You tell your friends about your older boyfriend only to be met with judgement. Naturally, you seek comfort from him.
CW: Age Gap, Power Imbalance, Vaginal Fingering, Shower Sex, Choking
WC: 6K
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“THAT'S YOUR BOYFRIEND!!!” Zenitsu shrieked, holding onto your wrist for dear life to take a closer look at the picture on your phone. His inspection of the picture you had forced your boyfriend to take with you only days before led to him saying, “He's so old!”
People turned their heads, shooting you and your friends with odd looks. What was supposed to be a nice lunch date among friends had quickly turned into a whole ordeal. Your relationship was supposed to be a good thing, so why did your friends seem so concerned?
“Oh shush.” You shook your head, retracting your arm from him. “He's not that old.”
“You should date a guy your age, not some geezer!” Zenitsu's outrage shifted into acute jealousy. “I'm single. We could've dated if you asked.”
In appearance alone, Zenitsu could not compare to your Hotaru. Not to mention, your boyfriend had a stable income, and owned a home. Men your age still lived at home, and were still caught up in their studies.
There was no question about it: Zenitsu was a boy, Hotaru was a man.
Minor disgust raised bile in your throat. “Your reaction alone is why I'm not dating a guy my age. Older men are just so mature.”
Sure, Hotaru had his fair share of anger issues, but he had promised you he would address it in therapy. That was months ago, but you didn't press. It wasn't like he let his anger out of you. No, he was the perfect gentleman with you.
The Adam's apple in Tanjiro's throat bobbed. “Are you sure about him? He's my father's mechanic, and while he's good at changing tires, he can get a little… explosive.”
Your expression shifted. Any lingering joy to share your life with your friends slipped away. He had warned you that people would disprove of your relationship, but you hadn't expected such negative reactions from your friends.
It was one thing for your parents to not take the news lightly. They already disapproved of you dating at all, let alone a man pushing forty. Their ultimatum of choosing between him or them didn't come as a shock, and naturally, you picked the person who didn't force you to choose at all.
“I know…” Your fingers twitched, brushing against one another on your lap. “But, never with me. In fact, I think it can be a little hot.”
“Hot?” Aoi cocked a brow, unconvinced. “What could possibly be hot about a man making a fool of himself?”
“Well, you're dating Inosuke,” you countered.
Her lips pressed into a pale, tight line. There was no possible way to argue that what Inosuke does is different. Not in any reasonable capacity that would get through to you.
“Tell me, do you hear rocks when you shake your head?” Kanao's eyes remained fixed on her food. Unsure how to fully express her concerns, she masked it with mockery.
“Hey!” Nezuko snapped a little, with something you couldn't quite place flickering in her eyes, “As long as she's happy, who cares how old he is?”
There was a short pause. Tension clung to the air, thick and unforgiving.
Finally, Tanjiro spoke, “How old is he, anyway?”
“Thirty-seven.” An embarrassed smile raised to your flushed cheeks.
“My mom isn't even that old.” Inosuke shrugged, stealing a handful of rice from Tanjiro. His smirk could be heard in his voice as his friend ended up sliding over the coveted bowl of grains. “The dick can't possibly be that good.”
A smug scoff slipped past your lips, “It's huge, actually.” Crystal clear paintings of him on top of you made your bottom lip tremble. Your chest grew tight, and carbon dioxide slowly flirted with the air. “Sometimes, I'm not exactly sure how it fits.”
Especially your first time together. It was a moment of whirlwind passion, signed in your blood. He hadn't known you were giving a piece of yourself to him that day, but you couldn't have known he was offering the same.
Food fell from Genya's chopsticks, his grip suddenly becoming loose. “We're eating…”
Raising her fingers to her smile, Nezuko giggled coyly, “How big is it?”
“Nezuko?!” Tanjiro scolded, face going pale.
Pale pink eyes flickered to the floor. “I was just wondering.”
Grimaces contorted the male half of the friend group — excluding Inosuke, who was far more interested in his meal. Gentle curiosity surfaced in the eyes of both Nezuko and Aoi, while Kanao remained indifferent. Rather than care about such trivial matters, Kanao continued eating without issue.
Sighing, Aoi crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her seat. “I am, too, now.”
Irritation rumbled under Zenitsu's breath. “I bet it's not even that big.”
“Bigger than yours,” you retorted, not even skipping a beat.
Genya snorted, finding himself amused, yet taken aback. With the side of his finger, he wiped a stray tear forming on his waterline. “That wouldn't take much, to be fair.”
The corner of Aoi's mouth twitched. “And, you know this how, exactly?”
He made a gesture that was a blend of shrugging and motioning towards Zenitsu. “Just look at him.”
The longer Aoi examined him, Zenitsu's self esteem faltered further, and it was already dangerously low to begin with. Girls weren't his forte, so for his manhood to come into question was like a fatal blow.
“Well…” Aoi's arms slid down to her sides. She inhaled sharply, sighing in defeat. “He is short.”
“So is Inosuke!” Zenitsu screeched.
With a mouthful of food, Inosuke grunted, “Not where it counts.”
“Can we stop talking about dicks?” Tanjiro had completely lost his appetite at this point. If the reveal of you dating a man old enough to be your father wasn't bad enough, hearing about his junk was the nail in the coffin.
Conversations amongst friends were bound to get off topic. But this was something else. Silence was a better companion than whatever THAT was.
Interrupting the interlude, Nezuko swooned, “Do you think he'll propose soon?”
She wasn't hyper focused with the prospect of marriage. But like any girl, weddings had crossed her mind. Not to mention, with you dating a much older man, surely he'd be quicker to settle down?
“I hope so.” Suddenly, your ring finger felt bare. You hadn't been with him very long, but things had been increasingly intimate. “I moved in with him a few weeks ago, so we'll see.”
“Oh… that's not…” The muscles in Aoi's shoulders tensed, whilst she inhaled sharply through her mouth.
This was the first any of your friends had heard of you moving out. You had meant to tell them, but between unpacking, and your classes, you couldn't find the time. Everything was suddenly so heavy, so adult.
Tanjiro blinked back his confusion, eyelashes fluttering innocently. “Your parents were okay with that?”
His own parents didn't even allow him to close his bedroom door when his girlfriend was over, let alone move in with her. If he pulled something like that, his life would figuratively be over.
Oh.
Oh!
It wasn't figurative for you, was it?
“Not exactly…” you admitted, unable to maintain eye contact.
Momentary silence swept through the table. Pity had made the mood crestfallen as they held a requiem for what could've been your future.
Kanao's voice was the one to finally cut through the tension. “What happened?” Her voice wasn't unkind, or judgemental. It was just empty.
“Well, I'm not — I mean, I wasn't allowed to date anyone in the first place. So when I introduced Hotaru, they kicked me out.” You left out the part about being given an ultimatum. Salt pricked at your waterline, dampening your lashes. “My father called me a whore on my way out. Hotaru almost punched him, but held back for me.”
“Oh…” Aoi's thighs pressed together. She finally understood your attraction. “That’s kind of hot, actually.”
Bubbles of laughter tumbled past Nezuko's lips. “Sounds like he's the, I hate everyone but my girlfriend type.”
For a moment, you could relax. The air in your lungs almost felt lighter, appreciating Nezuko's approval of your relationship. Even if the guys didn't quite understand the appeal of dating an older man, at least someone did.
“My older brother is kind of like that,” Genya mumbled almost to himself.
The tip of Tanjiro's nose twitched in disgust. “Sounds toxic.”
Genya shook his head, mind flooded with unwanted images of Sanemi and Karaku being sickeningly sweet with one another. “Nah, he's a fuckin’ simp.”
“Sounds familiar,” you quipped, raising your drink to your lips. Genya was the exact same way with his own boyfriend. Gruff, but sweet when it counted.
“I’m not a damn simp,” Genya argued, face flushing in denial. Anyone could tell that he was caught in the midst of a lie and doubling down.
“Oh yeah?” Aoi rolled her eyes. “Just last week, you offered up your coat to Muichiro because you thought his jacket wasn't thick enough.” Her pigtails swayed with her mildly frustrated motions. “He didn't even complain about the weather, either.”
How could Genya not do that when his boyfriend's cheeks tinged red with frostbite? The innocuous expression Muichiro had worn that day hadn't mattered. It was cold, therefore, Genya had to be a gentleman. It was basic chivalry, something Aoi would know nothing about considering her boyfriend was in the midst of picking his nose.
“That's different…” Was all Genya could muster, losing control of his vocal chords.
Luckily, Aoi's attention had shifted elsewhere. “Meanwhile, I had forgotten mine and someone did nothing.”
“I don't control the damn weather!” Inosuke's brows knitted, unsure why she was upset. He'd carry her to the sun if she'd let him.
Zenitsu motioned to Inosuke's improperly buttoned shirt. “And he can't offer a coat when he refuses to wear one.”
Inosuke wouldn't even wear a shirt if he didn't have to. He hated the sensation of restriction on his skin. That was probably why he disapproved of your relationship — it made his skin crawl like long, puffy sleeves.
On reflex, Inosuke slapped Zenitsu's hand away, ignoring the strained noise that rattled in his friend's throat. Pride sprouted in his chest, arrogance budding in its soil. “I only wear one when my mother insists. Otherwise, I train for the cold.”
“What could you possibly be training for?” Zenitsu raised his voice, still on edge. He cradled his hand to his face, desperately contemplating whether or not he should ask Nezuko to kiss his wound better.
“We're off topic again,” Tanjiro interjected. With each tick of the eery, analog clock hanging on the way, his anxiety for you amplified. Normally, he didn't worry so much, but this situation was alarming to him.
Red flags had made themselves known, and he couldn't understand how you remained shrouded in ignorance. Truly that was the biggest shame of all: you sat idly by in a horror movie, and all he could do was watch.
“Oh, right.” Zenitsu rescinded his greedy hand, lowering it to his lap. “Anyway, how did the two of you meet? What could you possibly have in common?”
From his point of view, you were dating a Neanderthal. A cave dweller that couldn't manage to pull a woman his own age, who resorted to seeking out the warmth of a naive girl's breast.
“Well, he's a mechanic,” you redundantly explained, frazzled by Zenitsu's passive aggression, “I needed an oil change one day and well, I saw his face and just kept having car troubles.”
A replaced brake pad here.
A missing spark plug there.
You even considered parking beneath trees on windy days in hopes a tree branch would fall and crack your windshield. You stopped yourself last minute because you weren't that desperate. Besides, you could always have him top off your windshield fluid.
“Weird.” Tanjiro's eyes widened. “Normally, he shouts at my father for needing anything more than a routine oil change.”
Oh, Hotaru was far from happy to see you become a recurring character at his shop. One of the other men who worked there, Kanamori, would tease him endlessly for it, insisting it was wise for a man like him to date a younger woman — an inexperienced woman. One who didn't yet know why women his age refused to date him.
“Well, he was mad, but one thing led to another, and well…” Your voice died out as you remembered him taking you for the first time. The perfect blend of pain and pleasure that you wished to savor for the rest of your life.
“No!” Nezuko gasped, unable to mask her excitement.
“Yes!” You nearly bounced from your seat. “I offered to make it up to him, and so he bent me over the hood.”
You could still remember the way his large hand tangled in your hair. The cool metal of your car's hood pressed to your warm cheek. The stinging sensation of his untouched cock tearing your hymen, and the surge of bliss that followed.
“Sounds like a good way to add dents.” Genya shoved his plate away, completely giving up on finishing his meal.
In hindsight, he could've been making an excuse to see you again. “He was clearly hoping I'd let him hit again. We could've done it in the backseat — and we have since.”
“Did he use protection?” Tanjiro sounded just like your father had the night you introduced him to Hotaru.
An unnerving chill ran down your spine. “No? Up until recently, sex had been a heat of the moment thing between us.”
“What if he gets you pregnant?” Concern returned, seizing Aoi's heart. “He could leave, or worse.”
She knew very well what a baby would mean, and feared for you. It would tie you to a man you hardly knew forever. He was practically a stranger, and had anger issues. To her, it was one thing to fool around; it was another to be a fool.
Your silence was deafening.
Nezuko grabbed your hand, gingerly squeezing it in hers. There was only kindness in her eyes. She was safe. “Have the two of you discussed having children?”
“He'd prefer none.” Your throat grew dry as she squeezed your hand once more. “But, we've agreed that if it happens, it happens.”
“Sounds like an excuse to not use a condom.” Genya pinched the bridge of his nose, holding that position for a beat and a half. Both of his hands combed through his hair as he sighed.
“Can you blame him?” Inosuke cocked a brow. “Condoms suck ass.”
“They're not that bad…” Tanjiro's eyes darted around the room, ensuring that strangers weren't eavesdropping. He would hate for a stranger to infer intimate details about his personal life.
“Am I the only one here who hasn't had sex?” Zenitsu wailed, insecurity churning his stomach. Wondering to himself, how could that even be possible? He was one of the oldest amongst the group.
“I haven't.” Nezuko shyly raised her hand, quickly lowering it to her side when Tanjiro shot her a look.
“Well… um…” All Zenitsu could do was stammer, noticing the glint of murder in Tanjiro's eyes. Swallowing his pride, he still mustered up enough courage to act brash, “Maybe w-”
With a grim smile, Tanjiro stomped on Zenitsu's foot. “Not happening.”
Unbothered by Zenitsu's antics, Aoi pressed you further. “Does he at least pull out?”
“No?” He was your boyfriend — why would he?
“Are you even on birth control?” Suddenly, Aoi felt as though she was watching a future documentary unfold. Dread formed in her throat as a stiff lump that remained stationary no matter how hard she attempted to swallow it.
“I've been thinking about it,” you murmured. There had been a couple of close calls, but your period had only been late. Nothing Plan B couldn't fix.
Kanao's voice — not Aoi's — was the one to softly interject. “Maybe he should get snipped.”
That had been something Hotaru had told you he wanted to do eventually. At this point, it was only a matter of gathering the nerve to go under the knife.
“He wants to, but…” Your hands folded over your empty womb, contemplating the future. Thumbs tracing circles as if they carried baby dust.
“But you want to have his babies.” Nezuko smiled softly at the thought, blinded by the beauty in the melancholic prophecy. “Aw, you'd be such a good mother.”
“Yeah, you could change both of their diapers!” Inosuke's mouth ran much faster than his brain.
Your palms slammed against the wooden table. Laughter spilled out, but only to mask the fact that you were dying on the inside. “You know, he told me you guys would react poorly. I didn't want to believe him because you're my friends, but he was right.”
As you made your way to leave, Tanjiro grabbed your wrist. “W-”
His grip remained limp, making it easy for you to free yourself with minimal stumbling. “You guys have been making fun of me all day. No, I'm done. I'm going home.”
Being surrounded by criticism was unbearable. It was why you left your childhood home. Your father had always been so cold towards you, and he had the gall to call it love.
Every push away from your loved ones was another into Hotaru's loving embrace.
“It's not that deep.” Genya's eyes narrowed. This conversation was really becoming grating for him. If he wanted to hear about a toxic relationship, he would've just stayed home.
“It is to me.” Your lower lip quivered. “I have to go.”
As you abruptly ran off, you couldn't even hear Tanjiro's pleas for you to sit back down. Every sound had become static. A glimpse of normalcy only returned the moment your head hit your pillow back home.
You laid in bed for hours, cradling Hotaru's pillow in your arms. Traces of his scent lingered on the pillowcase. That soothing aroma of musk that you had come to love. His pheromones held you hostage, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You were exactly where you wanted to be.
While he would be home soon, you couldn't help but feel completely alone. Texting him was an option, but he wasn't very good at that. Hotaru had a tendency of getting caught up at work, and then when he did text, he responded like your father: thumbs up emojis and improper grammar.
So you drowned his pillow in your self pity, wallowing in your solitude and waiting patiently as physically possible for his return. You were home, but without him, you were painfully alone.
The floors creaked harder.
His old analog clock ticked louder.
Until finally, he returned.
Immediately after removing his shoes, he searched for you in the bedroom, noticing your absence in either the living room or kitchen. “Are you crying?”
He was not very in tune with emotions other than anger, but you strangely brought out a gentleness that was buried down deep inside. To him, you were a delicate flower that he struggled to nurture.
Adding sunshine to your life helped, but since making your acquaintance he realized there was more to tending to a budding blossom than the bare minimum. If you required it, he'd even gladly spill blood for you. Anything to keep you flourishing under his care.
“No.” You sniffled away the pressure building on your sinuses.
It was annoying to him that you would choose such an obvious lie. You looked like a sad bunny with the way the tip of your nose twitched with irritation. He found you absolutely adorable, softening his aggressive disposition to nil.
Expressing affection had never been his strong suit, but for you, he was willing to at least try. “Did they overreact?”
He had anticipated that. How could he not when a few of his coworkers jokingly called him a “chomo” or a "cradle robber”? You naively insisted that they had been envious of him, and while that may have been true, he knew better; nearly every joke carried a bit of truth beneath it.
The age gap between you was uncomfortable, perhaps controversial to others. But within these walls, it could be something beautiful. Who cared what other people thought?
“Mhm…” A faint whimper vibrated on your vocal chords, dying as you buried your face deeper into the dampened pillow. “Just like you said.”
He made peace with having to change the bed sheets. The fibers of his clothing were stained with oil and sweat. While he was pretty sure he didn't smell pleasant, nor look it, you almost always greeted him with a kiss at the door.
It was his turn to return the favor.
The edge of the mattress dipped beneath his weight. Hesitantly, he reached out for you, rubbing tentative circles into the small of your back. Almost instantly, your breaths grew deeper, utilizing your diaphragm.
“Their loss,” he reassured, unsure of what else to say, remaining a novice in romance.
“Hotaru, I just washed the bedding yesterday!” you half-heartedly whined.
There was something about being with an older man that naturally brought out your domestic side. Your mother called it “playing house,” but you refused to see it that way, preemptively preparing to be Hotaru's little housewife, cleaning, packing bento boxes for him to take to work, and of course more salacious duties…
“It's fine,” he dismissed, “I'll wash it in a bit, and we have spare sheets.”
In the meantime, there were far more pressing matters to tend to, like your bleeding heart.
If you'd let him, Hotaru would settle this with brute force. Remaining calm was far from his forte, but for your sake, he would ignore the tension in his muscles. Ignore the tremble in his hand that wanted to make a fist.
Eventually, you sat up, resting your head on his shoulder. The scent of musky sandalwood radiated from his pulse like an aphrodisiac. There was just something about the evidence of his hard work and dedication to his trade that you found so alluring.
“You need a shower.” You nestled closer against his side, used to his grimy attire after work.
If his clothes ruined yours, you'd just convince him to buy you more. He was single his entire adult life before meeting you, didn't have children, and had a good job. It wasn't as though he lacked the funds.
“I do.” He was at a loss of words, still awkward in your presence after all this time.
After all this time together, he still couldn't help but cling to coyness, endlessly struggling to understand why someone like you would ever give someone like him a chance. You almost reminded him of a beautiful shrine maiden, while he was practically a beast in comparison.
Whatever you shared logistically shouldn't work. Initially, you shared very little in common aside from mutual attraction. Not to mention his many, many flaws.
Kanamori was right: younger women truly were far more forgiving.
You were worth the effort.
“Would you like me to join you?” Your breath cascaded across his neck, still littered with love bites you had given him the night before just to hear him whimper.
Goosebumps pricked his skin, eager at the implications of your proposition. His cock throbbed painfully, restricted within a tent of denim. Somehow, you had completely bewitched him.
“Up to you.” Hotaru didn't know much about romance, but he did know where this was leading. As much as he hated opening the door to rejection, he refused to force your affections. Taking advantage of your inexperience was one thing, your vulnerability was another. “You don't have to.”
Gods, he knew you could do better. It was practically unnatural for you to be with a man like him. Yet, he clung to you. Trained you. If he played his cards right, you wouldn't even realize you had made a mistake.
“I offered for a reason.” Your lips brushed against his throat. The octave of your voice dropped into a sultry purr. “It's been a long day.”
“Are you sure?” Concern flickered at the surface of his amber eyes. You were crying only moments ago, and he didn't want to feel even more sleazy than already was for entertaining the idea of a future with you.
“Very.”
Watching you sashay away, Hotaru only had one thought on his mind: you were going to be the death of him at this rate.
Beads of hot water rolled down your body. Condensation clung to the glass walls, billowing out in a cloud of fog as Hotaru opened the door to join you. His hands shyly hovered over his erection, as if you hadn't seen it count less times.
“Woman, does it have to be this hot?” His jaw clenched, sore muscles slowly adapting to the sudden rise in temperature.
“I like it.” Your subtle pout made his heart melt. Climate change had taken full force of his senses since the day he met you, holding him ransom. “But, I guess we can turn it down a little.”
As you went to reach for the knob, he grabbed your wrist to stop you. “It's fine. Just help me clean up, would you?”
“Of course.” So instead, you grabbed a pink wash cloth you had bought when you moved in, lathering it in suds, and running it along his neck. Bubbles drizzled down his muscular physique, nearly bringing you to your knees.
This view alone was enough for you to accept any controversy over being his girlfriend. The judgemental glares shot in your direction when you were together were well worth it. Even the weight being questioned on whether he was your father or your date meant nothing at that moment.
His noir, wavy locks clung to his waist, dampened from rainfall. Water droplets dribbled down his abdomen, catching on his happy trail. The look in his eyes was rugged, but within there was a flicker of warmth reserved only for you. If you somehow figured out that you had him wrapped around your finger, he'd be done for.
How could he not be helpless around you? Never in his life had women paid much attention to him, just for a pretty, young thing to be fawning over him so suddenly.
You truly were what dreams were made of.
“Have I told you recently just how handsome you are?” Your eyes flickered away coyly as his expression awkwardly shifted. He still wasn't used to being praised.
“You have,” he grunted, disallowing his voice to betray him. Cloth covered your thumb as you wiped grease from his cheek. Biting his tongue, he forcefully swallowed a whimper, allowing the pathetic noise to die in his throat.
“Good.” Faint giggles cascaded across his neck as you nestled your face in the crook. Your fingertips skated playfully over his strong pectoral. “I just wanted to remind you.”
His cock twitched, eagerly throbbing at the sensation of your body pressed to his. Precum leaked from the fat tip, begging to be buried in your tight cunt. He swore fucking you was the greatest distraction from his passions, the only other thing worthwhile.
You were so warm and beautifully soft with youth, allowing him to feel young again in spite of his age. So trusting and naive, he could not begin to imagine the despair your life could've had he not taken you under his wing. Not many men within your type were such thorough lovers.
“You talk too much.” He wasn't criticizing you, just stating his keen observation. Silencing you by sliding two of his thick fingers between your legs, he pushed knuckle deep in your velvety pussy.
In all honesty, Hotaru had never given young women much thought before you, never considering virginity to matter much. But you had simply ruined him for women his age.
Your pussy had been carved to take his cock alone. No other man could ever suffice, easily trained into obedience in ways where age appropriate women would push back. Not that he would ever impose his will on you, rather quite the contrary. He was fully convinced you held all of the cards.
“S-sorry,” you whined, harshly biting your lower lip to hold back.
The way even just his fingers stretched made you had your knees beginning to wobble. Desperate to remain upright, you clung to his bicep, resting your head on his shoulder. This was definitely what you had in mind in terms of relief.
“You're not sorry.” He pushed back your clitoral hood with the rough pad of his thumb, drawing swirls into your needy bud, curling his fingers in your g spot.
“Fuck!” Your hips subconsciously rocked back and forth, grinding your cunt into his hand.
You were putty in his hands, desperate for him to mold you to perfection. He was an artisan, and unraveling you was a craft he had carefully studied and mastered.
“What did I just say?” His hand retreated, leaving your cunt to whimper in solitude. As a lament tore from your throat, Hotaru pinned you to the glass.
With his calloused hand pressed dangerously to your larynx, you could only silently weep. Deep arousal pooled in your abdominal muscles. Any fear you may have once clung to faded with the shift of his finger pressing to your pulse instead. You were still vulnerable, but no longer at imminent risk.
Fright had been carefully trained to result in the same reaction of lust. Living with a volatile man groomed your body to adapt, to survive.
The lines between violence and intimacy were blurred beyond recognition, but you didn't care. Not when he completed you in ways no other man could.
Blissful tears spilled from your waterline. The saline blended in with the rainfall, yet he could still notice the red hue attacking your sclera through the haze. A smile grew across your pretty face as he kissed away your explosive emotions.
“There's no need to fuckin’ cry.” Slightly chapped lips brushed against your flushed cheek. “You'll ruin your damn make up or something.”
Hotaru wasn't speaking cruelly; no, he was speaking practically. He knew you spent forever perfecting your appearance — even though he thought you were beautiful regardless — and understood the time craftsmanship took. He didn't want you to be careful for his sake, but rather your own.
Despite his sentiments, he kissed you with a hunger beneath it, as if he had also had a stress inducing day and you were the only remedy he would indulge in. Drinking in your breathy exhale as though it were the finest elixir known to man.
As he broke the kiss, you gasped, “My mascara… it's — it's waterproof.” Your mind had grown fuzzy, deprived of oxygen, “Plus… we're sh-showering.”
Amber eyes narrowed curiously at you. He had only thought of this as an elaborate plan to fuck in an uncomfortable position; not that he minded.
“Make me!” you dared, delight brimming at the forefront of your eyes as his grip tightened around your throat.
To the average person, that turn of phrase may have seemed like a horrible idea on your behalf. But you were a woman who knew what she wanted, craving to be absolutely wrecked after the kind of day you had.
“Mouthy bitch,” he muttered under his breath, secretly enjoying your lack of discipline. Indulging in your bratty side was just an excuse to punish you, removing his hand from your throat to push his thumb past your lips and hook it in the corner of your mouth. Ignoring the drool dribbling down your chin, he spits out, “You jus’ don't wanna listen, do ya?”
Testing him once more, you shook your head, living without regret as he hooked his free hand under your thigh, hoisting it around his waist.
Your eyes went wide feeling his cock probe your needy hole. A shiver ran down your spine in anticipation. All you could do was sloppily suck on his thumb and hope he'd be kind enough to let you take his cock.
“I can — I can listen.” You wiggled your hips, blindly attempting to tip him past your entrance to no avail.
One of his thick brows raised, unconvinced. “Can you, now?”
“Mhm,” you half-lied, gingerly wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It was true that this side of you really only came out in bed. But in any other setting, you acted in the far more traditional demeanor, “Promise.”
From his point of view, you were unbelievably needy. He had known that from the day he met you, only for you to continuously reaffirm his suspicions. No woman wanted to go to the mechanic, even if he did offer to waive the cost of labor, equally as covetous.
He shoved himself into your greedy pussy, tossing back his head in satisfaction. There was just something about the way your velvety walls fluttered around him that was so delicious, filling his mouth with saliva. Your body embraced him like a vice, snuggly hugging his cock as if it were made just for you.
“Fuck.” His breath was warm against your ear. “You're so damn tight.”
It didn't help that he also was well endowed, possessing impressive girth with thick veins running along the bottom of his length. With each deep, quick thrust, you felt as if he were splitting you apart, melting into his chest to keep yourself steady.
With each heavy motion, the tip of his cock nudged into your cervix, teasing the delicate tissue. You couldn't help but scream around his thumb in delight, leaving you only to pray that the condensation floating on the air would keep your throat from going raw.
All of the pain from before was efficiently fading away. Insults masquerading as worry were no longer your concern. Not when the very man they refused to trust could make you feel this good.
Coarse, dark curls brushed against your clit, sending jolts of electricity to your nerves. Wanton moans slipped hopelessly past your pussy lips. The sound of his balls slapping against you could be heard over the shower.
Hidden as accompaniment was the subtle squelching of your pussy. A thick ring of cream had formed around the base of his cock, rapidly growing foamy with each punishing piston of his hips.
Your nails dug into the sinew of his broad shoulders. “NGH!”
Staying true to his sentiment, he retrieved his thumb from your mouth, placing it roughly at your waist while railing you harder. Smashing his lips back onto yours, dehydrated and desperate as he drank in your moans.
Beneath your heavy lids, your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You struggled to remain upright and present, your weakening knees threatening to buckle beneath your weight. With gravity threatening to pull you down, you only remained vertical due to his bruising grip and how firmly your back was pressed to the cool glass.
As your bottom lip began to tremble, his kisses became less feverish, instead becoming intentional, brushing tenderly against your mouth, allowing you to keep up.
Hotaru was practically tone deaf, but even he could tell you well, singing the perfect tune for him. In a weird way, your wailing almost reminded him of wind chimes, easing years of tension that had accumulated within his muscles.
He had to wait many years for his other half to walk the earth with him. Now that he had you, he refused to loosen his grip, treating you with a chivalry that felt oddly natural despite his gruff nature.
You brought out the best in him, and while he knew he brought out the worst in you, he selfishly clung to you. Taking advantage of your naivety, holding you close to his heart. Placing you on a pedal only he knew about.
“I-I'm close.” Your lips vibrated against his.
“Me too.” He twitched inside you. “Together?”
“O-okay.” Your forehead nodded against his.
In perfect harmony, you achieved euphoria together, dampened foreheads pressing together in harmony. Your pussy constricting around his cock, enticing him to flood your walls with white. Your mind went numb, focusing only on the way he panted in your ear.
You had completely forgotten what you were so upset about at that moment.
You tell your husband's son and grandchildren that you are expecting. It goes... about as well as you'd expect.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁
“I'm pregnant.”
For a few moments, there was silence. Your husband's grandsons shared horrified glances with one another. Slowly, their explosive personalities began to emerge from the cracks of shock like a moth from a cocoon.
“You're what?!” Sekido's jaw clenched, realizing he'd likely be responsible for his grandfather's spawn.
He was by far the most responsible of the bunch, and let's face it, grandpa did NOT have many “good” years left in him. Hantengu had been around longer than the earth itself, surviving like a stubborn insect. When the world one day came to a halt, only Hantengu and the roaches would remain.
“Pregnant, dipshit!” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your tender breasts.
“How is this even possible?!” His teeth clashed harder, grinding almost painfully.
Last he knew, Hantengu was too frightened to even share a room with you, let alone a bed. But he should have known: a gold digger would do anything for the bag, even if it meant banging a bag of bones like his grandfather.
Literally…
Sekido swore up and down Hantengu's bones rattle like chimes on particularly windy days. After that, he stopped allowing the old man outside during those days, not wishing for him to blow away, even when Aizetsu coldly suggested it wouldn't really be much of a loss if he did.
“Ew, you actually fucked that old man?” Karaku's typically lax expression contorted in disgust. “Willingly?”
“Can he even get it up?” Urogi cackled, finding the pregnancy announcement highly amusing. “Are you sure it's even his?” he asked, slapping his knee with each gasp.
Oh, you'd definitely be slipping laxatives in his food later. It wouldn't even be difficult. Urogi would eat just about anything. You had even once seen him eat stale McDonald's fries that had fallen onto the car floor two weeks prior.
“It's a pity that the child will be born without a father,” Aizetsu murmured to himself, unsure if he was joking about Hantengu's demise or him being old enough to be the kid's great grandfather. Jokes were not his forte.
“My husband isn't going anywhere,” you protested, ignorant to his past of abandoning lovers.
All across Japan, many children unbeknowingly shared his DNA; a curse really. Most were locked up for various crimes, a net positive to the community. But some had ended up successful, and Hantengu eventually worked his way back into their lives.
Urami looked up from the romance novel he was indulging himself in. “Should he, however, you will have a support system. I wouldn't want my brother's mother out in the cold.”
Frankly, he'd prefer you warm in his bed.
“Thank you, Urami,” you smiled, holding your hands to your womb, “Such a charmer, unlike these four.”
“I can be charming!” Urogi shouted. Golden eyes went wide as he broke wind, nullifying his point, “Usually.”
Sekidi gagged, “Ugh, what have you been eating?”
“Oh, some roast beef, some chicken, a pizza...” Urogi counted on his fingers.
‘I meant just this morning…” Sekido offered the benefit of doubt.
“Roast beef, chicken, a p-”
“You better not have eaten that much, boy!” Urami raised his voice, fingers trembling as he gripped his book tighter.
Karaku snickered, finding immense pleasure in his father's distress. “I watched him do it.”
“And you didn't think to st-”
“Guys!” you shouted, regaining their attention, “The pregnancy?”
Living with this family was like living with a pack of wild cats. When they got along, things were splendid. But more often than not, they were at each other's throats. Honestly, only Urogi and Karaku genuinely got along; the rest of the family had a dynamic that thrived in tension.
“I bet you're going to queef dust now.” Urogi slapped his knee as if he had just said the funniest thing imaginable. “Get it? Because you married an ancient artifact.”
Aizetsu looked at you pitifully. “Just be glad he knows what the word artifact means.”
“I'm not stupid!” Urogi's hair fluffed up, reacting to Aizetsu's nonsense.
“Spell stupid,” Aizetsu sighed.
“You picked a hard word on purpose!” Anger flashed on the surface of Urogi's golden irises.
Had you been smarter, you would've seduced the widower head of the Rengoku household. Given that Urami and Shinjuro were estranged cousins, sharing similar looks, attraction wouldn't have been an issue. Chaos like this was unmatched, irreplaceable in any capacity, so at least the Rengoku estate would be calm.
“Spell circle.” Aizetsu's plump lips curved into a faint grin.
“S-”
“S?” Karaku chuckled, assuming Urogi was bluffing.
A glimpse of sadness moistened Urogi's eyes. The pride that typically swelled in his chest deflated. “Circle doesn't start with an s?”
“No, dude.” Karaku's smirk dropped for a split second, a flicker of vulnerability. “But it's fine. Reading is for dorks who can't get laid anyway — like our father.”
Had Karaku still been a child, Urami would've smacked the shit out of him for such blatant disrespect. Honestly, he was half-considering doing so anyway. Each and every one of his children deserved to be beaten with sticks.
Urami's only regret in life was not hitting them more during their tender years.
Except Urogi…
He feared he may have smacked that one around TOO much.
“Don't mind him, father,” Sekido mediated between clashing teeth, “Karaku isn't well.”
“Yeah, probably herpes…” Aizetsu side eyed his most promiscuous brother.
“I do NOT have herpes!” Karaku scoffed, blowing stray locks of his hair from his face only for them to face back into place, “It was clap, two years ago.”
Of course he had swiftly nipped that in the bud. He couldn't exactly maintain his carefree habits with an itchy dick. That would be next to barbaric.
“Anyway…” You cleared your throat, regaining control of the conversation, “I was thinking about the name Zohakuten for a boy. What do you guys think?”
“Eh, pretty gay,” Karaku shrugged, scrolling through his Instagram feed.
“You can't say that anymore.” Aizetsu feigned outrage.
“I've sucked Shinazugawa's dick in a back alley, and then again in his backseat, and again — you get the point.” Emerald irises rolled, Karaku's pupils remaining fixated on his phone. “I can say gay.”
Urami cursed under his breath.
“Kid is gonna be a fuckin’ chud!” Urogi's chirp morphed into a wet, uncontrollable bellow. He clutched his abdomen waiting for a reprieve that never came. "Future incel!”
“Aww.” You could almost hear Karaku's smirk, “Just like Uncle Aizetsu.”
Ignoring your step children, you turned to the man of the hour: your husband.
“What do you think, dear?” Your eyelashes fluttered, perfectly enchanting your pet dinosaur.
“Y-you can name him as you — as you please,” Hantengu sobbed, hugging his knees. He was totally ill prepared for a second round of fatherhood. If you weren't even more frightening, he'd flee.
“Could she name him, fart face?” Urogi waved his arm in the air as if he were seeking a teacher's attention.
Hantengu made an incoherent noise, followed up with more sobbing. His hands were practically covered in his own snot.
“Sounds like a yes,” Karaku concluded, offering his favorite brother a high five.
“Will you two grow the fuck up?” A vein was throbbing painfully in Sekido's forehead. If you asked him, he'd approve of the whole lot of his brothers being lobotomized. It couldn't possibly be worse than whatever was currently wrong with them.
“And have wrinkles like our future uncle will be born with?” Karaku gagged at the thought of aging. “No thanks.”
“You have a gray hair,” Sekido lied, pointing to Karaku's scalp, “Right there.”
“Fuck off!” Karaku pretended not to care, but intermittently checked his hair through his phone camera.
My crazy ass mom came up with an new business venture: celebrity sperm banks. She was like, "we could make millions selling the sperm of C and D list celebrities"
On another note, a court declared her mentally competent today.
