making you hesitate even the slightest amount. 

“oh, sweetheart, nothing could stop me,” he says, pressing a kiss into your temple before helping you to the floor. 

the tile is cold on your knees, but you only feel it for a second, the sensation lost to your brain as the only one that inhabits it now is osamu’s heavy cock on your tongue. his fingers are softly pinching your chin, thumb rubbing against your bottom lip as he pumps his fist around his cock once, a second time, and on the third stroke, his load is spilling onto your tongue. it doesn’t take him long at all, looking down at you looking up at him, heavy lashes and smeared mascara, kind eyes and swollen lips, pretty wet tongue and heaving chest.

he’s come between your thighs enough times for you to know how his release feels, slow and thick and plentiful, and on your tongue it’s no different, but you can taste it, bitter and salty but addicting, and it slides down your throat so nice that you barely have to swallow. you wrap your lips around his head, flick the tip of your tongue against his slit as one last rope coats the inside of your cheek. 

the second that he’s done, before he’s even caught his breath again, he helps you to your feet, picks you up, wraps your legs around his waist and kisses you as hard as he can. he can taste himself on your lips and it’s driving him fucking crazy because he knows you can taste yourself on his lips and he never wants either to fade. 

he can’t stop kissing you, can’t pull away from you, but neither of you can breathe. it was already hard enough recovering from something like that when you were able to catch your breath. when he finally does pull away, you can’t stop smiling. you place your palm on his cheek, gently, softly, run your thumb over his bottom lip because you know you can’t kiss him right now and this will just have to do for the moment. 

when your breathes return to normal, when the room isn’t filled with harsh claps and lewd noises and desperate moans, when even the sounds of tissues being discarded and clothes being smoothed fade, you can hear a voice outside.

“does anyone know where miya-san is? it’s nearly noon and he’s still not back.” 

the bliss dissipates quickly, bubbles of whatever feelings are floating around between the two of you are popped. the neediness has come down, your one-track minds now have more, and the moment you so badly wanted to capture in your heart forever now has a horribly tainted ending. 

there’s no mention of we shouldn't do this again as he leaves first, and maybe it's wordless, maybe it's gone unsaid, because it doesn’t need to be said. the ramifications of your actions are laid out in front of you. you have the entirety of the 5 minutes that you wait alone in the bathroom to count every single consequence of this stupid lust-driven endeavor. 

or maybe neither of you have the strength to try to stop yourself anymore. maybe it goes unsaid, because you both know that you shouldn't do it, but neither one of you is going to follow that. you already tried it once and you couldn’t even make it a few weeks, wouldn’t even have lasted this long if you were alone together like this sooner.

so why try?

you’re not exactly sure which one it is, which reason of unsaid caution you should follow the path of, but you do know that you’re going to spend every single day until then trying. you open the door to the bathroom. maybe one day you’ll figure it out.

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╭﹕🎧｡♡・late night lovin’

୨୧⸝⸝﹕synopsis — your boyfriend just loves fucking you to sleep when you’re antsy.﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕warnings — f!reader, established relationship, petnames[doll, pretty thing/girl, sweet girl, etc.], reader has a slight caffeine problem, brief thigh riding, fingering, all characters are 18+, mdni!﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕wc — about 1k.﹐

୨୧⸝⸝﹕notes — this is a little bit of a mess but my bllk boy brainrot grows daily and simply have to let others see it !!﹐

nagi’s bag hit the floor with a mild thud, an exhausted sigh leaving his mouth as he struggled to kick his shoes off at the door of your shared apartment. it was no secret that he hated when practice ran over it’s usual time —and admittedly you hated it too—, especially with you in the house sitting up in bed, struggling to stay away as you awaited his arrival.

excepting you to already be in bed, curled up in the the sheets and hugging his pillow, he quietly stalks into your shared bedroom, careful not to awake you only to be surprised to find you awake in bed, phone in hand, the screen illuminating your features.

“doll?” he blinked, “what are you doing up?” he questioned, walking to bed and crawling in, causing a noticeable dip in the soft material as he took you into his warm —and admittedly still sweaty— embrace, the smell of grass still lingering on him as he kissed your temple.

“sei, welcome back! thought i heard you come in,” you beam, returning a kiss to his cheek. “couldn’t sleep, had some coffee earlier.” you explain as nagi sent a disapproving look. “c’mon pretty thing, really? knew getting you that coffee machine would be a future pain..” he mumbled, more to himself than to you.

admittedly he was right, he knew getting you that thing as a present would wreck havoc one of these days and today just so happened to be the day. nagi sighed, shifting to grip your hips and pull you into his thigh, hands slipping up your —technically his— large graphic tee.

you can only giggle at his words, glancing back at him as he moved you from your spot. “what’re you doin’, sei?” you didn’t have to ask, you already know the answer to the question but snowy haired male just smiled as grabbed your plush thighs, forcing them open as he peered over you.

“mh, gotta tire you out pretty thing,” his whispers, slipping his large hand up your graphic tee, hooking his finger on the hem of your laced underwear, careful to be gentle when slipping them down your legs(they were his favorite to see you in and didn’t wanna see them all ruined). “can’t go to sleep without you.”

you squirm in your spot, borderline giddy to have your boyfriend in this moment, having been stripped of his touch all day, blowing up his phone with “i miss you”’s, “need you so bad :(“‘s and plenty of lewd selfies that kept his mind distracted from everything that wasn’t you.

“go ahead ahead angel, ride my thigh,” you shift, turning yourself to face him, gripping his shoulders for support. you didn’t mind having to do the work — you knew your boyfriend was tired, muscles sore from training and wanting nothing more than to be in bed with you.

you start off slow, pacing yourself with a slow grind against his thigh, leaving a noticeable trail of slick in your wake on the black if his shorts. a shaky sigh slips from your lips, at the slight feeling of friction while nagi sits, watching you intently, occasionally flexing the muscles to watch your face scrunched into a frustrated pout as you struggle to get off on his thigh alone.

he knew you couldn’t do it alone, he knew you needed his help and he knew it didn’t feel the same as when he did for you, knowing all the right spots to press and what movements would send you right over the edge — but he liked watching you struggling, hearing the small pleas of his name flood from your mouth asking him to help you out.

feeling rather generous he grabs your hips, the pads of his fingers digging into your hips as he stops your desperate grinds, chest already having a hefty rise and fall as you try to steady your already uneven breath.

one of his hands strays from your hips, finding its way to your sticky folds, spreading them apart, collecting your slick on to of his fingers. you sigh at the feeling of his fingers lazily teasing your hole, drawing what you think are hearts around it.

his thick fingers slowly dig into your weeping cunt, a drawn out moan slipping past your lips, walls fluttering around his fingers as the grip on your grip on his shoulders tightened. “sei–” you whimper, helplessly grinding onto his fingers as his thumb mindlessly plays with your clit.

“hm? do you like that pretty thing? doin’ such a good job taking my fingers,” he whispers, half lidded eyes fluttering shut, fingers methodically in and out of you, curling them upwards, pressing that sensitive spot inside of you.

your body twitches, a mewl being ripped from your chest. “mhm– feels so good, oh fuck–! keep going, please,” the small smirk on his face grows at every little word that floods from your lips. a content hum comes from him when he feels your walls flutter, then clench around his fingers; sucking him in as if you wanted more than he could give.

even while tired, likely on the verge of sleep even whilst doing this, he always had the ability to slowly make you come undone one way or another with such minimal effort and that fact alone stroked his ego but admittedly you shared the same effect on him.

he’d be lying if he didn’t say that seeing you crumble on him like this didn’t leave him with an aching boner — seeing the starry, glossed look in your hooded eyes, mouth slightly agap, breath heavy and chest heaving. you were truly a sight for sore eyes, looking so pretty for him without even having to try.

“gah– y’clamping down on my fingers so tight pretty thing, can barely move,” he huffed, watching your body go limp on top of his large frame, eyes struggling to stay open as whiney moans escaped your chest. you were getting tired, he knew once your orgasm hit that it would be the final blow.

he works his finger in and out of your cunt a bit more, thumb now rubbing quicker circular motions on your clit. the heat in your stomach grew, eyes rolling back as a sudden wave of pleasure washes you, leaving the feeling of sleep in its wake, your eyes soon fluttering shutting as nagi removed his fingers from your sticky, velvety walls.

he sucked both his fingers cleaned, a little pop noise coming from his mouth as he pulled them from his lips, moving you onto the soft mattress and pulling the sheets over your body. he groaned, glancing at the tent his shorts. “nothing that a quick cold shower won’t fix..” he grumbled, pressing a chaste kiss your lips as he climbed out of bed. “gotta take care of myself now.”

2023 ©stqr-grl

lust struck

tetsurou kuroo x fem!reader

18+ MINORS DNI

contents/warnings: accidental aphrodisiac usage (reader), alcohol mention, praise, use of pet names, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, dacryphilia, reader and kuroo are engaged, service dom!kuroo

wc: 1.5k

author’s note: my first haikyuu piece! enjoy, y’all!

the faint noise of a whimper almost pulled kuroo out of his sleep. his mind merely chalked it up to be the sounds of a dream, the likes of which you and your sweet sounds often played the starring role in.

however, the second whimper accompanied by the feeling of something wet and heavy sliding back and forth on his leg definitely had his eyes snapping open.

blinking his drowsiness away, kuroo sat up in bed to see you, satin cocktail dress bunched around your waist, grinding your wet little pussy against his thigh.

his breath got caught in his throat and for the first time ever, tetsurou kuroo was at a loss for words.

regaining his composure as he heard a choked sob leave your lips, kuroo reached a hand out to your face. “quite the wake-up call you’re giving me here, angel.”

you looked up at him and the sports promoter was surprised to see unshed tears in your eyes, the water threatening to spill over your lashline as you continue to rock your hips against the exposed skin of his thigh.

“tetsu,” you whined out to him. “tetsu, i need you, i need you so bad please.”

normally you begging for him so nicely like this would put the biggest smirk on his lips. however, kuroo’s head was still trying to process what exactly the hell was going on.

the last time he saw you it was around 9 pm and you were heading out to have a girls night with your friends. he had given you a quick kiss to your lips, told you to be safe, call him if you needed anything, and sent you on your way.

now, it was 2 am according to the digital clock on his nightstand, and you were back here in your shared bedroom trying to ride his thigh like a bitch in heat.

“baby, it’s late and you might be a little tipsy, maybe we should wait till the mo-“

“tets, it hurts.”

he frowns. “what do you mean it hurts, baby?”

you choke out another sob as a tear spills down your cheek, grinding your core down onto his leg with more fervor.

“there was this drink I had at the cocktail bar, and i-i didn’t see until i finished it that there was some aphrodisiac in it.”

kuroo’s usually droopy eyes widened. an aphrodisiac?

“i-i thought it was just a gimmick, but now i feel like…like…ohmygod tetsu it hurts so bad, help me please please- oh”

your head was thrown back and the hardening and flexing of muscle gave new stimulation to your clit, kuroo’s large hands grabbing onto your hips and aiding you in moving along his thigh.

your fiancé gently shushed you. “it’s okay, angel, you don’t have to beg. m’ gonna take care of you, alright?”

you move your head to meet his tender gaze, nodding vigorously as the dark haired man leaned over to give you a kiss, one which you were more than eager to deepen.

the new facet of intimacy added onto the sensations your clit had been receiving for the past few minutes went ahead and tumbled you over the edge for the first time. unfortunately, the aphrodisiac you had consumed wasn’t letting up, for the scorching heat you felt was back in an instant.

“tetsu,” you breathed out to him, a pleading look in your eyes. “i need more.”

“then more is what my sweet girl will get.”

kuroo lifted your smaller body off of his thigh, turning you around so that your back was against his chest. he then hooked his legs over yours to keep you spread open, your greedy pussy exposed to air in the room that seemed to be feeling warmer by the second.

snaking a hand down towards your glistening core, your fiancé brought his lips to the shell of your ear. “my poor baby, you must’ve been suffering so much tonight.”

a little gasp left your lips as his thumb started to circle your clit, teeth nipping at your earlobe. you pushed your hips further into his touch, but couldn’t move much with kuroo’s legs keeping yours pinned.

“let me do all the work, sweet girl. just relax f’ me, okay?”

one finger slid past your slick-stricken entrance, quickly followed by another since you were already plenty wet. his fingers quickly began to pump in and out while his thumb continued its ministrations on your swollen bud.

you leaned your head back against kuroo’s shoulders as you cried out, the relief of having your pussy played with a saving grace after being subjected to the effects of the aphrodisiac for hours.

the sounds leaving your lips began to gain intensity as the dark haired man slid the thin strap of your dress off your shoulder, his other hand quickly going to knead at your tit as he fingered you.

“tetsu,” you panted out. “feels s’good!”

you felt your lover smirk against your neck as he began to pepper it with kisses, adding a third finger into your cunt and curling them.

tears streamed down your cheeks, so happy to feel all the wonderful stimulation your pussy was receiving. kuroo picked up the pace of his fingers even more, drawing harsher circles on your clit as well.

you struggled to vocalize to him what you were experiencing. “t-tets…”

“i know, baby, i know.”

and with one last flick to your bud, you were coming undone again.

“there you go, sweet girl,” kuroo cooed as he felt you creaming around his fingers. “does my baby feel better now?”

the answer to his question didn’t come from your words, but rather the hot feeling returning to your cunt, a pained whimper leaving your lips.

you tilted your head up, eyes hazy and brain fogged with need. “need you to fuck me, tetsu.”

the dark haired man quickly flipped the two of you over, your back pressed into the mattress as kuroo hovered over you. he quickly slid his grey sweatshorts off as you babbled to him.

“need your cock so bad, tetsu, fill me up, please.”

your fiancé grabbed the fabric of your dress, instructing you to lift your arms up so that he could rid you of the clothing. you obediently did as you were told.

as soon as he had both of you naked, kuroo grabbed hold of your hips and lifted them up slightly. bringing his hardened cock to your core, he slid his dick between your sticky folds.

“d-don’t tease!”

“‘m not, angel, i promise, just gotta get lubed up.”

keeping his grip on your hips, kuroo started to insert his big cock into you. every inch that he pushed in had you descending into another layer of euphoria, the feeling of being filled consuming your every thought.

“s’ full, s’ full!”

kuroo hummed as he started to slide back out of your sloppy pussy only to slam back in when he was almost all the way out. moans bubbled past your lips as he continued to snap his hips into yours, moving you to meet his thrusts each time.

the sight of your tits bouncing as he slams into you is a sight that will never get old, the dark haired man burning it into his memory every time.

leaning over you so that he could reach your lips, kuroo began to kiss you in between your moans. keeping one hand on your lower back for leverage, the other came to intertwine your fingers together.

“fuck, you feel so good, sweet girl”

he changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting deeper into you. your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you let yourself fall further into the pleasure your fiancé was bringing to you, the effects of the aphrodisiac being alleviated with one snap of his hips at a time.

you could feel the coil in your stomach tightening once more, your free hand reaching out to grab onto kuroo’s shoulder. “tetsu, m’gonna cum!”

“then cum, angel, you deserve it.”

you weren’t sure if it was the aphrodisiac, your fiancé’s sweet words, or the fact that it was your third time cumming, but your final orgasm had you gushing around his cock, liquid soaking your joined pelvises.

“shit, sweet girl,” kuroo grunted, the sight of you squirting around his dick triggering his own orgasm as he spilled inside of you.

the two of you were still for a minute as you regained your breaths. resting his forehead against yours, the sports promoter gave a quick peck to your lips.

“now are you feeling better?”

you nodded, encircling your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair. “i am, i think it’s finally over now.”

“good, you were starting to worry me there, baby. not used to seeing you willingly beg so much.”

you felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“shut up.”

kuroo chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “i’m just messing with you.”

“i know,” you replied. “thank you, tetsu, i…i really needed you.”

“of course, sweet girl, i told you i’m always gonna take care of you.”

he brought your hand to his lips, placing a quick kiss on the back of it as your diamond shone in the moonlight.

“that’s why i put this pretty ring on your finger, yeah?”

(taglist: @dreamcastgirl99 @tired-biscuit @sigma-himbokuto)

i refuse to believe that i am the only one who occasionally thinks of whiney top kurona who wants nothing more than to make his girl feel good

୭̥⋆*｡ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴇʀᴠɪᴄᴇ!!

content : established relationship, pro player!Kurona, soft service dom!Kurona, fingering, oral (f!receiving), romantic sex, cockwarming, nipple play, thigh riding, cum eating, praise, edging + overstimulation if you squint, kissing, tongue fucking, dry humping, hands free orgasm & not proofread

→ scenario

꒰ ͜͡➸ your pleasure definitely has to be Ranze Kuronas pleasure!!

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷mdni!!

Ranze Kurona absolutely loves to please his girl, he even enjoys it more than receiving pleasure. In fact, he’s the true definition of a loving service dom that does everything for his beloved girlfriend

It’s one of service dom!Kuronas favorite sights when he has you on his lap; legs spread over his knees and your back flush against his muscular chest. The cute panties he bought you dangling on your left leg as the frilly socks of yours were the only article of clothing on your lower body. Wet fingers pump in and out of your cunt at a moderate pace you love, and he knows you love it. The pink haired male pressed kiss after kiss to your shoulder and neck and moaned along with you, mainly little „ahh“‘s and „mhmm“‘s whenever Ranze heard your cunt squelching from the wetness and his fingers.

He sees it as his task to make you cum over and over from his fingers alone, carefully working you open for his cock or the following pleasure he plans for you. And every time service dom!Kurona made your sloppy cunt sopping wet for him, he turns you around his and pushes you down on his thigh to grind against him. Sticky hands wet from fingering you and rubbing your clit attached to your hips as your boyfriend guides you along his leg, flexing the muscles whenever your clit rolls against the flash of his footballer thighs.

It gets you close enough to another orgasm, but Ranze pushes his fingers back inside you to feel how your velvet walls clench around his digits. Even sweet talking you through all your orgasms so gently and careful not to overstimulate your body, because he’s not done yet. Soft kisses pepper all over your face until a chaste one is placed on your lips, full of love and pride before he moves his cum covered fingers to clean them with his mouth. A satisfied groan erupts from service dom!kurona’s throat at the taste of your juices lingering on his tongue. „Sweet pussy tastes so good, wish I could eat you all day baby. How about you lay pretty on the sheets and let me have my fill ?“

Lovely gentle rubs on your waist that your lover drew with his thumbs made you relax against Ranze when he pushed your thighs over his shoulders to get better access to your pussy. After pressing a soft kiss to your clit, he immediately began to suck it lightly into his mouth. Shortly releasing it after you adjusted to the feeling. With the flat of his tongue, service dom!Kurona licks a fat stripe up your cunt. Even taking a few more to taste all of you on the pink slippery muscle. Praises of „good“ „tasty“ and „doing so good“ mumbled kurona out, along with the questions „does it feel good?“ and „feels this better ?“.

His favorite part must be sticking his tongue deep inside you, tongue fucking you to taste every single bit of you. Service dom!kurona‘s are actually louder than your own because eating your pussy like that does wonders to him. Ranze knows your body like the back of his hand, remembering every little movement of yours when you’re about to cum. Along with your stuttering hips, the grinding of his dick against the bed starts. Humping the fabric like he fucks you. And even his timing his perfect, drooling cock shooting cum in his boxers as you release all over his tongue and sheets. According to him so erotic yet so romantic.

Don’t worry, Kurona would never forget about your aching tits he seemed to have neglected from playing with your cunt the whole time. He’s definitely going to warm his cock inside you and suck your nipples into his mouth; softly grazing the sensitive buds with his teeth and circling it with his tongue while pressing your body snug against his own. It’s only a matter of time until he locks your legs over his elbows and starts finally fucking you, service!dom kurona just has to wait until your body calmed down from all the overwhelming pleasure.!

mdni, every character is 18+

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