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crguang · 5 months ago

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hollow victory

Your first mission as a Stellaron Hunter was executed perfectly. Kafka knows just the way to congratulate you.

younger reader (like 21-22) so there's an age gap, smut, afab!reader, dom!kafka, sub!reader, fingering, scissoring, no plot at all it's just filth, 3.7k words

A/N: got reminded of how sexy kafka was and had to make a comeback. :/ apology smutshot…?

Kafka pushes you onto the bed with a teasing hand on your chest, letting you fall against the fluffy pillows of her bed, a privilege you’re experiencing for the first time. She revels in the way your dilated pupils take her in as she straddles your hips and sits up above you, loosening the rest of her ponytail until long magenta locks fall down her back, caressing the skin of her shoulders with the same reverence your palms tentatively rest on her thighs. Her eyes are lidded and she looks down at you, carding her fingers through her hair a couple of times, an almost predatory smile tugging at her lips. You’re almost jealous of the way each strand curls around her slender digits. One of the thin straps of her dark dress falls from her shoulder, exposing more of her unblemished skin to your adoring eyes. Looming over you like this in the dim light, she’s more apparition than flesh, the object of your desires conjured up by your lustful mind like a saint coming to relieve you of past woes. But Kafka is no saint, and there is nothing Puritan about what you feel for her or how she gazes at you through those soft-coloured lenses. Temptation has never looked so enticing.

You swallow thickly, throat dry as a desert in front of such a captivating sight, and can’t help lowering your eyes to the curves of her torso and the plunging neckline of her dress. Your skin is hot, unrelated to the warm temperature outside these walls. There’s the hint of a flush down her collarbone, nestled between her breasts, and the lack of a bra allows you to witness her nipples hardening under your stare. They poke through the expensive fabric as if begging for a devoted touch, and the thought of Kafka getting aroused with only a look from you makes your head spin.

“Tongue-tied, huh? You had plenty to say half an hour ago.” Kafka’s smile sharpens, leaning down until her nose just touches yours, fingertips skimming your collarbone in idle circles. She keeps her eyes fixed on yours, almost searching, and her thighs tighten their grip on your hips. “You’re blushing…”

Her breath fans over your lips with every word spoken and her voice is low, smug yet also deeply pleased. Her irises drop to the bridge of your nose then lift to observe the smoothness of your brows and you regard the curl of her lashes the same way; you’ve never seen her so close, so available, and you drink in as many details of her as you can like they’ll fade away the next morning.

You find it hard to build your reply, the scent of her fills your nose due to her proximity— sweet with an underlying bitterness; deceptive, like her— and you can taste tobacco on your tongue. Kafka seems unhurried, the pad of her fingers brushing up your neck in deliberately teasing touches. Your voice comes back to you after a moment.

“This is new territory for me,” you manage to say, breath hitching when she meets your gaze once more. You swear hers darkens with your hesitant confession. Her fingers curl around your throat and simply rest there, feeling your pulse quicken beneath her skin.

“Are you intimidated?”

Her rhetorical question has a delighted edge to it, excitement born from having the upper hand and leaving you scrambling to catch up. It’s embarrassing, you feel like a teenager biting more than you can chew, anxious and inexperienced. You’ve had sex before, been in a relationship before, but Kafka is older and can feign confidence for things she’s never even attempted. She’s imposingly attractive, effortlessly too. Trapped in her carefully crafted web, it’s clear that all you can do is follow her lead and hope you don’t trip over yourself in the process.

“I’ve never been with… someone who has experience in these kinds of things,” the admission leaves your lips in a murmur against her mouth.

“Then this will be interesting.” Kafka brings her thumb to rub at your lower lip, tracing its outline and pressing you to part your lips, her gaze still locked on yours. Her other hand comes up to cup your chin, holding you where you are, and her breath wafts toward your face in a soft, sultry sigh. “Are you scared?”

You shake your head. Scared is not the word you would use; you’re merely nervous. Kafka chuckles, her thumb swiping back and forth across your lower lip as she watches your lashes flutter.

“Good. I think you’ll find I’m more fun than you realize.”

She grins, suddenly sitting up and straddling your waist, firmly pressing your hips against the softness of the bed. She lets the thin straps of her black dress fall from her shoulders before slipping them off completely, the clothing pooling around her hips and leaving her bare to your gaze. Kafka notes the way your eyes widen a fraction and linger on her breasts, your flustered expression, and the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips. She lets you stare for a moment, enjoying how nice it feels to see you unravel like this, to know she’s tearing down your defences by simply revealing pieces of herself. Your attention washes over her like a hot shower and arousal simmers in the depths of her belly.

“You can touch. I won’t bite… unless you ask.”

Your fingers dig in the softness of her thighs and her smile turns almost wicked. Your hesitation is endearing, your timidity just adorable, and she will ruin you completely.

“I… uhm…”

“Mm? Too shy? Come on — give it a try.”

Kafka lifts your wrist with one hand to place yours over her naked breast, letting the pliable flesh fill your palm. Your fingers twitch with the urge to squeeze and she presses your hand down firmer against herself, eyelids lowering at the sensation. You feel her perky nipple flush against your skin and stare at your intertwined fingers on her chest. Your lips part as she squeezes her breast with your hand and tilts her head slightly backwards, an appreciative hum rumbling in her throat. Her thighs flex around your hips, her body shuddering beneath your touch.

“Mmm, good…” She repeats the action, this time firmer, urging you to cup a handful of her. Her breaths grow a bit heavier with the ministrations and yours are stuck in your throat from how impossibly sexy she looks in this moment.

Kafka guides your hand down her chest, across her toned stomach and under the velvet of her dress to tease the band of her lacy underwear. Your chest stutters under her heated stare and she encourages you to feel how worked up she is, smearing her arousal over her already-wet cunt. Her hips roll into your palm, seeking more friction. She revels in the twitch of your fingers on her thigh and the lust etched on your features. She bends forward, her hair falling over one shoulder and tickling your skin, and breathes out right into your ear.

“You just do what feels right, remember? Just feel…” She pulls your earlobe between her teeth, then her tongue darts out to lick up the shell of your ear. “Don’t be shy, feel how wet you make me.”

“Ah…”

She rocks her hips a little harder, and you both hear and feel the stifled moan she lets out against your earlobe as her hand tightens on yours, pressing your fingers further into her. Your head tilts to the side when her forehead drops to your shoulder. Back arched over you, lips parted in low sinful moans, Kafka uses your digits to pleasure herself, slipping them under her thin panties and between her slick folds. She’s nimble and precise, she teaches just how to touch her to unravel her and makes sure to let you know how good she’s feeling to ease any lingering hesitation. Your middle finger circles her dripping entrance before inching inside, and her hips meet your eager thrusts with the same amount of excitement. You feel her teeth grazing your shoulder, her breasts on yours as she leans her upper body into you some more; you slip a second digit into her, rubbing her warm spongy walls, and can’t help the pitiful noise that escapes you at the feeling of her slick coating your fingers. One of her hands keeps yours against her pussy while she grinds into the heel of your palm for the sweet friction of her aching clit on your skin, and the other is planted near your head to avoid fully collapsing into you. It wavers the closer she gets to her peak, pleasure jolting through her like little electric shocks lighting every nerve on her body. Kafka unashamedly makes a mess of your hand and kisses your shoulder between drawn-out moans.

“Mmmnn… That’s it, just like that…” Her teeth sink into your shoulder and your breaths hitch simultaneously. Her raspy encouragements drop even lower in pitch, the sound of it so close to your ear goes straight to your pussy and your underwear clings almost uncomfortably to your skin from how drenched you’re getting.

“You… sound so…”

Kafka laughs breathlessly, though it almost comes out as a moan. She pants hotly against you, her orgasm building with each thrust into her cunt. She grinds into you more urgently, chasing the electrifying sensation of her clit on your palm and chasing her release with each movement of her hips. Her hand guides your touch further, shifting your fingers in a way that makes her shiver.

“Hah… I’ll sound better when you make me moan your name…”

A strained noise struggles to leave your mouth at her cheeky reply, an implied challenge, and you plunge your fingers deeper inside her to hear her voice falter in the middle of another hum. Her pussy tightens around you, squeezing you and sucking you in so deliciously your mind fogs up until you’re unable to focus on anything but how wet she feels around your fingers. The pleasant stretch of her cunt has Kafka’s eyes fluttering open and shut and sweat clinging to her backside, sweet tremors shooting up the arm supporting her body above you. She’s close, you both feel it. She lets out a shuddering breath, her thighs growing tense. You quicken your pace, aching to hear her come, and it doesn’t take much longer for her to stagger over the edge. She comes with a stifled moan, limbs shuddering as she clenches tight around your fingers and pleasure pulses through her. She almost loses her breath, her gasps hot against your shoulder, and her hand grips yours harder, manicured nails digging into your skin and no doubt inking red crescents into it. Her body twitches with the aftershocks and you still your fingers inside her to allow her to come down for her high. It’s a moment before her hazy mind clears and her hand finally leaves yours.

You slip out of her and Kafka straightens up above you, bringing two wet fingers up to tease your lips. Her gaze is heavy, still a little clouded from the pleasure she just experienced. Her cheeks are beautifully flushed, her hair is a tad disheveled, and the cocky smile on her lips only adds to her allure. You meet her lidded eyes and take her digits into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around her, the satisfaction in her dark stare making your pussy clench around nothing. You’re aching to be touched and she knows it. She applies pressure on your tongue as you suck her cum covered fingers clean, moaning around them at the taste. Her head tilts sideways and Kafka leaves your mouth to observe the string of saliva connecting her digits to your bottom lip until it breaks on your chin. She bends low, the tip of her tongue picking the trail back up and licking up your chin, then connects your lips with a heady kiss. Her clean hand sneaks under your shirt to curl around your breast. Some of her precision from earlier has slipped away, leaving only untamed passion behind. You can taste your shared breath, every heavy exhale she doesn’t care to control, and your head spins. Her lips are soft against yours, tasting vaguely of the lipstick she applied hours ago. It mixes with the flavour of her cum still on your tongue. Your hand tangles in her loose hair. You part your mouth wider to welcome her slithering tongue and surrender full of control of the kiss; it slides over your tastebuds sloppily, greedily seeking more contact. Your bottom lip glistens when she pulls away to speak, lips brushing yours with each word and tone full of promise.

“Can I touch you too?”

“Yes.”

Kafka chuckles at the quick and urgent response, clearly enjoying how wrecked you already look beneath her. She grins, her hand running down your torso, and she starts to push the fabric of your top up, inch by inch, exposing your stomach and chest. “Someone’s eager…”

“Easy to tease when you’ve already got your release,” you mumble.

She doesn’t refute your claim, only smirks, pausing her movement for a moment to admire the skin she’s already revealed. Her fingers fingers brush over the skin just above your waistline, and you shiver a bit below her at the contact. She reaches under your bra and circles your erect nipple with a finger, watching goosebumps appear on your skin with the ministrations. You swallow thickly. You attempt to squeeze your thighs together, the heat between them too distracting, and Kafka turns smug. She moves, straddling your thigh so that her knee presses against your clothed cunt and keeps you from finding any sort of relief on your own. Her lips find the underside of your jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your to your neck. You stammer as they brush the sensitive spot right above your pulse point and she sucks the skin into her mouth for more of the quiet sounds you can’t reel in. Two fingers pinch your nipple, twisting the hard bud this way and that, prompting sighs of pleasure from you.

Leaning back, Kafka makes quick work of your bra and in one swift movement pulls your shirt up over your head, discarding the clothes somewhere on the floor. Her hands come up to cup your breasts, palms rubbing against the sensitive skin, reveling in your sighs and soft moans. They memorize the shape of your body with the same intensity as her gaze, and she can feel herself slowly getting addicted to the way you arch beneath her touch like the cigarettes she smokes every day. The pads of her thumbs circle your nipples in teasing circles, and your hips buck into her knee in search of relief. She’s intent on leaving you wanting a while longer, but then the corners of your lips bend downward in the cutest impatient pout she’s ever seen and you breathe out her name with a tinge of desperation, hands holding on to the crumpled dress at her hips to tug her closer, and she suddenly doesn’t care to hold back her desire to ruin you.

“Kafka…”

The sound of her name on your lips is intoxicating, it’s all she wants to hear coming from you. You’re hanging on by a thread, flustered and needy beneath her weight, and that fact makes her skin tingle. She pushes her knee into your pussy, causing your breathing to stutter, and her own cunt throbs with the need to feel yours, to have your cum smeared on her lips and your clit brushing hers. Kafka leans forward, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss as her hands wander lower. She steals the rest of your breath away, swallowing those delightful little noises you make, before pulling away from you with a bite on your bottom lip.

“I want to feel how sensitive you are,” her words are low and sultry on your mouth, “how well you can take it…”

“Hah—!”

She grips the waistband of your pants, sliding them and your underwear off your legs in a single motion, leaving you entirely bare before her. Her touch is ravenous, her smile sharp at the edges, but there’s a softness in her eyes that’s almost imperceptible beneath the hunger. She trails her hands up your thighs, fingertips digging into the flesh just slightly, then she spreads them apart for her viewing pleasure. Your slick clings to your inner thighs and your pretty cunt glistens in her bedroom light, the sight alone almost makes her moan.

Kafka shifts on the bed, one leg over yours, and she rests most of her weight against you. Her arms are planted on either side of you, her face is close to yours once more, mingling breaths heavy with anticipation. She lowers herself, slick cunt sliding over your own, and your lips part in a silent gasp at the feeling. She’s warm and wet against you, the friction between you slippery from a mix of cum and arousal. You have to hold on to her to keep your bearings, fingers curling around the back of her neck while your arm snakes around her waist to pull her flush to your body. From this distance, you can hear the little ways in which her breath hitches and wavers with every rock of her hips. Her twitching clit bumps into yours, causing ripples of pleasure that can be felt in your fingertips. The sensation is heavenly, you’ve never felt anything like it before, and is made even better knowing that Kafka wants this as much as you do. For a moment suspended in time you merely share breathy moans, noses nuzzling together and parted lips lightly touching. Your mind blurs, your limbs tense pleasantly, and you match her pace, desperate for more of her touch, of how good she makes you feel. Your eyes flutter shut, solely focused on the electrifying feeling of her puffy pussy messily kissing yours.

“Kafka… Kafka…” her name falls from your lips in breathless gasps and broken sighs, over and over like a prayer for salvation, and she moans low in her throat in response. “Fu–Fuck…”

Your hands run down her backside to cup her ass, guiding her harder into your cunt, and your whine is cut in half as Kafka crashes her mouth on yours. Her kiss is messy, more urgent than anything, a simple tangle of tongues and wet lips. She moves against you with purpose, chasing release a second time and using your cunt to achieve her goal. Her hips grind into you and keep you pinned beneath her weight. The friction of your clits together makes you dizzy with the need to come and your thighs twitch with the mounting pleasure tensing up your stomach. You can barely breathe through your nose, your lips too busy returning Kafka’s insistent kisses, but you can’t bring yourself to care when she moans your name into your open mouth, the sound low and airy like the first notes of a cello. Her cum smears all over your wet pussy, claiming you intimately, and your eyes roll back into your head as she picks up the pace in a desperate desire to come.

“Mmmn… Yes…” She’s close enough that the moans tumble out of her mouth helplessly, a mix of throaty hums and raspy curses against your lips.

“I–I’m gonna—”

“Yeah…? Give it to me.”

Her breathy command is enough to send you head first over the edge with her name on your lips. You come hard, body shuddering with the intense waves of pleasure that wash over you, clenching under her, and the feeling of your hot cum mixing with hers has Kafka coming shortly after you, a drawn-out moan tearing itself from her throat. Your toes curl, your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her ass, and you lie helplessly beneath her as she rides her orgasm on your cunt. The arms supporting herself tremble with the force of her release but they stay put, framing your head and trapping you where you are. Chests heaving, it takes a while for the both of you to catch your breath and clear your mind. Kafka’s head drops to the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you in a gesture uncharacteristically open and sweet. Some of her defenses lower a touch after a particularly intense orgasm and it reveals a side of her you’re seeing for the first time. One hand sinks into her disheveled hair to scratch her head and she hums like a pleased cat.

It’s a tender moment; you can’t tell how long it lasts, only that you instantly miss it once it’s gone. Kafka returns to her controlled self, lifting her head to gaze down at you with her usual smile, if only a bit softer. It’s strange, even with her completely bare and the intimacy of sex, the sight of her contact lenses remind you that there will always be a part of her hidden from you. She’s like the moon in that sense, you look up at her with adoration because she’s forever out of reach. She’s inches away from you, so deceptively close, yet there is a barrier between the two of you, one that you can’t see and keep bumping into in a pathetic need to know her soul. Kafka is older, and while she doesn’t regard you as a naive young adult, you have a feeling that you’ll never be of equal standing in her eyes. You can sense her pulling away from you in the way she cups your jaw, excessively gentle, traces the skin there with an index finger.

“If this is the reward you want for a mission well done… I look forward to your next one, rookie.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes despite the effort, she notices, but simply separates from you with a satisfied sigh. Kafka lies on her back, stretching her arms above her head with closed eyes, and you sit up against the pillows feeling a little dejected. What a hollow victory.

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