OKAY OKAY im sorry for killing u ill get 2 work but FAWK i havent wrote in 5ever pls spare me if this is cringe okay 12 hours before my shift
on the list of things he likes to eat, he’d probably say chen’s noodles, cake (his second love, you’ve learned to accept it), and, only when you’re around, you are at the top of that list.
you could be cooking, training, sitting around when he’s coming up behind you, biceps closing in around your form as he lifts you up with ease. “wanna get something to eat?” he asks so sweetly that you know what he really means, but like hell you’re gonna refuse. even lifts you up in his arms, insisting that you don’t lift a finger (or foot) as he carries you to bed.
it’s embarrassing, how he treats you like something to savor. with how eager he finishes his plate at dinner, how does he now have the patience to tease you? sliding off whatever you wore that day— doesn’t matter, since he’s pressing kisses to your bare skin, an appetizer for what’s to come. up and down and in your thighs, eyes half-lidded until a firm hand on his hair drags his attention with it.
“”mmf?” he mumbles, tugging himself closer with his hands hooked around your thighs. you wanted eye contact? you got it, with sleepy hazel eyes putting all of its focus on you. his kisses become sloppier, drool slipping out of the corners of his mouth. until finally, finally he’s breathing you in; half of a main dish is the smell, after all. you open your mouth, to beg maybe, but a choked out moan leaves your lips instead.
he’s licking up everything that slipped out in those few, long minutes of teasing before sucking right on your clit. maybe to draw more of your taste out. wet and sloppy, face practically motorboating your pussy as he licks, slurps, moans into you like he’s the one getting head. it would make you giggle seeing him so concentrated, but when he’s gripping your squirming thighs, murmuring quiet praises from “don’t you dare, you’re so pretty, best thing i’ve ever tasted…” nothing is funny.
even when you cum, hips bucking upward into his mouth, he’s the loud one. tongue getting even sloppier, hips rutting against the sheets under him to try and ease some pressure. pushing your thighs up to your stomach, so he can drink you in like he’s trying to be a part of you. when you finally slump back on the bed, that doesn’t mean he stops.
“c’mon… one more time. for me?” he begs lowly, sticking to kitten licks and puppy eyes to get you to give in. it’s a trap, not like his hands squeeze your thighs any less. “please, mommy?” he adds, and fuck, you can’t say no to that.
needless to say, he got his dessert (he fed you after, don’t worry).
😛🤤🤤🤤 ouuuu he’s so good for me