❝ PRIVATE LESSONS ❞
𑣲 pairing. minatozaki sana x fem!reader
𑣲 content. tutor!sana, flirting to smut, learning a language (jp), praising, degrading, dirty talk, fingering, thigh riding, squirting, exhibitionism..?, sensory play-ish, lmk if i missed anything!
𑣲 word count. 3,664
summary. mina said sana was an effective tutor. she didn’t say anything about wandering hands, whispered phrases you’re not meant to understand, or how quickly lessons would turn into something else entirely. but hey—at least you’re learning something.
from jenn. uhh i spent like all of my free time writing this one anddd BIG thank you to @cry4mina for basically carrying the plot on her back.. she kept feeding me ideas and this is what it turned into!! this was just an excuse for me to write sana speaking in her native language cuz i am severely DOWN BAD. like. it HAD to be done. for research purposes. obviously. okay i’ll shut up now
The doorbell rang at exactly 2:00 PM. You were expecting a tutor—someone with a briefcase and maybe a cardigan. But when you pulled open the door, the air in your lungs shifted.
“Hi! You must be Y/N!”
Sana stood there, looking exactly like the photo Mina had sent you, only ten times more lethal in person. Her long black coat was open, revealing a glimpse of a blush pink top and a skirt that seemed to exist only to show off her legs.
“Mina told me all about you,” Sana chirped, stepping inside with a swirl of expensive floral-scented perfume. “She said you’re brilliant but... struggling with your Japanese? I’m Sana!”
“I... yeah. Hi. Come in,” you stammered, closing the door and feeling suddenly very underdressed in your own home.
Sana didn’t wait for a tour. She walked straight to your living room and settled onto the sofa, crossing her legs. She patted the cushion right next to her.
“So,” she began, her eyes scanning your face, lingering a bit too long on your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Mina says you want to move overseas? To Japan? That’s a big dream, Y/N.”
“I’ve always wanted to live there,” you said, sitting down. “I just… the grammar is so hard. And the pronunciation feels impossible.”
“Oh, don’t worry about the grammar yet,” Sana murmured, reaching out and brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Her fingers were warm, and she didn’t pull them back immediately. “We’ll start with the phonetics. I want to see how you move your mouth. It’s the most important part of the language, you know?”
She leaned in, her shoulder pressing against yours as she pulled a notebook from her bag. “Did Mina tell you I was a strict teacher? Or a fun one?”
“She just said you were… effective,” you managed to say, your heart doing a slow somersault at the way Sana bit her lip.
“Effective,” Sana repeated, a giggle escaping her. “I like that. I think we’re going to be very effective together, Y/N.”
She had moved closer, “Japanese is a very rhythmic language, Y/N,” Sana murmured, her voice warm. “If you get the vowels wrong, the whole meaning changes. You have to be very precise.”
You nodded, your heart doing a nervous thrum. You were determined to do this right. You weren’t a slacker; you were serious about this move. So, naturally, you did the only logical thing a student would do: you locked your eyes onto her face.
You watched her intently. Not because she told you to, but because you needed to see how her tongue hit the back of her teeth, how her lips rounded or flattened with every syllable.
Sana was demonstrating the basic greetings, and you found yourself transfixed by the way her plush, glossy lips moved. You were so locked in on the shape of her mouth that you barely heard the words. You were tracing the curve of her cupid’s bow in your mind, noting the way her bottom lip looked soft enough to bruise.
Sana noticed.
She didn’t say a word about it. She didn’t call you out. But she leaned in another inch, her eyes darkening. If you wanted to watch her mouth, she was going to give you a show.
As you struggled to repeat a particularly tricky phrase, Sana slowly ran her tongue over her bottom lip, leaving it glistening under the living room lights. She drew out the sounds, her gaze dropping to your own mouth.
“Try again,” she whispered, her voice sounding like honey.
When you stumbled over the pronunciation, Sana just bit her lower lip—hard enough to leave a pale mark—and watched you with hunger. She leaned even closer, the soft fabric of her blush pink blouse brushing against your arm, her fingers tracing the edge of the sofa cushion right next to your thigh.
“I... I should get us some water,” you managed to choke out, the heat suddenly becoming too much to handle. You needed to break the circuit. “Do you want some, Sana-san?”
“Sana-chan.” she corrected and let out a giggle, her eyes sparkling as she watched you scramble off the sofa. “Yes. Water sounds perfect. My throat is getting very dry.”
The cool air of the kitchen was a relief, but your hands were still trembling as you reached for the glasses. You could feel Sana’s gaze on your back.
The sound of the ice hitting the glass was punctuated by the melodic chime of Sana’s phone back in the living room. You heard the sofa cushions shift, and then her voice.
“Moshi moshi?” Sana answered, her voice dropping.
You leaned against the counter while filling the glass. Sana was leaning back, one arm draped over the top of the sofa, her heels digging into your carpet. She wasn’t looking at her phone. She was looking at you.
She let out a low, wicked laugh, her eyes traveling slowly from your head, down your spine, and lingering on the curve of your hips.
“Aa, sou da ne,” she said into the receiver, her voice rising just enough for you to hear over the running water. “Demo, kono ko... sugoku kawaii yo.” (She’s extremely cute, you know)
You froze. You knew that word. Everyone knew Kawaii. Cute.
Sana shifted her legs as she reached out to trace slow circles on the sofa cushion—right where you had been sitting moments ago.
“Hontou ni…” she murmured, “Kisu shitai na. Gaman dekinai kurai, kisu shitai.” (I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her so much I can’t help it)
You didn’t know the grammar, but those syllables hit you like a physical touch.
Kisu. Kiss.
Shitai. Want to.
She wanted to kiss you. She was telling someone on the phone, while looking at you dead in the eye, that she wanted to kiss you so badly she couldn’t stand it.
“Honto, tabechaitai kurai da yo…” (Honestly, I could eat her up) she finished with a final, lingering look that made your skin feel like it was on fire, before snapping her phone shut.
You stood there, the water overflowing the glass and spilling onto your hand, your face burning shade of scarlet. You had to go back out there. You had to sit next to her.
“Y/N-chan?” Sana’s voice drifted in from the living room, sounding perfectly innocent again. “Is the water ready?”
The walk back to the sofa felt like it took a lifetime. You set the glasses down on the coffee table with a shaky clink, your face still red. You tried to keep your eyes on the glass, but Sana was already shifting.
“You look a little overwhelmed, Y/N-chan,” Sana murmured, setting the glass down and leaning in until your shoulders touched. “Maybe the basics are too boring for you? Should we move on to something more expressive?”
“I’m fine,” you managed to choke out, sitting as far back as the sofa would allow. “Just... thirsty.”
Sana giggles, setting her glass down and leaning in. “Good. Because I want to see how much you’ve actually learned today. Let’s do a little comprehension test.”
She didn’t open the notebook. She reached out and traced a slow, deliberate circle on your thigh.
“I'm going to say a few things in Japanese,” she whispered. “Don’t worry about the grammar. Just tell me... how it makes you feel.”
She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin. “Kimi no koto, hontou ni daki-shimetai. Kono ato, beddo de nani shiyou ka?” (I really want to hold you. What should we do in bed later?)
You stared at her, your brain a complete and total question mark. “I... I have no idea what you just said. Was that about food?”
Sana burst out laughing, a bright sound that made her shoulders shake. “Food? Not even close.”
“Let’s try again,” she cooed, her hand sliding an inch higher on your thigh, her fingers curling slightly. “Ima, kimochi ii? Motto... hageshiku shite hoshii?” (Does it feel good right now? Do you want me to... do it more intensely?)
Your heart stopped. You didn’t know the whole sentence, but there was one specific, jagged word—the one that always preceded a total breakdown in those videos.
“Kimochi…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I know that one. It means... it feels good, right?”
Sana froze for a split second, a flash of surprise crossing her face. She leaned in until her lips were grazing your earlobe, her hand finally sliding fully under the fabric of your shorts, her palm molding to your heat.
“Oh?” she rasped, her voice a low, dangerous velvet. “And where exactly did my student learn a word like that? Was that in the travel brochure, Y/N?”
She didn’t wait for your stuttered excuse. Her hand, already warm against your thigh, began to move with a slow, agonizing deliberation. She leaned in, her lips finding the sensitive cord of your neck, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses that made your head tilt back instinctively.
Sana kept mumbling words you didn’t understand but felt in the pit of your stomach.
“Kore wa?” she murmured, her breath hot against your throat as her fingers grazed the very edge of your panties. “Kore mo, kimochi ii n desu ka?” (Is this? Does this also feel good?)
You couldn’t answer. Your hands flew to her shoulders, your fingers digging into the soft fabric of her blouse as you tried to ground yourself. You let out a broken, needy sound—a jagged gasp that was the only language you had left.
Sana let out a low, predatory hum at the sound. “That’s it, Y/N. Give me more of that.”
She didn’t stop. With one smooth, practiced motion, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your shorts and panties, sliding them down just enough—just enough to get the access she wanted, pinning you against the sofa cushions with the weight of her gaze.
“Hora, mite…” she whispered, her voice a wrecked, airy rasp as she looked down at what she’d uncovered. "Sugoku nureteru n janai. Hontou ni, hageshiku shite hoshii no ne?" (Look… you’re so wet, aren’t you? You really want me to do it roughly, don’t you?)
She slid two fingers inside you in one smooth motion, the sudden stretch making you cry out her name. Sana didn’t go slow; she started at a relentless pace.
“Sana.. ahh fuck!” you sobbed, your vision blurring.
Sana didn’t let up. Her fingers were a relentless blur inside you, driving into your heat with a speed that made your breath come in short hitches. You were a mess of broken Japanese and desperate gasps, your fingers digging into her sleeves as you arched off the sofa cushions, trying to meet her pace.
“Motto... hageshiku…” (More... roughly...) you sobbed, the words you’d learned from those late night videos finally falling from your lips in a needy plea.
Sana let out a growl at the sound of you finally using the words she taught you. She leaned in, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your shoulder, before her gaze drifted to the glass on the coffee table.
“You’re so hot, Y/N,” she reached out and grabbed the glass. You watched, dazed and trembling, as she used her tongue to fish out a single, jagged cube of ice. She held it between her mouth.
She leaned back over you, her free hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back.
“Open,” she commanded through the chill.
When you obeyed, she pressed her mouth to yours. She pushed the cube into your mouth, her lips sealing over yours to catch the meltwater as it trickled down.
“Tsumetai?” (Is it cold?) she whispered against your lips as she pulled back, watching you shiver. She didn’t wait for an answer. While you were still reeling from the freezing sensation in your mouth, Sana redoubled her efforts below. She curled her fingers deep inside you, hitting that specific, sensitive spot with a sudden, heavy pressure that made your eyes roll back.
The contrast was too much—the freezing ice melting against your tongue while a literal wildfire was starting between your thighs.
Sana was taking her precious time now, pulling her fingers nearly all the way out just to trace slow, agonizing circles around your opening with her damp fingertips before plunging back in.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
The chime of Sana’s phone cut through your hazy consciousness. You expected her to ignore it, but she reached for her phone on the coffee table. She didn’t even check the caller ID before sliding it open and pressing it to her ear, all while her other hand redoubled its pace inside you.
“Moshi moshi, Mina-chan?” Sana chirped, her voice sounding maddeningly casual, even as her knuckles grazed deep inside you.
“Sana? Is the tutoring session actually happening?” Mina’s voice was soft but clear in the quiet room. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. What is that sound? Are you with a hook-up? Sana! Tell me you’re actually at Y/N’s!”
You let out a loud, broken moan as Sana’s thumb rubbed your clit, her fingers curling. The sound was unmistakable.
“Oh, Y/N?” Sana murmured into the phone, her eyes locked on your glazed ones as she watched you unravel. “She’s right here, Mina-chan. She’s just having a very difficult time with her oral exercises. The pronunciation is making her quite breathless, isn’t it, Y/N?”
“If you’re with someone, hang up!” Mina huffed, sounding both annoyed and suspicious.
You were beyond caring about Mina; your hands were frantic, reaching up to fumble with the delicate ties of Sana’s blouse. You needed the fabric gone. You needed her skin against yours.
“Ah-ah,” Sana scolded softly, pulling the phone away from her lips for a split second but not hanging up. “Don’t be a brat, Y/N. A good student doesn’t ruin the teacher’s clothes just because she’s losing her mind.”
Mina was still talking, but Sana was too focused on your needy body to really listen. “She’s definitely learning something,” she muttered into the phone.
You whimpered, grinding desperately against her hand, barely able to process that Mina could literally hear everything.
“Mina-chan? Sorry, Y/N is being very demanding right now. I’ll call you back later~” Sana tossed the phone aside without caring where it landed, her full attention finally on you. “Where were we?”
Your hips were moving on their own, a frantic, stuttering rhythm as you tried to keep that feeling alive.
“Oh?” Sana murmured, she felt the way you were chasing her hand, your body doing all the heavy lifting while she simply watched you with hunger. “You don’t even need me to move, do you? You’re doing all the work yourself, Y/N.”
She curled her fingers one last time before pulling her hand completely away.
The void she left was agonizing. You let out a broken, needy whine, your hands reaching out to grab her wrists, but Sana was already shifting. She sat up straight as she gave her thigh a pat.
“Since you’re so eager to move,” she whispered, her eyes locked on yours. “Come here.”
You didn’t hesitate. You crawled forward, your knees dragging across the sofa cushions until you were straddling her right leg, your wet pussy meeting her bare skin.
Sana’s hands coming up to your waist—not to hold you, but to guide the pace. As you began to grind against her thigh, seeking the heat, she reached for the hem of your top. In one swift, effortless motion, she pulled it over your head and tossed it into the pile with her phone.
Sana breathed, her eyes traveling over your exposed skin with a look of pure possession.
She reached for the delicate ties of her own blouse. You watched, transfixed, as she slowly undid them, the silk falling open to reveal her shoulders and the lace of her bra. You reached out, your fingers fumbling to help her, your skin finally meeting hers as she pulled you flush against her chest.
The moment your bare skin collided with hers, your mouth finding hers in a frantic, sloppy mess of teeth and flavored gloss. It was desperate and uncoordinated, your tongues tangling with a raw hunger.
Sana let out a low, muffled groan into the kiss, her hands moving from your waist to your back, pulling you so flush against her that you could feel every rhythmic thud of her heart.
You were grinding against her thigh like your life depended on it. You were completely undone, your fingers digging into the soft skin of her shoulders, clinging to her as the only solid thing in a world that was spinning out of control.
Sana didn’t stop you. She didn’t even try to take over. She pulled back from the kiss just enough to watch you. Her eyes were heavy-lidded—like she was watching a particularly entertaining show on TV.
“So loud. So greedy. Is this what you wanted to learn, Y/N?” she rasped, her voice wrecked.
While you were lost in the haze of the friction, Sana’s fingers moved with a ghost-like precision. You didn’t even feel her reach for the clasp of your bra. One moment you were constricted, and the next, the tension snapped. The lace fell away, and Sana’s cool palms immediately moved up to cup your tits, her thumbs grazing your nipples that made your back arch.
“So sensitive…” she whispered, her thumbs circling your nipples almost mockingly slow compared to the desperate speed of your hips grinding against her thigh. “You’re riding my thigh like a puppy in heat. Does it feel good? Rubbing that desperate clit all over my thigh?”
Your hips stilled for only a second, mortified by the brutal accuracy of her words—riding her thigh like a puppy in heat. That’s exactly what you were doing. You were so lost in the sensation, so embarrassingly desperate to finish, that you didn’t even care anymore.
“Yes,” you gasped, your voice raw and wrecked. “It... it feels so good…”
“Is that so?” she purred, her voice a low, dangerous velvet. “Then don’t stop now, baby. If it feels so good, tell me why. Tell me what you’ve been thinking about since I walked through that door.”
You didn’t just tell her; you unraveled. Every filtered thought, every observation you’d tried to hide behind the notebook came spilling out.
“You’re so... pretty, Sana,” you sobbed, your hips resuming that frantic, unhinged grind against her bare thigh. “I couldn’t even look at the book. All I could see were your lips... I wanted to see how they’d look bruised. I wanted to see you look at me like this.”
“You’re so fucking sexy,” you gasped, your fingers digging into her shoulders. “The way you look on your blouse... the way you smell... I wanted to rip it off the second you sat down. I wanted to be your little puppy. I wanted you to ruin me.”
“Y/N…”
“You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen,” you continued. “I don’t care about the Japanese lessons. I just want to feel you. I want your fingers back inside me. I want to taste you. Please... Sana, please.”
Her eyes darkened with lust as you poured out your filthy thoughts. Without a word, she slipped her fingers back inside you. You cried out, hips jerking violently against her hand.
She fucked you mercilessly with her fingers. You were so wet that her fingers slipped in and out with ease, making wet, squelching noises that only seemed to drive her on. “Keep talking, baby.”
Your breath hitched as she curled her fingers, hitting your g-spot with perfect precision. “I-I’m… you’re going to make me squirt,” you whimpered, your hips bucking against her hand. “I want to soak your pretty fingers, Sana.”
Her eyes flashed with dirty images at your request. She immediately changed the angle of her fingers to hit harder and deeper. Your body shuddered, your pussy making wet, sloshing noises that told her exactly how horny you were. “Like this?”
“Mmm... yes!” you cried out, your legs trembling as she fucked you relentlessly. Your orgasm builds quickly, the pressure in your core growing intense. “I’m gonna... I’m gonna fucking—hngh, Sana…” You panted desperately.
At your desperate plea, she pressed her fingers deeper. Your pussy spasmed violently, gushing all over her hand like a broken faucet. You screamed, your body convulsing as you squirted everywhere, soaking the couch and her hand.
She kept fucking you through your orgasm, making you squirt over and over until you were a sobbing, twitching mess. Once you finally stopped squirting, she slowly pulled her fingers out, bringing them to her mouth to suck off your juices. “Mmm... you taste so good, baby.”
She pulled you close, letting you collapse against her chest. Her soft hands stroked your hair gently as you trembled through the aftershocks. She pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.
She felt you shiver against her, your muscles still too wobbly to even consider sitting up. With a soft giggle, Sana shifted slightly, her arm tightening around your waist to keep you from sliding off as she reached toward the coffee table. Her fingers snagged the box of tissues.
“Stay still, baby,” she whispers.
She began to wipe you up that felt maddeningly intimate. Every gentle swipe of the tissue against your sensitive, aching pussy made your breath hitch, your fingers digging onto her arms for support. You were so far gone, so completely drained, that you just let her do it, your head lolling against her shoulder.
“I... I think I need a minute,” you managed to choke out, your voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel. “My legs... they won’t work.”
She hummed softly at that, clearly pleased, her fingers slowing to a gentle, absentminded trace along your thigh. “That’s okay,” she murmured, pressing one last kiss into your hairline. “But you’re still very behind with our lessons.”
