#just so he could raise him and love him and protect him man

[kirbmey]

— stepdad!sylus x reader ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

synopsis: sylus becomes the daddy you never had.

tw: smut yaaay, stepcest, age gap, abandonment trauma, slightly inspired on ‘lolita’ and ‘the virgin suicides’, mentions of death, usage of ‘daddy’, kinda long ig, cheating, daddy issues, virginity loss, etc.

your mom marrying one of the most influential and rich man that society has ever seen was not on your life’s plans, not even the passing of your father.

as the oldest sister out of four you always had an eye on your parents relationship, having to be the one arbitraging their stupid fights and ordering them to stop bickering around when your siblings were asleep.

many would feel sorry for you when they found out about the responsibilities you had on your shoulders since such a young age, acknowledging the reason why you seemed so grown and mature; in reality it was all a facade to protect your sisters.

when you father fell ill you didn’t even flinch, and when he passed away a few months later you didn’t even cry. sure, you appreciated him but farther from the truth, he was just there.

you viewed him as a man you happened to live with, not a member of your family.

on the contrary, you looked up to your mother, being aware of the hard work she put to raise and provide to you and your sisters.

you tenderly recall the nights sitting on her vanity before going to bed as she detangled and oiled your hair, giving her advice as if she was your best friend.

the love for your mom was undeniable and you would always support every decision she’d make.

so when she invited her new boyfriend over to dinner you were as supportive as always, ordering your sisters to behave in his presence as you did their make up and advised them on their clothes.

but what you weren’t expecting when you walked downstairs was a tall and broad figure taking sit in the chair your father used to occupy, his white and lavish hair the only thing you could see from where you stood.

your siblings rushed to sit next to him, eager to form the stupidest questions ever made, as you walked towards the kitchen to help you mother with the rest of the preparations for dinner, coexisting in silence.

you weren’t blind, even as her daughter you could tell your mother was a beautiful woman. living her middle years after four pregnancies and keeping up a stunning figure and fancy features, carrying herself around as the elegant woman she always aspired to be.

⠀⠀　　“this one was unexpected, mom.” you spoke under your breath as your pulled out the plate from the oven, taking off the gloves and apron to gaze her way.

⠀⠀　　“you didn’t even speak to him yet, baby, give him a chance.” she stated, leaving the kitchen to place the utensils on the dining table.

and so you did. gave him a chance. your mom had some hookups along the passing months, nothing decent or closely acceptable.

you thought that’s what this was, a hookup. good sex that was invited to dinner a random night to then be dumped because he made the girls uneasy.

but you could tell this was not the case.

sylus was the name of the scary man sitting in front of you. the white hair you saw before put together neatly, thick eyebrows that dressed a pair of cat-like orbs, colored crimson.

you noticed as you ate the baked potatoes how his clothes were clearly too expensive for you to even think about, his perfume reaching your nostrils to the point you could almost taste it mixing with the garlic.

if your widowed mother was going to take advantage of the (you assumed) rich man you weren’t going to complain. because his money would be your mom’s, and your mom’s money would be yours.

later on you’d find out who sylus was, what was his place in the world. he’d mention companies you knew to be his, and you couldn't believe your luck.

⠀⠀　　“so, if you live in such a high end environment, how’d you two meet?” you questioned after sipping on some water, crossing your arms.

⠀⠀　　“we simply bumped into each other at one of my restaurants. your mother was the waitress and spilled some whine on my shirt.” he lightly answered with a deep voice that got stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

sylus seemed to adore your mom, and you were happy for her, really.

he started to come over your humble home more and more often, and your sisters couldn’t stop talking about him and yearn to spend time together.

‘have you seen his hands?’, ‘today his pants were tighter than usual.’, ‘his lips look so kisseable.’ blah blah blah.

they were fixated on this stupid tradition your mom started, friday movie night. the man would come home and stay the night after watching movies together as a big and happy family.

an excuse to fuck your mother, you thought. you seemingly knew it all, you knew everybody’s mind.

but as smart as you thought you were, you couldn’t acknowledge sylus’ admiration for you, the oldest sister. he’d stare at you and wonder if this yearning was even moral.

he would fixate his red eyes on you when nobody else was watching, would take in how you munched on the popcorn he prepared and how your glasses framed your perfectly structured face. the mere thought of you was chasing him around every second of the day, even when he was with your mom, his fiancée.

the imagine of your started to replace your mom’s, he started to imagine you were the one he was pounding so hard into. started to fantasize about taking you out to these fancy dinners instead of your her.

he even sneaked into your room after fucking and waiting for her to fall asleep, just to sit next to you in your bed and caress your hair with his knuckles, going down until his hand cupped your cheeks and your oh-so-desirable lips formed a pout.

it was all wrong, he knew that.

taking advantage of your innocence? he knew you were the most mature amongst your sisters, but you were very naive still. sylus loved showing you things you didn’t know about, talking of countries you never heard of and teaching you random facts about anything.

he knew how to make you desire him as much as he desired you. you both started to spend more time together in an organic way you couldn’t notice, him being more and more present in your every day life.

he started taking you and your sisters to class, you being the last one he kissed on the cheek goodbye, closer to your lips than he did to your siblings. he sat next to you every chance he got, his big palm wrapping around your thigh when nobody else was looking, arriving home with gifts for you and you only, taking you out on secret dates.

and so you did, you fell in love with him, with the way his voice pronounced your name, the warmth of his honey like skin… everything about him seemed to be divine to your eyes.

it was all wrong, but it was bearable. until it wasn’t.

until his desires started to grow bigger in his chest and his expensive pants. you’d become more confident around him and started wearing skimpier clothes inside the house, leaving little to imagination.

you didn’t do this on purpose, you raised yourself around women, and this was what you were accustomed to. you didn’t know the reason why sylus had to excuse himself mid conversation was because of the half of your ass showing outside those stupidly small shorts, and you didn’t know he rushed to the bathroom to jerk off with both hands like a horny teenager.

⠀⠀　　“sy, you okay?” you asked after knocking on the bathroom door. great, that’s the last thing he needed.

⠀⠀　　“all good, princess, i just felt a little nauseous. it’s all good.” the last sentence was said as a whisper, trying to convince himself to stop massaging his foreskin as he spoke to you and dress up and act like a decent person.

⠀⠀　　“are you sure, can i help you with anything?” you insisted with a sweet voice. fuck, that voice drive him crazy. his hand sped up, faster, harder.

he went silent for half a minute and you started to worry, knocking on the door again, pressing an ear against the wood to hear squelching and huffs on the other side.

was he…? no, he couldn’t be doing that... right?

your thighs pressed together in an attempt to ignore your clit throbbing against your cotton panties. you were getting ahead of yourself.

on the other hand, sylus was losing it. it was too much for him to hold back. the way your nipples craved through your tank top, the way you sucked on the damn spoon and licked your lips after each sip, the way you were so goddamn concerned about his wellbeing.

you were about to knock again as a curious cat would before gasping at the sudden grasp on your wrist, pulling you inside the bathroom.

sylus’ pants were undone, zipper down and boxers misplaced, trying to hide and obvious problem.

he cornered you against the tiled wall, placing both hands next to your head as he reached down, his nose caressing yours as he spoke with an almost trembling voice, trying to hold himself back, just a little bit longer.

⠀⠀　　“of course you can help, my dear. you actually caused the problem in the first place.” he whispered against your lips while pressing his knee between your closed legs, feeling warmth leaving your body and earning a low chuckle.

⠀⠀　　“sylus, what are you—” you tried to pull away as an instinct. this was wrong. you knew what he wanted, you wanted it too. but it was wrong.

he didn’t allow you to finish that pointless question, losing every bit of self control when he saw the way you looked up at him with those big eyes he loved to stare at, attacking your cherry lips effusively.

you whined against his mouth, the hands you had placed on his chest to pull him away now pulling him closer, grinding yourself against his knee.

no more self control, even if it was wrong.

he grabbed both your hips to shortly walk you both towards the bathroom counter, refusing to break the wet and nasty kiss he so desperately wanted for so long.

⠀⠀　　“gonna be a good girl and take me, doll? gonna take everything I’ve been keeping for you and only you?” he asked you while he bended you over the flat surface, steeping behind you.

⠀⠀　　“mhfm, daddy, I’ll take it all, please, please.” you started to cry. god this was twisted and plain disgusting. he knew about your daddy issues, about the longing for a fatherly figure. he should’ve felt repulsed by the nickname, his dick should’ve just go soft instantly. but it was a shock to his body, an impulse that added to the need for you, to be inside you.

he just loved hearing the new name roll out your sinful mouth.

⠀⠀　　“that’s right, princess, daddy’s gonna fuck you stupid, hmm? want that? of course you do.” he stated while adverting down, seeing how your ass swayed from side to side against his erection, your face full of tears and your nipples sensitive against the cold marble.

your hands reached out, grabbing both your asscheeks to spread them apart and give him a view of the curve of your pussy against the cottony material of your shorts, tracing the wet line with a manicured finger.

⠀⠀　　“fucking god, doll, when did you become so nasty, uh?” he was in awe, slapping the fat of your butt before tearing those damned shorts apart along with your annoying panties, tracing your bare pussy with a thumb.

you tried reaching for his erection, your cries making it impossible to answer anything. from his point of view you seemed pathetic, if he yearned you as a madman, you yearned him as a pathetic bitch in heat. sylus couldn’t believe the sweet and reserved girl he fell in love with was acting like this right before his eyes.

⠀⠀　　“shh, angel, I’ll give it to you, quit crying.” he lied, he didn’t want you to stop crying, actually. he pulled out his aching cock, pumping it a few times before pushing himself inside you way too wet cunt.

you just couldn’t hold back your moans, the squelching sound of both your arousals and the tapping of his balls against your wet skin making you feel dizzy.

blood showed up not a lot long after, an evidence of the loss of your innocence. he didn’t even think of that, didn’t even consider the possibility of you being completely untouched.

⠀⠀　　“fuck, princess, I’m corrupting you entirely, am I? daddy’s claiming you as a woman.” he said between thrust, loving how your ass jiggled against his pelvis. you could only nod and moan as a response. the connection you two were having too carnal, too raw.

it didn’t take long for him to cum white stripes inside your bloody cunt, followed up by you creaming his cock entirely, holding himself to the counter as he kept on thrusting, slower each time until he stopped.

you were fucked out, your brain mush as you tried to understand your environment and the situation, feeling both your releases drip to the tile flooring.

⠀⠀　　“daddy? sylus?” you cried out, trying to turn around to reach for your stepdad as you started to cry once more, scared of being left behind again. “please daddy, don’t leave me again, please, I’ll be good I promise.” you kept on rumbling.

⠀⠀　　“it’s okay, babydoll, I’m here. I’m here.” he reassured you, pulling out as his arms wrapped your body and brought you against his chest to hug you, his hands caressing your hair as he kissed your forehead, carrying you bridal style towards your bedroom after a little while.

he would change your clothes into new and fresh ones, clean up the mess he made while he pampered kisses all over your face, tuck you both in your bed while he caressed your long hair, staring at your angel like face while clarity hit him.

he didn’t care about the consequences he had to face in the morning. the pandora box was already open, he had a taste of you and he couldn’t let you go, not now.

sylus thought of all the ways he could escape, run away with you. he would leave your mom behind if it meant another night next to you, sleeping in his chest as you were doing now.

you were his little girl, you trusted him.

and he was going to take care of you as good daddies do.

a/n: I love daddy sylus guys u don’t understand (◞‸◟；)

— masterlist.

[blakeswritingimagines]

You Look Like You Love Me

Summary: Going out to a bar to drink seemed like a good plan. However, when the stranger staring you down wants to take you home with him sounds like a far better plan.

Warnings: PwP, Strangers to lovers, Mention of drinking, Rough Sex, Groping, Hints to Yandere Logan, Cowboy! Logan, Fem reader, Dirty talk, No protection, Oral on reader, Fingering, Oral on Logan, Begging, Degradation, Praise, Real names not being used, What feels like an overuse on pet names (Cowboy, Baby, Baby girl)

Word Count: 5.8k

Logan is in a bar in a small cowboy town sipping away at some cheap alcohol when he sees you, you were the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes on. His eyes didn't waver from yours from the second he spotted you. He continues sipping his alcohol, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself but in his mind he just wished to grab you, take you back to his ranch and keep you there just so you could be his. He could not help but fantasize about you being his darling. In his mind you were his and his alone.

You were minding your own business, sipping a drink at the bar, when you felt a pair of eyes on you. You turned to see a rugged cowboy staring at you from across the room. His gaze was unwavering, and there was a possessive look in his eyes. Your first instinct was to look away, but something about his intensity drew a small smirk from you. You could feel a heat growing in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder what was on his mind as he continued to stare at you. Logan's eyes continued to stay locked on yours, almost like a wolf stalking it's prey. He continued sipping his alcohol, watching your every move. He could feel a primal need growing within him the more he looked at you. It was taking a lot of discipline not to march over to you, push you against the wall and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. Your smirk grew wider as you realized the effect you were having on this cowboy. You could see the desire in his eyes, the way he was eyeing you like a piece of meat. You took a slow, deliberate sip of your drink, letting the liquid flow down your throat before slowly licking your lips, knowing full well the effect it would have on him. Logan's mouth went slightly agape when he saw you slowly drink and then lick your lips like that. He could feel his lower half reacting in a primal way and the more you did that the more he wanted you. He had to force himself to keep his cool and not make a fool out of himself as he got up and started to make his way over to you.

Your heart began to race as the cowboy started making his way towards you. You could see the heat in his eyes, the animalistic desire to possess you. But you wouldn't give in so easily. You crossed your arms and leaned back against the bar, watching him approach you with a cool, confident air. As he got closer to you he could not help but let his eyes drag over your body. Every curve, every feature was just driving him wild. He finally reached you at the bar and leaned against it right next to you, making sure to get as close to you as he could. "You know it's rude to tease a man like that darlin,'" he said in a low growl. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he leaned against the bar next to you, so close that you could practically feel his breath on your skin. You raised an eyebrow at his comment and looked him up and down slowly before answering. "And it's not rude to stare like you were doing, cowboy?" He chuckled at your response, clearly enjoying your attitude. "Who could help but stare at a doll like you?" he said as his eyes continued to drag over your body. "Ain't seen a girl as pretty as you in this town in a while," he added as he took a step closer to you, closing the distance between you even further. You couldn't help but feel a small flutter in your chest as he complimented you and took another step closer. His proximity was overwhelming, his body practically pressed against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and you could smell the faint scent of whisky and cigars on his breath. You tried to keep your cool, but it was getting harder to do so the more he encroached on your space. "Is that why you came over here, cowboy? Just to flatter me?"

He chuckled and leaned in so his lips were only a few inches from your ear. "No doll, I didn't come over here just to flatter you," he said in a low growl, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I came over here to make you mine, to show you just what a real man can do." He added as he slowly ran his fingers along your arm, his touch leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched. A shiver ran down your spine as he whispered in your ear, his voice sending a jolt of electricity through you. His words made your heart race, and you couldn't deny the effect he was having on you. You tried to keep your composure, but his touch was making your body react in ways you couldn't control. You could feel heat pooling in your core as his fingers traced over your skin, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. He chuckled as he noticed your reaction to his touch. "I can feel how your body is reacting to me, darlin'. It's obvious that you want me just as much as I want you" he whispered in your ear. "But I ain't gonna make this easy for you. I wanna make you feel, make you want me so much that you'll be begging me to make you mine" he added in a low, possessive growl as he put one of his hands on your hip, pulling you closer to him. Your breath hitched in your throat as he pulled you closer, his hand on your hip sending a wave of heat through your body. You tried to keep your cool, but his words and his touch were making it harder and harder to resist. You could feel your body reacting to him in a way that was completely out of your control. You wanted him to touch you, to make you feel things you had never felt before. But you weren't about to give in that easily. "On one condition." He raised an eyebrow and a smirk formed on his face. "A condition, hmm? And what might that be?" he asked as he continued to hold you close, his body pressed up against yours. He could feel how your body reacted to him, he could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat and it made the possessive beast within him want to take you right then and there.

You could feel the heat emanating from his body, his proximity overwhelming your senses. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before answering. "Before I consider letting you make me yours, I want you to prove to me that you're worthy of me. Show me that you're not just all talk." You spoke as you leaned closer to him before you whispered against his lips. "And no names." His eyes darkened with desire as you spoke, and he couldn't help but let out a low growl as you whispered against his lips. "Oh you're a feisty one, aren't you darlin'" he said in a low, lustful tone. He then leaned in so his lips were only a few millimeters from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "You want me to prove I'm worthy? Alright, I guess I'll have to show you just what this cowboy can do." he added as he pressed his lips against yours in a fierce, bruising kiss. Your heart raced as he spoke, his voice sending a thrill through you. And then his lips were on yours, and any resistance you had dissolved instantly. You felt a shock of electricity run through you as his mouth claimed yours in a fierce kiss, his lips possessing yours with a primal intensity. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your throat as you melted into his embrace, your resistance crumbling under the onslaught of his passion. He devoured your moan with a low growl, his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth as he deepened the kiss. His arms wrapped around you, holding you possessively against him, his hands roaming over your body, wanting to touch every inch of you. He pressed you against the bar, trapping you between his body and the hard surface behind you. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, the way your body melted against his, and it only made his need for you grow.

You felt lightheaded as he kissed you, his tongue exploring your mouth with an intensity that made you feel weak in the knees. His hands roamed over your body, igniting a fire in your core that made you crave more. You were trapped between him and the bar, feeling the hard surface behind you and his solid body pressing against you, making your head spin. You couldn't help but let out another moan as he continued to kiss you, your body responding to his touch like it had never responded to anyone else's before. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes dark with desire. "You are driving me crazy, darlin'" he growled as he buried his face in your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your sensitive skin. His hands continued to roam over your body, his touch leaving a trail of heat wherever he touched. "I can feel how much you're enjoying this, I can taste it on your lips" he added as he pressed his hips against yours, letting you feel just how aroused he was. You couldn't help but gasp as he kissed and bit at your neck, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You could feel the heat of his desire pressing against you as he ground his hips against yours, and it only heightened the fire that was building inside you. "And you are driving me insane," you managed to gasp out as he continued to kiss and nip at your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He let out a low growl as he continued his assault on your neck, his hands grasping at your hips and pulling you even closer to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, the way your breath hitched as he touched you, and it made him want you even more. "You have no idea how much I want you right now, darlin'," he whispered in your ear, his voice rough and filled with need. "I'm barely holding back from taking you right here, right now against this bar where everyone can see."

You felt a shiver run down your spine as he whispered in your ear, his voice low and gravelly with desire. The thought of him taking you right here in front of everyone made your heart race and your legs weak. "You won't get away with it that easily," you gasped out, though the words sounded weaker than you intended. The heat between you was building to a fever pitch, and you weren't sure how much longer you could resist him. "How far is your place?" He chuckled at your response, amused by your weak attempt to hold him off. He could see how much his touch was affecting you and it only made him more determined to make you his. "Ain't too far," he said in a rough voice, his lips trailing down your neck and to your ear. "Just a short ride away." His hands slid down your hips and to the backs of your thighs, lifting you off of the ground and onto the bar. "Wrap those pretty legs around me, doll." You gasped as he lifted you onto the bar, your heart racing with anticipation. You couldn't deny the effect his touch was having on you, and the way he was commanding you was only making it worse. You did as he said, wrapping your legs around him, feeling the hardness of his body pressed against you. You were powerless to resist him, and deep down, you didn't want to.

He let out a deep growl of satisfaction as you wrapped your legs around him, feeling your body against his. His hands gripped your thighs possessively, his fingers digging into your skin as he looked at you with a dark, hungry gaze. "That's my good girl," he said, his voice thick with lust. "You're not going anywhere now." He leaned in to capture your lips in another fierce kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a primal dance as he carefully brought you outside to his truck. You could feel the possessiveness in his grip as he held onto you, the intensity of his eyes making it clear that he had no intention of letting you go. When he picked you up and carried you outside, your heart pounded in your chest, the combination of his strength and the primal need he exuded making you dizzy with desire. You couldn't help but respond to his kiss, your tongue meeting his in a fierce, passionate dance. By the time he reached his truck, you were putty in his hands, completely at his mercy. You couldn't help but shudder at the sound of his voice, the command in it sending a thrill through you. You did as he said, climbing into the passenger seat, feeling the hard leather beneath you and the heat of his gaze on your skin. "And what exactly do you have planned for this night, cowboy?" you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. Logan slammed the door shut behind you, his large frame towering over the truck as he walked around to the driver's side. He climbed in, the engine roaring to life under his skilled hands. As he put the vehicle in gear and began driving, he reached out to run a calloused finger along your jawline, tilting your face up towards him. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm planning, sweetheart," he growled, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. "I'm gonna make you scream my name until you can't remember anything else." His hand slid down to grip your thigh, squeezing possessively. "And then we're gonna start all over again."

Your breath hitched as he spoke, his intense gaze and possessive touch igniting a fire within you that was becoming harder and harder to control. The thought of him making you scream his name over and over again sent a wave of heat through your body, and you couldn't help but shiver at the sensation of his hand on your thigh. "Is that so?" you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You think you have what it takes to make me lose control like that?" Logan chuckled low in his throat, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through your entire being. "Baby, I know I have what it takes," he said confidently, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he squeezed your thigh again. "I can see how much you want it, how desperate you are for me to claim every inch of you." He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across your ear as he whispered, "And trust me, I plan to take my sweet time doing just that." With that, he shifted gears and sped up, the wind whipping through your hair as he drove faster and faster down the deserted highway, pulling you deeper into the heart of darkness and desire. His words and his touch were like an electric current, sending bolts of heat and pleasure through your body. You were helpless against the tide of desire that he was building within you, and the thought of him taking his time to claim every inch of you made your heart race and your breath come in quick gasps. The wind whipped through your hair as he drove faster, the speed and the isolation of the deserted highway only adding to the intensity of the moment. You knew that there was no going back now, that you were completely at his mercy. And you didn't even care anymore.

Logan could sense your complete submission, the way your body relaxed into his touch, the way your breaths came in ragged pants. It only fueled his own hunger, his need to dominate and possess you utterly. He reached over, his hand sliding up your inner thigh, pushing your skirt higher as he went. "Look at you, spread open and ready for me," he murmured, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. "So fucking wet already." He dipped a finger beneath the elastic, teasing your slick folds. "Tell me, baby, who does this belong to? Because right now, it feels like it belongs to me." You shivered as he ran his hand up your inner thigh, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. The feeling of his finger against the dampness of your panties made you gasp, and his possessive words made you weak in the knees. Your mind was a swirling mix of desire and submission, and you could feel yourself surrendering to him completely. "It's yours," you gasped out, your voice trembling with need. "All of it. It belongs to you, cowboy." A wicked grin spread across Logan's face as he heard your surrender, his eyes gleaming with triumph and dark desire. "That's right, darlin'," he purred, his finger pressing firmly against your clit through the soaked fabric as he parked outside his house. "Every part of you belongs to me now. Your body, your mind, your very soul." He rubbed slow, deliberate circles against your sensitive nub, savoring the way you trembled and moaned beneath his touch. "And I'm gonna use every last bit of you however I please." His other hand left your thigh to roam freely over your curves, groping and kneading as he continued to tease your pussy with maddening slowness. "Now, let's get these clothes off you so I can really taste what's mine."

Your hips bucked involuntarily as he touched you, the pressure on your clit sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You were lost in the sensations, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond the need for more, for him to take you completely. When he mentioned tasting you, a fresh surge of arousal hit you, and you found yourself lifting your hips eagerly, practically begging for his hands to strip you bare. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath. "Touch me, taste me… make me yours." Logan's eyes flashed with primal satisfaction at your pleading, his grip on your thighs tightening almost painfully as he yanked your skirt up to your waist. In one swift motion, he ripped your panties clean off, tossing them aside without a second glance. "Fuck, look at you," he groaned, his gaze devouring the sight of your exposed sex, glistening and swollen with need. "So pretty, so perfect…" Without warning, he plunged two thick fingers deep inside you, pumping them hard and fast as he curled them to stroke that sensitive spot within you. "Mmm, you're dripping wet for me already. Can't wait to bury my cock in this tight little cunt." His thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles that had you seeing stars. "Come on, baby, ride my fingers. Show me how bad you want it." A strangled cry tore from your throat as he filled you with his fingers, the sudden intrusion and the relentless pace sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Your head fell back against the seat, your mouth open in a silent scream as you rode his hand, grinding your hips against his pistoning digits. Your back arched off the seat as he filled you with his fingers, the sudden invasion of pleasure through your core. His dirty talk only added fuel to the fire, and you could feel your orgasm building rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. "Yes, yes, fuck!" you cried out, grinding your hips against his hand as he pumped into you relentlessly. "I need it, I need your cock so badly."

Logan's grip on your thighs tightened further, his knuckles turning white as he pounded into your dripping cunt, stretching and filling you with each ruthless thrust. "That's it, cum for me," he snarled, his thumb pressing harder against your clit as he finger-fucked you mercilessly. "I wanna feel you squeeze my fingers when you come undone." His free hand slipped under your shirt, palming your breast roughly, pinching and tugging at your nipple until it pebbled between his fingers. "Fuck, you're so close, aren't you? So ready to explode on my hand like a good little slut." With a final brutal pump of his fingers, he ground them hard against that sensitive spot inside you, sending you hurtling over the edge into oblivion. "Come on, baby, give it to me!" Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your vision blurring as your body convulsed in ecstasy. You screamed his name, over and over, as your walls clamped down around his fingers, milking them for all they were worth. The intense pleasure was almost too much to bear, and you felt yourself slipping away, consumed by the overwhelming sensations. As the aftershocks subsided, you collapsed back against the seat, panting heavily, your body still quivering with residual pleasure. Through hooded eyes, you watched Logan withdraw his fingers from your spent pussy, licking them clean with a satisfied smirk. "That was… incredible," you managed to gasp out, your voice hoarse from screaming. "But I think I need more." Logan's smirk grew wider as he looked at you, his eyes glinting with dark amusement and raw lust. "Oh, I'm just getting started, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice low and husky. "You're not done with me yet." He reached over to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone as he leaned in close, his hot breath fanning across your lips. "I'm gonna take you inside, bend you over the kitchen counter, and fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight for days." His tongue darted out to lick the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Then, once you're nice and sore, I'll tie you to the bed and eat this pretty pussy until you beg me to stop." He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the delicate skin. "

Your heart raced at his filthy promises, a fresh wave of desire washing over you. The thought of being taken hard and fast, of being stretched and filled to the brink, sent tingles of anticipation through your body. And the idea of him feasting on your sensitive flesh, worshipping your most intimate places, made your core clench with need. "Yes, please," you breathed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Use me, claim me, make me yours in every way possible." You reached for him, your hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you tried to tear it open, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Take me inside. I'm ready for whatever you have planned." Logan chuckled darkly, a sound that vibrated through your chest as he helped you rip open his shirt, revealing the chiseled expanse of his torso. "Patience, darlin'," he murmured, his large hands covering yours as he guided them to his belt buckle. "We've got all night for me to ravage every inch of you." With deft movements, he unbuckled his belt and popped the button on his jeans, shimmying them down his muscular thighs along with his boxers. His impressive erection sprang free, long and thick and pulsing with need. "Look at what you do to me," he growled, his voice rough with lust as he wrapped a hand around his shaft, giving it a slow stroke. "This is all for you, baby. Every inch of it." Your gaze was drawn inexorably to his throbbing cock, your mouth watering at the sight. You licked your lips unconsciously, your own arousal spiking at the knowledge of how much he desired you. "It's beautiful," you whispered, reaching out to trace a finger along the veiny length of him. "I want to see it inside me, stretching me wide open." Your hand slid lower, cupping his heavy balls, feeling their weight and heat. "Make me yours, cowboy. Claim my body, my soul, everything." You shifted restlessly, your legs falling open in invitation as you gazed up at him with pleading eyes. "Please, I need you. Now."

Logan's control snapped at your plea, his grip on your wrist tightening as he pulled your hand away from his cock. "Not yet, baby," he gritted out, his breathing ragged with restraint. "I want to watch you beg for it first." With a swift tug, he yanked your shirt over your head, exposing your breasts to the cool air of his house. "Look at these perfect tits," he groaned, leaning in to capture a nipple between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. "So soft, so responsive… I'm going to mark them up real good, leave my brand all over you." His hands roamed your body, squeezing and kneading as he suckled at your breast, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. A sharp cry escaped your lips as he bit down, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his mouth, desperate for more of that delicious sensation. "Please," you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you held him to your chest. "More, I need more. Bite me, mark me, use me however you want." Your other hand slid down to rub at your aching clit, trying to stoke the embers of your desire higher. But even that small touch wasn't enough to ease the relentless craving consuming you. You needed him, all of him, now. "I'm begging you," you pleaded, your voice breaking with desperation. "Fill me, claim me, make me yours completely."

Logan released your nipple with a wet pop, his eyes blazing with possessive hunger as he looked up at you. "Such a pretty little beggar," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I love seeing you fall apart for me." In one swift motion, he stood and stripped off the remainder of his clothes, leaving him gloriously naked before you. His cock jutted out proudly, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. "Get on your knees, sweetheart," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Time to show you who's boss here." He grasped your shoulders, guiding you down onto the floor, positioning you directly in front of his straining erection. "Open wide, baby," he instructed, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock, angling it towards your waiting mouth. Without hesitation, you parted your lips, welcoming the thick head of his cock past them. The taste of his skin, slightly salty and musky, filled your senses as you began to suckle eagerly, taking him deeper into the warmth of your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the shaft, lapping up the pre-cum that leaked from the slit, savoring every drop of his essence. As you bobbed your head, you reached up to fondle his heavy balls, rolling them gently in your palm as you pleasured him with your mouth. The vibrations of your moans around his cock only seemed to spur him on, and you could feel his hips starting to rock forward, fucking your face with increasing urgency. "Mmmph, yes," you hummed, the words muffled by the thick meat of his dick. "Love sucking your cock, cowboy." Logan's grip on your hair tightened, his fingers twisting into the strands as he started to thrust deeper, using your mouth for his pleasure. "Fuck, yeah, just like that," he grunted, his hips snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt in your throat. He held you there for a moment, savoring the tightness, before slowly pulling back, allowing you to catch your breath before plunging back in. "Your mouth feels so damn good," he groaned, his rhythm growing more erratic as he chased his climax. "Gonna fill you up soon, baby. Swallow every last drop." His thrusts became more forceful, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each powerful stroke. You could tell he was close, his balls drawing up tight against his body as he prepared to erupt. "Ready or not, here it comes,"

Logan's warning gave you a moment to prepare, but it wasn't necessary - you were more than ready to receive his release. As he slammed deep, his cockhead nudging the entrance to your throat, you relaxed your muscles, letting him flood your mouth with his hot seed. You swallowed greedily, relishing the taste and texture of him as he emptied himself into your eager throat. Finally, with a satisfied grunt, Logan pulled out, his softening cock slipping from your lips with a lewd pop. You sat back on your heels, panting heavily, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the tip of his still-hard dick. "Delicious," you managed to say, your voice hoarse from the effort of taking him so deeply. Logan's chest heaved with exertion as he stared down at you, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Damn right it was," he drawled, his eyes roaming over your swollen lips, and the slight sheen of sweat on your skin. "But we're far from done, sweetheart." He offered you a hand up, helping you to your feet before spinning you around to bend you over the kitchen counter. "Assume the position," he ordered, giving your rear end a firm slap. "Time for round three." You obeyed, bending over the cool counter top to present yourself to him, your pussy already slick with arousal. Logan stepped closer, running a finger through your folds, gathering the evidence of your desire before bringing it to his lips for a taste. "Mmm, you're dripping for me," "Yes, please," you breathed, arching your back to press your ass more firmly against his groin. "I need you inside me, filling me up again." You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his intense gaze with a sultry smile. "Claim this pussy, make it yours." Your fingers dug into the countertop, knuckles white with anticipation as you waited for him to take you. Logan's large hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the flesh as he positioned himself behind you.

With a low growl, Logan lined up his thick cock with your entrance, the blunt head pressing insistently against your slick folds. "Hold on tight, baby," he warned, his voice a husky rumble in your ear. Then, with a single powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, stretching your walls deliciously wide. "Fuck, you feel incredible," he groaned, pausing for a moment to let you adjust to his size before beginning to move. His hips snapped forward in a steady rhythm, driving into you with deep, claiming strokes that had you crying out in pleasure. Each thrust hit that sweet spot within you, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through your nerves. "Take it, baby girl," Logan panted, his pace quickening as he chased another orgasm. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby," he hissed, his eyes blazing with possession. "Oh god, yes!" you wailed, your nails scrabbling against the countertop as he pounded into you relentlessly. The force of his thrusts sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward from your core, each one threatening to send you careening over the edge into blissful oblivion. "Harder, please! Fuck me harder!" you begged, your voice rising to a keening whine as he struck that magic spot inside you again and again. Logan's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove into you with wild abandon, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. "I can feel you getting tighter," he rasped, his thrusts becoming even more brutal as he sensed your impending climax. "Come on, baby, let go. Let me feel you squeeze my cock when you cum." Logan's command pushed you over the brink, your body tensing as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. Your inner walls clamped down around his pistoning cock, milking him for all he was worth as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. "Fuck, yes! Cumming on your cock!" you screamed, your voice raw with pleasure. Through the haze of your climax, you felt Logan's movements become jerky and erratic, his thrusts turning into short, sharp pumps as he neared his own peak. "Gonna…ahh…fill you up," he grunted, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the root once more. With a final, guttural roar, Logan came hard, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he pumped stream after stream of hot semen deep inside you.

As Logan's warm seed flooded your spasming channel, you felt your own contractions intensify, milking every last drop from his twitching cock. The sensation of being so thoroughly claimed, so utterly filled with his essence, sent shivers racing down your spine. "So much," you gasped, marveling at the sheer volume of his release. "You're pouring so much inside me." Logan's spent cock slipped free with a lewd squelch, followed by a trickle of their combined fluids that oozed down your thigh. You collapsed forward onto the counter, your legs trembling with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. After a moment, Logan wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck. "That was incredible," he murmured, his voice tinged with satisfaction. Logan's praise warmed you to your core, his approval and affection a balm to your soul after the intensity of what you'd just shared. You turned in his embrace, capturing his lips in a slow, sensual kiss, savoring the taste of him mixed with the lingering hint of sex on your tongue. When they finally broke apart, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you gazed into his eyes. "I love how we fit together," you whispered, a contented sigh escaping you. "Like two pieces of a puzzle, meant to be joined." Logan smiled, his thumb stroking gentle circles on your hip. "We sure do seem to click, don't we?" he agreed, his tone playful but filled with genuine affection. "And I've got a feeling our puzzle is far from complete."

[romirola]

Headcanons for the Shaw Pack's Relationships with Marie Greer

Inspired by a DM from @luminesceintbutterfly

David... sees Marie as the mother he never had. She steps in as a motherly figure in his life, even during moments when he resists it. From birth to adulthood, Marie is there for him through thick and thin. (Interested in seeing that relationship featured in a fic? Check out "In Name and Spirit.")

Angel... sees Marie as a wise beacon of both shifter information and life wisdom. Marie can see the positive change to David that Angel enacts, and she is forever grateful to this kind unempowered human. Angel will often consult Marie when it comes to navigating their alpha-mate duties. Marie is more than happy to lend an ear, hand, or shoulder.

Asher... sees Marie as a powerhouse. To him, Marie is as close as an aunt as someone can get. Marie is Áine's best friend (my headcanon of Asher's mother), lending any help she could to help the humanborn couple acclimate to life in a pack for the first time. Find out more about Asher's parents' story in Chapter 4 of Packed with Love . Growing up, Marie could always be trusted to heal Asher's many injuries and, scold him for putting himself at risk. Despite those lectures, Asher knows that Marie always has his back, and trusts her with his life.

Babe... sees Marie as a role model. Marie is so sure of herself, so focused, so capable and strong. She can do anything she sets her mind to, and inspires everyone around her to work as hard as she does. Babe always loves to hear Marie tell a story, finding their senses of humor to be very similar. Babe aspires to make Marie proud as they figure out how to serve the pack as beta-mate.

Milo... sees Marie as his mama. The woman who raised him. The woman who protects him. The woman who spent her whole life making sure he was cared for, loved, and set up for success, no matter how the odds were stacked. Milo knows just how lucky he is to have her in his life (even if she does drive him crazy sometimes), and he spends his life trying to be a man who makes his mama proud.

Sweetheart... sees Marie as a hero who raised their very favorite person. Marie embraces Sweetheart with all her heart, and Sweetheart is forever grateful. Their relationship is solid, strong, and loving. Marie is so ready to do anything for Sweetheart, because she truly wants her son's mate to be happy, healthy, and safe.

Darling... sees Marie as an ally. Marie is the first to call out an injustice or question a decision that might have negative consequences. She's logical, but empathic. She's fierce, but gentle. She's strong and weathered, but never lost that spark that makes her special. Darling admires Marie, and always cherishes their time together.

Sam... sees Marie as a trusted friend. The two bond over healing technique, long-gone pop culture, and common sense. Sam may not always enjoy the social aspect of being in a pack, but when he spots Marie an an event, he always makes it a point to connect with her.

Aggro... sees Marie as his grandma. She covers him with blankets when she visits (which is very often) and feeds him whenever he asks.

Gabe... saw Marie as family. He liked that Marie was never intimidated by his alpha-status, and that let the two develop a deep, meaningful friendship over the years.

[louiseolivier]

Fluffebruary: Cooking Together

Written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

AO3 Link

The first time did not go well. At all. Buck’s eyes kept cutting to Tommy on the other side of the island, who was absolutely hacking at an onion. Most of it was a small dice, some of it was Brunoise, but none of it was the minced he asked for. Buck exhaled forcefully through his nose and tried not to let it bother him, but it did—a lot.

Buck gnawed at his bottom lip when a thought occurred. “Hey, can you scrub three potatoes for me?” He gave Tommy a soft, innocent smile.

Tommy looked up briefly and then back at his haphazardly chopped onion. He cut the last few inches, this time into an uneven medium dice, and grinned guilelessly up at Buck. “Sure,” he said. He moved around the counter and took the time to press his hand against Buck's waist before digging out the potatoes from their bag.

Once Tommy’s back was turned, focused on the task Buck gave him, Buck pushed the carrots he was julienning to the side and pulled the cutting board Tommy used to massacre the poor, unexpecting root vegetable towards himself. Buck’s chef’s knife made fast work, flying over the mismatched onion pieces until all of it was minced to Buck’s liking.

“Here ya go,” Tommy said, presenting Buck with a bowl of well-scrubbed potatoes.

“Thanks.” Buck placed a congenial hand on Tommy’s wrist while his other tried to scoot the cutting board with the onions from Tommy’s line of sight. “I really like you helping me. It feels...nice.” It was the safest thing Buck could think of because what he wanted to say was domestic. Tommy’s lack of knife skills notwithstanding.

Tommy gazed at him softly and, Christ, did that get Buck going. They hadn’t said it, and honestly, there was still a stiffness, an air of formality since getting back together that they never had before, but Buck knew what that look meant. It was a look of love. They were constantly mirroring it back and forth, but neither was brave enough to say it. Yet. It was still early days though. They were both protecting wounds. Some old, some recent, and some self-inflicted. They’d get there soon, he was sure of it.

Big hands wrapped around Buck, and Tommy pulled him into a hug. Tommy’s hugs were god-tier. Firm and warm, but not crushing. Buck felt cradled in his man’s arms. Safe. Protected. Cherished. Buck closed his eyes and melted against him.

And then Tommy’s body went rigid. The arms around him slackened, and Buck pulled away to see what was wrong. Tommy's eyes were on the now perfectly minced onion, lips pursed in consideration. His eyes lifted to Buck’s face, and he raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” Buck said, feeling slightly ashamed.

“You could have said something,” Tommy pointed out.

“I know.” Buck brushed a kiss to Tommy’s cheek in apology and then carried the mound of onions to the stove. He pulled a wok from a cabinet and placed it on the burner to heat up.

“So why didn’t you?” Tommy, ever helpful, brought over the carrots, zucchini, bell peppers, and mushrooms and placed them all within Buck's reach.

“I didn’t wanna rock the boat.” Buck lined up the sauce ingredients, not quite meeting Tommy’s eyes. “Things have been going so well.”

“Right,” Tommy agreed. Then he made a pinched expression, and his head bobbed left to right as he considered his next words. “But wasn’t that part of our problem the first time around? Not that I have a lot of complaints,” Tommy assured Buck, “but we kept it all pretty surface level.”

“Yeah,” Buck nodded. “I’m not trying to go back. It's just...” He trailed off. He was going to say, “easier,” but realized it would negate the first part of his statement. It was exactly what he did—they did—the first time.

Tommy understood his meaning anyway and rubbed his hand against the small of Buck’s back. “I’m scared, too.”

Fear was Tommy’s main motivator when it came to love. He had fallen hard for the first guy he dated, and it ended disastrously and had done everything in his power to avoid it since. Buck held back because he was so desperate to keep Tommy around, he didn’t want to be too much, too overwhelming. They both failed spectacularly but got what few did: a chance at a do-over.

“I’m a big boy,” Tommy said, and a beat of silence passed as they shared a knowing grin. “So, let me have it. What was wrong with my onions?”

Buck blew out a breath and decided to go with it. He tapped the cutting board of onions with the corner of the wok spatula. “This is minced. What you were doing was far too big.”

“Okay, but you’re making stir-fry. Shouldn’t they be bigger pieces anyway? I mean, that shit’s going to burn.”

“First, I like onion flavor but not onion texture. Second, they won’t burn if I put them in with the bell peppers.” Buck poured in oil and coated the pan with a twist of his wrist. “Go ahead. My turn.” The diced chicken went in first, and he let it sizzle as he waited for Tommy’s critique.

“You’re bossy and a little scary in the kitchen,” Tommy said and then flicked a plank of carrot into his mouth.

“You know what?" Buck huffed. "Three: even if I wanted bigger pieces of onion, the name of the game is uniformity. Jee-Yun could do better with her plastic knife,” Buck half-joked.

"Ouch," Tommy said with a snort, and then added, “How could I have forgotten bitchy?”

A smile crossed Buck’s face as he gave the wok a scrape and a toss.

Tommy nodded to the bowl of whole, unpeeled potatoes he cleaned. “Do you even need those?”

It was Buck’s turn to snort as he added the carrots to the pan. “No.”

[sapphosboy]

I’m completely fine and okay until I remember that Eric Delano literally blinded himself for the chance to raise his son, and love him, and protect him from Mary and Mary fucking killed him for shits and giggles. 

[gingermintpepper]

Day 4: Aristaeus

Interpretation notes and trivia below the cut!!

All rise for the entrance of my president !! Honestly, of all the figures and characters that were up for debate when I first started thinking about this story and who I wanted leading the charge Aristaeus was not one of them. Originally, I'd always known that Asclepius and Orpheus would be worked in somehow - they've always been favourites of mine in terms of children of Apollo (even if Orpheus as the child of Apollo and Calliope is less popular classically) and I expected my pick for the third child of Apollo to be involved to be similarly mortal like Iamus or Tenes but the more I looked into Aristaeus the more I fell in love with him! Ultimately, he's meant to be both a foil and a reflection of his father - a boy who grows up thinking his father's footsteps would always be warm only to realise that following in them would lead to death and destruction. While his status as a rustic and hunting god is still important here, Aristaeus' interpretation is much more focused on his connection to the Etesian wind and his quelling of the dog star Sirius which is why his hair in particular is so long and spiralling. All in all, more than any other figure I've chosen to interpret and represent in my work Aristaeus is the god I hope more people get interested in and research! I think there are a lot of important stories in his various myths and travels and I definitely want more people to discover and fall in love with them as I have!

Some fun trivia:

Apollo's firstborn son. Because he was born mortal on account of his very mortal mother, Apollo immediately took him to Olympus to eat ambrosia to begin his transition into divinity. Apollo would continue to feed Aristaeus small amounts of ambrosia and nectar for the next ten years until the child fully shed his mortal skin and was reborn as a god.

Due to the nature of making mortals deathless (namely the fun part of the process where they are completely remade and lose their mortal memories) Aristaeus spent most of his early life with his mother and siblings where they all pitched in to reteach him his family, his hobbies, his favourite things and ultimately how to live and love. Aristaeus was very attached to his maternal family because of this and his early acts of ingenuity were mostly born from his wish to make things easier for his family.

Aristaeus is the only one of his children Apollo hand raised full time. In those days, Aristaeus adored his father and believed him completely upright and blameless, the true face of a benevolent deity and the kind of man he aimed to be when he was full grown.

They would later have many bitter arguments and conflicts, the first and perhaps most impactful of all being their disagreement over Actaeon, Aristaeus' firstborn son. He wanted Apollo to teach him stating that it was a normal thing for a grandfather to do but Apollo vehemently refused to have any part of Actaeon's rearing, stating that he was not his child and that it was highly inappropriate for him to educate another god's son. When Actaeon later dies, Aristaeus blames a not insignificant part of that on Apollo - something that only worsens when he learns that it was Artemis who cursed the boy and that Apollo was always aware Actaeon would die young.

Spends most of his time travelling from place to place. Doesn't really like Olympus and prefers to spend his time minding animals or tending to fields. Is on wonderful terms with Demeter and Persephone and often makes decadent exchanges of olive oil and preserved meat for exotic flowers and fruit for his bees.

Big fan of wind and percussive instruments. Never liked the kithara because of how finicky it is and far prefers the hand drums and reed flutes of his mother's country. Exceptional dancer.

Will sell prized cattle for high quality and highly unique jewellry. Doesn't much care for gemstones but is an absolute gold fiend and has a massive collection of bracelets, anklets, nose and lip adornments and rings. Has never been north enough to hit India but got a ton of rare and different adornments from his Phoenician in-laws when he was married to Autonoë.

Hates dogs but doesn't mind wolves. Not a big horse fan either

Unlike other winds, he cannot transform into various animal forms. He's close enough to the Anemoi that he keeps up with the gossip but he's only really friends with Notos. Gets along poorly with Zephyrus whose preference for pretty youths has often led to them getting into physical altercations when they were younger. Aristaeus still holds a bit of a grudge about it.

Has a big stupid crush on Dionysus which is embarrassing because Dionysus also put him out of a job. Due to Dionysus' relative youth, he feels a bit conflicted about such feelings - mostly because Dionysus is on extremely good terms with Apollo and Aristaeus doesn't want him to get burned.

Despite kinda despising his father, Aristaeus is a pretty decent eldest brother and regularly keeps in contact with a lot of his siblings. He often delivers mead, flavoured honey and olive oil and uses it as an excuse to chat and catch up. Currently in a bit of a tiff with Asclepius because he's worried about him and his family.

Favourite colour is the rich gold of purified honey, favourite food is lokma and his favourite time of year is winter.

[empresskylo]

of fucking course simon riley has your location on. he needs to make sure you're safe. likes to keeps tabs on you. he says he’s completely normal about it, but that is a lie--he obsessively checks it.

and he knows all your common locations: your apartment, your friend’s place, the grocery store, the target you like to go to. so when he sees you at a random address one evening, your little marker on the map not moving,--meaning you’re not just driving past--he raises a brow. he immediately texts you. and when you don’t respond, he’s calling you.

and when you don’t answer… he’s in his truck faster than he thought he could move, beelining it straight for your mysterious location.

and when he pulls up in front of someone’s house, watching as you walk out the front door, laughing at something the man trailing you says, he’s furious. he was worried you might have been hurt. in a sticky situation. but cheating on him didn’t even cross his mind.

he storms out of the truck and you look at him with a gasp. “simon? what’re you doing—?”

“who the fuck is that?” he demands, gesturing to the guy behind you.

“simon…” you say exasperated. “i told you yesterday I was meeting up with friends to plan her bachelorette party.”

his eyes soften slightly, but he’s still reaching for you, hands wrapping around your arms. “doesn’t answer my question.”

“this is her childhood friend.” he glares over your shoulder at him, like he doesn’t believe you. like he wants to kill him. “her gay childhood friend.” you add, hands on your hips, a little annoyed he’d embarrass you like this.

when he hauls you into his truck, he takes a few beats before he apologizes. “m’sorry, love. you weren’t answering your phone and when i saw you at some random—“ he stops mid-sentence as he glances over at you in the passenger seat, expecting you to be glaring at him, ready to tear him a new one. but much to his surprise, you’re taking your shirt off.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, his hands tightening on the wheel to stop from reaching over and touching you.

“that was the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” you whisper, a little embarrassed to admit it. but protective simon? the simon who was ready to beat a guy up just for making you laugh? yeah, that turned you on even if it shouldn’t.

he’s thankful it’s nighttime so no one driving past can see you topless in his truck. he’s also thankful the roads are rather empty this late on a weekday.

“wait till we get home, yeah?” he asks, his voice strained.

you shake your head. “simon, please,” you whine. “i can’t wait.”

he groans in his throat, knowing your place is only 5 more minutes away. he’s already hardening in his pants, and he’s tempted to pull over and drag you into the back seat. but he doesn’t. instead, he reaches his large hand and slides it over your thigh, his eyes on the road as he pushes your skirt up. and you bite your lip, holding back a moan as he rubs you over your underwear. “so fuckin’ wet,” he says astonished.

you buck your hips up and he almost laughs. you weren’t kidding, you really couldn’t wait. he slips his fingers past your panties and dips them into your heat and you grab the door of the car for support, shutting your eyes. he starts a steady pace, his fingers making obscene sounds as they fuck you. you groan and mewl and simon worries he might not make it home either.

it takes you just about a minute to climax, your heat pulsing rapidly around his two fingers, earning a growl from simon. “fuckin’ hell, love,” he breathes, amazed at how fast and hard you came. loving that it was all because of him.

he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and he’s storming around to your side, trying to get you to put your shirt back on, desperate to get you inside. he hauls you over his shoulder, his hand resting on your skirt so no one accidentally gets a free show. “naughtily little thing,” he hums to himself. “can't wait to properly punish you.”

cod masterlist

[cntloup]

Gojo Satoru x pregnant!reader

protective!Satoru, fluff, a lil angst, mention of feeling guilty, implied heavy symptoms experienced by the reader

"it's ok, baby. i've got it." Satoru says as he approaches your slouched form over the sink, washing the dishes as you try to get something done and make yourself useful.

you've been feeling guilty during the past month or so, feeling like you were a burden to him, thinking that you would never live up to his expectations. now he has to take care of you. and as time goes by, it will get even worse as your pregnancy progresses. but he's a busy man with heavy responsibilities. you'd be only holding him back. you torture yourself with these thoughts every day.

"oh, thanks. i'll go clean up the living room and do the laundry then." you respond with a forced smile, trying to mask the guilt that's been gnawing at you for a while as you try to keep yourself from falling over out of dizziness.

"what? no, wait! i'll do it after i wash the dishes. you go get some rest. you've done enough." he retorts while gently grabbing your arm, voice slightly raised to stop you immediately.

he is in utter disbelief at your behavior. you should be resting right now, tucked in beneath the soft sheets peacefully. you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about anything, he thinks.

"i haven't done anything all day." you utter in a faintly frustrated tone, mostly at yourself.

"and that's exactly how it should be." he replies with a nod, "now go to bed before i drag you there myself." he adds, maintaining a playful tone, a soft smile adorning his features as he drinks in your beauty. you're already glowing. but considering how observant he is, he senses your discomfort immediately like he can actually feel the gloom and sorrow you're feeling right now like a mother hen.

"what is it, baby? tell me." he murmurs as he walks up to you and pulls you into him by your hips, shining blue eyes staring at you as he awaits a response.

his hand rests on your side as the other cups your jaw, his thumb swiping over your cheek that could be dampened any moment now as you feel tears threatening to spill.

"i'm so sorry." you whisper breathily, voice slightly quivering with the lump in your throat as you look up into his glowing eyes.

"for what?" he asks, confusion evident on his features.

"for being weak. i'm so sorry to disappoint you." you finally spill out the words that have been weighing heavily on your chest as the tears cascade down your glossy eyes.

"disappoint me? i don't understand... why are you crying, love?" he mutters with a shake of his head, his confusion growing even more by your words as his fingers swipe over your cheeks to wipe away the stray tears.

"you're literally the strongest and you're stuck with me. i'm barely even showing yet and i'm feeling extreme fatigue. i've been sleeping all day for the past month cause i can't do anything. and because of the symptoms, i'll probably have to quit my job." you ramble about the thoughts that have been pulling you down all this time.

"wait, wait, wait! how long have you been feeling like this?" he questions with widened eyes baring into your soul.

"eversince we found out i was pregnant. i can't stop feeling guilty about disappointing you." you reply quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it. of course you know you're being irrational. it's all natural to be tired during this time and need help, but you just can't help it.

"you've been feeling like this all this time and you didn't tell me anything?" he blurts out almost too aggressively to his liking, "sorry. didn't mean it to come out that way." he quickly apologizes after witnessing the slight flinch on your part.

how could he not see it? you've been trying to do the chores like regular, pushing yourself to your limit both in the house and on your job until he swoops in and takes the weight off your shoulders. now he starts to blame himself for not finding out sooner and letting you wallow in your own sadness and guilt all alone.

"you're not weak, baby. you're doing the one thing that i can't possibly ever do. the one thing that the strongest can't do. and what does that make you? huh? you're literally the strongest of all, babe. i can't even fathom what you're going through and you're doing amazing-", "i'm barely functioning." you cut him off.

"i'm not done yet, babe." he says playfully before continuing, "you're doing amazing, honey. you sleep not because you can't do anything else but because you need it. you're carrying our child for fuck's sake. a literal human's life is growing inside you and of course it takes its toll on you. and i'm right here beside you every step of the way." he finishes his loving speech with a tender kiss on your forehead as his strong arms wrap around your now slightly shaking form as you sob, utterly moved by his words and also the hormones.

"thank you, Satoru. i really appreciate it. you always know what to say when i'm feeling down." your words are cut off by loud sobs but he patiently waits for you to finish as he rubs your back soothingly while nuzzling his face in your neck.

"any time, baby. i love you." he whispers in your ear, "i love you too, toru." you say back, continuing to sob in his arms for a while before you eventually calm down and he guides you to bed, encouraging you to take some much-needed rest.

"and don't worry about your job. you can take some time off or quit altogether. i have more than enough to pay for our family and the next generations to come-", "ok, stop bragging!" you chuckle, "i'm just saying, baby. i've been dying to spoil you. now's my chance. let me take care of you. you don't have to go through this alone. in fact, i won't even let you." he chuckles lightly and crashes his lips onto yours, pulling away with a loud smack as you both lay in bed, limbs tangled together, "you already spoil me." you mention with a slight pout, "and i'm gonna do it even more. you deserve it, baby. don't worry about anything. i've got it." he says while softly caressing your cheek, admiring your glowing beauty illuminated by the faint bedside light.

you slowly start to feel the sleep creeping in and drift away into a slumber as you mumble a quiet 'thank you', curling into Satoru's side as he holds you so lovingly while you think to yourself how you've been blessed with the best, most loving and supportive partner anyone could ever ask for.

[i-love-ptv]

Stacy’s Mom Has Got It Goin’ On ˚̣̣ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣

Pairing: Husband!Rafe Cameron x Soccer-mom!Wife!Reader

It’s not easy being a soccer-mom, especially when dads hit on you at every game as if you’re not married to Rafe.

Wc: 1,596

Fluff, Protective Rafe making an appearance, kinda pushy guy (idk what to say)

An: I’ve really wanted to write a fic based on this song, and this idea randomly popped into my head so! Am I using the names I wanna name my kids? Yes, yes I am.

Not proofread tbh

Feedback always appreciated lovelies!! xx

“I’ll be back, ‘mkay doll?”

You hum in acknowledgement, eyes peering back at the field after looking up.

Your husband, Rafe, leant down and places a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Yeahhh, Daddy’s gonna be back, baby.” Rafe coos at your two year old, who was sitting on your lap, babbling freely while peering at him with her big doe eyes.

Rafe walks off the bleachers in search of the concession stand to buy food for the three of you.

You brush your hand over your young daughter’s head, making sure her somewhat oversized hat is still covering her head entirely. Her hand wraps around your index finger.

It was oddly humid today, if you continued moving, you’d break a slight sweat. You can't even imagine what your daughter—Stacy must be feeling, running around on the large grassy field under the beaming bright sun.

You were proud of your baby girl though, nonetheless. And so was Rafe, of course.

You shout loudly when you notice the game is about to start, bellowing out a “Go Stacy!”

Stacy’s eyes easily found yours, for you and Rafe would always sit in the same spot on the bleachers.

Her eyes were slightly wide due to your shout, despite you and Rafe always cheering for her during her games.

She’s motioning for you to ‘shh’, putting her fingers to her lips before getting into her position.

“Which one’s yours?” You hear to the left of you, the unknown voice makes you tear your eyes away from the field.

You smile shortly at the unfamiliar man next to you, “Number 22.”

You can’t help but notice how he’s rather scruffy looking, an odd contrast to your upkept husband with his neatly buzzed hair.

“Mine’s number 13.” He says, flashing his teeth at you.

You gasp and shoot up a little, making you look down at your daughter on your lap. “Valerie’s yours? Oh she’s just the sweetest!”

The man chuckles, looking deeply in your eyes. This makes your eyebrows raise, slightly in confusion, but mostly in discomfort.

He hadn’t done anything out of the norm, you’d randomly talk to the other moms around too, but something about him made you uncomfortable.

“My name's Brandon, and yours?”

You introduce yourself briefly, before turning back towards the game.

His eyes dart to your left hand, looking for a ring, for any indication that you belong to someone else. He smiles sharply when he finds your fingers bare. This goes unnoticed by you.

Little does he know, you do have your ring on, just around your neck.

Your biggest fear was your youngest accidentally pulling off your ring, resulting in you losing it. Or, even worse: it pokes her eye or something of that nature.

You suppose you could be considered a ‘Helicopter-mom’ at times, simply going to the extremes to make sure your kids are happy and healthy at every point in time.

Rafe is the exact same way, maybe even a little worse. But you knew he was just protective, he loves this life that he has with you, since he had no idea the two of you would’ve been together for so long.

You had started dating Rafe when you were 18 and he was 19. It was good for the first few months, disregarding the few arguments that you had. But then, you had caught Rafe doing cocaine.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to shake the look on his face from your memory.

You weren’t supposed to be at the party, you said you were busy filling out college applications.

So when he was mid-line, and he saw you standing there all dolled up, watching him with glossy eyes, he felt his heart shatter into pieces.

You weren’t supposed to find out, he wanted to keep this away from you, to keep you close to him.

He promised that he would try and stay sober for you, but eventually he’d give in every time the opportunity was in front of him. This resulted in several arguments, and surprisingly, a break up.

But things are different now. You both are in your 30’s, you got married, and of course, had two beautiful babies together.

Rafe knew he’d be crazy to fuck things up now, when he has the perfect life right in front of him.

Speaking of which; you’re really starting to wonder what the hell is taking him so long just to get some goddamn hotdogs and drinks.

You’re bouncing your knee anxiously, which makes your daughter giggle. You wish she wasn’t finding this amusing, but you know she can’t help it.

“Well who’s this cute girl, huh?” The man coos, tickling your daughter’s side.

“Her name is Noelle.” You huff, your mood quickly shifting due to this stranger touching your daughter.

He lets out another chuckle, you wish you never had to hear it again. “Sounds like you’re quoting Teenage Dirtbag to me.”

You give him a pointed look, you’re really getting sick of his pestering. “That’s where I got it from.”

Abruptly, the crowd starts cheering madly. You look around and see Stacy's team celebrating briefly; they had just scored a goal.

You cheer and clap, grabbing Noelle’s chubby hands and making her raise her arms wildly while giggling with her.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could-” Before Brandon could finish his sentence, none other than Rafe Cameron comes stomping up the bleachers, huffing and puffing angrily.

He sits down and sighs, “God, I’m sorry babe. The line was so long! I swear I’m going grey right now.”

“And I missed the goddamn play!” Rafe exclaims. He looks over at you and immediately goes quiet once he sees those wide baby eyes that look at him curiously.

“Da?” Noelle mutters, reaching her tiny hands towards Rafe’s larger ones.

“Yeah. Da’s here babygirl, do you want your food? Huh sweet girl?”

Rafe hands you your food, setting his food aside so he can put Noelle in his lap. He begins to split half his hotdog in pieces for her.

You glance to the left, you notice Brandon looking like a fish out of water.

Rafe is the CEO of one of, if not the biggest business company around. And Brandon had just borderline harassed his wife, who was holding his child.

Brandon sneers at the two of you in silence while the game continues, nearly boiling at the fact that he couldn’t have you.

Your head is laying on Rafe’s shoulders, you’re rubbing circles on Noelle’s shoulder as she settles down.

“Everything alright babe?” Rafe asks, trying to peer down at your face.

You untuck your necklace with your wedding ring from your shirt, fiddling with it. “Yeah, now that you’re here Ray.”

There’s silence between the two of you for a few seconds.

“…What does that mean?”

You hesitate to answer, but you do regardless, “Nothing! It’s just uh..That guy next to me, was kinda like hassling me I guess.”

This makes Rafe straighten his back.

“He do somethin’ to you doll?” Rafe questions in a whisper. You know you have about 30 seconds to try and calm him down before he’s banned from every soccer game left in the season.

“No, okay? I’m fine, it’s cool. I need you to calm down Ray.”

Rafe’s nose is flaring, “What about Ellie? Did he touch her?”

You feel your throat closing up, your heart is damn near pounding out of your chest.

You don’t say anything to Rafe, but that look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know.

You grab his bicep, trying to keep him grounded. Even though he’s changed, some parts of him haven’t.

Rafe speaks lowly in your ear, but not too much to frighten you in any way. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Don’t worry y’pretty little head about it.”

Rafe presses a firm kiss against your cheek, then presses a softer one to your lips.

After 30 more minutes, and 2 more goals, Stacy’s team wins.

You and Rafe cheer loudly, letting out “That’s our baby girl!”

You meet Stacy at the bottom of the bleachers, holding Noelle in your hand as the littlest claps her hands between Stacy’s face.

You’re too busy congratulating your daughter to notice Rafe pulling Brandon aside while his daughter, Valerie is off talking to her friends.

Rafe puts a firm hand on his shoulder, “Hey man.”

Brandon lets out a nervous laugh, “Hey there, Rafe Cameron, right?”

“Yeah, let’s keep this short. I better not see or hear you talking to my wife again, do you hear me? I don’t give a shit what happened.”

Rafe continues shortly, “And keep your fucking hands to yourself, if I find out you touched my either of my daughters again, I swear to God himself I’ll put you under.”

The two men are holding eye contact, one looks with confidence and borderline rage, while the other looks with fear.

Rafe walks down the bleachers, meeting you and your girls.

“You were amazing out there sweetheart!” Rafe smiles while pulling Stacy into a bear hug.

“Jesus dad, you’re crushing me!” Stacy laughs with a slight wheeze.

Rafe ruffles her hair and puts his arm around your neck.

“All good to go?”

You nod your head, and with that, the four of you begin to walk to Rafe’s parked car.

Rafe realizes that this isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on at a soccer game, or anywhere in fact. And this definitely won’t be the last.

Cause everybody’s in love with Stacy’s mom.

[simpjaes]

wife material.

Anonymous asked: Being arranged to jay in a marriage and hes distant at first but notices his new partner who has a nice plush ass, wide hips and plump tits. His brain goes mmm breeding material but youre just an innocent girl with a pornstar body?

WORDCOUNT: 1.1k

NOTE: tumblr wouldn't let me answer it as an ask :/ also, not proofread.

So, you're in an arranged marriage for more than one reason. Rather than being "innocent", you're just a total bimbo. Fr, everything you've ever wanted or needed has been handed to you on a silver platter. Your parents are super protective of you though, mostly out of fear that you'd be taken advantage of, right? right.

So, you've never had a boyfriend, no girlfriend, no friends [outside of the maids and nannies that you spend so much time with.] You were homeschooled, never expected to go to college either, because why work if you're already well taken care of and financially protected?

Your parents suggest an arranged marriage, mostly so they can choose and judge who you will be spending your life with. They don't trust you to go out into the world and find someone suitable, after all, so....why not make an arranged marriage work for the whole family? Jay is the first son of a rich C.E.O and is expected to take over the business sooner rather than later. He's polite, bordering too-stoic, but very much a good man in your parent's eyes. He appears to see the arrangement as a business deal rather than anything else, after all, he was raised much like you were except...he's a man. He has needs, and they are frequently met by using the lovely little black card. He's not looking for love anyway, the late nights to the VIP club lounges is really all he needs. Until he saw you. Until he fucking saw you. What he thought would be a great boost to business and a good little photo op, where you're married to him but both of you just do your own thing....turns into, well-

"Shit, are you a virgin?" Jay shushes you before you can answer. Your little whimper of "It hurts" ringing too loudly in his ears. Still, he feels the nod as he presses your face into the pillows with a hand at the back of your neck.

His eyes roll back in pleasure at your nod. Honestly, with a body like that? A virgin? He'd have figured you've fucked around by now. But you haven't, and that just might be the greatest thing he's heard all fucking day. So, he points his hips with intention now, penetrating deep. If at all because he can't fucking help it.

"Can't believe they're just giving you to me." You can't answer with the corner of the pillow in your mouth and all, but even if you could, you wouldn't know what to say to him. Marriage. Business. He'd support you, wait on you hand and foot? Yes. That's what you expected. Honestly, the idea of sex has been forbidden from you for so long that you half expected your father to keep that rule with Jay too, even after marriage. And here you are, meeting him briefly at his house just a week before the wedding. Your driver had dropped you off, the intention of the visit being to finalize all of the wedding details and put in any last opinions considering neither of you are planning it. You really didn't expect to find yourself face down on Jay's bed, where he ushered you the moment he saw you. Muttering something along the lines of "You're alone? Fucking finally." It's not like you entirely mind either, it's not like he didn't immediately make out with you all the way to his bedroom. It's not like you didn't make out with him right back, even if you were surprised. It's really just the fact that you were totally unprepared to have a cock that big shoved in you for the first time on a Monday afternoon. You've wondered for years what it was like to have sex, anyway, always fumbling around with your fingers and never quite feeling as good or as full as you do now. It's overwhelmingly hot, pleasurable, even. And the fact that Jay is handsome only makes this that much better. You'll be marrying him next week anyway, why does it matter if you're letting him do this right now? After next week, your father will no longer be controlling what you do. It'll be Jay, if he wants to. You can only imagine the amount of sex the two of you will be having after it's official, so...you enjoy it. Moaning, groaning, feeling that pit in your stomach intensify with each push of his cock inside of you, his breath on your shoulder, whispering filth to you between questions to get to know you. To anyone else, it would seem insane. But the fact of the matter is, you've never actually been together alone. Never had the opportunity to really get to know each other. "You want kids?" He had whispered right against your neck, pushing deeper into you and holding himself there. You nod. "How many?" He half-groans. You managed to moan out a "4", which had him moving faster, harder. "Yeah?" He hummed, kissing your prickled skin and well aware that you're going to have him wrapped around your fucking pinky. "You feel that?" And there it is, the feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you, thick ropes of cum shooting deep against your cervix, the promise of pregnancy coming along side the ring he's about to put on your finger. You moan out, surprised by how you can feel it spilling out of you with each sensitive thrust he offers to you, seemingly pushing his cum in and out of you while simultaneously snaking his hand under you to reach your clit. A whine falls from your lips at the sudden orgasm, so so sensitive, a feeling so intense and new because even when you played with yourself, never did you reach climax like this. You shake under him, clenching his spent length through your own orgasm until he gently pulls out and flips you over. He eyes you over, only now able to see you this closely because he finally got you alone without one of your parent's attached to your side. You really are totally his fucking type. And you're all his. "I think this is going to work out." He mumbles, inspecting you even more closely, ashamed that he didn't even get your top off before pressing you down on his bed. Embarrassed that he didn't have you facing him through your first time. He'll make it up to you next time.

"I'll take good care of you, and I'll be more gentle too." He continues, watching you try to regain your balance of breath. "I didn't know you were a virgin..."

You smile, eyes drowsy, suddenly feeling very sleepy...comfortable. Knowing that this will be the very bed you'll be sleeping in soon enough.

"It's okay." You whisper, clearing your throat and then repeating it in a more confident voice. "If I didn't like it, I would just tell my dad."

Jay's eyes widen, fear reaching his expression as he stares down at you, but you're quick to reassure him.

"I did like it, by the way."

[kebma]

pt.1

shoko has never seen satoru gojo; the strongest, look quite this weak. he’s sprawled across his office desk and the smell of vodka hits her so hard her eyes water.

“what are you doing?” she drawls, eyes flitting around the room as she tries to make sense of the man’s pathetic state.

“y/n?” he slurs and struggles to raise his head up.

shoko sighs.

“not quite.”

she drops her cigarette to the ground and crushes it with her heel as she walks over to him. he finally meets her eyes and she frowns. he looks… dead. the look reminds her of someone long ago… and for a brief moment she’s terrified of the sorcerer in front of her.

“what’s going on gojo?”

he shakes his head and mumbles incoherently, laying back down on his desk. shoko has to force herself to not roll her eyes and she clenches her teeth together.

“you think this is gonna help you?”

she picks up the nearly empty bottle of alcohol and smashes it on the ground.

“you’re fucking pathetic,” she spits, “get yourself up. you’re not… you’re not going to turn out like him no matter what. you’re gonna man up and fix whatever has caused this.”

satoru stares in drunken shock at the smashed bottle. he sighs.

“i can’t… i can’t fix it,” he mutters, “messed it up to bad.”

shoko sighs again.

“did something happen with, y/n?”

he sniffles at the sound of their name coming from shoko’s mouth and gulps.

”i had to protect them,” he whispers, staring emptily at the ground, “i’m dangerous. being around me is dangerous.”

shoko doesn’t know what to say, she watches him as he watches her.

“… you’ve never been the smartest, have you, satoru?”

he scoffs and swings his arm up wildly.

“you’re so mean to me,” he pouts, the momentum from his arm causes him to slide and stumble out of the chair and onto the floor. he groans and flops defeatedly around.

“you’re a mess. stay right here and try not to hurt yourself please.”

— —

satoru doesn’t know when he blacks out or how long he’s been asleep before he hears muffled voices outside the door. his head is pounding but he feels sober enough… unfortunately.

“i don’t know shoko… after what he did…”

“at the very least talk to him, it may give closure for both of you if nothing else.”

there’s silence. then the wooden door creaks open and he winces, flinching away from the light. your blurry form comes into vision. god you’re just as beautiful as the day he left.

“satoru,” you say.

your voice is like honey to his ear, so sweet and soothing. he lifts his head, his blue eyes shining. it’s been weeks but it’s felt like years. your hand comes done to touch his cheek and he shivers, his eyes almost rolling back at the feeling of your skin on his again.

“what’s going on?”

“i miss you,” he mumbles, nuzzling into your palm. you instinctively stroke your thumb along his cheek bone.

“you cheated on me. you… you left me.”

he shakes his head.

“no.”

you raise an eyebrow and cup his chin, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“what do you mean, no?”

“i could never cheat on you.”

the way he says never almost makes you swallow hard.

“you told me you did.”

”i… lied,” he admits, shame in his voice. you freeze.

“you what?”

he groans and pulls away from you, finally sitting up fully and facing you properly. he wants you in his arms so badly.

“i lied,” he sighs, “i thought it would be better… I thought i was protecting us both.”

he feels the sting of your slap before he can fully process what happened.

“that’s for fake cheating on me.”

he gapes at you, hand coming to his cheek.

“you hit me?!”

“you deserved it.”

“… you’re right.”

you sigh one last time before leaning in and kissing him. you still taste just like strawberries and mint, he thinks.

“and that is because i’m stupid enough to still love you after all this.”

[rowarn]

SURPRISE, SURPRISE !

john "soap" mactavish / reader – 9.3k sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, developing relationship, virginity for sale trope, protective!soap, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader, mean!soap? or maybe just intense!soap, soap is NOT beginner-friendly

cw: loss of virginity, soap's filthy mouth, fingering, multiple orgasms, wet&messy, sloppy blowjob, cum facial, squirting, crying during sex?/dacryphilia, consent check bc johnny is a GOOD MAN, intense heated sex to sex with feelings, cunnilingus, corruption kink if u squint, multiple rounds, sloppy sex tbh

;

It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom.

At least, that’s how it should be. 

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact. 

or.

After continuously getting in the way of your attempts to sell your virginity, you finally let yourself fall into bed with him instead.

You couldn’t believe you wound up here. You always thought it would happen in some sweet way. A long-time boyfriend or girlfriend, happy and in love. You’d snuggle up afterwards and be told how good you were.

But no, instead you became swamped in debt and ended up on the verge of eviction even though you were living in the cheapest apartment you could find that wasn’t in an area that would get you stabbed for stepping outside. You needed money fast and you had one thing that plenty of perverts would pay for; your virginity. It’s not your most crowning moment in life but as they say, you gotta do what you gotta do. 

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself so you don’t crumble under the shame of it all. 

When the chair across from you suddenly gets yanked out, feet scraping obnoxiously across the floor, making you nearly jump out of your skin. The man who sits down looks nothing like the picture he sent and you internally groan. He looks much older than you, no doubt in his mid 40’s, balding, and graying hair. You wouldn’t mind an older man if he were a little more…attractive. Sure, maybe that’s a bit shallow of you but fuck, it’s your virginity you’re giving away. You should be allowed to be picky with the man you choose! Under normal circumstances you would be so why not now?

Then again, this isn’t exactly normal circumstances was it?

You pick up the glass of the strongest drink you could handle that you ordered at the bar while waiting and downed it in one deep gulp. You gave the man a very fake smile and he grinned back, the sleazy sight making your stomach turn. 

You were going to need a lot more alcohol. 

The evening turned into night and you’re feeling the effects of the alcohol. Your ‘date’ doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest as you drink, if anything he seems elated. That thought makes you curl your lip in disgust. 

“So,” he starts when you finally lean back in your chair, having had your fill of alcohol for the night, “Shall we move this along? My place or yours?”

“You got the money you promised?” you ask, raising a brow, unsure if you sounded as drunk to him as you did to yourself.

“In my car,” he responds, grin sitting irritatingly lopsided on his ugly face, “Got it all ready for you. After services are rendered, of course.”

Anxiety coils in your stomach at the mention of what you have to do to get the money. It’s a lot of money and that makes your palms sweaty – you need it. You feel like there’s eyes on you from behind, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. When you turn to look around, there’s no one paying any attention to you. Everyone in the bar was having a nice time. You wish you were one of them. 

“Let’s get out here,” the man grins, “I am just achin’ to get my hands on you.”

He stands up but you find yourself rooted to your seat. Your entire body feels tense, you can’t find it in yourself to stand up. You don’t want to go with the guy, you decide. Your fight or flight activates with terrifying speed, alerting you of the danger you’re in. Though you’re not exactly sure what danger that is just yet.

“I think…” you start and the guy heaves a big sigh.

“Don’t tell me you’re backin’ out?” he grumbles, not bothering to mask his irritation, “After I came all this way? That’s awfully rude of you.”

“I just don’t think I want to–” he groans, embarrassingly loud.

You feel the eyes of nearby patrons on you and your cheeks burn under the scrutiny. Shame bubbles up inside you at the thought of them finding out what exactly was going on between the two of you. 

“Let’s go,” he snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface as he rounds the table and grabs hold of your arm.

You don’t bother fighting back as he yanks you to your feet, instead leveling him with a fierce glare. You don’t want to make a scene in front of all these people so you plan to let him drag out outside where you can really give him a piece of your mind before hopefully coming back inside and peacefully getting drunk alone.

But a sudden, growling voice has both of you freezing in place, “I don’t think you’re goin’ anywhere.”

Your eyes fall upon a man, standing tall and confidently. He has a mohawk, brilliant blue eyes and handsome features. Upon first glance, you could immediately tell he was in the military based on his posture alone. He was intimidating, broad and well-built.

“Hey, dude, why don't you mind your own fuckin’ business,” your ‘date’ snarled, yanking you harshly towards him.

You felt your eye twitch in irritation but your drunken brain was too slow to react properly. You were still hung up on the appearance of this rather good looking man. 

“This is my business,” the stranger said, Scottish accent thick as he took two big strides over to the both of you, “Why don't you just leave quietly so things don't have to get ugly?” 

Your ‘date’ stares the strange man down for a few seconds, taking a glance at you before kissing his teeth and ripping his hand off of you. 

“You ain't worth this shit,” he huffed, stomping off into the crowd. You could hear the bell over the door ring, announcing his final departure from the scene.

“Well, he was just a dandy fellow,” your rescuer jokes, a crooked grin settling on his face. His shoulders relaxed and he held his hand out, “Name’s Soap. How about I walk you home?” 

“That'd be great,” you responded, feeling your stomach starting to roll as the alcohol settled. You knew you were going to be stuck with your head over the toilet bowl soon and you'd rather be in the comfort of your apartment for that. 

“Let’s get a move on then,” he waved forward for you to lead the way. 

The crisp outside air had you sighing happily. You hadn't realized how hot you were in there but now that the light breeze brushed against your skin, you noticed how you had begun to sweat. 

“So you’re military, huh?” you ask, leading him in the direction of your apartments “Soap.” 

He chuckles, “You caught me.” 

You smile, “It's kind of hard to miss, no offense.” 

“None taken,” he assures, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “What were you doin’ with a piece of shite like that? Was he your boyfriend?” 

You sputter, “No! Nothing like that. I just…had a deal with him, that's all. I called it off and he got pissed. I'm sorta pissed at myself. Just missed out on a fuck ton of money.” 

Soap’s brows raise, “What kind of deal?” 

Your drunken brain forgets all about the fact such a deal should be kept quiet. Your mouth opens before you can stop yourself, “My virginity for his money. But I’m not like a prostitute or anything!” 

He holds his hands up as surrender when you get defensive at the shocked look on his face, “You need money that bad?”

“You have no idea,” you sign, pinching the bridge of your nose at the mere thought of your money troubles, “I never do this. You know? I-I mean obviously…with the virginity and all. But-!”

“I’m not judgin’ you,” he assures, “Hard times. But you should be careful. Lot’s of dangerous characters out there.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders as you come to a stop, “This is my place.”

“Right,” he mutters, “Let me give you my number.”

“For what?” you sputter, watching him pull out his wallet.

“Just in case,” he smiles, “I doubt anyone really knows what you’re dealin’ with right? I do. So if you’re ever in any trouble,” he hands you a business card, “Give me a call.”

You take the card and look it over. It’s got his name and military rank but not much else. You raise a brow, “Why do you have a business card on you?”

He chuckles, waving his hand flippantly, “Just ‘cause. I’ll see you around, darlin’.”

“Yeah,” you smile, stowing the card away in your pocket, “Thanks for walking me home, Soap.”

He stands outside of your place, waiting until you’re safely inside and shutting the door. When you peek out the window, you see him walking off in the direction that you had come from. You smile and go about getting ready for bed, grateful that you’re not feeling that awful nauseous pit in your stomach you had earlier.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still dressed in your clothes and you have no recollection of having laid down the night before. You groan, your head throbbing in your skull as you sit up. 

You stumble your way to the bathroom, grimacing at the sight of yourself in the mirror. You take the time to start the shower and strip yourself, determined to scrub the grime from last night off of your body. 

By the time you step out, you’re feeling like a brand new person. You stretch your arms over your head and work on drying yourself off. Wrapping your towel around your body, gather your clothes in your arms, and trudge back into your bedroom. 

You look through the pockets of your jeans from yesterday, pulling out various coins and candy wrappers that you remember snacking on in the car to ease your nerves. You finally pull out the last thing – the business card Soap had given you last night. 

It all floods back to you, and you find yourself pulling your phone out, opening it to make a new contact under the name Soap.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, still wrapped in your towel, you shoot him a text.

“Hi Soap, remember me? You walked me home last night! I was just wondering if I could take this as a business inquiry?”

You aren’t sure where the burst of confidence came from. Last night, you would have never even thought to ask him such a thing. But the fact your plans fell through last night with that pig of a man, you kind of had no other choice at this point. 

And luckily for you, Soap texted back almost immediately.

“Sure, darlin’. We can consider it a business inquiry.”

Jackpot, you think. Not only is he very good looking and nice – if he has the money, then you can’t think of anyone better to sell your ‘goods’ to. 

He’s perfect.

Turns out, Soap is more than ready to meet up. Not at a bar, you’re thrilled, but at an actual restaurant. It almost feels like a real date!

You have the opportunity to dress yourself up and feel pretty. It feels so much better than meeting up with that guy at the dingy bar. Your nerves are almost non-existent. 

You still have that jittery feeling everyone gets when they’re going to be going out with someone new. 

But this isn’t actually a date, you have to tell yourself, as you get into your car to drive to the restaurant. It’s a meeting.

When you walk in, you’re greeted with the heavenly smell of food and what you can only deduce as something akin to mint. It’s a lovely restaurant, tablecloths and wine glasses everywhere. 

You look around the room before you spot him, sitting at a table in the far back nursing a glass of water. You make your way there, coming to a slow stop in front of the table. He looks up, blue eyes widening at the sight of you before he jumps to his feet. 

“You made it,” he says, a smile growing on his lips. 

He rounds the table and pulls your chair out, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Thank you,” you say as he pushes you in a bit before returning to his own seat. 

Soap situates his elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands as he gazes across at you. You feel your cheeks burn underneath his intense gaze, not able to gain the courage to look directly at him.

A waiter comes by, depositing a basket of fresh, buttered bread on your table, letting you know he’ll be around in a moment to collect your orders. You offer him a polite smile as he vanishes, acutely aware that Soap is still staring right at you. 

“Why are you…” you clear your throat, finally looking at him. 

“You look lovely,” he says, a smile growing on his face when you become more bashful, “You’re truly breathtaking, has anyone ever told you that before?”

You can feel how hot your cheeks are and you resist the urge to reach up and pat them in an attempt to cool them down. You’re at a loss for words, no clue what to say in response to that. You hadn’t been told anything like that before, actually. Nor has anyone ever looked at you with such infatuated intensity like he is right now. 

Thankfully, the waiter arrives to relieve you of this immense pressure. Pulled from his devoted admiration, Soap orders first before you put your own order in. 

Left alone once again, you and Soap fall into an easy conversation. You’re surprised by how nice it is to talk to him, he’s open and funny. He tells you about his buddies in the military and about how he goes out to drink every weekend with some guy named Kyle and that he thinks his buddy Ghost’s jokes are just the worst abomination on Earth. 

You get so lost in talking to him, you don’t even realize how much time has passed. Your food arrives and the table finally falls quiet. 

You both get lost in eating your meals. Soap finishes his glass of wine and leans back in his seat with a content sigh. When you finish your own plate, you do the same. The chair creaks underneath the shift of weight and your eyes meet his. 

You wait to see if he’ll say something. But he just continues to stare at you, drifting from your eyes and down the rest of your body that’s not hidden by the table. 

“So, should we get out of here?” you finally find yourself asking, burying any embarrassment deep down, “Your place or mine?”

Soap seems to falter suddenly, crooked smile slipping off of his face, “Listen, darlin’...I-I don’t actually want to…you know…”

Your cheeks burn a little and you shrink in on yourself where you sit, “Oh! Well, that’s fine. I-It’s just that you said it was an inquiry so…I assumed.”

Soap shakes his head, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours, “I know. I told you that just so I could see you. I’m just worried about you, darlin’.”

“You want to talk me out of it,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat again, “I appreciate your concern, Soap. But I’m really at the end of my rope here. This is my very last resort, you understand?”

“But you shouldn’t have to-!” you pull your hand out from underneath his and stand.

“I know,” you shrug, “I’m only doing what I can with my circumstances. I appreciate you taking the time to see me and let me know you’re worried. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You leave him behind at the table and make your way back to your car. As you sit, engine idling, the disappointment bubbles up within you. Soap is probably the absolute best you could have gotten in a situation like this. But, it’s clear now that you’re going to have to find a new guy. 

You just hope you don’t walk right into the clawed talons of some unknown serial killer or something. 

The thought sends shivers down your spine as you make your way back home.

So begins the process of finding a new person to get the money from. 

It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom. 

At least, that’s how it should be. 

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact. 

Around every turn, he was there to intercept the meeting you had with a man. 

A terribly boring man named Charles; Soap showed up at the bar you met at. The surprisingly young guy you weren’t even sure had enough money for his own monthly rent, Brandon; Soap was there. Justin, the doctor that lowkey gave you the creeps; Soap was there too. 

Every single time, the Scot would sit himself at the table and run the guy off, leaving you no choice but to go home alone and moneyless. 

You’re getting angrier with every passing day and before you know it, you’re calling him up and asking him to meet you. 

The second you lay your eyes on him, you’re marching right up to him.

“What the hell is your problem, Soap?!” you cry, practically nose to nose with him as you glare.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, “Don’t know what I did to get you so wound up but-”

“You know exactly what you’ve done!” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “Why do you keep getting in my way?”

“That’s a mean thing to say to someone,” he responds lightheartedly. 

But then your glare wipes the smile off of his face and he sighs, running a hand through his mohawk. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking anxiously back and forth on his heels as he seems to think over his next words carefully.

“I’m just lookin’ out for you, darlin’,” he assures, “This…isn't safe, what you’re doin’. You could get into somethin’ real serious. I just…want to make sure you’re safe.”

You deflate and sigh, “I already told you, Soap. I appreciate your concern but…”

Suddenly, he surges forward, big, rough hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls your lips to his. You gasp, hands resting against his chest as you allow yourself to melt into the kiss. 

When he pulls back, he seems almost nervous, “I wanted to kiss you really badly the first night I saw you.”

“So you like me?” you ask softly, not taking your hands off of his chest.

He reaches up, wrapping one of his hands around yours, “I’m afraid so.”

“Soap…” you start but he interrupts you.

“Johnny,” he says, “Call me Johnny.”

“Johnny,” you correct yourself, feeling your cheeks burn at the positively giddy look on his face, “I don’t know if…this…” you gesture between the two of you, “Is a good idea…with what I’m dealing with.”

His brows furrowed and a frown lines his lips. You find yourself wishing you could wipe the solemn look right off his face – it doesn’t suit him, “Just give me a chance, yeah? That’s all I ask of you.”

You sigh, “Okay, Johnny.”

You’re not sure why you gave in so easily to him. But the bright look returns to his eyes again and you find yourself feeling lighter. 

He steps back, slipping his fingers in between yours. He tugs you in his direction to follow him and you do, heart skipping in your chest as you look at your hand wrapped up in his. 

You haven’t been in a relationship in a very long time so this giddy feeling wasn’t one that you got to feel very often. 

Sooner than you’d like, he’s slipping his hand from yours to open the door to an apartment complex for you. You step inside and make your way down the hallway, tailing close behind him up to a door on the first floor – apartment 108. 

“It’s not much,” he gives you that charming, crooked smile as he opens the door.

“It’s better than my place,” you joke as you toe your shoes off.

“Have you had anything to eat?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket before hanging it on the rack by the door. You shake your head and he nods, “I’ll order us somethin’. Go ahead and make yourself at home.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen as you look around his flat. It’s a modest apartment, a bit bare but there’s little bits of Johnny scattered around the place. There were picture frames on the walls and on different surfaces. The couch was navy blue and looked well loved. 

“Here’s some water,” he says, startling you as he comes back into the living room, “I ordered us some food, wasn’t sure what you liked so I guessed.”

You chuckle, taking a seat on the couch, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m not really,” he chuckles, sounding nervous, “Good at this.”

“Well,” you sink into the cushions, “I can’t say I am either.”

He laughs, a sweet, melodic sound that makes your cheeks flush, “Well, in that case. We can just…go with the flow.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Go with the flow.”

By the time the food arrives, you and Soap are invested in watching a random season of The Bachelorette. Neither of you could decide so you looked online to find a wheel to spin to decide your fate for you. 

“Ugh,” Soap groans, “Can’t believe she’s goin’ on about how dreamy this bastard is. He’s a total tool!”

You giggle, holding one of his throw pillows against your chest as you sit. You’re about to add your own two cents when the doorbell rings. 

Soap jumps to his feet, “Fuckin’ hell, I could eat a cow.”

You admire the view of him from behind when he opens the door. His tight green t-shirt hugs the dip of his waist, riding up just a bit to show a sliver of tanned skin. His shoulders look impossibly wide as he stands in the doorway to take the food, muscles rippling beneath the fabric. His jeans sit low on his hips, belt tied tightly around them. 

Fuck, he’s good looking.

He turns, grinning and holding up the bags as if to show you his spoils. He raises one dark brow curiously, as if he knows what you’d been thinking.

“So,” he coos, saddling up next to you, placing the food on the coffee table, “Did you enjoy the view?”

You squeak, “I don’t think it’s polite to call out someone for looking…”

He cocks his head to the side and chuckles, leaning down to grip your chin, “Mind if I kiss you?”

“Now you’re asking?” you respond, breathless as you look at his lips coming closer and closer to yours.

“Aye,” he breathes. 

You nod and his lips are against yours in an instant. He supports his weight by placing his hands on the back of the couch. You have to crane your neck back to be able to kiss him but having him over top of you like this is exhilarating. 

You know you should stop before you get too carried away but you can’t seem to bring yourself to break away from him. Your attraction to this man is palpable and all consuming. 

Against your better judgment, you let him push you down, back against the cushions so he can crawl onto the couch. One knee on one side of you, he keeps one foot on the floor to straddle you without crushing you under his weight. But you wish that he would, fuck. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers slipping through the short hairs of his mohawk. He sighs against your lips, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, just pinning you down so he can deepen the kiss. 

You find yourself tugging at his shirt, edging it up and up until he’s forced to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he asks, blue eyes swallowed by the black of his pupils when he meets your gaze. 

You nod, “Want you, Johnny.”

“I’ll give you all of me,” he promises, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. 

It feels like the air evaporates from your lungs at the sight of him. He’s built, muscles rippling underneath a layer of fat – a man who is built for pure strength. His tanned skin is littered with tattoos here and there and hair speckles over his chest and stomach, a thick happy trail disappearing under his jeans. Which are tented with how his hardened cock presses against the fabric, desperate to be released. 

Your hand slips down the planes of his chest and down his tummy, cupping his erection. It twitches and kicks beneath your touch and pulls a groan from him. 

He reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist and bringing your hand to his lips where he places a kiss upon your palm. 

“Strip yourself, baby,” he orders, “Wanna see that pretty body.”

He sits back on his heels, watching your every movement as you slip your shirt off and shimmy your pants down your hips. 

When you stop, he realizes you're not going to take your panties off so he quickly does it for you. His thumbs hook into the band and yanks them down, making you squeal as the force jostles you. 

Soap chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as his hands eagerly cup your breasts. You sigh at the contact, arching your back to press more into his touch. 

His kisses all over your chest, leaving no spot untouched, until he can pop one of your nipples in his mouth. You whimper, fingers sliding appreciatively through his mohawk while his other hand slips between your thighs. 

You easily part them, nearly panting by the time his fingers slip between your folds. You're already wet and sticky, drooling all over yourself with slick he uses to circle your clit. 

Your hips twitch as the first feeling of his rough fingers on the little bud. You cry out, tugging on his hair as he switches his mouth to give your other nipple proper attention. 

You arch your hips, his fingers sneaking down to prod at your entrance. With a glance at your face to make sure you're okay with it, he slides one in. 

There's a loud squelch when it sinks in to the last knuckle and you whine in embarrassment. 

He can't resist commenting, “So wet.” 

You whimper, lightly slapping his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckles, leaning up to press his lips against yours as he carefully works you open on that one finger. He presses and prods against your walls, waiting for you to relax so he can slip another one inside you — really prepare you for his cock. 

He presses against your g-spot and it rips a heavenly sound from your lips that only encourages him to do it again. You get wetter and wetter, throbbing and clenching around his middle finger. 

When he decides you're ready, he introduces a second finger. His ring finger easily fits in right alongside his middle. 

“There you go,” he praises, unable to resist looking down to see where his fingers are buried inside you, “That's it, baby, look at you go.” 

You gasp, eyes rolling back in your head when he adjusts his hand. His palm cups over your clit, the angle letting him really grind the tips of those digits right against that gooey little spot inside you. 

He watches the way you cream his fingers, milky colored slick dripping down his knuckles. It makes his mouth water. 

The movements rub his palm over your clit, stimulating the tender little bud and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You cry out, moaning and wailing the tighter that cord winds in your tummy. 

You clench and pulse against his fingers, a signal that you're going to cum for him. He works even harder, diligently worshiping your precious cunt until you toss your head back and sob. 

Your body trembles, thighs twitching in time to your walls squeezing around him. He moans with you, watching your pretty body in the throes of pleasure. 

When it becomes too much, you weakly reach down and bat his hand away. He slips his fingers out, watching you clamp your thighs shut. 

As you lay there panting and collecting yourself, he pops his cum-covered fingers into his mouth. He moans at your taste, slipping his tongue between them to catch every single drop of sweet cum he can get. 

By the time he finishes off the delicacy, you're watching him with lidded eyes and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. 

“More?” he asks, a crooked grin on his face. You nod and he chuckles, “That looked like a good fuckin’ orgasm. Sure you can handle more?”

“If I can't,” you whisper, sitting up to tug at his belt, “You can make me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to help you open his pants, “Want me to make you take it, baby? Make you cum on my cock until you can't even think?”

“Please, Johnny,” you whimper, not tearing your eyes off the sight of him stripping himself bare. 

His cock was fat and heavy, a thick patch of hair scattering the base with thick, full balls to match. You felt your mouth fill with saliva at the sight of his hand wrapped around his big cock, stroking himself languidly until enough precum had dripped out to slick himself up. 

“Let me hear it again, doll,” his eyes are heavy lidded as he looks at you laid out beneath him, breathless and sweating from the orgasm he’d worked out of you.

“Please, Johnny,” you whisper, needily reaching your hands out towards him. 

“Shit,” he grunts, “Alright.” 

He scoots closer to you, spreading your legs open for him. Your sticky folds part, exposing your swollen, sensitive clit and clenching hole that’s still drooling your creamy release. 

He slips the tip of his cock through the gooey mess, tapping it meanly against your little bud. Your knees flinch at the stimulation and your jaw drops open when he starts to push inside. 

It burns and you arch your hips away instinctively from the pain. He slips out and curses.

“You gotta relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles, hoisting your hips into his lap with an iron grip. 

“Can’t,” you pitifully whimper. 

Soap clicks his tongue, purses his lips and lewdly spits on your clit. You whine, hands covering your face when he uses his cockhead to smear it all over. 

When he starts to push in again, the burn starts but a rough thumb finds your clit. 

“Shh,” Soap soothes you, watching as the furrow in your brows vanishes. 

He works your clit in tiny circles as he carefully saws his cock in and out of your tight hole, inching a little bit more in every time. Your body grows pliant and soft, slumping against the couch until he finally buries himself to the hilt. 

“Thaaaaat’s it,” he praises, still rolling your hard clit under his thumb, “Good fuckin’ job. Take your reward, sweetheart.” 

He remains completely stuffed inside you, grinding his hips up just a little until he prods at that gooey little spot inside you. His thumb continues to swirl around your clit and he watches your eyes grow wide, a grin stretching across his face.

“C-Cummin’-!” you manage to gasp before you throw your head back. 

He groans, jaw falling open as he works you through the orgasm, rubbing your clit to ease you through every pleasurable wave. It’s only when you reach down, grabbing his wrist to stop him that he ceases. 

“Fuck,” you pant, pupils blown wide as he looks at you coming down. 

“Feels good cumming on cock, huh, sweetheart?” he asks, once again wearing that crooked grin on his face. 

You nod your head, still too fucked out from your orgasm to properly formulate words. He chuckles, carefully pulling back until only the thick head of him remains nestled inside. With a swift, experienced roll of his hips, he stuffs every single inch right back in. 

You wail, grappling haphazardly against his shoulders for stability as he starts to really fuck you. He punches so deep, makes you feel him in your tummy. The friction burns and feels incredible at the same time. 

It feels so fucking good that you can’t stop any of the sounds that are forced from your lungs with every mind-numbingly pleasurable thrust of his cock. You’re soaking him, dripping all creamy down his cock in a way he knows you’ve never done before. No way your own fingers could make you cream like this and he doubts you’ve ever sat this pretty cunt on any stupid toys. 

He groans, grinding against your clit every time he reaches as deep as he can, “Not gonna have shit to sell now, huh?”

You whimper, shaking your head as you stare at him wide eyed, drool dripping over your lips because you can’t close your mouth for even a second. There’s no way for you to quiet yourself, you’re loud, you wear every pleasurable experience on your face with no ability to hide or perform. Every reaction is real and authentic and he loves it. 

“Don’t think I can ever let you go after this, sweetheart,” he coos, slowing his thrusts so you can focus on looking at him, “That alright with you?”

You swallow thickly and shakily nod your head, “O-Only want you, J-Johnny.”

He snorts, sharp canines glinting at the predatory grin he gives you, “You only sayin’ that because you’re got your cunt stuffed full of my cock?”

You whimper at the punishing thrust he gives you, the pain of him battering your cervix making you tremble, “N-No! L-Liked you when I first saw y-you. I-I swear, Johnny. Please!”

“Alright, quit fuckin’ beggin’,” he snaps, leaning out of your reach, making you whine. 

He takes a mean grip of your hips, using just his strength to yank you onto his cock like a fleshlight. You wail, head tossed back against the couch as he really fucks you. Every thrust is too deep but gives you nothing but pleasure. He grinds against your clit every time he sinks in, making sure to also aim for the gooey little spot that gets you creaming around him. His fat, heavy balls slap against your ass every time he stuffs that cock into you. 

It’s all just too much. He should know better, really, treating a little virgin pussy so meanly. You’re too new to this, don’t know how to take such cruel, deep strokes. You’re squeezing tight, staring at him with wide, glassy eyes. He can’t stop the moan that tears from his throat at the sight of tears trickling down your cheeks – proof that this is all too much. 

But he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not when he feels how tight you’re squeezing around him, how much wetter you’re getting as you get closer and closer to what he knows is going to be the best damn orgasm of your life. 

“Cum,” he whispers, shocked at how fucked his voice is from pleasure, “Cum right fuckin’ now.”

“W-Wait, Johnny-!” you wail, feet kicking as you fight against his iron-tight hold on you, “I-It’s…It feels w-wrong!”

“Stop fuckin’ runnin’,” he snarls, easily pinning you to the couch. He folds you up, knees to your chest as he presses his body weight down on you. He can feel the air being forced out of your lungs under the weight, “I said cum.”

You open your mouth, wanting to say something. But you can’t get the words you, only whimpers and tears. He doesn’t care what you had to say, though. All he cares about is feeling your tight little cunt cum around him so he can have his own orgasm. 

You still try to fight him from how intense the build up is. You slap against his shoulders, squirm and try to kick him off but he easily holds you down. Even as you fight, you never once tell him to stop. 

After a few, long seconds, he feels it. 

Fuck, does he feel it. 

You gush. It splatters all over his cock and stomach. He curses, slamming into you over and over, every thrust forcing another squirt out of you. You’re sobbing, fat tears falling down your cheeks and you’re moaning the prettiest damn symphony that has ever blessed his ears. 

The orgasm is too much, it’s intense and all consuming. You can’t come down, every time he stuffs you full, your orgasm continues to wash through you. 

“J-Johnny-!” you sob, “N-No more!”

“Fuck!” he snarls, cutting his own orgasm off when he pulls out of you. 

He pushes himself off of you and you curl in on yourself, softly sniffling and shaking in a little ball. He licks his dry lips at the sight of you covered in your own squirt. 

“C’mere, darlin’,” he coos, panting and breathy, hoisting you up and into his lap. 

He cradles you in his arms as you’re wracked with trembles and twitches, your nerves zapping through your body from the pleasure. He shushes you, cupping your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet from your tears, pupils blown out wide. He clicks his tongue and wipes his thumb underneath to swipe some away. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos, “Just get some breaths. Got a little overwhelmed, huh?”

You nod, slumping against him with a sigh when you finally feel like you’re back in your body. Johnny is solid and sweaty beneath you, warm and comfortable as he cups the back of your head and strokes his hand over your body. 

“I-I’ve never um…” you clear your throat, cheeks burning hot.

“Knocked your damn socks off, huh?” he jokes, a crooked smile on his face. 

You giggle, endorphins still rushing through your body. You shift on his lap and catch the pinch in his brow before he can school his expression back into place. You look down, biting your lip at the sight of his cock still hard and twitching, smeared in a creamy mess of your cum.

“Ah, it’ll go down on its own, darlin’,” he assures, no irritation to be seen or heard from him. 

One look in his eyes shows you that he’s perfectly prepared to go without his well-earned orgasm – just for you. 

But you don’t want that, you realize. He had made you feel incredible, given you an orgasm that you’ve never been able to experience in your life. You doubt anyone else will ever be able to make you do it again. 

“I-I want to help, Johnny,” you whisper, trying to swallow down your nerves. 

His brows raise in interest, “What did you have in mind?”

You slide off of his lap and slowly sink to your knees. You place your shaky hands on his thighs to steady yourself, looking up at him with wide, too-innocent eyes. 

He lets his head fall back against the back of the couch, a breathless, “steamin’ blood Jesus,” following. 

“I-I’ve never done this,” you confess, though he’s not surprised, “Is that okay?”

“Is that-” he laughs softly, “darlin’ any man who isn’t appreciative of you willin’ to swallow his cock is a man you kick in the balls, got that?”

You giggle, nerves dissipating as he wraps a hand around the base of him. You scoot a bit closer when he holds it out for you, waiting for you to do what you please with it. Your tongue falls from your mouth and Soap feels like he’s suspended in air as he watches you get closer and closer to the sensitive, leaky tip. 

The first contact feels better than he could have imagined. He’d gotten so fucking close earlier, buried in your cunt as you came around him, squealing for him and all. He knows it won’t take much to send him over the edge this time. 

Perfect practice for you, he thinks. You won’t have to be on your knees for too long or do any real work to get him to cum for you. 

You’re clumsy and it’s clear you’re unsure about the taste of his cock. It’s not just his precum, it’s your own cum mixed with it. He can’t blame you for being unsure.

He reaches down, a soft, gentle hand resting atop your head to encourage you. When you look up, he smiles so softly at you that it makes your heart jump in your chest. You suddenly feel like you’re the center of his world. Those baby blues never once waver from you as you sloppily lick and slurp on the tip of him. 

“Take a little more,” he whispers, lashes fluttering and chest rising as he takes a deep breath when you eagerly follow his directions. 

Your pretty lips stretch around the girth of him, taking just the head inside your hot little mouth. The flared glans are greeted by your curious tongue, making him whimper when you lick. Your mixed taste lingers on your tongue but you quickly grow accustomed to it. 

Feeling braver from Johnny’s unfiltered reactions, you take a little more into your mouth. Then more. And a little more until you suddenly choke, gagging around him. You pull your head off, sputtering and coughing a bit. 

Johnny coos at you, thumbing away some drool on your chin, “Not too deep, darlin’. You’re not ready for that.”

You hum, not at all discouraged from taking him back into your mouth again. You don’t take him as deep, accepting that you have your limit – for now, judging by Johnny’s subtle promise of more to come. 

“Just suck, watch your teeth,” he whispers, not caring about the way his voice cracks, “Move your head like this. Go at your own pace, alright?”

You lazily blink up at him, hoping he understands your agreement. You do as you’re told, folding your lips over your teeth to keep them away from his sensitive skin. Bobbing your head feels awkward and it makes your jaw ache but the sounds Johnny begins to make makes you temporarily forget about your own discomfort. 

His eyes are rolling back in his head and he starts to stroke the rest of his cock that your mouth can’t handle yet. You can’t tear your gaze away from the sight of those thick, veiny fingers wrapped around himself, getting covered in a slick mess of your cum that he had so generously fucked out of you earlier. Drooling all over him like this only gives him more of a mess to work with. It’s gross, frothy and dripping down your chin and neck, slicking up your tits.

It makes your cunt tingle selfishly. You think you could make yourself cum, slip your hand between your legs and stroke your clit until you find release. But you don’t – you focus on Johnny and his pleasure. He’d already given you so much that you don’t want to come across as greedy by making his moment about your own pleasure. 

Johnny’s free hand grip around the back of your neck, squeezing and caressing your skin as encouragement since his mouth is too busy moaning. You take his sounds as signals, sucking and moving at whatever pace makes him cry out the loudest. 

You had no idea men like him were willing to be as loud as he was. Usually, the masculine type of guys like him would be online whining about how moaning was ‘gay’ or some stupid shit.

Johnny didn’t seem to give a fuck. If he felt good, he was going to let you know. It made you feel more at ease, like you were doing a good job even though you knew you were still clumsy and it probably didn’t feel as good as head he’s surely gotten in the past. 

But it encouraged you to work harder to please him, to earn more of those beautiful, unfiltered moans that he was so willing to give you. They were your reward for the intense ache in your jaw.

“F-Fuck,” he groans, suddenly, eyes opening from when he had closed them at some point, “I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

His words are slurred, like his brain’s oozed down to his cock, too stupid to think of anything except how heavy and full his balls felt. 

“Shit, shit, shit-!” he whimpers, an honest to god whimper, “Off, pull off!”

You do as you’re told, releasing his cock from your mouth. Strings of frothy drool connect your lips to his tip and you don’t dare break it, the sight making you clench around nothing. 

Johnny strokes his cock, another loud moan erupting from his lips as he cums. It spurts out, splattering against your cheek, making you flinch in surprise. You can see the way his balls throb in time to each rope of cum that his fat cock spits out. More splatters on your cheeks and lips and across your nose until it tapers off to slow, thick oozes that dribble over his knuckles. 

When he lets himself go, he sags against the couch, staring dazedly at the ceiling as his erection flags and grows soft. 

When he finally looks at you, you can see his eyes widen almost in alarm. He leans forward, cupping your cheek, messily swiping some of his cum off of your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles, still sounding breathless, “Didn’t think you were gonna get splashed with it.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, feeling his cum still lingering on your lips.

You can’t resist sticking your tongue out to taste it. His eyes darken at the sight of you licking up his cum. You don’t make a face of disgust like he expected, instead he catches the way your thighs clench together.

“Is that right?” he mumbles, cock twitching in interest, “Isn’t that an interesting development? You like to taste cum, sweetheart?”

You whimper when he swipes more up onto his thumb, bringing it to your lips for you to suck off, which you eagerly do. You suck his finger clean until he pulls it back out, pupils blown wide, making his blue eyes look black.

“You ever had that pretty cunt eaten before?” he asks, a predatory grin splitting across his face when you shake your head.

His hand wraps around your throat, ripping a moan out of your throat. He easily manhandles you onto your knees, tits pressed against the cushions of the couch with a nasty “stay.”

You never thought you’d enjoy being manhandled and ordered around like a dog but fuck if you’re not learning more about yourself tonight. 

Soap smacks your thighs apart, and slips his head between them. You take a glance down and nearly choke at the sight of him laying on his back, staring hungrily as you cunt drips gooey, sticky strings right onto his waiting tongue that he holds out for it. 

The sight is so fucking filthy. 

But it’s nothing compared to the sounds he makes when he gets that tongue on your cunt. He slurps between your folds, groaning at the taste of your cum on his taste buds. He swallows your clit, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks. 

You’re already a moaning mess, crying out into the cushions which you claw desperately at. Your eyes roll up into your head when you feel him pop your clit out of his mouth, spit on it, and then slurp it right back up. 

He eats so fucking dirty, it’s disgusting and sloppy. But it makes you rut your hips against him. 

Soap chuckles, pulling back to watch you work your hips over nothing before you realize he stopped and whine.

“Fuck yourself on my tongue then,” he whispers, earning him a relenting whimper in response. 

You can feel the flat of his tongue, hot and thick, against your clit. The little bud’s so hard, swollen and pulsing against the muscle. 

With his order ringing in the back of your head, you clumsily hump his tongue. You drag your sensitive little clit back and forth along the surface of his tongue. It feels so fucking good that you actually sob. The sound tears from your chest and makes his cock twitch. 

You rut faster and faster, not caring about the way you’re messing up his face when you move too high or too low. You know there’s a mess on his chin, cheeks and nose but you don’t care. His tongue is there for you, for you to cum all over. He’s so good to you, holding it out just so you can use him as you please. 

As you grow closer and closer, your moans change in pitch and he suddenly reaches up, stilling you. You groan, an irritated sound that makes him laugh. You frown at that but it’s quickly wiped away when he grips your ass, spreading your cheeks apart so he can stuff his tongue into your creaming cunt. 

You shout, sitting straight up in surprise, your weight falling onto his face. He moans at that, rewarding you by pushing his tongue even deeper. It feels odd, different from his fingers and his cock. It’s soft and almost slimy, not long enough to quite reach any pleasurable place. 

But just the fact that he’s got his tongue buried in your pussy is enough to have you clenching on it. He watches you through heavy lids, waiting to see what your next move is. 

He’s enjoying your little show, he must admit. He likes seeing a sweet, clumsy virgin experience these things for the first time. He likes the fact he’s breaking you in, tearing your walls down and seeing you lost in mind-numbing pleasure. 

You surprise him by resuming the motion of your hips. You hump back and forth, riding his tongue like it’s a little toy just for you. And he supposes it is, he’d be a toy for you if you so wished. He’s addicted to this sweet, creamy little pussy and he’s not afraid to admit it. 

You reach down, swirling your fingers around your sticky clit. There’s lewd clicks that accompany the movements along with the sound of his tongue sliding in and out of your hole. 

You meet his gaze, he’s staring so intensely at you. It spurs you on, makes you fuck yourself on his face more confidently. 

You tap your fingers against your clit, slapping the little bud and pulling your fingers back to show Soap the sticky strings of slick that connect them to your cunt. He can’t stop himself from reaching down, wrapping his hand around his cock, jerking himself off to the sight of you smacking your clit and fucking his tongue. 

You’re pulsing around it, dripping down his face and mixing with the drool that's pooling out of his mouth. His face is a mess, it drips down his cheeks and under his neck. He’s sure there’s a pool beneath his head that will need to be cleaned up and fuck, he’ll lick it from the floor if you let him. Just as long as he gets to taste you again. 

You gasp, tossing your head back. His cock fucking aches, harder than it was before and more sensitive now that he’s already had an orgasm. He knows he’s leaking, drooling sticky precum all over himself like the horny mutt he is. 

You cum spectacularly, twitching and trembling, rubbing your clit and clenching around his tongue. It’s like a reward, swallowing down your cum straight from the source. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and wraps his lips around your clit again. 

You wail, shaking and throwing yourself face down against the couch again. You try to wrench your hips away from his punishing mouth but he wraps his arms around your thighs and continues to slurp and slobber all over that tender little bud. Your eyes roll back in your head as another orgasm tears through you, far too soon after the other. It almost hurts from how sensitive you are through it, not even able to make a sound as it washes over you. 

Only when you’re left twitching and trembling does he finally relent. There’s tears falling out of your eyes and drool dribbling down your chin. The picture of fucked out.

He laughs, folding himself over your back. 

“You still with me?” he asks, kissing your shoulder.

You whimper, “Fuck, you’re so good, Johnny.”

He chuckles, “Think you can take more?”

You eagerly nod your head and he doesn’t waste any time. He sinks his cock into you in one deep thrust. You choke on a moan, arching your back so you can feel him even deeper. 

He doesn’t start slow like he did before. He knows your little cunt is fucked nice and open for him now. You’re still dazed, drunk on endorphins, any attempts to meet his thrusts are sloppy and clumsy. It’s cute so he doesn’t bother stopping you. 

“Spread your legs,” he orders you but doesn’t wait for you to do it. 

Instead, he meanly knocks them apart, opening you up even more. His balls slap against your clit and you wail, the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“There you go,” he laughs, “You liked slapping that little clit earlier. How’s this?”

“So good!” you cry, kicking your feet against the floor as pleasure washes through you. 

You feel like a live wire, every movement forcing you closer and closer to your next orgasm. Soap isn’t far behind you, too sensitive and worked up to draw it out for long. 

He clasps the back of your neck, pinning your face to the cushions as he fucks. He takes and takes, using your sticky, gooey cunt. He’s pounding into you, hips slamming against your ass and his balls slapping your clit. 

You can’t even say anything as the orgasm washes over you. He only feels it, the rhythmic clenching of your walls and the gush as you squirt. You’re silent, completely still against the couch as he saws his fat cock in and out, squirt after squirt of cum splattering all over his thighs until he inevitably reaches his own end. 

This time, he fills you up. Seats himself as deeply inside of you as he can before he moans. His cock pathetically spits only a few strings of cum but the orgasm lasts far longer, encouraged along by the clenching of your cunt as you’re coming down. Or maybe you’re still cumming, he’s not sure. 

There’s a faraway look in your eyes, a wet spot of drool underneath your cheek on the cushion of the couch. You’re panting and glistening with sweat. When he pulls out of you, you drop to sit on the floor, the measly load he had given you drooling out of your cunt as it continues to clench and throb around nothing. 

Fuck, he’s never felt so proud to fuck someone brainless before. He knows you’re gonna need a good bath and cozy arms to sleep in. 

And his are the best around, if he does say so himself. 

He kisses up your spine, curling himself around you as you finally start to come back to yourself, pliant and soft. The both of you sit there, holding one another and sharing soft kisses until he decides it’s time to move. 

He’s in no rush, though. He’s wrapped around your finger now and you’re never getting rid of him. 

do not modify, translate, repost, or use for c.ai. reblogs OK!

[yxxdel]

Ride it

ft/ kento nanami x f!reader, hiromi higuruma x f!reader

summary/ you love to take care of your overworked husband

wc/ 2.6k (1.4k + 1.2k)

KENTO NANAMI

You were patiently watching the TV on the sofa when the door opened and the figure of your husband appeared. You automatically smiled as you bit your lower lips, already putting your slippers on as you stood up.

“Honey, I’m home.”

Kento said with a wearable expression and voice, taking off his shoes and putting his briefcase to the ground as you approached him.

Yet, when his brown eyes fell on you, they immediately softened. A little smile formed on his lips as you wrapped your arms around him, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him with a grin.

“Hey handsome, what’s with the tired face ?”

Kento’s hands grabbed your hips as he rested his face in the crook of your neck, his deep sigh made you shiver.

You giggled softly at his silent answer, grabbing his face and kissed the edge of his lips.

“Aw, is my lovely husband’s work too hard ? Is it exhausting ?”

You said to tease him, and he surprisingly nodded. Usually, Kento didn’t like when you talked to him like that. Like he was a baby. Kento was a grown man, who protected you and provided you everything you needed.

But when he was tired ? Oh, he just wanted to be your baby.

He gently grabbed your wrist to kiss your palm, kissing your forearm all the way to your shoulder.

“You can’t imagine,”

Kento muttered between heated kisses in your neck.

“How long today was. And you only made it worse.”

You chuckled, raising one brow as his lips trailed down your collarbone.

“I made it worse ? How’s that ?”

He lifted his head and you met his darkened gaze, making you swallow hard with anticipation. His fingers somehow found their ways under your shirt, caressing your back.

“Your body. Your skin. Your face. Your scent. It’s been on my mind all day, sweetheart. Hard to concentrate with all that.”

He whispered in a deep voice against your parted lips. Your hands found his hair, and you pulled him closer.

“Is that so ?”

You answered, reciprocating the lust in his voice before he crashed your lips together.

Kento let out a long growl as he kissed you passionately, your tongues dancing with each other. He bit your lower lips before licking it, and kissed you again. Soon you were out of breath, and pulled away with a grin.

He frowned a little, an amused expression on his face at your grin.

“What is it ?”

He remarked, his fingers caressing your cheekbones as you grabbed his tie.

“I have the perfect idea for reliving your stress.”

You retorted in a low voice as you started to walk backward toward the sofa, still grabbing his tie. He soon understood what this ‘idea’ was, and he inhaled deeply as you pushed him on the couch.

“If it’s only because I said I was tired, no need to force yourself to do it honey-”

He started but you cut him with another kiss, sitting on his lap as his hands automatically found your hips.

“Nonsense, if I ever say no to your dick, then it’s not me.”

You mumbled in his neck, leaving kisses on every inches of his skin. He tilted his head back to leave you more space, and let out a sigh at the feeling of your lips on him.

His hand grabbed your ass, squeezing it at your dirty word.

“Language, young lady.”

You chuckled against him, making him shiver as he closed his eyes.

After a long day of work, Kento could easily come just by your kisses.

“Not fair, you always talk dirty with me.”

You whispered before facing him, satisfied with his expression.

“Because you like it.”

He replied, and his breath stopped for one second when he felt your hands working to take his belt off.

“You love when I talk dirty too,” you said as you took his belt off. “I can feel it, liar.”

You proved your argument with your hand, caressing his bulge under you, still grinning.

Indeed, seeing his cute little wife talking dirty was a kink he didn’t know he loved.

You didn’t break the eye contact as your hand made its way inside his pants, pulling out his already hard cock.

Kento exhaled from his nose as you started to stroke it slowly, watching every change on his face with pride.

It’s when your thumb caressed his tip, leaking with pre-cum already, that a little sound exited his lips.

“Let me take care of you, hum ?”

You whispered, enjoying his dick growing larger at your words.

“I’m going to make you feel so good.” You left his cock for a few seconds to take your sweatpants off, then positioned your entrance in front of his tip. “I just wanna ride all your problems away.”

Yet you had difficulty putting his cock in because he was just so fucking huge.

Kento watched the show with a little smirk, tilting his head to the side as his hands grabbed your hips firmly.

“Need my help there, darling ?”

With an amused expression he pulled you down on his cock in one thrust.

You both let out a deep groan —you for how good he was filling you and him for how tight you were.

Grabbing his shoulders, you positioned yourself until it reached this spot inside you.

You rested your head in the crook of his neck, and with his hands still on your waist, you started to slowly ride his length.

He let out an inaudible curse as his head fell backward, letting you do all the work. At first, you winced a little from the pain this position gave you, but you quickly got used to it as you let out small whimpers.

You were taking him so well, your walls clenching around him as you fastened your pace.

Your ass started to slap against his balls and thighs as you took him deeper, his cock reaching your g-spot at every thrust.

You straightened yourself as you continued to jump on his dick, biting your lips with closed eyes from the sensation.

“Open your eyes, love,” Kento clarified, panting. “Look how naughty you are, riding me like there’s no tomorrow.”

You let out a long moan at his words, opening your eyes as your lips flew above his.

You were supposed to be the dirty talker, but the pleasure was so good you couldn’t even speak.

“Good girl.”

Your walls clenched around him at his praise, making him moan too. You could feel yourself coming closer to the orgasm, your pace slowing.

His grip on your hips became more firm as he let out a dark chuckle, licking his lips.

“Tired ?”

He teased you, but he knew it was because the pleasure was too much.

Blond locks got stuck to his forehead due to sweat, and he took matters into his own hands.

You were no longer riding him —you were so close reaching your climax that you just didn’t have enough strength anymore— but he was the one making you ride him.

His grip on you tightened even more as he made your body go down on his cock, letting out a groan at each deep thrust.

Now you’ll remember that, if you ever try to top Kento again, he’ll always find a way to dominate you.

He was the first to come, painting your walls white in a deep and long groan as he continued to move his dick inside you. A few seconds later, you came too while closing your eyes.

“A-ah , ken.” You whimpered, seeing stars as you both stopped your movements.

You fell on his chest, breathing heavily, as a small smile materialized on your face.

He swallowed hard, panting as well, but he hadn’t moved his cock yet. It was still sensitive. But his hands caressed your back as he kissed the top of your hair.

“You did wonderful, honey.”

You straightened your back, looking at him with eyes filled with pride and love.

“I hope it helped with your exhausting day.” You leaned in and pecked his cheek. “I liked it.”

He chuckled softly, lifting your body a little to take his cock out of you as he stood up.

“You like everything.”

He added, lifting you in a bridal style as you gently gave a punch to his chest.

“That’s not true, I don’t like coconut.”

Kento shook his head as he walked toward the bathroom, kissing your forehead.

“I know, love.”

HIROMI HIGURUMA

You smiled happily as you entered the law building, your light sundress illuminating the gloomy hall.

You greeted the secretary before entering the elevator, clicking the button for your husband’s level.

You took a glance at the lunch box you made just for him, hoping you didn’t forget anything at home.

Sometimes you bring lunch to Hiromi, well, it’s not like he had time to take a break and eat. But you didn’t complain; you liked seeing him at work.

Knocking at his office’s door, you opened the door when you heard his faint ‘enter.’ Closing the door behind you, you looked at him, whose attention was on a file in front of him.

He didn’t even look up.

“What can I do for you ?”

He mumbled unbothered, and you let out a small chuckle before walking to his desk.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe acknowledge that your wife is here ?”

You teased him, and the moment he heard your voice, his head rose immediately and his face lightened.

“My love..”

He said in a sigh before standing up and walking to you. It was such a relief for him to see you, with all the work to do. You chuckled again as he hugged you, inhaling your scent as you rubbed his back.

“Easy there, something happened?”

You joked as he grabbed your face in his palms, kissing your forehead. He stayed silent for a few seconds, admiring your wide smile while tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I missed you.”

He mumbled again, gently grabbing your hand to kiss your finger. Exactly where your wedding ring was.

“You saw me this morning, Hiromi.”

He took the lunch box in your hand before pecking your lips.

“It wasn’t enough.”

He walked back to his desk as he put the lunch box on it, and you followed him while shaking your head like a love-sick teenager.

He sat on his chair and made you know with his hand to come closer. He grabbed your hips as you positioned yourself between his legs, looking down at him with the same joyful expression.

He let out a long sigh as he rested his forehead on your stomach, just enjoying the intimate moment between you two.

You caressed his hair, grabbing his face with your soft palms.

“Are you tired ? I told you not to overwork yourself.”

You said in a soothing voice while he leaned in your touch, closing his eyes with his hand above yours.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s just that I want to help the people in need .”

You sighed, kissing his forehead.

“But you can’t take every case, baby. Look how exhausted you are.”

He smiled, his traits softening.

“Thank you for caring about me. I promise I’ll try to work less. Now..”

You let out a small gasp as he suddenly pulled you onto his lap, his hands grabbing your ass. You giggled, holding his shoulders to keep on his lap.

His eyes examined how the sundress enhanced your curves, and you felt him moving his lower body.

“Is that a new dress ? I never saw it on you before.”

He said in a low voice, his fingertips caressing your spine, and it made you shiver.

“Yes, it was on sale. And I know you love this color on me. You like it ?”

You said this while biting your lips and tilted your head back when you felt his lips on your neck.

He kissed your neck gently, his tongue teasing your skin. He went higher, just under your ear. Your sensitive place.

“Of course I like it. It makes me want to rip it off.”

You chuckled before pulling his face away, feeling his bulge under you.

“Alright, dirty talker. Eat your lunch, then we’ll see what I can do about that.”

His eyes darkened, and he pulled you in for a kiss. Hiromi let out a groan before his tongue entered your mouth.

You deepened the kiss by leaning closer to him, gasping for air as your tongues fought against each other.

Biting his lip before pulling away, you chuckled slightly.

“Lunch, Hiromi.”

He let out another disappointed sound before wrapping one muscular arm around your waist to keep you steady on his lap, and his free hand leaned in to grab the lunch box you brought.

He ate quickly, and each times you were about to tell him to go slower, he only gave you a glance full of lust.

And you kept your mouth closed each time.

A few moments later, he finished to eat and put the box back on his desk. You inhaled deeply, feeling your pussy starting to get wet only from the anticipation.

His grip on your waist tightened as he kissed you again. This time more aggressive, more passionate. Your saliva was dripping on your chin as you felt his hands slipped under your dress to squeeze your thighs.

It wasn’t the first time you and he had sex in his office, and it wasn’t going to be the last time either. You both loved how risky it was.

Out of breath, you broke the kiss as your hands were already inside his pants, stroking his length through his boxer.

He let out a hiss as he closed his eyes, licking his lips.

You smirked, kissing his cheek as you pulled his cock out. Stroking it slowly, your smirk widened at the pre-cum on his tip.

You felt his fingers putting your panties to the side, and you gasped a little when fresh air hit your bare pussy.

Hiromi opened his eyes, holding the back of your neck as you put the tip into your entrance.

Then you slowly went down, biting your lips from the pain due to how big he was.

His head fell backward as he felt your warm cunt around him, his breathing heavier.

“Damn, just what I needed…”

He inhaled sharply from his nose as his forehead fell on your chest, and you started to ride him.

Your slow pace didn’t last, you were now riding him like it was the last time. Your ass clapping on him echoed in the office as you let out small whimpers.

“Shhh.”

Hiromi shushed your noises with his mouth, not even kissing you, just pressing your lips against each other.

“We don’t want my coworkers hearing your lovely moans, now do we ?

You nodded, your eyes rolling back from the waves of pleasure each time his cock reached your g-spot. The lawyer let out a deep groan, his parted lips flying above yours as you rode him faster.

He closed his eyes when you fastened your pace, feeling himself coming closer to his climax. Hiding your face in his neck, you came with your body shaking.

He didn’t last longer either when he felt your walls clenching around him, and came inside you. You stopped to move, panting as you tried to calm yourself.

Hiromi chuckled slightly as he rubbed your back gently, kissing your cheek.

“Wanna stay here with me ? You’re not going out of this office in this state, sweetheart.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, nodding. You knew he wasn’t going to be long for you, and that his day would soon be over.

So you simply stayed here, his cock buried in you as he grabbed his files to get back to work.

He occasionally kissed your jaw, telling you how good you were to him and that he loved you.

[hoshifighting]

idk if someone asked you this but i’m a new reader and I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

can you please make wonwoo, the nerdy president who u thought was innocent and sweet but he’s the one behind ur fave nsfw audio creator???? AND HE’S A HARDFUCKER.. not what u expected tho..

i don’t know if i make sense but please pretty please 😭☝️

Synopsis: where you discover that the nerdy class president is the one man who creates the most nasty NSFW audios that you spend long nights listening to. WC: 2.8k WARNINGS: smut, audio porn, masturbation, hard fuck, dirty talk (obviously), bad sleeping habits (because of wonwoo), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, pussy eating, penetrative sex, protected sex, wonwoo whining, a lil invasion of privacy.

you’ve been running on fumes all day, the hazy buzz of sleep deprivation clinging to your brain like static. it’s no surprise, really. your night had gone the way it always does: you got home, flopped into your chair, threw on your headphones, and let onyx_lens—your favorite nsfw asmr creator—drag you under with that stupidly deep voice of his.

it was kind of pathetic, actually. you barely remember what the script was about—something about obedience or whatever—but you do remember the sound of his voice sinking into your brain like warm honey, making you cum so hard that you blacked the fuck out right after. now here you were, bleary-eyed and trying to stay upright in literature class, the regret of last night’s poor choices catching up with you.

wonwoo, the class president who was somehow both effortlessly chill and annoyingly observant, had been glancing at you every few minutes. you could feel his eyes on you as your head dipped forward for the third time, only to snap back up like a busted bobblehead.

but, in true wonwoo fashion, he didn’t say anything. no scolding, no judgmental sighs—just quiet observation.

when class finally ended, you were ready to yeet yourself into a nap for a solid 72 hours. you were shoving your stuff into your bag when wonwoo’s voice cut through the noise.

“you good?”

you froze. his voice wasn’t the same as onyx_lens’s, obviously, but it had that same deep, smooth timbre that made your brain short-circuit for a second. it didn’t help that his question sounded so much like something out of an nsfw script. you turned to face him, hoping your face wasn’t giving away how flustered you suddenly were. “uh—yeah,” you said, shaking your head a little too quickly. “just tired.”

wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “not sleeping well?”

your brain screamed. your tired, half-horny brain screamed louder. the overlap of his voice and onyx_lens in your head was un-fucking-bearable. you managed to nod, muttering something about late nights and deadlines, hoping he wouldn’t pry.

he didn’t, but his next question wasn’t much better.

“think you could help me with the sci-fi project? your last lit analysis was good, and i could use the extra pair of hands.”

you blinked at him. “me?”

he nodded, adjusting his glasses. “you. unless you’re too busy with...whatever’s keeping you up.”

oh, you mean my nightly sessions with onyx_lens and my vibrator?

you swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. “nah, i can help.”

and that’s how you found yourself standing outside wonwoo’s apartment later that evening, clutching your bag. his place was exactly what you’d expect from him—minimalist, neat, and smelling faintly of coffee.

“come in,” he said, holding the door open for you. “make yourself comfortable.”

easier said than done. you perched awkwardly on his couch as he set up his laptop on the coffee table, your eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ignore how nice his voice sounded in person.

“so,” he began, sitting across from you, “any ideas for the project?”

you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “uh, maybe something about robots and humanity? like, exploring ethical dilemmas or something.”

wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your skin heat. “good idea. we could tie that into the main themes from class.”

he leaned forward slightly, scrolling through a document on his laptop, and you couldn’t help but notice how his glasses slipped down his nose. you were so not prepared for this level of proximity or his stupidly deep voice.

“you okay?” he asked again, glancing at you.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “yeah, just...thinking.”

his lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “good. let me know if you need a break or...anything.”

the way he said anything sent a shiver down your spine. you weren’t sure if it was exhaustion, residual arousal from last night, or the sheer presence of wonwoo in his element, but your brain was a mess.

you were supposed to be helping him with this project, but all you could think about was the way his voice would sound whispering in your ear, saying things that would make onyx_lens blush.

you were so close to winning the “most pathetic college student of the year” award it wasn’t even funny. after much back-and-forth with wonwoo, class president of your downfall, you somehow convinced him to let you walk home alone. except the man still went all soft and paid for a taxi anyway, which, like… thanks? but also stop being so nice, what the hell.

it was nearing 11 p.m. when you got home, and as if on cue, your phone pinged with a notification: onyx_lens’s weekly live is starting.

you stared at it for a second, blinking in disbelief. today’s theme? "neon circuits and orgasm denial (a cyberpunk experience) 8d audio"

sci-fi-themed. of fucking course.

you almost laughed at the audacity of the universe for this one. was this some sort of cosmic joke? was wonwoo onyx_lens?! no way. no goddamn way. you shook off the thought as delulu nonsense and dragged yourself to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath.

by the time you flopped into your chair, headphones on, the live was already in full swing. that voice—that stupidly deep, velvety voice—flooded your ears as the chat buzzed with unhinged comments. onyx purred, and you were done for.

you couldn’t even focus on the sci-fi plot he was spinning, something about rogue androids, monster cock, neon vibrators and human experimentation. his voice wrapped around you like a silk chokehold, and you were gone—just a vibrating mess in your chair, coming undone embarrassingly fast.

fast forward to the next morning: you woke up feeling like a used dishrag. again. headphones still on, your phone dead, and the memory of last night’s live replaying in your brain like a broken record.

by the time you dragged yourself to class, you were running on fumes and vibes. your hoodie was scrunched up around your face, making you look like a cross between a gremlin and an overgrown baby.

wonwoo noticed. you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried—and failed—to stay upright. you were so close to just giving in and laying flat on the floor. honestly, it might’ve been comfier than your chair at that point.

wonwoo, sitting two rows away, looked like he was internally debating whether to intervene or let you rot in peace. when the bell rang, you startled awake like you’d been electrocuted, nearly knocking your stuff off your desk in the process.

“you okay?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you shuffled out of the classroom like a zombie.

“i’m fine,” you mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie. “just need food. like, now.”

you detoured to the convenience store on the way to his apartment, snagging an entire kimbap roll and tearing into it like a starving animal. wonwoo followed behind, holding your water bottle with a look that was equal parts judgment and amusement.

“you couldn’t wait?” he asked, watching as you ate half the roll in one bite.

“bro,” you said around a mouthful of rice, “if i didn’t eat this, i was gonna pass out on the cold asphalt. your problem now, mr. class president.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, just handed you your water like the reluctant babysitter he was.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

you couldn’t help yourself. the suspicion had been eating away at you for weeks now, ever since you first heard his voice in class and that nagging sense of déjà vu set in. wonwoo had escaped to the bathroom, and you had the perfect opportunity to snoop.

your fingers hovered over his notebook, but then your gaze darted back to your own screen. back and forth, back and forth. his notebook. yours. the coincidences were piling up like a conspiracy wall in your head. the voice, the specific vocabulary choices, even the cadence—how did i not notice this earlier?!

“fuck it,” you whispered to yourself, grabbing his notebook and quickly pulling up the site where you normally streamed your favorite asmr creator. just to check. just to confirm your theory.

your heart pounded as the site loaded, every second dragging like molasses. the channel page opened, and at first, it seemed normal. too normal. you almost clicked away, feeling stupid for even suspecting anything.

but then you saw it: edit profile. analytics.

your breath caught, and a sharp scoff escaped you as you crossed your arms. oh, my god. the realization hit you like a freight train. it’s him. wonwoo. class president. sci-fi nerd. “how the fuck did i not notice?” you muttered, half impressed by his audacity.

you were so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t hear him return—until his voice, practically kissed your earlobe.

“what. do. you. think. you. are. doing?”

you jumped so hard your knee slammed into the underside of the desk. whipping around, you found wonwoo standing over you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“uh—nothing?” you stammered, trying to slam your laptop shut, but his hand darted out and stopped you.

“���nothing’ doesn’t look like you snooping through my computer,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

your cheeks burned. “okay, fine, maybe i was curious—”

“you were curious?” his tone sharpened. “curious enough to invade my privacy?”

“invade your—bro, you’re literally whispering dirty robot sex fantasies to the entire internet. how is that private?”

“that’s different!” his ears flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “that’s content. this—this is personal.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “oh, please. you’re mad i figured it out. admit it.”

he leaned closer, towering over you now, his hand pressing down on the desk beside you. “what do you want, huh? blackmail? are you gonna tell everyone?”

you laughed, loud and incredulous. “tell everyone?! dude, relax. i’m not gonna expose your little side hustle. besides…” you smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “you should be thanking me. clearly, i’m a fan.”

wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. 

“you’re a what?” he asks, your pulse skyrocketing as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the chair.

“did i stutter?” you whispered, the challenge clear in your tone.

his mouth crashed onto yours, teeth and tongue and frustration. you barely had time to process it before he was yanking you out of the chair, his hands rough as they gripped your hips and spun you around.

“you want to act like a brat,” he growled into your ear, his voice so reminiscent of his asmr persona that it made you roll your eyes back slighty, “then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

he bent you over the desk, the cold surface pressing against your chest as he yanked down your college skirt and underwear at once. his fingers slid through your folds, already slick just from being around him.

“so fucking wet,” he muttered, almost to himself. “you get off on this, don’t you? knowing it’s me.”

“shut your mouth,” you gasped, but it came out more like a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them and pressing them hard on your front wall.

“make me,” he challenged, his other hand coming down sharply on your ass. the sting made you gasp, your hips jerking against his hand as you tense on the desk.

the pace of his fingers was relentless, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts. every part of your body was starting to be feveirsh, and you hated—hated—how easily he was unraveling you. you spent nights thinking about how it would be if onyx fucked you, and here you are. of course you would be a mess in a second.

“sorry” he mocked you. “am i too much for you?”

you clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into the desk as you tried to hold back a moan. “you talk too fucking much actually wonwoo,” you hissed.

“yeah, that's what's paying me at nights” wonwoo chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out and flipping you onto your back with his big arms. before you could protest, he was kneeling between your legs, his mouth suddenly hot and insistent against your core, better than any other vibrator you insisted on using at night.

the sounds—the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue—mixed with your whimpers as he devoured you like a man starved. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

“stop—”

“stop?” he looked up, his chin glistening. “not until you admit i’m your favorite.”

you glared down at him, breathless and defiant. “you’re such an asshole.”

“and yet…” he smirked, diving back in and flicking his tongue against your clit until your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

it didn’t take long before you were coming undone, your body shaking as his mouth pulled your clit. wonwoo didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, dragging out your orgasm until you were a trembling, incoherent chaos beneath him.

wonwoo doesn’t waste a second after pulling back, his hands flipping you over again so you’re bent over the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool surface as he grinds against you. the thick outline of his cock rubs against your dripping folds, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. you gasp, your hips jerking back involuntarily, and his pearly-white smile flashes above you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost smug, as a dark spot begins to spread on his sweatpants from your slick. “you’re soaking me through.”

the way he emphasizes the word makes your back contort in shivers, but you’re too far gone to care. your fingers claw at the desk as he keeps humping against you, his pace quickening. when he finally pulls back, you hear the shuffle of fabric as he yanks down his sweatpants and briefs. the soft clink of a drawer opening catches your attention, and you crane your neck to see him sliding on a condom.

“you’re still melting all over my desk,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your ass. “can’t even wait for me, huh?”

before you can respond, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp. he doesn’t stop, spanking you again and again until your skin is flushed and burning.

“you look so pretty like this,” he says, his hand smoothing over the heated skin before gripping your waist and lining himself up. “all messy and desperate for me.”

when he pushes in, stretching you inch by inch until you’re full and breathless, pussy trying to clench at his big grith to adjust. wonwoo groans, his head falling forward as he sinks in to the hilt.

your walls flutter around him, and he moans at the feeling, the sound so real and raw that it sends a jolt straight to your core.

“talk to me,” you manage to gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.

he chuckles, his pace picking up as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “you want me to talk dirty? you want me to tell you how tight you are? how good you’re taking me?”

you moan in response, your hips bucking back against him as his words send you curling.

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he continues, his voice thick with lust. your moans grow louder, and he suddenly remembers the videos you must’ve listened to—the whining, the moaning. the thought makes his stomach flip, and he decides to give you exactly what you want.

he starts letting out soft whimpers, his voice breaking with each thrust, the sounds spilling out almost involuntarily. “fuck, babe, you’re gonna make me cum—”

the genuine desperation in his voice drives you wild, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper. he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave marks, but you don’t care.

“please,” he moans, his voice high and strained. “let me cum for you. let me—fuck—”

you push back against him, meeting his thrusts as your own climax builds, your breaths coming in short, broken gasps. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together, and the tension snaps all at once.

you come hard, your body shaking as you cry out, and wonwoo isn’t far behind. his hips stutter, a guttural moan escaping him as he spills into the condom, his body trembling with the force of it.

he collapses over you, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. after a moment, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice still hoarse as he murmurs, “guess i’m a little better live, hm?”

you just let out a defeated moan, the coldness of the table soothing your hot cheeks.

“keep quiet about this, and i'll keep giving you more.” well, it's just an excuse that wonwoo said to fuck you over again.

[tender-rosiey]

req- jujutsu characters physically straining themselves and asking yn for help

take care:)

"I'M ONE CRAMP AWAY FROM A MELTDOWN"

— gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, and toji physically straining themselves and asking for help

GOJO SATORU:

satoru is sprawled on the floor, looking like he’s been hit by a truck, though you know he’s just playing it up.

his dramatic groans echo around the room, the kind that would make anyone believe he’s on the verge of death.

“wifeyyyy,” he groans, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes as he lays flat on his back. “I think I’m dying.”

you glance at him, deadpan. “from what, exactly?”

“from sheer exhaustion,” he replies, his voice dripping with mock despair. “it’s the worst kind of pain. the kind you can’t fight.”

you cross your arms, watching him for a moment. “really? because I’m pretty sure you’re exaggerating.”

“exaggerating?”

satoru lifts his hand weakly, like he’s reaching out for help. “I wish I were. But no, sweetheart, this is real. I’ve given everything to protect this world, and now—now I’m paying the price.”

you sigh, rolling your eyes, but you can’t help but feel a little amused by his theatrics.

still, there’s no denying that he’s probably worn out from the mission, even if he’s acting like a drama king about it.

“alright, alright,” you say, bending down next to him. “but if you’re truly in this much pain, maybe you should let me help you.”

his eyes flash with relief the moment you say that. he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. “oh, you’re such a lifesaver, wifey. I knew I could count on you.”

you smirk, kneeling next to him. “I’m not sure how much I can help with your exaggerated suffering, but I’ll give it a shot.”

satoru immediately sits up, all too eager, his arm still draped over your shoulder as if he’s the one about to collapse at any second.

you guide him onto the couch, a little more forcefully than he probably expected. he lets out an exaggerated gasp of thanks, making a show of how much effort it took.

“now, my shoulders,” he says, voice full of mock desperation, “they’re absolutely killing me. no one has shoulders as heavy as mine.”

you raise an eyebrow but don’t argue. “I can’t believe I love you,” you mutter, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

you start massaging gently, fingers working through the tight muscles that are starting to give way beneath your touch.

satoru’s whole body seems to relax under your hands.

“mmm, that’s the stuff,” he sighs dramatically, his head tilting back as if you’ve just performed some kind of miracle. “you’re so good at this. how do you manage to be perfect in every way?”

you roll your eyes, but your hands keep working, pressing into the sore muscles along his shoulder blades.

his response is immediate—he melts further into the couch, eyes half-lidded as he hums with contentment.

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he mutters. “this is pure bliss, sweets. no one else could do this to me like you do.”

“yeah, yeah,” you say, giving him a kiss on his cheek that makes him melt yet again against the couch.

GETO SUGURU:

suguru stumbles into the living room, looking completely drained, his shoulders sagging as he lets out a soft groan.

he rubs his eyes before glancing at you. "I think I’ll just take a bath and call it a day."

you raise an eyebrow, already sensing his exhaustion. "you sure? I could help, you know."

suguru shakes his head, grinning weakly. "I’m fine. Really. I can manage."

a few moments later, suguru is in the warm bath, steam rising lazily from the water.

he leans back, letting his muscles relax as he sinks into the tub, his body visibly easing into the heat. you stand behind him, fingers gently working through his hair, lathering the shampoo into his scalp.

the soft scent of lavender fills the air, mixing with the quiet splashing of water as your hands move through his hair.

suguru sighs, his body melting into the heat. "I am a weak man," he mutters.

you let out a small laugh, fingers moving in slow, soothing circles. his muscles are finally unwinding, and you can feel the weight of his day leaving him, bit by bit.

"yeah?" you tease softly, grinning. "but, you know, I think I’m pretty good at this, huh?"

he chuckles lazily, his voice low and relaxed. "you’re amazing," he admits, his tone affectionate. "I’m lucky to have you around."

you glance at him, still working through his hair, and playfully raise an eyebrow. "how about you? how was your day?"

suguru lets out a small sigh, clearly unwinding further at the sound of your voice.

“long. you know how it is. a million things to do and never enough time for it." he grins a little. "but it’s always better when I’m with you."

you shake your head, laughing softly. "you’re lucky I’ve got the patience to deal with you."

suguru raises a hand, giving a lazy wave. "You’re doing more than that. I’m starting to think you could make a career out of this."

you smirk, rubbing the shampoo deeper into his hair. "please, I have better things to do than take care of you all the time."

suguru cracks an eye open, a playful glint shining through. he reaches out, grabbing your wrist gently. "I don’t know about that. this is pretty nice."

you shrug casually, your smile warm. "someone’s got to look after you."

the bath continues in peaceful silence for a while, only the sounds of water splashing softly around you.

suguru’s body relaxes further, his tense muscles finally letting go. he sinks deeper into the tub, eyes closed again, a contented smile on his lips.

"thanks," he says quietly.

you continue washing his hair, the smile on your face softening. "anytime, silly.”

suguru chuckles softly, "you know, you’re kind of perfect."

you roll your eyes, but your fingers never stop working through his hair. "you’re delirious, suguru. stop with the nonsense."

suguru gives a lazy smile, his eyes still closed. "no, I mean it. you’re beautiful, and I’m lucky you married me, my beautiful, pretty, kind—"

before he can say anything else, you splash him with water. "okay, okay! enough with the sappy stuff!"

NANAMI KENTO:

the sound of a low, frustrated sigh greets you as you walk into the living room.

you spot kento sitting on the floor, his back straight against the couch, head tilted slightly as though trying to work out a knot in his neck.

his usual composed expression is marred with a faint furrow of irritation.

“kento?” you call, stepping closer. “why are you sitting on the floor like someone left you there?”

“it’s nothing,” he replies too quickly, brushing off the question. but the way his hand instinctively moves to rub the back of his neck betrays him. “just…tired.”

you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “tired? or is this about your neck? because you’ve been hunched over paperwork for hours, haven’t you?”

kento doesn’t answer right away, but his silence is telling.

he sighs and tilts his head back to meet your gaze, looking more like the overworked salaryman he used to be before he rejoined jujutsu tech.

“It’s just a bit stiff. I’ll manage.”

“oh, you’ll manage,” you echo, crouching down in front of him. “right up until you can’t turn your head tomorrow. then what?”

he narrows his eyes slightly, as if to say I’m not that fragile, but you cut him off before he can protest.

“kento,” you say firmly, softening your tone, “you’re literally built like a tank, but even tanks need maintenance. let me help.”

“I don’t want to bother you,” he mutters, his voice quiet but sincere. “you’ve had a long day too.”

“and yet I have plenty of energy to take care of my husband,” you reply, smirking. “now come on, just humor me.”

kento hesitates for a moment. eventually, he relents with a soft sigh. “fine.”

you shift to kneel behind him, your fingers already reaching for the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders.

“lean forward a bit,” you instruct, and when he does, you gently press your thumbs into the tight spots, working in slow, deliberate circles.

kento lets out a low, contented hum that sends warmth flooding through your chest.

“see?” you tease, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to the top of his head. “not so bad, right?”

“it’s…enjoyable,” he says, though his voice carries a faint warmth that tells you he’s enjoying this far more than he’s letting on.

you chuckle, your hands moving to his shoulders. “you know, I’d say you owe me for this, but I think this is my repayment.”

“repayment for what?”

“for saving you,” you quip, grinning. “because if you’d stayed like that any longer, you’d have turned into a statue.”

kento exhales a quiet laugh, his head tilting slightly as your fingers find another sore spot. “you’re relentless.”

“only because I love you,” you reply with a wink, leaning forward to press your cheek against his for a moment.

he reaches up, catching one of your hands and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “and I love you too.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

sukuna’s broad frame fills the doorway as he strides into the room, his bloodstained robes trailing behind him.

you glance up from your seat, unimpressed by the spectacle. it’s the usual aftermath of his “excursions.”

he’s all sharp angles and arrogance, but there’s a stiffness in his movements that you don’t miss.

“back already?” you ask, arching a brow as you sip your tea.

he scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “they were weaklings. barely worth my time.”

yet, as he lowers himself onto a cushion with a low grunt, his shoulders twitch ever so slightly. he rolls one, then the other, his jaw tightening just enough for you to catch it.

“something wrong?” you ask, your tone feigning innocence, though your sharp gaze betrays your amusement.

“watch yourself,” he warns, crimson eyes narrowing. “you forget who you’re speaking to.”

“hard to forget when you insist on reminding me every other breath,” you reply dryly, setting your cup down and standing.

“but I’m also observant enough to know when you’re too proud to admit you’re in pain.”

“I’m not in pain,” he snaps, though the way his hand instinctively moves to his neck betrays him.

“of course not,” you agree, stepping closer with a smug tilt of your head. “the great sukuna couldn’t possibly be sore after annihilating half the countryside.”

he glares at you, his pride clearly battling the ache in his shoulders. “you’re playing with fire, woman.”

“and yet you haven’t burned me yet,” you counter with a sly smile. “turn around.”

he doesn’t move, his jaw tightening as if to challenge you. but when you cross your arms and stare him down with an unimpressed look, he huffs and turns his back to you.

“stubborn,” you mutter under your breath, stepping behind him. his shoulders are massive, the tension in them practically radiating.

you place your hands on them, and he immediately stiffens.

“relax,” you say, kneading the taut muscles beneath your fingers. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

“pity,” he mutters, though there’s a begrudging amusement in his tone.

you press your thumbs into a particularly tight knot, and he lets out a low, involuntary sound—not quite a groan but enough to make you smirk.

“see? even you can’t argue with results,” you tease, leaning closer as your hands work into his shoulders.

“you’re enjoying this too much,” he grumbles, though he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he leans into your touch, his body betraying him.

for a while, the room is quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the hearth and the sound of your hands working against his muscles.

you press a little harder into a stubborn knot, and he exhales sharply.

“still acting tough?” you ask, your voice softer now.

“I am tough, you insolent wife,” he retorts, but the edge in his voice has dulled.

you chuckle, brushing a stray lock of his hair aside with one hand while the other presses into his neck. the gesture is so tender, enough that sukuna goes still for a moment.

“your hair’s a mess,” you murmur, your fingers trailing briefly over the side of his face before pulling back.

he turns his head slightly, his crimson gaze meeting yours over his shoulder.

you notice the slight softening of his eyes before he scoffs, rolling his shoulders as you step back little. “you’re getting too comfortable.”

“how scandalous,” you hum, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

he frowns, hand moving to hold the back of your head as he pulls you closer.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

toji stumbles through the bedroom door, a look of mild exhaustion on his face. his shirt’s torn at the sleeve, a fresh scrape on his cheek, and he’s limping just slightly, though he's trying to hide it. you glance up from your book, raising an eyebrow.

“you’re a mess,” you say, putting your book down.

he groans. “I’m fine. Just got into a little scuffle with a couple of idiots.” he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it carelessly onto the chair, wincing slightly as he pulls it off.

you tilt your head, inspecting him carefully. “uh-huh. that’s the same thing you always say. you’re looking a little too beat up to be fine.”

toji snorts. “it’s nothing. just a bruise here, scratch there—don’t make a big deal out of it.”

you raise your hands in mock surrender, but your eyes narrow playfully. “uh-huh. right. and I suppose your limp is just for fun too?”

toji looks down at his leg, then back at you, clearly trying to avoid the topic. “I’m fine, alright? really. you don’t need to play nurse tonight.”

you get up from the couch, walking over to him with a slight smirk. “I’m not playing nurse, toji. but if you’re going to act like a stubborn idiot, I guess I’ll have to do something about it.” you poke at his shoulder lightly, knowing full well he hates being fussed over.

he lets out a low, tired chuckle. “yeah, yeah. I know. you’ve got a thing for fixing me up.”

you roll your eyes, tugging at his shirt and guiding him toward the couch. “I’m not fixing you up. I’m just stopping you from walking around like a zombie for the rest of the night.”

he lets out an exaggerated groan, but he sinks down onto the couch anyway. “you’re lucky you’re cute. go ahead, doctor.”

you sit beside him and start gently untying his shoes. “you always say that when you’re trying to avoid admitting you need help.”

toji lifts an eyebrow, looking amused. “I don’t need help. I just like your hands on me.” he smirks.

you shake your head, unbothered. “just sit still for a second, alright?”

he chuckles as you work, peeling off his shoes and massaging the tension out of his feet. you can feel the stress in his muscles, the fatigue from the day’s battle lingering.

“see?” you poke at his calf with your finger. “this is what happens when you refuse to listen. you get all tense and grumpy.”

toji groans, but it’s not from pain. he stretches his leg out further, enjoying the relief. “you know, this doesn’t feel too bad…”

“you’re welcome,” you tease, your hands moving up his legs, working on his calves. “maybe next time you won’t play the ‘I’m fine’ card when you’re clearly not.”

he grins and looks down at you, his eyes softening just a bit. “I’ll think about it, but no promises. you know how I am.”

you laugh quietly, continuing your work. “yeah, I do. stubborn to a fault.” you finish with his feet, giving them a final rub before standing up. “alright, mister, I’m done here. go rest up before I have to start giving you more ‘doctor visits.’”

“I didn’t know you were into roleplay—”

“one more word, and you will be kissing the couch tonight.”

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[slttygeto]

SWEAR IT’S JUST RIGHT FOR YOU. | NANAMI. K

જ⁀➴ synopsis: when you and nanami are equally as obsessed with each other, it creates this perfect balance. you cook for him, and he treats your pussy like it’s a blessing.

જ⁀➴word count: 3,3k

જ⁀➴ c.w: pure filth with a bit of fluff, soft dom! nanami, he turns a bit rough towards the end, rough facefucking, cunnilingus + fingering, dirty talk + praise, riding, multiple orgasms + squirting.

When Nanami praises you, it’s soft, gentle and endearing. His rough palm gently collides with the soft skin of your jaw and his thumb traces your cheek. He is reminding you of how much you mean to him, how he would burn the entire world if it meant keeping you safe and protected. You are his fairy, his delicate girl whom he could never imagine even raising his voice at. When he scolds you, his voice is stern and filled with worry despite the displeased tone, his hand grabs at your shoulder not to hurt you, and you want to caress your thumb over his forehead and get him to stop furrowing his eyebrows so deeply.

“You’ll get wrinkles, Ken.” Your voice pulls him out of his displeased state for a moment, and Kento hears birds chirping outside of the window and the sunbeam caresses your skin—It hits your beautiful eyes and he takes in every detail; your eyebrows, the slight discoloration the bottom of your jaw, the mole that seems to bring out the beauty in you even more, your eyelashes that aren’t curled but naturally have a pretty shape to them and he heaves out a sigh. He is consumed by love wherever you are near.

Heaven knows how much the man craved domesticity. He found comfort in it—a routine, a promise that when he comes home, he gets to take off his brown shoes at the front door, put his keys in the small bowl that has a mirror hanging right above it. He would then look at his reflection in the mirror and look away immediately when he notices the sweat stains as he removes his jacket. He hears your footsteps as you rush out of the kitchen with a pretty apron around your waist. You made bread, and Nanami isn’t sure whether to be infatuated by the smell of it, or the smell of your hair that hits his nostrils as you wrap your arms around his waist.

He wouldn’t care that your hair is slightly damp, but he would breathe out how the tank top you were wearing was going to get you sick if you don’t watch out. And Kento cares a lot about your comfort, he respects you a lot, so when you hug his sweaty self, his hands would gently try to remove your arms from around him and protest that he was dirty.

“It’s all hard work, Ken. I like it.” To which he wouldn’t say much but give in and let you hold him. He understands that to an extent, having a natural smell like this was attractive, he’s always told you that he likes it when you come home complaining about sweating too much and all he says is that it makes you even more attractive. Your flushed cheeks, your hair sticking up in small antennas, your nose scrunching up at how disgusting it feels to have your shirt cling onto your skin—

“Can I join you in the shower?” Which always catches you off guard, but you accept of course and Nanami sets his book down, he removes his glass and folds them neatly on top of the book before following right behind you in the bathroom. You giggle nervously when you see him close the door and lock it before leaning against it, and you let out a small and timid ‘what?’ when he keeps eyeing with the same intense eyes.

“You are beautiful.” He never denies that he is looking at you—admiring you, but instead reminds you every time that nothing in the world can change his mind about his infatuation with you.

And somewhere in between that comforting thought of coming home to you, a show playing on TV in the living room, bread baking in the oven and the smell of a clean home—Nanami dreams of fucking you stupid on the couch. He wouldn’t remove your apron, he wouldn’t let you wash your hands off of the flour—he would simply drop his pants, push your shorts down and spread your legs only to find out that you weren’t wearing any panties.

He feels sick to his stomach at thought, sighs and rubs his forehead at the fact that he was imagining such dirty things to do with you. If it were a normal fantasy like coming home and fucking you on the bed, he wouldn’t feel that bad. But that was the thing about fantasies, they existed in our head without our control, and it was up to us to act out on them or not. Kento cherished you too much to scare you off with his oh-so-called sick and twisted fantasy of his.

He comes home after a long day at work, and it’s a few minutes past seven. The house isn’t quiet, there is a show playing in the background and that was the first thing that had Kento stop dead in his tracks. He chooses to brush it off and simply rids himself of his jacket and shoes, sets his keys on the bowl before the smell of bread hits his nostrils and his lips part in confusion.

Was he dreaming? Did he somehow astral project into another dimension where his fantasy was a reality? It only confuses him further when you come out of the kitchen wearing an apron—in this reality though, you’ve chosen to wear one of his shirts instead, and Nanami doesn’t know if it’s better or worse. He tries to hide it, the way he can feel his cock hardening in his pants as you approach him with his shirt, fuzzy socks and hands that had traces of flour on them.

“You’re home.” Is how you greet him, your cheek resting on his chest and melting against his body as you breathe in his scent, a constant reminder that you get to be greeted with this sight five times a week around the same time. You boyfriend’s hand travels up to the back of your head and his fingers comb through your hair as he hums a tired response.

“Did you miss me?” Obviously, is what you want to say. But instead, when you look up at him and notice his hooded eyes, you feel his other rest on the small of your back and your heart leaps in your chest. All of a sudden, you feel hot and you feel something poking at you and you’re just surprised.

It was normal for your boyfriend to have needs, you were used to the sexual frustration that comes with having such a stressful job—but normally, Kento would avoid initiating anything with you until he’s showered and made sure he was clean. For him to insinuate that he wanted you, and so loudly with those eyes—you could feel your panties getting ruined.

“Pretty girl,” he calls out for you again when he notices your silence and the hand resting on your waist holds your chin whilst the other firmly grabs your hair. “Did you miss me?” He asks again, stern and you nod. You missed him too much, you realize. Because the lack of conversation beside greeting him and telling him he’s home—all of it was intensifying the sexual tension. It was almost like your body was warning you that Kento wasn’t going to go easy on you this time and you felt jittery.

“I missed you, Kento. Did you miss me?” You say as your hands grab onto his blouse in fists. You bring him closer to you, and gasp when you feel his hand travel down to hold your neck. He isn’t trying to cut your air, but when you make eye contact with him and see that his face has darkened, you let out a small noise.

“Let me show you instead.”

On the couch, Nanami wastes no time to attach his lips to yours and kiss you breathless. He was such a good kisser, always so passionate, always making sure to tease the corner of your lips before biting nibbling here and there—and fuck, did he lose his mind every time you tried to suck on his tongue. He would just push you on your back and cage you between his strong arms.

Nanami feels like he is constantly losing his breath whenever you are near, but when you grab onto his forearms and moan, he goes feral. Suddenly, he is reminded of how much weaker you are compared to him—frail, delicate, soft and sensitive to his touch. He is lucky, he is blessed and he makes sure to spoil you and that pretty pussy.

His kisses trail all the way down from your neck to your collarbones, his takes a whiff of your perfume and hums.

“You smell so sweet,” he mumbles against your skin. Instead of removing your apron and shirt, he pushes them up to reveal the cute panties that you were wearing and his finger traces the wet patch that’s already formed.

“Kento,” you call out to your boyfriend breathless, desperate—as though you were on a deserted island and he was the water to quench your thirst. Your legs spread on instinct for the man to settle between them and you feel his hot breath right against your panties.

“But you smell even better here… Right here,” he says and he pushes your panties to the side to reveal the wet mess hiding behind the fabric. You prop yourself up a bit higher to be able to look at Nanami while he eats you out, and you blush when you notice that he’s already staring at you.

“Up.” He pats your ass and you lift up your hips to allow him to remove your panties for you, but instead of throwing them on the floor, you see him take a whiff of the fabric and sigh and your blush darkens.

“Can I keep these, my love?” He asks sweetly, voice so deep you felt like your pussy was embarrassing you with how wet it was and you mindlessly nod. “Is that so?” He knew you wouldn’t say no, but he still wanted to thank you for trusting him with his perverted intentions.

“You’re too good for me.” Is the last thing that you hear from him before he dives between your legs and fuck—he is too good. You know Nanami is good, you don’t doubt that he can make you cum as many times as he wants before reaching his own high, but something about him eating your pussy like a treat, enjoying every drop and sucking on your clit with the intention of making you lose your mind—that was too much.

You feel his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks before smothering his face in your pussy. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue licks at your folds and you think that for a moment, maybe he is enjoying this more than you do. His hands grip your thighs to keep them in place, and when he notices that your legs are starting to shake and your hips are bucking up, he takes one look at you and his dick almost bursts.

Flushed chest, swollen lips and a fucked out face. If Nanami wasn’t already in love with your beauty, then he feels himself falling deeper for you. You fall apart on his tongue a couple of seconds later, he enjoys the way you gasp, moan and cry as he keeps his lips attached to your clit and you try to push his head away.

“Too much,” you gasp. “Kento!” you cry out when you feel his two fingers nudge at your folds and by this point, you are breathing too hard. You feel his thick finger prod at that one spongy spot almost immediately and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He presses a hand to your stomach and praises are spilling from his lips like a chant, watching as your soul almost escaped your body with every thrust of his thick fingers perfectly against your spot.

“That’s right baby, you’re doing so good,” “this pussy takes me so well,” “you make me so proud, look at this pussy—fucking filthy,”

The mixture of praise and him losing his composure and cursing has you reaching your orgasm again faster than expected. But this time, you make a bit of a mess and you try to apologize for ruining the couch and his clothes but he is quick to shut you up with his lips.

“You’ve just squirted on me, and you want to apologize?” he mumbles against your cheek, fingers still buried inside you and you whine.

“I made a mess,” you try to reason with your beast of a boyfriend but he quickly retreats his fingers back and delivers a harsh smack to your pussy.

“It’s never been a problem when it’s our bed, has it?”

“Kento,” you call out softly when your boyfriend starts to kiss at your neck again. “Kento, fuck my mouth.” Nanami’s brain short circuits at this and the shock is evident on his features. He doesn’t have time to stop you or protest because you are quick to get off the couch and on your knees for him.

“You’ve been so good to me, keeping me satisfied and happy—I bet you want to fuck my mouth sometimes, don’t you?” Your hands are quickly unbuckling his belt. You don’t remove his pants completely, only enough to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you watch as he throws his head back on the couch with each slow stroke.

“You don’t know what you are asking for,” is what he says as he tries to get you to back out of this, but you are determined to let him ruin your life. Him, the only man on this planet whom you would blindly trust with your life.

“I know what I am asking for.”

“I could hurt you,”

“I will tap your thigh if you do,” and then there’s a few moments of silence where Kento just stares deeply into your eyes. When you see him lean down towards you, your breath catches in your throat and your lips part in shock when his hand goes to the back of your head and the other one grips your jaw open.

“Open up.” And when you do, he rests the fat tip of his cock on your tongue. The pre-cum is a bit salty but you don’t say anything as you let Kento handle your mouth to his liking. He tells you to open up a bit more and breathe before he starts to thrust his dick in and out of your mouth at a slow pace.

You’re taking it well at first, but when you notice your boyfriend’s thighs shaking, indicating that he is holding back on you, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Quite literally.

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you push his dick down your throat, nose nuzzling against his pubes and he curses out loud.

“Fuck--!” You repeat the same motion over and over again, and by the third time, your boyfriend finally breaks and starts fucking your mouth like a starved man. Your knees burn, and so do your lungs—the couch is moving every time Kento brings your head back on his cock and you’ve braced yourself on his thighs for support.

“Sorry—fuck, I’m sorry baby,” he says between gritted teeth. However, when his eyes catch that you’re rubbing your swollen clit to the same rhythm of your head on his cock, something in him snaps.

He pushes you off of his cock, and any complaint you head is drowned out when he stands up and his cock stands proud. You look up at him from your spot on the floor and brace yourself on his thighs again when you feel him grab your face and push his cock inside your mouth.

“Filthy fucking girl,” he breathes out. “Can’t even let me be sweet to you—shit,” based on how difficult it is to even talk properly, you guess that he is close and so you sneak a hand between his legs and starts fondling with his balls—you squeeze them, and that’s when Nanami finally breaks and cums down your throat with a broken moan.

Even while trying to catch his breath, Nanami’s hands caress your face and neck as he takes a seat and pulls you closer to him. He then helps you get back up on your feet and pulls you on his lap to kiss you. He can taste himself on your tongue even after you’ve swallowed everything.

“Was I good?” You ask when he pulls away from your lips to kiss your cheek and down your neck once again, a pattern that he’s learned always turns you into putty.

“Perfect, my love. You are perfect for me.”

You are surprised at how fast he gets hard again, but you supposed it’s also because you were literally grinding your bare pussy against his dick. Your hands hold onto his shoulders for support as you try to slip his dick past your folds, but you let out a surprised noise when he easily lifts you up and aligns the tip of his cock with your pussy.

“Noticed that you like my arms a lot,” he says and you are obliged to stare at his forearms and good lord—the way they flex as they hold you above his cock, Nanami lets out an amused chuckle when he sees a string of arousal drip directly on top of his cock. “You do like them, huh?”

“Baby,” you whimper and Kento cannot find it in him to tease you any longer. He gently drops you down on his cock and he immediately gets to work. His hand rests on the small of your back and pushes you towards him to press your chest flush against his, his hands then grip your ass cheeks and he starts to slam you up and down on his cock with so much ease.

You sound like a mess. The combination of your boyfriend’s strong arms and the tip of his thick cock abusing your spot turns you into a blabbering mess on top of him.

“So good, so good—fuck, oh fuck,” sounded like music to his ears. Your whines your moans, your fucked out look and your eyes begging him to ruin you—Nanami was addicted to every part of you.

And it only takes a few more messy and sloppy thrusts from him and you cum around him with a loud cry.

“There you go,” he says breathlessly, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him. “Make a mess on me, baby,”

You shake like a leaf on top of him, hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life and lips pressed against his neck.

“Think you can take a bit more for me? I’m really close, darling,”

“Hurry up,” you say desperately and as promised, Kento thrusts a few more times before he is cumming inside you with a loud groan. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent that has now been mixed with his own and a hint of sweat. He relaxes in your hold, hand tracing the small of your back as a way to get you to come down from your orgasm and perhaps even apologize for being a bit rough with you earlier.

All of his worries are brushed off when you pull away from him to press a kiss to his forehead, his nose then down to lips.

“I love you, Ken. I love you too much,” you announce, a hint of sleepiness to your voice and a smile finds its way to his face.

“I love you too, darling. I love you too much.”

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