⋆✴︎˚｡⋆peekaboo | You and Kafka have a wonderful morning...
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆warnings n' stuff | MINORS DNI—fingering—she talks you through it—
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆notes | shes my reward after my hardwork :D
The morning sun peeks through the half-drawn curtains, painting the room in a warm, golden haze. You wake slowly, your body entwined with Kafka's in the rumpled sheets. Her long, lithe form presses against yours, skin soft and heated from the night. She's still dozing lightly, her violet hair cascading over the pillow and across your shoulder like silken threads. One of her legs is slung over your hip, pulling you close even in sleep. You feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against your breasts, her breath warm on your neck. A soft sigh escapes her lips as she stirs, those piercing eyes cracking open to meet yours. A lazy smile curves her mouth, full and inviting. "Mornin' already?" she murmurs, her voice a low, velvety rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. She doesn't move right away. She just traces a fingertip along your collarbone, dipping lower to circle one of your nipples until it hardens under her touch. The sensation is electric but unhurried, like she's savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.
You shift closer, your hand sliding down her side, over the curve of her hip, to rest on her thigh. Her skin is smooth and warm, and you squeeze gently, feeling the muscle flex beneath. Kafka hums in approval, her own hand wandering lower, brushing over your stomach before slipping between your legs. Her fingers find your pussy, already slick with arousal, and she parts your folds with a feather-light touch, stroking along your slit without pressing in. "You're so needy this early," she teases softly, her thumb grazing your clit in slow, lazy circles that make your hips twitch involuntarily.
You gasp, leaning in to capture her lips in a deep, languid kiss. Tongues slide together unhurriedly, tasting the faint remnants of last night's wine on her breath. Your free hand cups her breast, thumbing the nipple until it pebbles, and she arches into your palm with a contented moan. Breaking the kiss, you trail your mouth down her jaw, nipping at her earlobe before moving to her neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin there. Kafka's fingers dip inside you, then just one at first, curling slowly to stroke your inner walls. She pumps in and out with deliberate slowness, her thumb still working your clit, building a gentle heat that spreads through your core.
Kafka's single finger glides deeper into your pussy, curling with precision to rub against that inner spot that makes your breath catch. She draws it out slowly, almost all the way, before sliding back in, her movements deliberate and teasing. "That's it, babygirl, feel how easily you take me..." she whispers against your neck, her lips brushing the skin she's just sucked on, leaving a faint mark. Her voice is a sultry murmur, guiding you through the sensation as her thumb presses firmer circles over your clit, making your hips buck lightly.
She adds a second finger without warning, stretching you just enough to draw a gasp from your lips. They push in together, scissoring gently to part your walls, exploring every slick inch. Kafka's eyes lock onto yours, a mischievous smile playing on her mouth as she watches your reactions. "So responsive already..." Her free hand cups your face, tilting it toward her for a slow, deep kiss. Tongues tangle lazily, her lips soft and insistent, tasting you as her fingers begin a steady rhythm—thrusting in and out, curling on every withdrawal to heighten the friction.
You moan into her mouth, and she breaks the kiss with a soft chuckle, trailing her lips down to your collarbone. She nips there lightly, then soothes the spot with her tongue, all while her fingers pick up a subtle pace. The third finger joins now, filling you more completely, her hand twisting slightly as she pumps them deeper. "Shh, just relax and let me work you open," she teases, her breath hot against your skin. "Imagine what else I could slide inside you later... but for now, these will do, won't they? Making you drip all over my hand." Her thumb flicks your clit in quick, teasing strokes, contrasting the slow plunge of her fingers, building that coiling tension in your core. "Do you need me to go faster, or should I keep teasing this pretty pussy until you're begging?" Her fingers curl hard inside you, stroking that sensitive ridge repeatedly, while her other hand slides down to spread your thighs wider, giving her better access.
Kafka's fingers thrust deeper, all three buried to the knuckles in your pussy, twisting and curling with relentless precision against that throbbing spot inside you. She pumps them in a steady, unyielding rhythm now, her palm grinding against your clit with every plunge, the slick sounds echoing louder in the sunlit room. "That's my girl," she murmurs against your lips, her voice a husky command laced with delight. "Feel how full you are? Clenching so tight around me, like you never want me to stop." Her free hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as she kisses you messily, tongue sweeping in to claim your mouth while her fingers fuck you harder, scissoring to stretch your walls wider. "I can feel you getting closer, darling. Your body's begging for it, soaking my hand like this."
Kafka's body presses fully against yours, her lithe form warm and insistent, nipples hard points rubbing against your chest with each roll of her hips. She captures your nipple between her lips again, sucking firmly while her fingers plunge relentlessly, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back in, her palm slapping wetly against you. "Shh, don't hold back," she coos, lifting her head to meet your gaze, her violet eyes dark with hunger. "Let me hear those pretty sounds..." Her fingers curl sharply inside, stroking that spot over and over, building the coil tighter in your core until your breaths come in ragged pants. The tension snaps suddenly, pleasure crashing through you as your pussy spasms around her fingers, walls fluttering and gripping her tight. Kafka doesn't stop, pumping through your orgasm with slow, deep thrusts, her thumb pressing your clit to milk every wave. "Yes, just like that—cum for me, all over my hand," she breathes, kissing you deeply to swallow your cries, her tongue mimicking the curl of her fingers.
As the aftershocks fade, she finally eases her fingers out, slick and glistening, tracing lazy patterns over your folds before bringing them to her lips. She licks them clean with a satisfied hum, eyes locked on yours. But you're a flushed, breathless mess, cheeks burning as the intensity hits you—your body still twitching, exposed and spent under her gaze. "K-Kafka... that was... I-I couldn't... oh god, it's embarrassing how fast you made me..." You stammer, burying your face in her neck, voice muffled and shy, hiding from the way she just unraveled you completely.
Kafka chuckles softly, her arms wrapping around you in a tender embrace as she presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, whispering, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, my love—you're perfect just like this, all mine in the morning light."
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