Timeskip Tendou With Piercings Looks Like An Eboy Who Smokes Cigarettes And Who Hangs Around Cafes At

Timeskip tendou with piercings looks like an eboy who smokes cigarettes and who hangs around cafes at nighttime and has a motorcycle. 👀 would smash still. Prob makes you ride his face in the alleyway on the way home from a date. 🥰

in your younger years, your mother warned you about boys, men, like him.

“they only want one thing, honey,” she’d said.

you’re pretty sure that one thing wasn’t your current situation. and what would your dear mother think if she knew you had one of those men buried tongue deep in the walls of your aching cunt, in the middle of an alleyway, behind a run-down cafe nonetheless? you can’t find it in you to care, not when he’s literally slurping on your pussy like it’s leaking the nectar of aphrodite herself. you don’t even remember how you got here; how did he sweet talk you into this? it doesn’t matter — nothing but that evil, wet tongue matters.

“f-fuck,” you whine, knuckles in your mouth to muffle the sound. if you look down you can’t even see his eyes, that’s how deep he’s nestled between your thighs. “y-you’re so fu-fucking good.”

he is. he so is. no one’s mouth should be that good, that wet. the way his tongue slithers against your silky, glutinous walls is enough to drive a whore mad. and when he lets it lave over your clit, your thighs begin to quiver, squishing his cheeks in while your knees dig into the pavement. he’s not even holding you in place — you just haven’t moved, too obsessed with keeping that demon tongue on you at all times.

you know your orgasm is going to be a big one; you can feel it in the way the muscles of your belly tense, in the way you gurgle on your own saliva because he’s sucking on your clit like it’s a damn lollipop. you have to be drenching his face but he doesn’t seem to care — not once has he even so much as pulled back to breathe. your eyes are almost crossing and you’re not sure how getting head is suddenly making you hornier but holy fuck, you have to take him home with you.

something wet bubbles up against your clit and you squeal, looking down at him with big, glossy eyes. “a-are y-you—“ you don’t get to finish, doubling over when what feels like the letter ‘s’ is being traced against your swollen flesh.

“oh fuck,” you cry, hand grasping at what little hair he has on his head. “you’re fucking sp-spelling your n-name?!” he is. you can tell. and because of it, you’re going to fucking cream all over his stupid face.

“g-gonna, satori,” you drawl for the first time that night. “i’m gonna come.”

his tactics don’t falter. if anything, he only sucks harder and before you know it, your eyes are crossing and you’re shaking over his mouth, covering his mouth and chin in your essence. he kisses your clit through it, sultry opened mouth ones until you’re sobbing, trying to pull away. eventually he lets you go and you sit on his chest, insides still convulsing from your orgasm.

“when you can walk again, your place or mine?” he asks, smug grin on his wet lips.

“mine,” you huff.

if he fucks anything like he eats pussy, you’re going to need the comfort of your own bed when it’s all said and done. especially if he’s plotting to make it so you can’t feel your legs in the morning.