Until you shake
SUMMARY: You hesitate to sit on Kirill Kaprizov’s face, worried about your size. He pulls your thick thighs over his shoulders anyway and doesn’t let you up until you’re shaking and coming on his tongue
WC: 1.95k
WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content (18+), plus-size reader, Face-sitting, body worship, praise kink, multiple orgasms, MDNI
Requested: Kirill Kaprizov + you hesitate to sit on his face, he pulls your thick thighs over his shoulders and doesn´t let you up until you're shaking
The apartment was quiet except for the low music and the sound of rain against the big windows. Minnesota winter pressed against the glass, but inside it was warm, the lights low and golden. You were both naked on the big bed, skin still damp from the long shower where Kirill had taken his time soaping every inch of you. His hands had lingered on your soft belly, your wide hips, the heavy curve of your breasts, and especially your thick thighs. He always touched you like he couldn’t believe you were real.
You were straddling his lap now, kissing slow and deep. His cock was hard between you, hot and heavy against your stomach. Kirill’s big hands roamed your body without hesitation, squeezing the plush flesh of your ass, then sliding up to grip your thick thighs and pull you closer.
He broke the kiss, breathing a little rough, blue eyes dark.
“Malyshka…” His voice was low, accent thick. “I want try something. I want you sit on my face.”
Your stomach tightened. You pulled back a little, heart beating fast.
“Kirill… I don’t know. I’ve thought about it, but…” You looked down at your body — soft stomach, heavy breasts, thick thighs spread over him. “I’m too heavy. My thighs are really thick. What if I crush you? What if you can’t breathe? I’m scared.”
He didn’t laugh. He never did when you said things like this. Instead he sat up a little, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, the other still resting on your thigh.
“No, printsessa. You not too heavy.” He shook his head, hair messy. “I am strong. Hockey. I can take all of you. I want feel your weight. I want these thick thighs on my head. I want your pussy right here—” he tapped his mouth “—on my tongue. I want you sit all the way. I want smother by you.”
You bit your lip. The image flashed in your head — him pulling you down, holding you there, not letting you escape. It made heat pool low in your belly, but the old fear was loud.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered.
Kirill leaned in and kissed your soft stomach, slow and open-mouthed. He nuzzled the warm flesh there, then lower, pressing kisses to the tops of your thick thighs.
“I love this,” he murmured against your skin. “I love how soft you are. I love your belly… so warm when I hold you. I love these thighs… so thick, so pretty. When you walk, when you sit on me… I think about it all time. I want you sit on my face. I want taste you like this. Please, Y/N. Let me have it. I not let you up until you shake for me.”
His words made your thighs tremble. He looked up at you with that hungry, sincere expression that always undid you.
“You trust me, da?” he asked softly.
You nodded, nervous but wanting it. “Okay. But… if it’s too much, you tell me.”
He smiled, that boyish grin that made your chest feel tight. “It never too much. Come here.”
He lay back against the pillows, head propped up a little so he could reach you better. His body was laid out beneath you — broad shoulders, strong chest, the hard line of his cock resting against his stomach, already leaking. He reached for your hips.
“Climb up. Straddle my chest first.”
You moved forward on shaky legs until your knees were on either side of his ribs. Then you shifted higher, until you were hovering right over his face. Your thick thighs framed his head. You could feel his warm breath against your pussy. You stayed up on your knees, supporting most of your weight, heart pounding.
Kirill’s hands slid up the backs of your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh hard.
“Lower,” he said. “All the way. I want you on my mouth now.”
You lowered a little, but still kept some weight off him. “Kirill, I’m really heavy—”
He growled softly and grabbed your thighs tighter. “Nyet. All way. Now.”
Before you could argue again, his strong arms wrapped around your thick thighs, pulling them over his shoulders, and he yanked you down hard. Your pussy pressed fully against his mouth and you gasped, hands flying to the headboard.
The first lick was long and slow, his tongue dragging flat from your entrance all the way up to your clit. You moaned out loud. Kirill moaned too, the sound muffled and hungry, like he had been starving for this. He licked again, broader this time, tasting every part of you, then sealed his lips around your clit and sucked.
“Oh fuck—” Your voice broke.
He didn’t give you time to get used to it. His tongue worked you with focus and skill — circling your clit, flicking fast, then sliding lower to push inside you. He fucked you with his tongue a few times before coming back up, sucking your clit again with steady pressure. One of his hands left your thigh just long enough to reach up and squeeze one heavy breast, thumb brushing your nipple.
You tried to lift a little, worried, but his arms locked around your thighs like iron. He pulled you down even harder, holding you firmly in place. You could feel him breathing through his nose against you, but he didn’t let go. If anything, he seemed to want more of your weight.
The message was clear: he wanted all of you. Every soft, heavy inch.
You let yourself sink down. Let your full weight rest on his face. Your thick thighs pressed against his cheeks, your soft belly rested against his forehead, and your pussy was completely at the mercy of his mouth. The feeling of being held down like that — unable to escape even when it got too much — made something hot and electric shoot through you.
Kirill ate you like he was addicted. His tongue was everywhere — licking broad stripes, flicking your clit fast, sucking it into his mouth, then going lower to lap at your entrance. He hummed and moaned constantly, the vibrations traveling straight through your core. Wet, messy sounds filled the room every time he moved his head. He was getting your arousal all over his face and he clearly loved it.
Your first orgasm built fast. Your hips started rocking in small circles without you meaning to, grinding your pussy against his tongue. He groaned encouragement into you and you came with a sharp cry, thighs clamping around his head, pussy pulsing hard against his mouth.
He still didn’t stop.
Even as you shook through it, Kirill kept licking — slower now but still insistent, drawing every last wave out of you. When the sensitivity became too much and you tried to lift off, his arms tightened again. He shook his head slightly under you, nose brushing your swollen clit, and you felt him mumble against your soaked folds.
“No. Stay. I want more.”
You whimpered, but your body was already giving in. He focused everything on your clit now — fast, tight flicks of his tongue, then sealing his lips around it and sucking in a steady rhythm. At the same time he slid two thick fingers inside you and curled them, stroking that spot perfectly while he sucked.
The second orgasm hit harder. Your whole body locked up. Your thick thighs shook violently around his head, legs quivering so hard you could barely stay upright. You cried out his name, one hand fisting in his hair, the other gripping the headboard so tight your knuckles went white. Your pussy clenched around his fingers as you came, and he kept licking through it, drinking every drop like he couldn’t get enough.
Only when your shaking finally started to ease and you were a panting, boneless mess did he loosen his grip. You lifted off his face on trembling arms and collapsed beside him on the bed, chest heaving, legs still shaking.
Kirill’s face was shiny and wet, lips swollen, eyes dark and satisfied. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then licked his fingers clean, never looking away from you.
“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice was rough. “You taste so good. And when you shake like that on my face… these thighs squeezing my head… I almost come just from that.”
You were still catching your breath, body limp and glowing. “You really liked it? Even with… all my weight?”
He pulled you into his arms right away, kissing your forehead, your temple, then your mouth so you could taste yourself on his tongue.
“I love it,” he said, accent thick. “I love every second. Your body… perfect. These thick thighs, this soft belly, the way you feel when you sit all way on me… it make me crazy. I want do this every night. I want you sit on my face until you can’t think. You not too much. You exactly right for me.”
His cock was still rock hard against your hip, twitching with need. You reached down and wrapped your hand around him, stroking slow. He groaned, hips pushing into your touch.
“I want you inside me,” you whispered.
Kirill kissed you again, deep and slow, then rolled you onto your back with careful strength. He settled between your still-shaking thick thighs and rubbed the head of his cock through your soaked folds before pushing in, inch by thick inch. You both moaned when he bottomed out.
He started slow, deep strokes that made your heavy breasts bounce and your soft belly move with every thrust. His hands never stopped touching you — squeezing your thighs, gripping your wide hips, sliding up to cup and knead your breasts.
“Look at you,” he panted, accent rough. “So beautiful. So sexy. Your body… I love it. Ride me next time, da? I want see these tits bounce. I want see your belly move while you take my cock.”
You came again with him inside you, walls fluttering around his length. He fucked you through it, then carefully flipped you onto your hands and knees. He gripped your wide hips and thrust back in from behind, groaning at the view of your ass and the way your body moved.
“Your ass… so good,” he growled. “So round. I love how it move when I fuck you. These thighs… fuck. I love.”
He reached around to rub your clit while he fucked you and you came once more, face pressed into the pillow, body shaking. Only then did he let go, burying himself deep with a low, rough groan as he came inside you.
Afterward he cleaned you gently with a warm cloth, kissing every soft curve he could reach. Then he pulled you into his chest, one big hand resting possessively on your belly.
“You did so good, malyshka,” he whispered against your hair. “I so proud you trust me. And I mean it — I want your body on my face again. Soon. Every time you want. You perfect like this. I love all of you. These thighs, this belly, everything. You mine.”
You fell asleep wrapped in his strong arms, the last thing you felt was his lips on your shoulder and his quiet, accented voice murmuring, “Moya lyubov… my love.”
In the morning he woke you the same way — pulling your thick thighs over his shoulders and holding you down until you were shaking and coming on his tongue all over again.
He never let you doubt how much he wanted every part of you.
Not once.
