088 | San | Twenty-Minutes

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Suggestive

Paring: Lawyer!San x Fem!Reader

[Warnings] : Dom! reader. Sub-ish San. Handjob. Dirty talk. Uniform kink. San is in a suit. San is a whimpering mess. Pet names.

The black suit he wears looks tight on San and you have the biggest urge to rip it off

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The black suit he wears looks tight on San and you have the biggest urge to rip it off. You compose yourself though. He's in the middle of a zoom call meeting for an upcoming case he would be partaking in. And it was a very important one so San had begged you not to make any noise or come to him for anything unless it was an emergency. You respected his wishes But the image of him in the suit is all you have been thinking about all fucking day.

It hits around lunchtime when he finally comes out. He looks nervous and worn out. "I'm on a quick lunch break," he tells you as he strides into the kitchen feeling tired and done with the day. He opens the fridge and grabs leftovers from last night. He doesn't even bother heating it up as he just digs into it with a fork with a quickness that would make his stomach hate him later. You rise from sitting at the dinner table and walk over to him giving him a loving, innocent smile.

"How long you got?" You ask as you snake your arms around his waist tucking your face into his back, nuzzling your cheeks against him.

He pats your hands lazily. "Twenty minutes," he answers with a mouthful of food.

You spin him around and he nearly drops his fork. "All I've been thinking about is you in this damn suit," you finally confess, clawing his covered chest.

He chuckles as he places your hands in his. "Just don't ruin the suit," he says.

What he doesn't expect you to do, nor do you expect yourself to do is to lift him up onto the counter by straddling his thighs. He lets out a small shout as his ass lands on the counter. You honestly had no clue you had that much strength but here you are.

"Oh my," he breathes out.

Twenty minutes. The clock is ticking. You undo his belt and pants to release his cock. You spit into your hand and begin to rub him from base to head. His breathing becomes heavy and he holds onto the edge of the counter as you rub your thumb over the tip. With your free hand, you grip his thigh, massaging and squeezing his hot, soft flesh.

"You looked so stressed and tight, let me release that tension for you," you rumble to him with a sly smirk.

He's displayed out for you on your kitchen counter and it's glorious. His dick swells up in your hand as you continue your steady stroke. You squeeze harder with the next stroke and he lets out a delicious breathy moan. It's a melody to your ears. You want more, and you received them as you jerk him off quicker and tighter. His precum helps with the motion and you don't need any more spit. He becomes louder and he bends over a little into you. He grabs your shoulders and squeezes tight.

"Don't stop, please," he begs. He ruts up into your hand and pants in your ear.

"You can cum, baby," you mewl. "Be a good boy."

With a few more strokes and another rut up from him, he comes in your hand. Hot ribbons shoot out onto your hand as you catch it all. All to not ruin is suit. Because we wouldn't want to ruin the suit for the meeting now do we?

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