opheliaaaaa my beautiful ophie… i’m imagining barou making you squirt until you can’t speak, not because he’s trying to overwhelm you cruelly, but because he loves the way you let go for him, loves the way your body trusts him enough to fall apart so completely in his hands…
he has you warm and trembling beneath him, your thighs shaking around his waist, your lashes wet, your lips parted around soft little sounds that barely resemble words anymore, and even then he’s careful with you in that barou way—firm, steady, intense, but never careless. he watches every twitch of your face, every shaky breath, every time your hands clutch at his shoulders like you need something to hold onto, and when you come again, soaking him and the sheets, he groans like it knocks the air out of him, lowering his forehead to yours.
he kisses you through it, slow and grounding, his hand smoothing over your hip, your stomach, your thigh, and when he pulls out you whine from the emptiness, too sensitive and too needy at the same time, but he only hushes you softly and kisses down your body like he’s apologizing with his mouth. “i know,” he breathes against your inner thigh, lips warm and gentle there…
and then he’s between your legs again, making out with your pussy like he missed you already, licking through the mess he made of you, kissing and sucking your clit until your back arches and your fingers twist in his hair, but he keeps one hand linked with yours so you know he’s there, so you know it’s him, so you know he’s not just taking from you but giving, giving, giving until you’re crying his name and writhing beneath him.
he pulls back only when you’re breathless, mouth glossy, eyes softer than his hands, and crawls back over you with so much tenderness hidden beneath all that hunger it makes your chest ache. “beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, your lips, the corner of your mouth. “so perfect.” when he slips back inside, and he has to pause with his face tucked into your neck because you feel too good and he loves you too much to rush. “five times isn’t right,” he whispers, voice rough but fond, almost amused as he kisses under your jaw. “can’t leave you with on an odd number.”
and it’s so him—sweet in the strangest, most stubborn way—that you almost laugh, but it breaks into a moan when he starts moving again, deep and slow and careful, holding you like something precious while he works you toward one more. one more because he wants you satisfied, one more because he wants to feel you melt for him, one more because shouei loves you with his whole body, with every rule he makes up just to spoil you, with every kiss he presses into your skin while he murmurs, “that’s it… i’ve got you. come for me one more time, baby, then i’ll hold you.”
ESTAAAAA!!!! rough but fond..... slow and careful...... OUGH
