"Wouldn't you like to stay with me forever, dear?"

while typically one to restrain herself when looking for results and trying to get through her work, it all comes crashing down when you start to nag at her — or rather.. look for ways to catch her attention.

it started off easy, with you walking by a few times carrying the cliché stack of papers to place somewhere before tripping over nothing and allowing them to scatter all over the floor. first you dropped to your knees, sighing and whining mostly to yourself, but loud enough to be within earshot, and then bending over to get the last of the documents a little further away.

if you were in a dress or skirt — best believe you made sure that you wore your prettiest pair of lingerie on the off chance that your boss was looking. and trust, she was — she most certainly was, even if she looked completely engrossed in her work, those crimson eyes were burning holes through that crow-like mask.

but even if you weren’t wearing anything like that, and were just in some pants or shorts, she was still looking, and the hold she had on her pen was getting progressively tighter. it could almost give underneath her strength, and honestly- you could only sit there and wish that was your neck.

the next occurrence was something utterly stupid — a paper cut. yes, those silly files had nicked you right on the index finger of your dominant hand, and what did you do?

well, you approached the doctor for support in these trying times. that’s what she was additionally there for, apart from the experiments she was usually running.

what good was a doctor that didn’t know first aid?

and of course, she relented when you gave her that pathetic stare of yours, batting your lashes despite the tears that clung to them ( you made sure to muster those up real quick ). how could she refuse when you looked at her as if she knew or was your answer to every question?

she had no choice but to pat her lap and permit you to sit on her thigh while she treated the sliver of skin that broke- but the position was.. not enough.

that’s where the next thing happened, and that was straddling her thigh under the guise of wanting to make access slightly more easier — but it didn’t stop there. no, you were a greedy little thing, playing coy and thinking she wouldn’t take notice of you grinding and rubbing against her.

she did — she knew exactly what you were doing and which territory this was heading into. the paper cut could have been treated so easily within the comfort of your workspace, but you made the trek to have her do it instead. so it was clear what you wanted, but she wasn’t going to let you win and keep her from her work. so she cleaned the tiny wound, applying a bandaid and kissing it better to send you on your merry way, but you wouldn’t get off.

you clung to her with a low whine, burying your face into her neck in protest as you attempted to move the leg between hers to rub along her clothed clit, and that.. that was the last straw.

it all happened too quick to fully piece together, but you were suddenly lifted off her lap and pushed down against the nearby examination table by a rather.. frustrated harbinger.

sexually speaking, not so much angry. though she was impressed with your persistence on getting her attention, and although she was ready to drag this out more — to have you cry and beg for what you want, clearly you didn’t care to do that.

but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get those results out of you.

clothes tumbled piece by piece onto the ground as she captured one leg in her hand, lifting your hips to line with hers as she grinned down at you. “you truly could not wait, could you? zipping around, pretending i wouldn’t notice — but i knew from the scatter of papers what you were trying to do.” she chuckled out slowly, pressing down hard enough to get a sharp gasp out of you — needy and high in pitch.

that was only the beginning, however, as dottore rubbed her clit against your own — powerful and hard, with the intention of overwhelming you to the point of forgetting even your own name with how fogged up your mind had become.

it made her smile to see you break so easily underneath her, the cries that spilled from your lips like music to her ears. you wanted this, after all, and she was going to continue to remind you of that.

until the sun came up.

notes. still on vacation so i’m just going through the backlog a little of stuff that i had drafted. wanted to finish this before pride month ended tho🗣️ thank you again for the request! hope you enjoyed<3

tysm for reading! consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed<3

It’s not so much a feeling of pity they rouse as a sort of pleasure that courses through her like rain seeping into clothes. It’s a soft delight, the kind she recognizes as when she closes her eyes and lets the high notes of a violin fill her senses. Emotion twisting your features is like a carefully building crescendo— first come the furrowed brows, then the scrunch of your pretty nose and the tremble in your lips, and finally, big, fat glassy tears running along your full cheeks. The melody reaches its climax as your eyes meet hers, the dulcet tones of your poorly contained cries bringing forth something Kafka’s never found in another person. It’s a sadistic sort of pleasure to experience, perhaps, not that she’d ever care about the gaps in her morality.

She particularly enjoys the gloss in your gaze when she’s between your slick thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Kafka sometimes rolls her eyes at how easily you are taken by emotion—she’s almost certain it’s a facade, it has to be— and thinks you’re working in the wrong business, but she can’t complain when you’re such a pretty crier. Like a loyal dog, she makes your wants happen regardless of whether you find the courage to utter them. Your jaw clenches in anger after a rude interaction with a stranger, and Kafka threatens him in an alley. Her finger’s always been loose on the trigger. Your hand trails down her bicep in that purposeful way that lets her know you want her, and Kafka buries her nose in your cunt until tears cloud your vision and you’re firmly pulling her mouth away with a hand in her hair. She takes in a breath, lips parted and coated in arousal, as she revels in the way your chest stutters and your wet eyelashes flutter. You’re at your prettiest like this; bare, sweaty, pliable under her steady hands. What a sight it makes.

Kafka sighs lustfully, a palm against her cheek as she lets the thoughts dissipate. You haven’t noticed her stare yet, too preoccupied by your argument with Silver Wolf to spare her a glance. She doesn’t care to listen in and instead waits until the heated debate inevitably has you stomping towards her with an irritated pout. Your arms cross over your chest and the crease between your brows deepens when you plant yourself in front of her.

“This girl will argue over anything.”

Kafka’s usual smile doesn’t faze you, nor does the way her fingertips linger on your skin when she pushes strands of hair out of your face. She only hums in acknowledgment. Your nose bridge is crinkled in frustration, as is the corner of your eyes, and it’s almost enough to hear the familiar symphony that sounds between her ears. If Kafka were to psychoanalyze her every thought, she’d have wondered if witnessing strong emotional responses fascinates her because she doesn’t have any. People attract what they lack, do they not? It would explain the shiver that caresses her spine when she’s face to face with a pleading victim. Her pupils grow twice in size to take in as much of the scene as possible, and she lets violins and cellos reach their crescendo in her mind until death descends and everything stops. The following silence brings satisfaction, a fitting end to a beautiful symphony.

Silver Wolf passes by the two of you with her eyes glued to her phone screen and mutters a mocking comment she intends for you to hear. You grit your teeth. The whole thing’s pretty childish and certainly unserious, but you both have strong opinions on what constitutes a good video game, apparently.

“She likes to rile you up,” Kafka grips your chin with three fingers and turns you back toward her. “Don’t mind her.”

“I’m not letting myself be bullied by a girl who can’t reach the highest cupboard without a chair,” you say the last part loud enough for Silver Wolf to give you the middle finger as she walks away.

With the source of your frustration gone, your muscles relax bit by bit until you’re sighing and running a hand down your face.

“I need some air.”

Kafka fetches your coat.

You’ve forgotten the entire ordeal when you and Kafka step outside of a clothing store, a spring in your step that appeared after the two of you spent half an hour looking at leather jackets. You ended up buying one for yourself after Kafka’s extensive comments and suggestions. The paper bag sways as you walk through the busy streets of an unfamiliar city. You’ve never been to this planet before, everything was a sight you wished you could stop and admire for more than a few minutes but being a Stellaron Hunter didn’t come with vacations. You were here on a job and would be leaving in two days, according to Elio’s script. The first part is done, the second takes place tomorrow, which allows you a moment of reprieve to simply wander around this strange city. Your sense of orientation and perception is excellent but you let Kafka lead you through bustling markets and tight alleys to get back to the base. She doesn’t say it but you know this wide detour is a way for you to take in as much of the city as you can, so you pretend not to see the man hurriedly making his way towards you and let him push you closer to her in order to grab her hand, effectively steadying you. Neither of you lets go the whole walk home.

The place is quiet when you make it back two hours later. Silver Wolf is probably curled up in a corner with a game and the others are nowhere to be seen. You waste no time in pulling out the jacket and discarding the bag once in the living area, taking off your current coat to shrug the new one on. Kafka takes a seat on a couch, one leg over the other, her chin in the palm of her hand as she watches you.

You carefully adjust the collar and tug on the jacket so it fits perfectly, then turn towards her.

“So? Does it look as good on me as you said it would?”

The corner of Kafka’s mouth lifts as she replies, “Hm… Swirl a little for me.”

You turn a few times, allowing her to see every angle. You zip it all the way up but decide you like the look better when the jacket is open. You even take some steps to and fro, delighting in the way Kafka’s usually blank gaze diligently follows your movements.

“Yes,” she finally says after a moment, “you definitely make it work.”

“Yeah? You’d pick me up from a bar?”

There’s a playful tilt to your voice when the question leaves your lips. Kafka’s smile widens. Her eyes lazily trail down your figure, then back up to your face. She leans back into the couch and tilts her head slightly to the side, fixing you with a level stare.

“I would.”

You hum in thought as you step close enough to settle on her lap, knees on each side of her hips. Kafka doesn’t move when your hands clasp around her neck. You see the amused twitch of her lips, though.

“Do you think I’d look super mysterious so you’d approach me to see what my deal is?”

“No. You’re too expressive to be mysterious.”

That answer makes your brows furrow and your nostrils flare.

“Just like that,” Kafka teases.

You roll your eyes. “So you’d only approach me for my looks? How romantic of you.”

“I’m not trying to be romantic. But,” a gloved hand sneaks under your shirt, fingers splayed out over the expanse of your back as they trace the bones of your spinal cord, “I could show you a very good time.”

“Oh, really?” You watch her peach lips when she speaks, absentmindedly leaning closer.

She hums in agreement. Her free hand comes to rest on your waist while the other leisurely wanders up and down your back. Her gloves are thin and the fabric feels expensive against your bare skin. You don’t notice how close you’ve gotten until you look up to see Kafka’s lidded eyes fixed on yours. A shiver runs through you when the pad of her fingers reaches your nape.

“You’d leave with me, wouldn’t you?” She asks with a low drawl to her words.

Kafka’s pleasure in asking questions she already knows the answers to is lost on you. She revels in making you admit things you’d otherwise keep to yourself in an attempt to fluster you, and loves watching you fight with yourself while thinking of a response. Surprising her is no easy feat but is always a treat.

“Maybe.” You say simply.

“Maybe? I’m offended.”

“You’ll live.”

“Hm. Perhaps I should be more convincing, then.”

Her chin tilts upwards and your eyes close to await a kiss that never comes. You feel Kafka’s steady breath on your lips for a moment before she leans back and raises an amused eyebrow at you. There’s a crease between your brows when you meet her teasing gaze.

“What? Were you expecting something?”

You decide to play her game and jut out your bottom lip in a petulant pout. Her lenses don’t hide the way her eyes catch the movement.

“Are you saying you’re not going to kiss me?” You whine a little, pulling her closer by the back of her neck.

The hand that was on your waist lifts to take hold of your chin. Kafka swipes her thumb over your bottom lip.

“Is that what you want?”

The cocky smile painting her face annoys you, but you know that she’ll give you what you want. She always gives you what you want. You nod, and as your lashes flutter you can tell the exact moment she realizes your submission is an act. A low chuckle leaves her, the hand on your back trails up to close around your nape in a forceful grip, and she harshly pulls you to her until your mouth crashes on hers. It’s a rough and hurried kiss; you feel her tongue push past your lips as you try to match her pace. Kafka keeps you where you are with only a hand and forces you to follow her lead, a clear reminder of who’s in charge between the two of you. Your guts tighten as she kisses you long enough that you have to exhale sharply through your nose to avoid getting dizzy. Her tongue explores your mouth like it already knows where everything is and swirls around yours in a way that has you arching against her.

You recognize the look in Kafka’s eyes when she suddenly pulls away, bottom lip shining with saliva. You’re sure she can feel your heartbeat sending ripples through your chest with how close it is to hers. An unapologetic smile makes its way onto your face. You take great pleasure in knowing she’ll make you regret your blatant manipulation.

Frustration builds inside you at the same unhurried pace as Kafka’s single digit plunging into your cunt. Her lips ignore your clit as they plant wet kisses to your slick folds, her tongue occasionally dipping between them with strokes far too light for your liking. It’s been half an hour and Kafka’s still between your thighs, savoring the taste of your arousal with no care for your release. Her gloved finger feels good against your walls and the wet sounds it makes as she thrusts it inside you only turns you on more, but it’s not nearly enough to make you come. Your wrists tug on their restraints— the glowing pink silk keeps them above your head on the mattress, unable to move. You tilt your head to the ceiling and groan for the hundredth time.

“Kafka, come on…” Your whine is real this time as you look down at her figure between your legs.

Kafka only hums over your twitching clit, then deserts it completely and raises her head to meet your eyes. Arousal stains her mouth, giving it a pretty sheen like the one on her favorite coat. Her finger opts for a massage and rubs your clenching walls as your lips part to let out another pained whine. Kafka watches the way your hips greedily chase your release, bucking towards her appreciative mouth.

A breathy moan breaks your pout when her tongue licks a long stripe up your slit. It’s warm and wet against you, and it sends pleasant shivers down your spine every time it makes contact with your needy cunt. Kafka takes her time tasting you and it’s in moments like these where you curse her patience. She has no issue working you up for hours because she knows the end results will be satisfactory, so she turns a deaf ear to your complaints and pleas. There’s a coil in your belly begging to burst and you can’t do anything but try to get Kafka to care.

“Please? Give me more…”

Kafka’s lips abandon your folds with a wet sound. She sighs exaggeratingly and adjusts herself between your thighs so she’s kneeling, then holds you down with a hand on your hip.

“So noisy,” she says, a glint in the depths of her eyes that you’re not sure you like. “Don’t make me shut you up.”

“Don’t be mean.” You groan in frustration when her finger completely stops moving inside you. “Come on.”

“Mean?” Kafka repeats, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Fine.”

She plunges three fingers inside your waiting cunt at once, hard and fast, and the sudden intrusion has you choking out a surprised moan.

“W—Wait—“

You don’t have time to adjust to the stretch, she doesn’t let you. The next breath gets caught in your throat as her fingers drive inside you with a speed you’re not accustomed to, effectively shutting you up. She brings her other hand to press rough circles on your clit, forcing the sensations to overwhelm you completely. Your hips stutter. It feels good beyond the initial shock, great, and you’re still huffing out short gasps while you eagerly take in her digits. Your vision blurs at the edges. You can still make out Kafka’s intense gaze on your face, drinking in your expression like the sight alone could make her come.

Once you get used to the rhythm, moving against her hand and sighing in relief, Kafka stops entirely. You struggle to let out a pained noise as her fingers leave your cunt at once before you even have time to beg.

“No,” you whine, “please…”

You’re getting irritated and desperate, the feeling curls around your throat and threatens to spill in an embarrassing sob. You swallow it as Kafka slips two fingers past her lips. She suckles on them while you try to control your breathing, taking longer breaths and willing your heart to slow down lest it bursts. The digits come out wet with a mix of saliva and arousal. She spreads them apart to see the sticky string that connects them, before bringing them down to smear it over your sex in a teasing manner.

You exhale sharply when her thumb swipes over your clit a few times, not enough to build your orgasm back up despite the pleasure it brings. You tug on your restraints a second time and feel humiliated when Kafka only watches you with lidded eyes and a happy smile. You know what she’s after, what she wants from you. It’s the only way you can get her to fuck you like she means it, so you take another deep, shaky breath and keep quiet.

“Oh…?” Kafka’s middle finger circles your entrance when she witnesses your resolve. She doesn’t say another word, simply pushes it inside in slow thrusts.

You bite into the flesh of your cheek as her thumb massages the base of your clit then teases the tip. Your chest heaves but you’re determined not to make a sound. She masturbates you the way she wants to; circles your pulsing clit, slides a forefinger between your slick folds, watches the way her middle one disappears inside your cunt as if swallowed. You take it like she wants you to, also, because she’s the only one who can push you over the edge. When you least expect it, Kafka thrusts three fingers inside you at the same pace as earlier, knocking the wind out of you until you’re a moaning mess. With every sharp thrust and the pressure on your clit, you get closer to your release. Then she stops, drastically slows down to a mere massage that has your nose scrunching up and your lips trembling. A lump forms in your throat after she denies you for the third time.

She plays you like a string instrument, denies you relief she knows you crave, until your brows twist in that pretty, familiar way and she hears the bright, crisp tones of a melody meant for her ears only. Her lips part and the pupils beneath her lenses swallow the pink of her irises. She stills, muscles taut, senses attuned to every crease of your skin and quiver of your features. You take in a shuddering breath through your mouth, your eyes screwed shut in frustration and need and finally, you cry. Fat tears spill from the corner of your eyes and slide down your skin into your ears. Kafka’s reaction is instant. Her fingers drill into you, fast, rough, unrelenting. She moves to hover over you as your orgasm builds in your belly and reverently kisses your tears as they escape your eyes. Her mouth is gentle while her fingers are not; there’s a distinct ringing inside her head when the sound of your whimpers hits her ears and the salt of your tears coats her lips. It’s as she feels your cunt squeeze tight around her fingers while she softly shushes you that Kafka realizes something else.

You come with a broken cry, pleasure coursing through your body like a sudden shock as the coil in your stomach finally bursts. Kafka tears herself away from your glistening face to watch how you gush over her fingers and ruin the sheets under you. The sticky mess makes her own cunt clench, she particularly enjoys how messy things can get during sex. Her silk glove is positively dirty, the material gleams in the light and is thick with your arousal when she takes her fingers out of you.

she was just supposed to be your friend with benefits, how did it turn out this way? you were so innocent too, just needing a release for your desires. luckily, kafka was the one who agreed to do that for you. it wasn’t like you didn’t have darker desires, but you couldn’t just share those out of the blue for fear of losing her. even if she wasn’t your girlfriend, you still cared for her deeply.

it was almost like you were in a trance whenever she was on top of you, wanting nothing but her. those lightless eyes of hers made you want to please her for hours and hours, just to be her little toy. the day she decides to keep you for her own is secretly the happiest day of your life, waking up naked in her bed and ready to be her perfect little stress relief. keeping her fingers warm with your wet little pussy made you almost unnecessarily happy.

the door slammed behind you as you entered kafkas office, yet kafka did not let go of your wrist.

"whats going on?" you snap impatiently. you had just been working calmly when all of a sudden your girlfriend decided that it was completely appropriate to appear out of nowhere and practically drag you to her office.

"are you going to answer me kaf?" this time, your words were replied to with a soft chuckle. the sound made your stomach lurch, as kafka turned around to face you. her eyes were devilish as she looked you up and down, and she stepped closer to you, pushing up against you until your back was slammed against the door you just entered.

"kaf- kafka, wha-" you were cut off when she grabbed you roughly by the neck, dragging you in to a deep, messy kiss. her tongue immediately forced itself into your mouth, and you let her in. kafka hummed in approval, and pulled away slightly, catching your bottom lip in her teeth. you gasp, whimpering in shock as she releases your lip and smirks at you.

"you looked so delicious~ how could i resist taking you right now?" kafkas sultry voice overwhelmed your senses, and you moaned softly as you bucked your hips against hers. she hummed, her lipstick was smeared slightly and her hair was falling loose from her ponytail, her cheeks an attractive red.

suddenly, her arms move to your ass and squeeze lightly, before hoisting your legs to wrap around your waist and picking you up. you gasp in shock at her strength, and she presses her lips against yours again. shes pressing against, her heavy breasts rubbing against your heaving chest. suddenly, she pulled you off the door and carried you over to her desk chair. kafka placed you down, and kissed you again, crawling into your lap and straddling you roughly.

her hand returned to your neck as she grinded in your lap, and you whimpered softly. kafka squeezed your neck a little rougher now as she pulled away to admire you. your cheeks were already flushing with heat, and your breathing was shaky as you looked up at her with needy eyes.

kafka smirked, getting off your lap. you let out a whine of protest, yet were silenced when she began to remove her shirt. immediately, your fingers began to fumble at your own clothes, fingers shaking and breath heaving as the burning ache in your lower stomach grew with each second. kafka chuckled at your impatience. she was already mostly undressed while you were still grappling with your outer layers.

kafka grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her. the air seemed to evaporate from your lungs when you saw her. she was bare, besides for lacy red lingerie. her thong was sheer, and attatched to high lacy red garters that hugged her thick thighs. her large breasts spilled from the dark, lacy cups, her dark hair unbound and spilling over her shoulders. she hummed softly, and reached for a drawer in her desk. you were confused for a second, before she pulled out a large strap. it was bigger than any of the ones she'd used before, and it was the same deep bloody red as her lingerie.

kafka put on the strap, the whole time eyeing you the same way a predator watches its prey. you had almost forgotten about your own clothes, and she reached out, pulling you to your feet. you swallowed, and she smiled. a knife rested on her desk, and she grabbed it. you gasped, and in seconds she shredded your remaining clothes, leaving you in just your undergarments. she slipped the knife between her teeth, looking almost maniacal with lust. the sudden rush of cold air from being exposed made you shiver, and the weight of her gaze made you shrink back.

kafka grinned, stepping closer to you. she grabbed your hips, and picked you up again. her hand squeezed your ass roughly, and you whined, your hips bucking automatically. she moved towards the window and roughly slammed you against it, and you let out a gasp of shock. kafka lifted you up to sit on the windowsill, and knelt below you slightly. you looked down at her confusedly, and she suddenly lifted your legs and hoisted them over her shoulders as she pinned you against the window once again. you squealed in shock as she captured you in a mating press, and you whined. you could feel her strap brushing against you through your undergarments, and she was so, so close to where you wanted her yet so far.

using one hand, kafka took the knife from between her teeth, and softly ran it down the center of your chest. you were hazy with lust, the cold metal shocking against your heated skin. slowly, slowly, slowly it crept down towards your undergarments. in a few swift moves, even those where shredded and you were left fully bare. you expected her to start fucking you with the strap, yet she stayed almost perfectly still. you whined in frustration, begging for any sort of friction. the strap rested against your abdomen and you let out a soft, pleading sob.

"please.. please touch me, do anything, kafka please.." your mewls where accompanied by the soft rolls of your hips, and she studied you carefully.

"aw, is my poor little pet needy, i suppose its time to give you what you want, hmm?" you nodded, your brain felt like mush with the need for her inside you. however, instead of bringing the strap to your wet hole, she brought the hilt of the knife up against your entrance.

"cum once on my knife, and i'll let you cum on my cock. doesnt that sound fair?" kafkas voice was intoxicating, and you nodded slowly. she hummed in approval, and slowly began to push the hilt of your knife into your entrance. you whined at the intrusion, you wanted- no, needed her to move, to do anything! she studied you carefully, and slowly, ever so slowly began to fuck you with the knife. she begab to pump it in and out of you, the slick from your hole working as lube. the strap was still resting against your abdomen, bobbing slightly with every thrust of your hips.

kafka began to pick up the pace, the thrusts of the knife reaching deeper as she moved quicker and quicker. you felt the coil in your stomach beginning to form, and your moans grew louder and louder. your hips grinded desperately against the knife, buried so deep within you, yet not deep enough. you could only imagine how good kafkas cock would feel inside you. the thought of her pressing you up against the window for the whole world to see, the thought of her claiming you as hers, had you clamping around the knife, your sticky release coating the hilt as your orgasm overcame you. you were seeing stars, your whole body trembling as your legs quivered. kafka cooed softly as you came down from your high, pressing you tighter against the window until it seemed your knees were touching your ears.

kafka gently removed the knife from your weeping hole, and threw it aside. pulling away slightly, she lined her strap up against your hole. you were still slick with your previous release, and she gathered a generous amount of your juices on her strap, soiling it with your wetness as she began to press in. you whimpered at the intrusion, she was so big, it felt so good.

"ah- im- im so full~ its so big, kaf- please-" your filthy whimpers only encouraged her, and kafka pushed in all the way, your hole swallowing her fully. you let out a sob of pleasure. the stretch was so, so good, the mix of pain and pleasure clouding your mind.

kafka leaned in closer to your thigh, you were folded in half, the cold glass of the window a wonderful contrast to your burning skin. you felt her hot breath against your neck and thigh, and she but down roughly on your inner leg. you whimpered softly, your hips automatically bucking and keening at the sharp pain. her strap moved inside you, and you looked down to see a bulge in your stomach. the lewd image only aroused you more, and she followed your gaze to the small bump in your abdomen.

"aw, look~ your taking me so well, little pet. come one now, dont you want to give the people below us a show? make it known who you belong to?" her words were poisonous, the lust inside you seemed to grow with every vowel. you nodded, bucking your hips again and she chuckled smoothly. kafka leaned into your neck, biting down harshly as she began to slowly thrust in and out of you. the pain slowly began to melt into pleasure, and you could already feel the burning coil in your abdomen returning as the bump in your lower stomach grew with every thrust. the windowsill creaked softly as kafka began to pick up the pace, her thrusts getting more and more targeted as she hit that sweet spot so deep inside you.

"o-oh- right there- right there yes y-yes please~" you moaned and whimpered, incoherent strings of words coming from your mouth. you babbled kafkas name over and over lije a prayer as you felt your release growing ever closer.

"your all mine, you know that doll? my precious little pet~" her words were accompanied by sharp thrusts to that special spot so deep in you, and you felt your hole clamp around you. the glass behind you shuttered, and kafka sunk her teeth into your neck as your release barreled through you like a wave crashing ashore. she tugged your hair harshly, her thrusts not even pausing, prolonging your release. it felt like pure bliss, your own cum and slick coating the thick strap as she continued to rock against you. your chest was heaving as you mumbled incoherent thoughts, too fucked out to even think straight.

kafka chuckled softly, admiring your blissed out expression. she swiftly pulled out, and you yelped in overstimulation. she pulled back, letting your legs fall and you immediately pulled her close. you rested your head in the crook of your neck, your breathing still sporadic as you began to relax. kafka cooed, whispering sweet nothings to you as she scooped you up and placed you on her comfy desk chair. you curled up, watching as she removed the strap and she removed you from her chair only to pull you back down into her lap. kafka pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, and you sighed, nuzzling against her collarbone as you felt yourself slowly drift asleep. her fingers soothingly carded through your hair, and you thought you heard the words "i love you, sleep well my dearest" fall from your girlfriends lips before you slipped into a sweet dream.

She is made up of raw vulgarity: it in its purest form as something seduces you into her proximity, begging you to bite the apple and see the light.

Just do it, it’d be so easy.

Don’t you want to taste it? The juice…the sweetness…feel the bite in your jaw?…

Put your mouth to it, let it lead you…

The voice in your head is distant yet wholly present. Almost as though it were whispering in your ear while directing your movements, pushing you deeper into the darkness. Where the light doesn't reach and the ambiguity of the following heightens is where it dwells: perfect, round, and red—shiny and plump and enticing—

Doesn't it look delicious?

It does.

Grab it, then.

It's in your hands now. Caressing it, you admire its magnificence. Soft skin, unplagued by irregularities and blemishes, rosy and inviting.

Bite it.

You lean in.

Head cocked at an opportune angle, lips parted readily, you lean forward…

A bite like a kiss…

A kiss like a bite?

Tender nibbles upon contact quickly morph into sloppy openings. Everything slops and clashes together, fighting aggressively in search of a fix. Fill that hungry, haunting void that grumbles in your stomach, aching terribly for sustenance.

You moan for it— whimpering a pathetic Please against her mouth and resting your forehead against hers. “Gimme…”

She laughs, cupping your pouty face in her palms. “Sweet girl,” she says, pecking your lips. “What do you need from me?”

Everything.

Her kisses feel like pillows all over your face. Gentle presses in a scattered manner, showering you with tender affection that blooms in your chest.

The heft that controlled your body has now morphed into feather-lightness—as though you weigh nothing and are floating across the Heavens. The colorful lights and bass-boosted music have ceased and you now reside in a dark room, illuminated by a single, dim night table lamp and ambient light leaking through crimson curtains. A bed sits beneath you, soft like clouds and cushioning you as you’re laid down on it, limbs stretched beneath her straddling.

She continues to kiss down your body, leaving your face and heading South to your neck, where her mouth latches and suckles on the skin. Your body has an immediate reaction: your eyes are fluttering closed and your hips are gyrating upwards, where your core catches her thigh and the throb that pumps through it harshens. You gasp out, grabbing the back of her head and tangling your fingers through her plum locks, pulling out the ponytail holder and letting limp curls coil down your forearm.

“You taste so good..so sweet,” she mumbles, pulling at the flimsy fabric of your top until the fabric screeches, a tear forming in the center. She continues to pull until the red garment is split in half, discarded to the side, and leaving you in your white bra. It's decorated in lace swirls and vines across the cups, peeking over in a rosette border that teases your assets. Enveloped in intricacies, you’re displayed beneath her as a decadent confection—ready to be devoured into nothingness. “I can’t get enough of you.” She says.

The silver clasp glints in her eye as it sits between your cleavage, asking for a break as your breasts hold it hostage. “May I?”

“Please,” you breathe out. At your heed, she pulls the hook apart with ease, and your boobs jump out of their confines.

She helps you shrug the material off your shoulders, soon tossing it off the side of your cloud-bed and leaving you bare from the waist up. You don't try to cower under attention. Instead, you revel in it, bathing in the rose tint she views you in and presenting yourself.

Humor is found in your actions, and she can't help but crack a smile at you. Her hand drives up from your navel and passes through the valley of your breasts to grapple around your neck. Fingers immediately press on the pressure points in your neck, making your [already] heavy eyes droop harder and your lips purse and part. You're lifted slightly off the bed, inches away from her face as she hovers over you.

“I don't know where to start,” she says, softly. “There’s so many things I want to do to you.”

“Do it all.” You lean up, chasing the distant feel of her lips. She hesitates to indulge you, going back and forth between leaning in and creating distance, leaving her in a silent push and pull where she defiantly fights the magnetism. “I'm all yours—”

“Mm mm.” She hums, shaking her head. She can't do this, she can't do you.

You nod your head, almost eagerly, chasing her lips. “Use me.”

No. She shakes her head no, leaning further back.

“Take me.” You say, following her actions.

No. I can’t.

“Ruin me.”

Her hand weakens around your neck, and you're quick to grab it, returning it to its place around your neck. Your eyes are polished and wide, wordlessly begging her for attention.

Meek squeaks slip out of your mouth as her grip returns, the pressure she applies being much tighter and more restrictive than previously. Still, your lips still find the courage to pull into a small smile, parting and making way for the whisper your voice has turned into. “Kafka,” you moan out, her name heavy on your tongue, “fuck me.”

She sits before you, sweet purplish hair framing around her pale frame, juxtaposing the deep, salacious fuschia that glares at you. An almost taunting glow emits from her as she ponders her next course of action— should she turn her mind off and act aimlessly, or should she retreat with sensibility? She's already come thus far, she’s already molded you in her palm, she's already invented a paradise for you…it is yours to defile as you please.

If you must beg her so wantonly, as though you’ll die without feeling her version of pleasure, she must forfeit the fight and succeed in the throes of ecstasy. She has been tempted.

Your wish is obliged with care. She pins you beneath her, diving back into where she left off with a searing fervor. Her lips leave stains of her red lipstick smeared across your chest, trailing streakily across the surface until she kisses around your right tit.

A line is drawn by her tongue from beneath your underboob area to your areola, pebbling the skin in her wake. Your nipples perk and harden, the left immediately becoming a target of bullying from her pinching fingers. Sharp, black almond nails cover the bud as she tweaks it harshly, immediately subduing your wince by licking over your right nipple.

Her eyes stay on your face as she enacts so, carefully dancing her tongue over and around it until she sucks it into her mouth, mimicking the suction with the pinch of her fingers. You moan out, throwing your head back and greeting the swirling sight of stars and glimmering streaks. They paint upon a blacked-out view, covering the inside of your eyelids with the visual manifestation of how you feel. Elated. Content. Pleasured. Something you've never felt before and it is…wow.

“Kaf…” you meekly whimper, unable to even say the rest of her name. Your hand presses her face closer to your chest, almost aiming to slowly ease your entire body into her mouth. It feels so fucking good— like nothing you've ever felt before and you don't want her to stop.

Your body is warm to the touch and it feels like your veins are pumping pure stardust. Her tongue swirls and loops around your nipple, slopping spit and vocal vibrations all over the sensitive bud, eliciting the sweetest broken moans from you. They're unabashed and full of weight, carrying the load of untouched desire.

How long have you been waiting for this?

Too long.

Was it worth the wait?

So, so worth it.

What do you want next?

“Touch me.” You don't even mean to say it out loud, but it slips out amongst the flurry of gasps you puff. Hips bucking desperately in search of something only to meet a sufficient source once every few thrusts. It’s not enough, you need the tingle between your legs tended to. “G-Goddammit, Kaf, please…”

She needs not another instruction, simply obliging your request with her hand making work of your pants, undoing the pesky clasps. Separating from you, she uses the opportunity to rid of her shirt, sliding her pants down her legs and kicking it all to the floor. Her hands grab at the belt loops, tugging the tight fabric slowly down your legs while maintaining eye contact.

Don’t take your eyes off me.

She doesn't even need to say it. You know it— as though it were an innate action hardwired into your very being.

You watch her intently as your pants are finally pulled off your legs, leaving the limbs angled up on her chest. Discarding your pants to the side, she runs her hands up and down your legs, kissing down the left from your ankle to your shin, to your knee, to your thigh, over to the other leg, and going back up.

“So patient..good girl. Letting me take my time with you…” she says, breathily. Kissing back down your leg, slowly positioning herself eye-level with your cunt. She licks a line from your hamstring to your panty-clad cunt, eyes still never leaving you. She kisses firmly on the wet spot that stretches over the seat of your white panties, leaving the remnants of her lipstick on the fabric in a kiss mark. You’re hot, throbbing, and soaking— primed for her demolition. “Want me here?”

You nod furiously, pushing yourself into her face. “Need you there.” You correct, hooking your fingers under the band of your underwear and awkwardly shimmying the garment off.

“Needy little thing, aren't you?” She muses, tucking her hair behind her ears. You slowly unveil yourself to her, letting the stuffy air draft over your wetness, pushing shivers down your spine. “Just waiting and waiting..oh, ‘m sorry…”

The prettiest pussy she’s ever seen awaits her attention. Eagerly beating at her, your cunt drools and shines, drowning itself in an overwhelming amount of arousal that even beads off the curve of your ass. All of this for her, only for her, because of her…Kafka might just be the luckiest woman in the universe.

She wedges herself tighter between your legs, feeling the heat that burns in you and smelling the sweetness just waiting to be swallowed. Her eyes go back up to you, catching the tears of frustration building, and her smile breaks wider.

“‘M sorry for making you wait so long.”

Spread ‘em.

You spread your legs wider to make space for her head, immediately throwing your head back when her exhale fans over your cunt.

Her tongue darts immediately toward your slobbering hole, licking up the tracks of arousal that spill down the fat of your ass. She slams her dominant hand down on your cheek, giving it a soft rub as she giggles at your wince-whimper combination. Her tongue draws looping circles around your entrance, slipping down and licking up the stray beads. She then drives it back up to your hole, pushing the muscle into your tight entrance with little force. Your eyes shoot open and you're adjusting to the new sensation, watching her intently as she creates a hard pace: in, out, in, out until she flickers the tip of her tongue over your fluttering hole and licks a flat strip halfway up through your folds before repeating.

The taste of you is already intoxicating. Unparalleled to anyone before you— you are pure and dripping raw ecstasy, lighting her body up in the wake of lightning. She can't get enough and moans into your cunt, rolling and spinning her tongue around your walls.

She hooks your right leg over her shoulder, slinking her arm beneath the limb and slithering her fingers to your neglected clit. Just hovering over the bud makes you shiver and buck into her mouth, so she takes the initiative to drive you fucking insane. Kafka must have some sort of magic touch, or she can read you like a first-grade book, because she presses down on the bud, rubbing it in a smooth back and forth. Your mind immediately short circuits and you're back on that illusory plane, feeling everything with such great intensity that you feel your orgasm building already.

Clenching around her tongue and bucking into her mouth lets Kafka know that you're about to cum. She pulls off, building up a ball of spit on her tongue and dropping it off between your folds.

Her ministrations on your clit cease as she uses her two fingers to part your labia, licking boldly between your lips and collecting a heap of sticky slick on her tongue. She hums contently, swallowing down the fluid with dramatized vocalizations and intense eye contact.

“You taste so good, baby.” She moans, sliding her left hand into her panties. She begins touching herself, grinding on her hand while licking the taste of you off her lips. “Want you to cum in my mouth, okay? Make..a big mess for me,”

She moans out so vulgarly, letting her hand on your pussy falter and tickle over your puffy clit.

It's only now that you see Kafka: untamed. This is her in her rawest form— lust-gone and hungry. Wasting no time in leaning forward and attacking your clit, sucking the bud with such eagerness that she hollows her cheeks, squeaking our obnoxious sucking sounds that bounce off the walls. The suction is so harsh that you can't help but screech, grabbing her hair and pulling the handful of locks taut against her skull.

You can tell she likes that. So you do it again, simultaneously humping into her mouth.

Be rough.

She tries to pull back but you keep her there, forcing her nose to sit atop the mound of your pussy and asphyxiating her slowly.

Be mean.

“That's it— l-like that..! F-fuck, Kaf,” you sputter, the new flickering of her tongue over your clit eliciting sharp rods of lightning to pierce all over your body. You have no control over the moans that leave your mouth because your body is so beyond itself—receiving a kind of satisfaction never experienced before and it's reveling in that, boiling itself in pure heat and pushing out creamy bubbles. “Fuck—make me cum.”

She forces her head up against the behest of your hand, gasping in a big heap of air. Her face is flushed and wet, wearing the effect your pussy leaves on her, and yet, it still earns a piercing slap that sends her head in the opposite direction.

Oh, good. That was good.

Before you can stumble out an apology, she sneers at you. “Yeah? Is that how you're feeling?”

You didn't mean to do it—you don't know what came over you— “N-no—”

“Do it again.”

Kafka’s word is absolute and you have no room to disobey. You cock your arm back and swing, slapping her with a lot less force than before.

She grabs your hand and forces it to the back of her head, and you instinctively grab onto the hair. “Remember what you do to me…” she says, sticking her fingers into her mouth and suckling on the digits. Just as she pops them out of her mouth and directs them to your pussy, she looks back up at you. “You’re in control. Make me.”

Famous last fucking words.

The next few actions are melted together in a blur of galaxies and tears, ceasing to have a tangible visual but proceeding to wreck your body into oblivion. Kafka has sucked your clit until it's swollen, pleading to be left alone but consistently the target of merciless abuse. It doesn't help that it acts as though it were a self-destruct button—every ministration rendering your body stiff and turbulent: quivering beneath rigid curlings and tightenings.

You’re coasting through the skies with her head working between your legs, sucking the taste right off your pussy until it cries some more. It is an endless cycle of overwhelming pleasure that only builds upon itself, forming into an unstable, grandeur tower of lusty goodness that threatens to come crashing down.

She licks and sucks fervently, determined to yank your orgasm from your depths and taste the purest essence of you. And you are a victim to it— pulling half of her hair into a makeshift ponytail and fucking yourself on her face, desperately chasing the epicenter of your orgasm to make it let go.

“F-fucking me s-so good, Kaf—!” You squeal, feeling your stomach bubble and tighten. “C-close!!!”

Let go.

It's too much. It's so fucking good—good Lord—

Just cum.

Rightthererightthere– “Hnngggh—just like t-that! Shit!”

She sucks so hungrily on your pussy, eating you like a rabid dog on a fresh piece of meat. Her tongue is doing this you can't even describe and the images you see as a result are skewed.

Pretty visuals of clouds raining intergalactic hearts over a foggy sky and lightning streaks of ecstasy fill your fucked up head, imitating the euphoric feeling imposed on your body. You're so close—your body twitches and your eyes cry, pleasured sobs leaving your mouth as everything good attacks you all at once.

Be a good girl. Cum.

Kafka’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she feels your floodgates break— the orgasmic wave pushing out of your pussy and all over her face. The cry that's ripped from your throat is visceral and guttural, tearing your throat to shreds and rendering you a weeping mess.

If getting eaten felt good, orgasming feels even better. It feels cosmic—irreplaceable and delectable from beginning to end. And Kafka fucks you through it, flicking her tongue through your folds and slurping up your juices with a wide smile.

Give in; let it take you.

Stuck in the heat of euphoria, you only float higher to heights uncharted, soaring freely. Light reaches out to you in fragmented rays, calling to you in the galactic darkness to follow its way.

This is goodness. Everything holy and unholy; everything sacred and desecrated; everything clean and everything dirty; a culmination of unchained, terrific bliss right in your core.

It was always there, you just needed it out of you.

Now that you have it, nothing will be the same. So long as it still exists.