a jealousy that gnaws at the meat of the heart, puncturing the chambers with itâs honed tusks. a vortex of some crude and ludicrous envy had been bisecting your boyfriendâs soul.
satoru has had girls before: impish one nights with colleagues, strangers who wanted a taste, temporary relations solely based on coital desires. yet, he was tormented by the mere ghost of your ex boyfriendâfrom high school.
the phantom had been harrowing him. a guy before him. an ex lover at that. you had off-handedly snorted about how your ex had gotten married. that was all but enough for an inquisition by satoru. âno, i did not have sex with him. only made out and..â âand what?â âgot ate out once.â
heaven and hell must have conjoined to give you a boyfriend like him because the fleeting mention of an ex had satoru gravitate you to the edge of a searing orgasm.
âhe ate you out, yeah?â he uttered with pure vex, inching his fingers close to your wet panties. his three fingers rubbed slow circles on your sticky clothed mound, tracing your protruding outline. a deep groan escaped from the crevices of his teeth, a lick on his canines and a slow tug from the hem of your panties. there it was, the raw cunt with itâs slobbering folds. âwhatâs got you so wet huh? me or that highschool fucker?â oh, he was so jealous.
âgodâplease. only you âtoruâ you pleaded, wanting the feel of his tongue on your sweetness. but right now, his ego was debased. and you were to suffer for it.
âhe touched you like this?â his slender fingers glided up and down your dampness, the middle and ring fingers caressing the puffed folds. the pace was too leisurely. a stupendous restraint for a man who was known to be chaotic. your breath hitched when you felt the melding of the two togetherâswiping, spreading your secretion everywhere. truly vile, more than anything before.
âspread you like this?â another question eliciting nothing but a futile whimper. you opened your eyesâonly to be graced by his ones. the coldness of the arctic encapsulated within those mist blue ones. âno? mustâve been a shitty boyfriend then, right baby?â
he lowered himself to your heat, face inches away from the smear of your sweet juice. your pussy lips palpating for his kiss. a yearner for his tongue. âhe ate you out yeah?â not a question really. need not an answer. âfuck, i wonder how?â
âdid he start with some licks like thisâ, satoruâs tongue darted out. curled from itâs core, the pinkish tip made kitty-like licks at the center. a stride from the hole to the clit. following it was a soft kiss on your it.
âmhmâwonder what this pussy tasted like to himâ his licks fastened. your stomach coiled in pleasure. and so you tried to close your thighs, albeit, that was redundant because he held it in place. ânuh-uh, donât even dareâ a warning.
his blues desaturated in to grey, a beastly hunger taking over. he had flattened his tongue, pressing it on the whole of your pussy and taking in long tastes of the sweetness.
âhm, fuck, he ate you out. sureâ. sarcasm pertinent as he was lapping at your folds. each plush getting kissed and smothered by his tongue. a single drop on water ran from your cunt down to the meat of your ass, a stained trail. he was quite literally salivating on you. drooling on your pussy.
tongue swirled in your inner folds, a delirious pace having your back arching away from the bedsheets only to be halted by him, a firm push down on your pelvis. his hand slithered from your hips to your thighs, spreading you out even more, knees pressed on to the pruned sheets.
âplease. please. please. gojoâpleaseâ an incessant rambling had him lift up from your pussy. a string of spit connected and a smirk on his face. âyou cryinâ?â he didnât turn his eyes away. not at all, instead, continued his brute act. his tongue rubbing back and forth on your needy cunt.
with a few more strokes, he had gotten up. the snow in his eyes gleamed an avalanche. his chin wet with your squirt. he had no intention of wiping it away, no, because it was a showcase of your pleasure caused by him only.
What's the easiest way to get rid of a tenacious man who desperately asks for your hand? Give him twelve impossible challenges, of course, in hopes he'll drop out before finishing them all. But... maybe underestimating the Olympian's greatest hero, the strongest demigod alive, Zeus's warrior, wasn't the greatest choice.
part of the Gods, Heroes, Warriors collection!
pairings: Heracles!Nanami x Nymph!Reader
content/warnings: MDNI 18+, Greek Mythology AU, half mythologically accurate, mentions of Hades!Choso and Aphrodite!Reader, Nanami Kento is pathetic and miserable, also he's massive (like MASSIVE AND THE STRONGEST), fluff and smut, plot with smut, Nanami is desperate to get married, heavy breeding kink, oral (f. rec.), backshots, p in v, size kink, manhandling, size difference, Nanami is not gentle
WC: 7.2k
a/n: gentle suggestion to read this fic before, to not have any spoilers. Heracles Nanami is not super mythologically accurate, because 12 labours were actually given to him by Hera, and he also murdered his whole family, but I didn't want to make an angst out of his story.
art from @/ilameys_1 (IG)
divider by @uzmacchiato
Various types of nymphs walked this world.
Fresh-water ones, who lived in the lovely springs, presiding over the gentle streams and rivers, nurturing the mother nature and singing sweetly to the brooks.
Tree and forest nymphs, who sat highly on the trees and let their tender touch heal the sickly plants. They were of a curious sort, appearing to mortals as travellers and strolling around the forests in a jolly manner.
The lush meadows ones, with their bare feet running between the tall grasses and laughter catching the last rays of the setting sun.
The mountain peaks girls, who shouted and laughed and danced, till their lovely shriek could be heard on the grasslands and in the fields; between the drunken snickers of commoners and gentle giggles of little birdies in waiting.
They weren't goddesses, but of divine descent, playing and jollying with mother nature, bickering with the gods, and letting themselves indulge in love affairs with demigods. Silly girlies, playful and gentle as a sea breeze, with satiny skin and hearty eyes, making the mortals lose their reason. And as lovely as they were, of some poets even comparing them to Aphrodite herself, there was this one, special birdie, who one day flocked to the greatest demigod's mind.
You.
For Zeus's bastard son and the strongest warrior of the Olympus, it was always you.
Since the faithful meeting when he was still just a boy, with nothing to his name, nor without any knowledge of his godly descent. He would remember that day for the next few years, while fighting his way up to Mount Olympus and proving his worth. While dreaming of you every single night, with nothing but shimmering stars and the gentle splashing of a brook reminding him of the kindest soul he's ever met. With benevolent touch and bewitching eyes. The sweet power that helped him lick the wounds, and the lovely giggles following him in dreams every night.
After years of hardships, he finally ascended to heaven and got the recognition of his father. Became the golden child, a precious sweetheart, with a massive combat body compared only to Ares's and the strength of a thousand monsters locked up in the deepest parts of Tartarus. He was a monster himself, some may've said, but with a kind heart and, oh, such handsome looks.
Light hair as if bleached by the Mediterranean sun and deep eyes, thick as hazelnut paste, with the gentleness never seen among warriors. Broad shoulders that could lift a thousand mountains and split the seas, without a droplet of sweat sliding down his curved muscles.
He was nothing but a demigod, but his name and fame spread around the country like a fire. The strongest man alive, the greatest hero, a myth, whose travels and deeds ended up on the pages of local storytellers and curved smoothly within the marble walls of his temples. His journeys spread wide across the long coastlines and mountainous peaks, with the nymphs whispering of his slayers like little birdies.
Of the King of the Thrakian Gigantes, he has killed to free the princess from his clutches. Of the Libyan giant, son of Poseidon, who abused the travellers crossing his land and made them compete in wrestling matches. Of the Prometheus he has freed, and the eagle feeding on his flesh, killed by Heracles himself. His father, Zeus, wasn't merry upon hearing the news, but Heracles was no one if the most dear child of his â thus the Gods and mortals did not feel Sky Father's wrath.
There were lots and lots of myths and tales celebrating Heracles's deeds, praising his half-godly figure and spreading the fame.
What mortals, gods, and other divinities didn't know, however, was why.
Why was he doing all of it?
Why was he trying to achieve an almost godly rank?
Why did he want to sit among the highest ones and praise in glory?
Why?
Because for Heracles, or Nanami Kento as his mortal parents named him, it was always you.
And what would be the easiest way to ask for the precious Nymph's love? Became the greatest, strongest, most praised warrior of the Mediterranean Sea, of course. Was there anything beautiful creatures like you loved more than the fame and glory? Not really.
At least that's what he thought.
Until he finally met you again, high on the Olympus' peak, basking under the flaming sun and dipping naked body in a river. You weren't alone, as other little birdies chirped right to your ear, with soft voices and girlish laughs, glancing at the river's calm waters.
And as beautiful as they were, his pleading eyes were reserved solely for you.
Nanami Kento has never met Aphrodite, but how truly angelic could she be if his heart already raced for a simple nymph? What could she possibly have that you might've lacked?
Did her hair bounce the same way as yours? Were her eyes shimmering slightly as if cursed by the stars? Was her skin soft and plush, with flushed cheeks and lips plumped like the freshest peach, he dreamed of caressing with his own? Was Aphrodite's voice as mesmerising and honeyed as yours, tickling the deepest parts of his brain?
What did her laugh sound like? Was it as bewitching? Could she also sway her hips with the swelling of the ocean's waves? Would she be willing to help him the same as you did?
Was her heart as compassionate as your?
Because that's what Nanami Kento thought â of you, being the loveliest petal, with the tenderness and kindness not seen among any of the patheon's gods.
That's why he approached you with confidence and pride, with eyes never leaving your blooming face and his heart swelling under the single giggle slipping through your cheeks.
He was hopeful and full of anticipation to once again hear your gentle voice soothing his mind.
But when you saw him... oh dear.
"What do you want?" your voice slashed his heart. "Why are you here again?"
Well... maybe, actually, it wasn't his first time meeting you on Olympus.
Not the second and third, even.
The fourth? Maybe fifth.
You stopped counting after seeing him the third time, with the same beseeching look and broad shoulders hunching under your irritated gaze.
The first time he asked for your hand was surprising. You were surprised as to why the strongest man alive wished to marry you?
A simple nymph, bathing lazily under the Greek sun and stuffing herself full of rich olives while days were passing by. You were nothing but a small deity, playing over the rivers and gossiping with other sisters while sipping the sweet wine sneaked out of Dionysus's cellar.
He talked of some meeting years ago, and your healing power, but Mnemosyne could only remember when and where it had happened.
For too many men healed by your powers walked this earth, and too many of them wished to see your slippery figure once again.
Coming back to the same river again and again, in hopes of catching your fleeting shadow or a single melody of your laughter, looming over the waters as men possessed.
The sole look on their faces was truly miserable, but seeing them like that was, well, quite fun.
You liked it and watched them secretly, as their tears and pleadings were drowning in the depths of rivers.
So how surprising was it when one of those sorrowful admirers, driven by an obsession, managed to rise in glory and turn out to be the mightiest's son.
Oh, how problematic he was, following you like a shadow and turning the Mountain upside down, just to ask for your hand. You thought that the first rejection would stop his further pleadings, but when Zeus himself decided to visit your small cottage and beg to finally accept the offering â the highest one too could not bear the misery of his son â you finally gave in.
Did you accept Heracles's proposal? No.
Were you willing to do it? Maybe.
"My love, I've come to askâ" he started, standing over the river's edge and covering the hottish sun.
Other nymphs giggled quietly, and you knew how eager they were to step into your shoes any second. Jealous of having such a man as Nanami Kento wrapped around your finger, ready to plunder the mortal world for a single glance of yours.
"I already said no," you quickly added, looking at his curled shoulder with a sly smile.
"Is there anything I lack, love?"
He kneeled, closing up the distance between you. You rested arms on the river's edge, looking up with doe eyes. He tried, really tried, to not glance at your naked body, with crystal droplets paving their way down the plush of your breasts. But you were nothing if not daring, taking the pleasure in the way his huge palms fisted and hazelnut eyes swirled between wet hair covering your nipples and plush hips swaying slowly in the water.
"You're covering my sun," you chuckled, and he smiled shyly.
"I'll bring you a thousand other suns if you'll ask me to."
A gentle hum slipped through, and you once again traced over his figure. Golden hair and warm eyes. Creamy skin coated by a thin armour and nothing but a white cloth hugging his hips. Muscles so big they seem almost unreal, covering him thickly and massively, making Nanami Kento the biggest and the most powerful man the world has ever birthed. His fingers were long and thick, but always oh so gentle, whenever he pushed a single strand of hair behind your ear.
The most intimate and only gesture you've ever allowed him for.
"I don't want another sun, just move away from this one," your voice was soft, but the words made his shoulders falter even more.
"I'll do whatever you ask me for, my love. Just, could you please rethinkâ"
You raised an eyebrow. "Why would I do that?"
His sandy eyebrows creased, with a small wrinkle forming between them.
Because he didn't know.
He truly, honestly didn't know why you would be willing to marry him, being sure of nothing but only the fact that he loved you deeply. Maddeningly, almost, verging on following you miserably like a dog if you just asked him to. Ready to shoot a sun down, just to bring you a piece of warmth.
But he didn't want to be like Apollo - drive you mad till death would seem more pleasant than accepting his feelings.
But he also didn't want to let you go, waiting eagerly for the day whenâ
"Fine," you suddenly said.
What?
"I'm sorry?" he couldn't swallow it, tracing the cunning smile forming on your face.
"I said fine, I'll marry you," you giggled, pushing away from the shore and swimming a few meters back. "But firstly, you'll need to prove yourself to me."
Your naked body swirled, as if melting together with warm water, before swimming closer once again. Kento was still kneeling near the edge, with thick thighs and knees touching the grass. Your wet hands rested on his muscles before you lifted yourself up. But only in half, with crystal droplets dripping down from pinkish nipples and hips still hidden under the gentle waves.
He almost burned.
Oh, was he dying?
Was your touch that sizzling, fragrance so maddening, that he truly started to burn from the inside?
He didn't dare to touch you, but hazelnut eyes traced the watery paths carving your skin, oozing down the plush neck, collarbones and swirling between the soft breasts.
You were close, too close, with your nipple almost touching his iron-covered chest and lips tracing the little bobbing of his neck. Kento fought hundreds of monsters, but none of them felt as heavy as your hands on his bare thighs, bearing all of your weight solely on his muscles.
Not because you were heavy â oh dearest, he could lift you up with a pinky if you wanted to â but because the idea of you touching him willingly made him feverishly weak.
"You're very, very strong, right?" came out giggly, sweetly, with a thumb circling his skin.
He nodded, a voice stuck in a throat.
"How strong, hm?"
"The strongest."
"No one can beat you, right?"
His head shook. "No one, ever."
You lifted yourself up higher, with hips slowly surfacing out of the water and knees landing on the lush grass.
Bare and wet, with the softest skin not dared for his touch and alluring eyes never leaving his.
He truly was the strongest, with clenched fists and gaze holding yours, never, ever, sliding lower than down to your breasts.
And, oh, you were having so much fun, watching his crumbling composure.
"Then, should you prove your strength, I will marry you," your eyes shone upon seeing a tremble of his lips.
"Really?" came out in a whisper so quiet that only you could hear it. "You promise?"
You chuckled, slowly, slowly, climbing up his lap. His kneeling thighs between yours, breasts fully pressed to his light armour, dripping heat looming over creamy, bulged cloth wrapped around his hips.
"Mhm, I promise," you nuzzled against his neck, breathing in the musky fragrance that wrapped him tightly. "If you'll finish twelve missions, I will give myself to you," backing up, your arms wrapped around his neck. "Will become your sweet wife. You'll be allowed to do with me whatever you want," your voice was dripping with seductiveness, curling around his neck like a viper, only to finish him off with a poisonous kiss.
And Nanami Kento was more than eager to be killed by those sweet lips of yours.
"What is it? I'll do whatever you want, love."
He should know that the devilish smile that curved your lips was nothing but bad news.
You told him all twelve missions, one more horrendous than the other, with other nymphs' breaths catching in the background and his fists curling right next to your hips that straggled his.
A flimsy, creamy cloth was keeping his cock away from your heat. Feverish and sticky, with honeyed juices already smeared around his bulge, and your eyes not leaving his even for a second.
Hera herself, Zeus's wife, would be more merciful to her husband's bastard child than you were. The twelve labours sounded almost impossible, bizarre, absolutely savage even for a man like him.
But if that was your wish, then be it.
After you finished talking, he didn't say anything for a minute. Stared, with a pale face and furrowed brows. Golden hair caught the last rays of sunshine, basking his face in warm flames.
"Are you willing toâ" but you didn't finish, when suddenly, you were gripped by your hips and placed back in the water.
Not a single word left his mouth, when he raised himself, gave you one last glance and turned around, disappearing in the lurking forest before the sun fully set.
Other nymphs quickly curled around you, watching his muscular back with sorrowful eyes.
"Sister, weren't you a bit harsh for him?" one asked.
"Dear, those labours... he may end up dead before finish them all," another added.
You sighed, wondering whether you'd actually gone overboard.
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He didn't visit you the next day.
Or the day later.
He didn't visit you even a week later, and when it prolonged to two, you started to worry.
Maybe you truly carried it too far?
But then, one night, while indulging with sister nymphs in the small, wine-party, one of them mentioned:
"Have you heard, dear? He killed the Nemean Lion."
You stalled, with throat clenching around the sipping wine.
"What did you just say?" you mumbled between the harsh coughs.
She slapped you gently on the back. "Your first labour â he did it. Strangled the lion with his own hands and skinned it for its fur."
It was true that the lion had been quite a trouble and a few gods had already tried to wrestle him, but you didn't expect Kento to do it so effortlessly.
With bare hands.
You didn't talk at all for the rest of the evening, wondering whether Nanami Kento would truly be able to finish all of your unachievable labours.
But after the first one, his next accomplishments came one by one. Sometimes over a distance of a few weeks, sometimes a month. And for this whole time, he didn't show himself even once.
You didn't catch a single strand of his golden hair nor the gentle, hazelnut gaze. Heavy, musky smell stopped following you around, and at some point, you even started to miss the deep voice that came to haunt you in dreams.
That space, dreams, seemed to be the only place where he appeared more human than ever. Long fingers grazed your cheeks and neck before slowly dripping down to your swollen breasts and soft belly. In that other, unfamiliar but at the same time so magnetic world, Kento was bolder than ever â more ferocious, brave, using his massive body to pin yours. Spreading your plush thighs, circling creamy clit with his fingers, warm eyes following every changing expression of your face.
You would wake up wet. Feverish. With pulsing heat and sweat dripping down your spine, before turning on your bed and glancing over the window, as if in a wish to see a piece of this golden hair.
And while you were trying to understand those new feelings, Kento was finishing labours one by one.
After the lion, he killed a Hydra, a monster with nine venomous heads, cutting each one of them with his sword, before dipping the silver into its poisonous blood.
Then he captured the golden-antlered deer alive, the most precious pet of goddess Artemis, before sending it straight to your cottage.
When you saw the animal chewing on the grass surrounding your place and drinking water from the river curling around the house, a deep sigh rolled from your lips. At least the deer looked quite well and indeed rather graceful.
For his fourth labour, he travelled to the land of the Centaurs and captured the Erymanthian boar, solely to return it to the King of Tiryns. It was a, well, sort of a present for a king, whose wife liked you very dearly.
The fifth labour was of the humiliating sort, and you thought that he might take offence. You forgot, however, that a man in love was prepared for all sorts of hardships and degradations, thus cleaning the stables of Augeius in a day was nothing but a pleasure break from killings. The stables were known as one of the biggest and filthiest ones, impossible to clean even in a month, but the idea of you becoming his wife was enough to forget about his ego.
Months were passing by, and the number of labours started to diminish rather quickly. On the contrary, all the little gifts you've asked for were coming one by one, till your deer got himself a precious, Cretan bull from Knossos, and a little hybrid cattle of Geryon straight from a foreign country, who was said to be born of a divine goddess. One day, three golden apples belonging to the Nymphs of the West appeared on your table, and you hid them quickly before the praying eyes would see the stolen treasure. Oh dearest, you were nothing but a simple nymph compared to the reputed Hesperides, with no other goddess but mother Hera having a single golden tree in her garden.
Nymphs started talking. Whispering, gossiping about the possessed demigod who plundered through the mortal realm and played havoc. They knew what his reason was. Everyone knew, together with gods and Zeus himself, absolutely furious over the foolish challenge you've brought upon his bastard son.
What frightened you greatly, however, was the last labour. The one you feared the most, knowing that it could've ended up badly not just for him, but for you too. For your justification, you truly thought that he would drop out (or be dead) after the first mission.
Thus, when the news of Cerberus, Lord Hades's dearest pet, being kidnapped spread around Olympus, you almost fainted.
It was best to keep good relations with all the gods and goddesses, as no one knew when one of them would turn out to be helpful.
However, keeping the especially good affairs with God of the Underworld himself was particularly beneficial, and his rage was the last thing all the deities on the Mountain desired.
And yet, you managed to get on his nerves.
His visit was to be expected, and you tried to prepare yourself. Three animals in your garden, together with golden apples hidden under the bed, only fueled the rage of all the deities disrespected by your challenge. You paced back and forth, looking outside the window, as if expecting the earth to suddenly open up and birth Hades's obsidian chariot to appear in front of your cottage.
But instead, three days after the Cerberus kidnapping, a gentle knock pealed inside the wooden walls.
And as it turned out, it wasn't Hades who decided to place you a visit.
But someone, who you truly, really, didn't wish to see, and maybe standing face to face with Tartarus itself would be a much more pleasant option than meetingâ
"Good morning my dear, my I come in?"
âhis wife.
Aphrodite, in all her fullness, dressed in a flimsy, rosy dress and whitish sandals, stood right in front of you. With a sweet smile and a single strand of soft hair caressing her flushed cheeks.
"My Goddess," you murmured, opening the doors wider. "Yes, please."
She lifted up misty robes and came inside, looking around your small cottage with a little nod of her head. You didn't have many occasions to face the most beautiful goddess herself, thus your eyes traced shyly every curve, every bump, every flush of her body. Hips hugged by a rosy dress, hair falling over the shoulder, and gentle eyes, currently looking outside the window at the golden-antleredâ
Oh dear.
"My Goddessâ"
"You know, Artemis really liked this deer," she chuckled, sitting down at the table. One hand placed on her belly, the other supporting a tilted head. "I was rather surprised that your man managed to steal it," she stopped for a minute, before laying eyes on your face. "Well, before he stole Cerberus, too."
You wanted to refuse, he's not my man, but a wave of shame washed over your body. You lowered your head and bit down on lip. "My Goddess, I'mâ"
She, however, continued. "I'm expecting, you know?"
Yes.
You've noticed.
From the moment she came inside your cottage and never took a hand off her belly.
Your eyes slowly looked up. "Does Lord Hades know?"
"You see, I wanted to tell him. Around three days ago, I think?" Great heavens. "But then our lovely dog went missing, and I've never seen him so, hm, devastated."
Your knees buckled up, hitting the wooden floor with a faint hump! "My Goddess, I'm so sorry. I didn't expect him to actually do this."
Aphrodite didn't say anything for a second, looking at your trembling body and cheeks burning with shame. You knew how protective she was of her husband. How bizarre, but rather lovely their marriage was, with Lord Hades quite enjoying being walked like a dog by his mesmerising wife. You didn't know that they tried for a child, but it should be fairly obvious â how could the goddess of fertility and her madly obsessed husband not have children?
And you? You somehow managed to ruin such a precious moment.
A deep sigh rolled over before she helped you stand up. "Please, it's fine, dear. Don't worry," you sat next to her, still too embarrassed to look up.
You groaned, covering face with hands. "I really thought he would drop out after the first one! This foolish man!"
Aphrodite giggled, resting her hearty face on a hand. "He's just a man, after all. A desperate one at that â the most dangerous type. My husband is quite similar, although I would rather not test how far he would be able to go to grant my wishes."
You answered with a chuckle before finally looking at the goddess's face.
Oh, she was so, so beautiful.
"What I mean is, I'm not mad at you, dear. Rather amused, I must say. I'm glad your man is ready to go through such hardships, just toâ"
"He's not my man," you quickly added with a deep sigh. "I promised him my hand under the condition of finishing all twelve labours. I just didn't know that he'll actuallyâ" you groaned again, and Aphrodite laughed. "I'm sorry for ruining your surprise. Lord Hades surely will be overjoyed."
She hummed, circling with fingers the plush of her belly. "Yes, well. Tears will be shed, I suppose. My husband cries more often than I expected, but it's fine," you were almost sure that she bit her tongue, before saying I like him that way. "Cerberus is back and healthy, so you shouldn't worry. I guess your... Heracles took him only for a simple walk."
You sighed with relief, seeing amusement dancing in the goddess's warm eyes.
"Well, I guess he'll come back soon for his reward," she chuckled, slowly standing up. "I'd better go before Choso stalks me out. He doesn't know about the baby yet, but tends to be rather overprotective," you accompanied her till the doors, tracing the bloom that has spread over her cheeks. Oh, she really must've loved him dearly. "But please, next time give me a warning before my husband comes back home crying. In case I'll have other plans for that day."
You nodded with shame before she waved you goodbye.
As much as you adored Aphrodite, she truly was the most beautiful but terrifying goddess in the whole pantheon.
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So you've expected him to come the same evening.
But when he didn't, something panged in your chest. Oh well, maybe you should be relieved after trying so hard to get rid of him. Maybe after finishing all twelve labours, he decided that your hand was, in fact, not worth a bean. Maybe during his travels, he met another woman (a princess even?) and decided to marry her instead. Maybeâ
"Sister..." one of the nymphs called, and you quickly collected wits.
The evening was of the warm sort, with the river's water nuzzling your bare skin kindly. Little droplets reflected the warm rays of the sunset, with a mix of orange, purple, and pink spreading over the forest. Birds were slowly going quiet, letting the crickets step in shyly and prepare for the symphony that was soon to spread near the river's bank. First fireflies, too, were timidly floating your way, with a gentle buzz of their paper wings.
You looked at her, seeing that she, in fact, was glancing somewhere over your shoulder. With an open mouth and eyes big as porcelain plates. "I think you have a visitor."
Your head turned, gaze immediately landing on the figure emerging slowly from the forest.
Heracles.
But this time he looked... oh.
"Good grief," the nymphs gasped, seeing the approaching monster.
Because no other word could the describe the man who has set his eyes on you.
With lion's skin draped over his shoulders, bulgy scars slashing naked arms and torso, swirling over pecks, thighs and even neck, as if some brute tried to cut him to pieces. Golden hair was still slightly marked by the crimson hues, as though the blood still gripped it mercilessly.
What shocked you the most, however, were his eyes. With no trace of gentleness from months before, rather filled with something... predatory. Beastly, maddening, with a gaze fixed on your frozen figure, still dipped in water.
Before you knew, other nymphs quickly flew away with terrified gasps, burdened by the heaviness of the atmosphere he spread around.
"Kentoâ" you whispered, as he came closer.
But before you could finish with a foolish question of what happened to you? His massive body steeped in the water. Gentle waves nuzzled him only till the ribcage, and you choked, when muscular arms lifted you up and sat on the shore.
Crystal droplets dripped down your breasts, nipples, down through the plush belly, naked heat, when he gazed up at you from below. With pledging, possessed gaze, focusing on nothing but your face.
"Tell me you want it," came in a whisper, quickly dissolved by the first melody of cricket's.
"Want what?"
His palms curled around your waist, face nuzzling against the softness of your belly, before he sighed deeply. "Me. Tell me you want me. You want everything that will happen the second you give me your consent."
A shiver dripped down your spine, and your lip trembled when his muscular arms tightened up. Something warm, feverish, started to coil in your stomach every time his breath hit your skin.
"And what will happen, if I may ask?" you knew that playing with fire would end up badly, but you wanted him to say it.
All those filthy, nasty, messy things you dreamed of every night and knew he did too. You could feel it, right now and before, with your legs still dipped in the river and feet poking something hard.
He looked up, with a dark hazelnut gaze, taking in your cunning smile. His arm lifted, thumb grazing the lower, slightly opened lip. "In details?"
You giggled. "Of course."
Fat finger pushed inside, landing right on your wet tongue. Plush muscle welcomed him warmly, with lips wrapping around it and giving a gentle suck.
His brows furrowed, and another arm pulled you closer to his dipped body, moving your hips right over the edge. Gaze still fixed on your face, but he could feel the heat of your cunt on his chest. From this perspective, you looked nothing but divine, with wet hair curling around your shoulders, plump lips sucking wetly on his thumb and eyes, fucking hell, looking down at him with a sly amusement.
"Tell me," you whispered, taking his thumb out and nuzzling cheek against his calloused hand. "My answer will depend on it."
He raised an eyebrow. "I thought finishing the twelve labours was enough."
The arm curling around your body suddenly dropped down, with long fingers tracing the smoothness of your tummy, thighs, circling, pinching, smoothing wet skin, before going down... and down... and down.
Till your breath hitched and lips once again fell open.
"Hm? Did you lie to me, my love?" he whispered, with a big thumb plastered to your puffy clit. "Have you deceived me?"
You didn't answer, but instead spread legs a bit wider, inviting his massive body in. He chuckled, seeing your hips hovering over the edge and creamy cum dripping straight to the river. "They do say to never trust a nymph," his eyes glanced down, thumb placing small circles on your clit. "Did you deceive me, then?"
Your head shook. "T-tell me," slipped almost beggingly. "What will you d-do-"
His arms shifted, with big palms landing under your thighs and pushing them up, till you folded easily like a leaf. Your back hit the soft grass, knees pushed against the breast, while his massive body was still dipped in a river.
Now, with your bare heat right in front of his face.
"Firstly," he dipped down, placing gentle kisses on your inner thighs. "I will work on your pretty cunt till you'll be nothing but a whiny mess," his teeth dipped into the fat of your belly pouch, before licking it sweetly. "Then, I'll stretch you out on my fingers, getting hard over your moans and maybe dragging my cock against your legs," lips traced down, through the mound of your cunt, right till the drenched folds. With two fingers, he spread them open. And groaned. "Fucking hell."
"A-and then?" you whimpered feeling his warm breath on your clit.
"And then you'll go on your hands and knees, spreading yourself nicely like my good wife," he gave you the first lick. Long, sweet, heavy, plastering his tongue to your trembling clit, till a pitched moan bounced from the river. "Gods, you taste so good, my sweet fucking wife."
Theoretically, you weren't even engaged yet, but this word, combined with his deep voice, somehow made you even wetter. Spongy tongue once again swirled around your clit, with lips sucking, grazing, ravishing it madly, as if Nanami Kento waited for this moment at least a millennium.
For finally feasting on your honeyed juices and swallowing all the precious moans that slipped past your lips. The sugary mmm Kento, and, sososo good, or, p-please put t-the finger in.
He was spreading you wide open, with your hips hovering over the river's edge and his nose grazing your clit. You trembled every time his hard cock nudged your feet, with wet pads smoothing its leaking head.
Your finger curled around his golden hair, pushing him closer, deeper into your cunt, riding his tongue with a starved desperation to release the knot that already fastened in your lower belly.
And when his long finger pushed inside, your pussy clenched.
"Fuck, my love, you're still so tight," he grumbled, looking up at your falling breasts and arched back. "So beautiful," floated in a whisper, before he lifted massive body up and slowly came out of the water. "My beautiful, beautiful wife, does it feel good?" long fingers curled inside your tight walls, sending another shiver down your spine. His lips wrapped around your wet nipple, sucking on it with a gentle hum. "Mmm, so sweet, you're so sweet everywhere."
"K-Kento, it f-feels soânghhhâgood, so so so good," a pitched whimper slipped through when he added another finger.
He pumped your squelching pussy, with lips sucking on your nipples and eyes looking up every few seconds, just to take a pleasure in your ever-changing expressions. Slightly lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, single strands of hair stuck to your forehead, and fingers still curled in his hair.
You looked beautiful, mesmerising, folded as if ready to be bread, with rolled belly and lifted thighs. He could already imagine your fat ass hitting against his abdomen and drenched cunt swallowing cock. Your back curved in the most delicious arch, and knees biting into the lush grass.
Oh, he could already think of sweet tears that will roll down your cheeks and soft belly pouch being slowly, slowly filled with his cum, till you'll be begging, whining, crying for him to take his cock out andâ
"K-Kento, I'm gonnaâ" you whimpered, feeling his fingers pumping you faster. Lips sucked on your nipples as if he wanted to milk you out.
It felt overstimulating, feverish, too much, with his massive body almost fully lying between your thighs, pinning you into the ground.
"P-please let m-meâ"
"No, my love. You won't be cumming in any other way but on my cock."
He took out his fingers and flipped you on your belly. Big palms traced the fat of your ass before lifting your hips up â just as he promised. With your chest stuck to soft grass and dripping cunt opened up widely, looking like the prettiest, the juiciest fruit he'll ever tasted.
You couldn't see his cock, but, well, could definitely feel it. The moment he took drenched, creamy robes off, it sprang up and nudged right against your hole. Sticky and feverish, with a pulsing head sliding through your dripping cunt, collecting all the cum that Kento's fingers dug out. A tremble washed over your body, feeling the fatness of his shaft and single veins curling around its length.
It felt so... heavy. He didn't even put it in yet, but you could already feel its heaviness dragging between your folds, with its head nudging your desperately fluttering hole.
"You want it, right?" He asked, spreading your ass cheeks and spitting heavily right between them. Fat spit slid down to your pussy, before he pushed it right inside. "Say it, my love. Tell me how much you want it."
"K-Kento, I want it s-so bad, please," your hips rolled against his cock, glazing it with saps. When he didn't move, you tried to reach for it and push it in yourself, but he locked both of your hands on your back. "Kento!"
"I asked you a question. How much do you want it?" his voice was low, stern, as if he was tired of all the bullshit you gave him for the past few months. "Do you want me to push inside?"
"Y-yes!"
"Do you want to feel me here?" his fingers circled your tummy, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Mhmm, yes yes yes," you cried and he chuckled.
His cock, finally, pushed slightly, slowly inside, with sticky head catching on your entrance. "Do you want to get bred? Hm? Get stuffed so full, till you'll be feeling it in your throat?"
It was filthy, disgusting, nasty, but, oh, did it make you tighten around his cock like a little slut. Crying, moaning, and choking, while he pushed further, stretching your clamping walls and sliding through the creamy cum that stuck to his length.
You knew the strongest man alive would be well-hung, but when the head of his cock grazed your cervix and he still tried to thrust inside, something inside you broke.
"P-please, Kento, it's too mucâ"
But your dear, gentle, always so careful hero turned out to be nothing but a filthy, possessed beast. You expected to hear his kind voice, sorry pleadings, maybe even a soft hand smoothing your bulging belly.
But instead, you felt it between your shoulder blades, as he pressed you harder against the grass. With his full weight hovering over your trembling body, heavy breaths nuzzling your neck, and cock thrusting deeper.
Nanami Kento was anything but gentle.
"Fuck, forgive me, my love. But I think I deserve a little treat after everything you put me through," and before you could protest, he shoved his length.
Fully.
Till his balls smacked against your cunt and big hands pulled your ass to his hips. Till you moaned in a mix of pain and pleasure, feeling his massive weight in your belly, lungs and throat.
"Fuck," he groaned, tilting head back, trying not to cum right that second, with your walls locking him in a deadly clutch. "My love, baby, dear, ughh, you need to relax," he moved, sending a shiver down your spine.
But how could you relax, if his girth was already smudging your womb? Dear heavens, how could you relax if every move of his was brushing this spongy spot inside?
"Kento, p-please move s-slowerâahhhh," you moaned, gripping the lush grass crumpling under your trembling hands.
It seemed, however, that he was already gone, with his thrusts quickly changing from gentle waves to aggressive crushes, dragging his pulsing cock through your pinkish walls. You felt him everywhere.
His hands on your ass, gripping the jiggly fat and pulling you over and over and over on his cock, somehow thrusting it even deeper. Smooching your pudgy womb, kissing plump g-spot, scratching feverish walls with even more sticky cum dripping down the grass. You've never been so drenched before, feeling his length moving inside without any obstacles. It was smooth, delicious, electrifying, with his fingers slowly sliding between your folds and finding the pulsing clit.
And when he pinched it? Dear gods, your hips started meeting his thrusts, with your hole accommodating him even deeper, sweeter, swallowing his fat cock and clamping down as if desperately trying to milk it dry.
Nothing but filthy squelching filled the evening air, and your moans tingling his ears like the loveliest melody.
Oh, and you looked exactly as he imagined. With swollen lips and tears swirling in the corners of your eyes. His name slipping every few cries, and eyes trying to look back at his massive, sweaty body.
His broad chest breathing heavily and lidded eyes, taking in the way your cunt sucked him in.
"Fuck, my love, you're soânghhâI can't longer, fuck," he rambled, quickening his pace, with every thrust going straight to your womb. "Do you feel good, tell me dear, is it good?"
You could barely whimper, feeling the knot in your belly slowly, slowly, untying, and eyes rolling back. Thus, nothing but simple, "Mhm, K-Kento, gods, feels so, nghhh, mmm gonna c-cum," could slip away.
His fingers played with your clit â rolling, pinching, slapping it gently with your gluey juices sticking to his fingers. He lifted them up, licking the skin clean. "So sweet, fuck, you taste so heavenly. My pretty, pretty wife will eat your cunt out every fucking morning. Spread you wide on the table and fill with cum before the sunrise," his fingers went back to your clit, already feeling the spasmatic clenching on his cock. "Like it that much, love? Your pussy is swallowing me so nicely. Can't wait to see you swollen with my children, heavens."
"K-Kento, please, let me cumâmhmmm."
"Can't wait to be bred, huh?" he chuckled, but you pushed your hips out, meeting every single thrust.
"Yes, yes, yes, I can't wait t-to, ahhhh, fuck cum inside me."
Your words seemed to ignite something within him, because the next second, his reddened tip got glued to your womb, as if sucked in by your muscles. Fingers still circled your clit, harshly, with a pinch, till your thighs started shaking and feet curled. A quivering cry escaped your clenched throat, and Kento finally, finally, started cumming.
Or, well, flooding you with his seed, till your head spun and lower belly started to swell.
"Fuck, my love, you better pray it takes," he mumbled, resting his wet forehead between your shoulder blades.
He came deep, filling every corner of your trembling cunt with warmth, planting his gluey seed right inside your womb. It felt heavenly, maddeningly good, with his fingers still working on your clit and gathering all the watery cum that gushed right against his palm. Long tongue traced your sweaty back, soft lips placing gentle kisses right down your spine.
He thrusted gently, keeping his softening cock inside as if trying to make sure that not even a droplet of his cum will land anywhere but inside your womb.
"I meant it," he muttered after a while, before changing your positions. You lay spread on his chest, with his cock still nuzzled inside. "I want to have a family with you. A big one."
"How big?" you mumbled, too tired to even lift up your head.
"Ten?"
Oh dearest.
Your eyes somehow looked up, tracing the completely stony expression of his face.
"You must be joking."
"Not from such affairs, my love," his fingers gently nuzzled your back â a touch completely different from the violent thrusts of his hips.
"Not even the oldest gods of this pantheon have that many offsprings."
He looked down with a warm smile before placing a single kiss on your forehead. "Then it seems that we need to set up a new tradition."
And after going back to your cottage and getting stuffed full in every possible position, you started to regret that the strongest man alive with the stamina of a thousand bulls, was supposed to become your husband.
And for the dessert, as the last fic from this collection, we're getting the most heartbreaking angst, aka Satosugu as Alexander the Great and Hephaestion.
I got a request for the second part of Hades!Choso, and because it's my fav fanfic from this collection, I will be making it (that's why you got the preview hehe) :) It will be posted here, where I'll be adding all my other historical, myths, tales based fics.
warnings. ageless blogs;minors do not interact. smut. fem reader. established relationship. size difference. monster cock syndrome. face sitting. cunt fingering. squirting. impact play;mild spanking.
toji fushiguroâs got the kind of dick that canât bottom out. itâs unfair, really. it pisses you off. thereâs nothing in the world you want more than to fit. itâs like sitting on a flagpole, you float damn near a foot off the bed when you try to ride him.
âsâalright, sweetheart. known for a long time iâve got a monster cock.â tojiâs facetious remarks fall on deaf ears, eyes glazed over as you try to think your way through this. a delicate crease appears between your brows until you feel a large hand cup your chin to grab your attention, directing your eyes to meet his in a surprisingly intimate motion. he wears a smile like he was expecting you to laugh at his comment, it stretches that handsome and faded scar on his upper lip. âitâs not a big deal, you know. youâre woman enough fâme.â the tender moment you shared quickly dissipates as youâre challenged. as sweet as heâs trying to be, you donât wanna hear bullshit like that.
âi donât feel inferior, toji,â you spit. you claw at his sweater on his chest, bunching it up and yanking the fabric as your body rocks pitifully. âi just wanna feel close to you-u-u.â you whine, dry sobbing for sympathy as his other hand cools your movements by palming your hip. âi just feel like no matter what we try i canât fit you in all the way.â you sniffle, fiddling with the felt of his top as he lifts himself to meet you.
âletâs get you off of here. câmere.â he murmurs as he directs your limbs to unmount him one by one. involuntarily, you glance at the hard length of him, saluting like a rod and sweetly pink at his tip. itâs bad enough that itâs tall, but itâs too fucking wide, too. you wouldnât have noticed itâs height if you had nothing to reference it to, however the girth is a different story. hyperbolically speaking, itâs like shoving a soda can up yourself. youâre no prude, but you often feel like youâre threading a needle. gently, he continues to guide you, and your first thought is heâs about to cradle you like a baby and tell you itâs alright. to your surprise, he subverts the expectation by pushing you all the way upâeven through your bodyâs instinctual stiff resistanceâto hover your wet cunt over his face. âletâs just⌠play a little, yeah?â that smile of his morphs into a more suggestive line as his eyes darken. before you can push a word out of your parted lips, he grasps your waist to sit you fully on him. you cry out as you feel a fat, warm tongue flatten against your aching bud.
âtoji-i-i, i donât waânnaââ you hiccup in the middle of your word. âoh, fuckâŚâ you sigh, your hand coming to cup your chest as you arch back. like a dance you know the steps to, your body moves for you, hips swaying back n forth to glide your pussy against the ridges of his face. he purrs, vibrating you with his deep voice as he commends you for chasing what you want. âtoj⌠do that thing i like⌠please?â you plead. anything you say in your little sex voice you know he canât ignore. he nips your swollen clit and you yip as you flinch. grinning against you he swats your behind, transitioning it into a hefty grab of a globe of your ass to lift and push you until you land on all fours. your tits hang and bounce as he seats you again, this time with room in this angle for a pair of fingers to wedge there way to your hole. you sharply gasp as you feel the mix of the sensations.
âi want you to squirt.â the way he talks sounds like the rumbling of thunder. you look down at him, hanging your head as sweat permeates the back of your neck, weighing down your baby hairs.
âon your face?â you ask in disbelief. he closes his eyes to nod his head coolly. those two fingers add to their fervor, continually tapping that little spot inside of you that makes your abdomen clench.
âmm-hmm, on my face. all over it, baby.â itâs a casual explanation while youâre losing it.
âyeah?â he can feel the excitement in your hips, chasing the feeling of your release coming.
âyeah. want it in my mouth.â
âbut thatâs⌠isnât that gross?â your mind is faltering, eyes falling closed as you try to think of what to say though his lips sucking on your clit and his brutish fingers bullying your g-spot.
âno, baby, itâs all natural.â you can hear his tone devolve into a more ragged desperation the longer he talks. hot breath washes over you as he sticks out his tongue to swipe at your pearl side-to-side. when he adds another finger, you lurch onto your elbows, and a tremble blooms in the limbs attempting to hold yourself over him. at this angle, the bone of his hand bangs the rim of your pelvis in a pain that somehow enhances your experience.
âyou like me?â you mumble through it all.
âi like you. i like all of you.â that hand grabs a handful of ass to give it a hearty jiggle to show you. âsquirt.â he demands, and you let it go. crying out as it pours out of you, spraying onto his poor sweater and spattering onto his chin. âyeahâyeah, thatâs fuckinâ right. thatâs fuckinâ it. like a little faucet, look at you.â you hazily register how easily he sits up to take you with him, flopping your weak body onto your back. âiâm hard as fuck, babe, letâs try again real quick - while youâre nice n loose.â
Š pthaltoâdo not: steal my work; plagiarize my work; take inspo from my work without @ credit; feed my work to ai.
the problem with calling inanimate objects âgirlâ is that once you start you cannot stop. I said âgirlâ to the dishwasher because that bitch would not close no matter how hard I whacked her pussy. what is wrong with me
Stoner!Choso who is hesitant to let you try weed for the first time.
Youâre curled up on the floor of Chosoâs tiny apartment, cross-legged in one of his hoodies that swallows you whole. Heâs on the couch, legs spread, rolling something on the coffee table with that quiet, focused expression that makes your stomach flip.
âYâsure, baby?â he asks without looking up, voice low and lazy. âNo pressure. We can just hang out, watch somethinâ. You donât got to if you donât wanna.â
You nod, chewing your lip. âI wanna try. Just once.â
That makes him glance at you, and his mouth pulls into this half-smileâ the kind that says heâs not making fun of you, just thinks youâre cute for wanting to be part of his little world. âAlright,â he murmurs, licking the edge of the paper before sealing it. His fingers are deft, slow, deliberate. He holds it out, then pats the couch next to him. âCâmere.â
You climb into his lap instead. He doesnât complainâ in fact, his arm slips around your waist like it was always meant to be there, the other hand holding the joint between two fingers.
âSmall hit, baby. Inhale, but donâtââ he pauses, grinning when you take too much too fast, coughing almost immediately. ââoverdo it,â he finishes, rubbing your back with slow circles. âEasy, I got you.â
The warmth of him is immediateâ his big hand splayed on your thigh, his chest against your back. You try again, slower this time, and he hums in approval. âThatâs it.â
Minutes pass in a blur of soft giggles. Your limbs feel loose, the world a little quieter. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, and heâs already there pressing his lips to your temple.
âSee? Not so bad,â he says, and his voice is a low rumble in your ear.
âI feel⌠floaty.â
âFloatyâs good. Means youâre chillinâ.â He squeezes you closer, his palm warm and steady over your stomach. âYou look cute high, yâknow that?â
You laugh, the sound a little breathless. âYouâre just saying that.â
âMm-mm,â he murmurs, nose brushing your cheek. âNah, baby. Youâre all soft and smiley. My favorite.â
The night stretches on with him touching you like he canât help it â fingertips tracing your knee, hand resting under your jaw when he tilts your head for a lazy kiss. And even though your first time trying weed is supposed to be the big thing, all you can think about is the way Choso looks at you like youâre already his favorite part of the high.
đź â satoru fucks you numb with his hand over your mouth.
itâs brutal the way heâs fucking you.
hips snapping hard, sharp, like heâs got something to prove. your knees are shoved up to your chest, his long body folded over yours, the whole weight of him pressing you into the mattress. every thrust has you gasping, and the sound alone must be driving him insane, because his hand comes up, wide palm clamping over your mouth.
âshhh, baby,â satoru breathes against your ear, voice a low, ragged rasp. âdonât wanna hear how loud you are? then iâll justââ satoru does not want to finish before you so he pushes in harder, deeper, until your eyes roll back, ââkeep you nice and quiet.â
youâre muffled under his hand, nails clawing at his shoulders, but it only makes him rut into you harder. you can feel him inside you, thick and unrelenting, hitting that spot over and over until your whole body is trembling. the slick, heavy drag of him has your head spinning, and the muffled whimpers spilling past his fingers are only making him meaner.
his thumb presses against your cheek, forcing your jaw shut even tighter, and heâs watching youâsmirking like the devil, eyes dark and hungry. âlook at you. canât even beg, can you? canât do anything but take it.â his other hand is braced next to your head, keeping you caged while he drives into you, deep enough that your stomach aches in the best way.
you try to shake your head, to say more or please or stop, you donât even know which. but all that comes out is a muffled, desperate cry against his palm. he groans like itâs the sweetest sound heâs ever heard, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth without moving his hand.
and then he slows. not gentler, not softerâjust slower, grinding in until youâre choking on the sound that wants to tear out of your throat. he holds you there, buried to the hilt, and you can feel his pulse through every thick inch inside you.
âgood girl,â he murmurs, dragging back out and slamming forward again, âmake all those pretty noises for meâjust for me.â his fingers flex over your mouth, sealing every sound away like he wants to keep it. âno one else gets to hear you like this.â
by the time he finally lets go, your lips are spit-wet, your voice hoarse, and your body is limp beneath him. just a perfect, ruined mess for him to fuck as slow or as hard as he wants. and satoru? heâs nowhere near done.
ááđ ⌠best friends dad!toji fucking you nice n slow for the first time â virgin!reader
tw: deflowering, my inbox got flooded with dilf toji yâall
the air between you is warm and heavy, thick like the silence before a thunderstorm. youâre bare beneath him, thighs trembling open, heart knocking against your ribs like itâs begging for release. toji hoversâsolid, massive, composedâbut thereâs a tremble in the way he breathes out through his nose. restraint. barely-there. like a lion about to sink his teeth into soft, willing flesh.
tojiâs hands cradle your hips like youâre something breakable, but his eyes⌠his eyes arenât gentle. theyâre starved, and behind all that hunger, thereâs something you canât quite name. something close to reverence.
his voice was deep, low and unhurried when he spoke. âyou sure about this?â to you.
you nod, already drunk off the tension, already arching toward him like gravityâs working harder than usual. âyes. i want you.â
and thatâs all it takes.
he leans in, one hand braced beside your head while the other strokes his thick length, guiding it slowly, almost teasingly, between your legs. when the head of his cock brushes your opening, your breath catches. heâs warm. big. too big.
but he kisses you before the panic sets in.
mouth plush and slow, lips melting into yours like heâs trying to give you something to hold on to. his tongue nudges gently past your lips, coaxing you open while his cock nudges deeper, just an inch. then another. then he pauses, waiting.
heâs barely halfway in.
you gasp against his mouth, breaking the kiss, your brows pinched tight. thereâs pressure, thick and full and stretching and it burns. your legs twitch, instinctively trying to close, to retreat from the ache clawing up your spine.
but tojiâs quicker.
his hand lifts from the bed to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek just as your gaze flicks downward, trying to see where youâre joined. you want to understand the feeling, to know why it feels like this.
but he catches you. shakes his head gently, firmly, thumb still stroking your cheek. âno, no, baby,â he murmurs, his voice a dark, velvety hush. âdonât look. look at me.â
you swallow hard, eyes flicking up to his. theyâre molten now, burning with something unspoken, something tender and terrifying. âbreathe for me,â he whispers. âyouâre doing so good.â
you try. inhale, exhale, trembling through it. he kisses you again, softer this time, like heâs rewarding youâthen moves his hips. slowly, deliberately. deeper.
the stretch worsens. pleasure tangled tight with pain. your hands fly up to his shoulders, fingers gripping, nails pressing crescents into skin as your body tries to decide what it feels.
and still, heâs not all the way in.
ârelax, baby,â he says, low and breathy, forehead pressed to yours. ârelax. let me in.â
you nod, even though you canât. every nerve in your body is on fire. your thighs are quivering. your eyes water. and still, you nod because itâs him. because itâs toji. and somewhere, beneath the pain, you want this. all of it.
then he bottoms out.
itâs too much. too deep. the pain blooms bright and sharp and hot, and your head turns to the side, cheek pressed to the pillow as tears slip from your lashes. you barely even feel them but he does.
tojiâs thumb is there instantly, catching your tear before it slides too far. and when another falls, quiet, unannounced, he catches that one too.
âshh,â he whispers, voice barely more than breath. âi got you.â
he doesnât move. doesnât thrust. just stays there, buried deep, stretching you full while his hands roam gently over your sides and your waist, grounding you in sensation. his thumbs circle your hips like heâs soothing a wild animal.
or maybe itâs himself.
you feel his body shaking above you, just a little. holding back. heâs sweating, biting down hard on control like itâs something fragile.
âyouâre okay,â he says again, firmer this time. and maybe itâs the way he says it, like heâs praying, like heâs sure youâll break but begging you not to and that makes the pain soften just a little. or maybe itâs just his presence, the weight of him over you, inside you, everywhere.
you whimper, and his hand finds yours, threading your fingers together, squeezing. âyouâre perfect like this,â he rasps. âfuckâyou feel perfect.â
you exhale, finally. the burn dulls to a slow, steady throb. the pain shifts. your hips roll, ever so slightly, and the friction sparks something else. something sharp and electric and new.
his eyes snap down to your face.
âagain?â he asks, voice rough. âcan i move?â
and when you nod, breath hitching, he kisses you again, not to distract this time, but to claim.
and then he begins to fuck you.
he begins slow, like heâs savoring you.
his hips roll back, just enough to pull from the tight, fluttering clutch of your walls then he presses in again, careful, controlled. the stretch returns, and so does the ache, but itâs duller now, swallowed by something wetter, stickier, headier. your body clenches around him on instinct, pulsing tight, as if itâs trying to pull him back in before he can leave again.
he groans. deep in his throat, like heâs been holding it in for years.
âfuck,â he mutters, dragging his mouth along the shell of your ear, breath hot. âyouâre squeezing me, baby. so tight⌠so fucking good.â
your body trembles underneath him, every nerve raw and alive. youâve never felt anything like this. so full. heâs in your ribs, your stomach, your lungs. it feels impossible, and yet here he is, thick and throbbing and buried to the hilt, grinding his hips just enough to remind you heâs not going anywhere.
his voice drops, velvet-warm, eyes locked to the little crease between your brows. âbreathe again. just like that. youâre taking me so well.â
you exhale, shaking. and when you inhale again, you do it on a moan.
he smiles. itâs small, crooked, proud. âthatâs my girl.â
you melt into it, into him. into the slow, rhythmic drag of his cock along your sensitive walls. the dull burn of being stretched is still there, but itâs wrapped in something else nowâsomething that makes your toes curl, your back arch, your thighs twitch around his hips.
he fucks you like heâs never in a rush.
no jackhammering, no frenzied thrusts, just deep, measured strokes. the kind that grind against your sweet spot, over and over, until your belly starts to tighten. he rocks into you like heâs fucking your soul, like this is more than just your body, more than just the first time.
like itâs his first time, too.
âthere she is,â he murmurs, hips pressing deeper, thicker, right up against the deepest part of you. âyou feel that?â
you nod, tears pricking again, but not from pain this time. from being overwhelmed. from the way he looks at you like youâre the only girl in the world.
he slows. stills.
youâre about to whimper when his hand slides down, fingers brushing between your thighs, slick with how wet youâve become. he groans at the feel of it, two fingers circling your clit gently, coaxing you open in more ways than one.
âgonna make you come,â he says softly, like a promise. âgonna make you fall apart while iâm still inside you.â
the pace returnsâjust a little faster now. the friction is unbearable, thick and wet and noisy between your thighs. every time he pushes back in, it feels like your lungs lose air, like your heart skips, like your body doesnât know how to handle the way he fits.
your walls flutter.
âthatâs it,â he breathes. âyouâre close, arenât you? i can feel it.â
you nod again, too far gone to speak. your legs locking around his waist, trying to hold him there, trying to keep him inside. your nails dig into his shoulders. you donât even realize youâre crying again until he licks a tear off your cheek.
âitâs okay,â he whispers. âlet go. let it happen.â
his thumb stays pressed to your clit, stroking soft and sure. his cock grinds into you with every thrust, and that coil in your belly finally snapsâtight and hot and blinding. your orgasm hits like a wave, loud and body-shaking, mouth falling open on a broken cry as your body clamps down hard around him.
âshitââ he hisses, jaw flexing, hips rutting harder.
he chases the heat of your climax, the way you pulse and shake and cry beneath him. and then he comes, deep inside you, cock twitching, warmth flooding as his breath stutters out into your neck.
he groans your name, desperately slow.
and then silence.
the kind that makes the world feel still. the kind that makes your heartbeat echo in your ears.
he doesnât pull out. doesnât move. just lowers his weight onto you gently, arms curled under your head like a pillow, lips pressing a kiss to your temple. youâre both sticky and sweaty and trembling, still joined, still breathing hard, still blinking through the haze.
not from fear, not even from the slow ache in your thighs, but from the way his abs flex beneath you hard, cut and hot from his own sweat. not to mention how fucking good it feels when your slick drags across every ridge.
youâre straddling him, knees spread, hips rolling in slow little circles right over the center of his stomach, making a mess all over his skin. his cock is hard and untouched, resting against his thigh like an afterthought, because this is what he wanted.
you. dripping and desperate, soaking his abs like youâve got no shame.
your hands are pinned behind you, wrists caught tight in one of his, arm pulled just enough to keep your chest lifted. you canât lean forward, canât touch him, canât brace yourselfânot unless you want him to punish you for it.
heâs lounging like itâs nothing, head propped on his free hand, red eyes flicking down to where youâre grinding against him, slow and sticky and wet.
âlook at you,â he says, grinning. âsoaked over my stomach. i havenât even touched you yet.â
you try to lean closer. you would say itâs an instinct? need? desperation? or maybe you want his mouth, want to bury your face in his neck, anything to muffle the breathy moans escaping your lips. but the second you start to lean forwardâ
he yanks your arms back, not hard but itâs just enough to set you back on your place.
âuh-uh,â sukuna murmurs, eyes cutting back to yours. âcâmon. arch your back for me.â
your breath catches.
your spine curves, trembling as you push your chest out, hips grinding down harder, slick smearing across his abs with a loud, filthy sound. his smirk grows.
âthatâs it,â he says, voice low and smooth. âthatâs what i want. let me see you.â
you whimper. you canât help it.
he tilts his head a little, tongue brushing over one fang, watching you ride him like heâs entertainment and throne all in one.
âfeel that?â he asks, flexing his abs once, just once, and you nearly collapse, hips stuttering as the ridges press harder against your clit.
âs-sukunaââ
âshhh,â he croons. âyouâre the one who said you could take it. so take it. make yourself cum like the big girl you are.â
youâre panting now, back arched so deep it hurts, your body burning from the stretch and the pleasure and the humiliation. grinding on his abs like you were made to do it.
he yanks your wrists up again, forcing you upright, watching your breasts bounce with every shaky movement.
âdonât lean forward until you cum,â he growls. âuntil then? hands back. back arched. show me how pretty you are when youâre falling apart.â
ááᢠ⌠your boyfriend is not home, thatâs the perfect opportunity for his dad to eat your cunt. â likes & reblogs are appreciated!
his tongue is deep in your cunt.
nanami is not teasing. heâs not licking pretty along the outside. heâs got you open, one hand anchoring your thigh against the bed, the other wrapped tight around your hip. and heâs fucking you with his tongue proud.
you donât know how long heâs been down there. you lost track of time somewhere between your second orgasm and the wet sound of him moaning into you like heâs starving.
his nose nudges your clit every time he thrusts in. you twitch. whimper. try to move, but he just presses you down like youâre not going anywhere until heâs satisfied.
âstay still,â he mutters into your cunt, voice low and rough, hot breath washing over your slick folds. âyou keep running and iâll just have to start over.â
you whimper again, because you canât stay still, not when heâs curling his tongue like that, not when your pussyâs so wet itâs dripping down his chin.
his mouth is slow but deep, maddening. he fucks into you with thick, measured strokes, tongue dragging along your walls like heâs tasting for something specific.
you gasp sharp when he flattens his tongue inside you and grinds his face up against your clit, letting your cunt pulse around his mouth while he hums low, satisfied.
âtight little hole,â he breathes, pulling back just enough to spit down onto your pussy before diving in again. âsloppy already.â
your legs tremble, one hooked over his shoulder, the other spread wide and shaking by the edge of the bed, toes curling against the mattress.
youâre soaked. soaked. the kind of wet thatâs messy, pornographic, shameful. the kind of wet that makes his brows furrow and his eyes flick up to yours, just once.
âyou need more?â he asks, voice flat but not unkind. more like heâs taking inventory. like your body is his to manage.
you nod fast, embarrassingly needy and barely able to speak.
âuse your words.â
âyes,â you pant. âmore, pleaseâfuck, donât stopââ
he doesnât. he doesnât even blink.
his fingers come up, sliding into the mess of your folds, spreading you open while his tongue pushes back in. two fingers press down just above your clit while he tongues you harder, deeper, face flushed against the slick mess of you.
you can feel it building tight in you. itâs so sharp and knotted, like somethingâs going to snap and nanami knows. of course he knows. heâs too precise not to.
he shifts his grip, presses two fingers to your clit in slow, heavy circles while he tongue-fucks you through the slickest, most humiliating orgasm of your life.
your back arches. thighs shake. your mouth falls open and nothing comes out but a broken little cry as your cunt clenches around his tongue and gushes wet down his chin.
and he doesnât stop.
not until youâre twitching, boneless, soaked and spent under his mouth. not until heâs sure youâve felt everything.
he finally pulls back, breath steady, eyes dark.
wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he calmly adjusts his watch. and thatâs when you realize.
you've got a fixation on toji's arms, and it's not subtle.
not just the size, though they're obscene by any metric: brute muscle sculpted from decades of brutality, biceps that swell under the skin. no, it's the near-erotic way they move during the most mundane tasks that truly fucks with your head: peeling an orange. snapping apart chopsticks. reaching one-armed behind his back to scratch between his shoulder blades.
his shirt does nothing to help; black cotton clinging to every sinew, stretched taut across biceps so swollen they could've been quarried from stone. but it's the veins that render you weak. thick and angry with bloodflowâthey bulge when he grips anything with purpose. and when he wears those sleeveless tanks? your brain short-circuits. brief, acute spikes of limbic-driven arousal routed through the amygdala.
he's sprawled on his back now, tank hiked up to mid-abdomen, diamond-cut abs on full displayânot that you're looking. you're too busy grinding your soaked cunt over the ridge of his tricep.
you're straddling his arm, one palm braced on his abdomen for balance, grinding through your panties against the meat of his bicep. it flexes beneath you, veiny and rock-solid, perfectly positioned against your clit. his free hand (the one not currently being molested) hangs at his side until you grab it, pulling it to your face. you rub your cheek against his palm, then take his fingers into your mouth, sucking down to the knuckles.
panties are soaked through, dragging sticky over your clit with every forward push of your hips. the muscle beneath you flexes involuntarily, twitching in time with the flutter of your cunt.
"you gettin' off?" he drawls, mockingly. you nod around his fingers, unable to speak. spit leaks from the corners of your mouth and coats his knuckles. he watches with a bored, heavy-lidded stare, lips curving up at one side.
"tch⌠you like my arms more than my dick, huh?"
you whine into his hand, too far gone to be embarrassed.
"shit," toji breathes, his other hand grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing so hard it will surely bruise. "youâre fuckin' sick in the head." but he doesnât stop you. he lets you rut against him like a bitch in heat, feeling your hips jerk with every pulse of pleasure. he flexes again, just to feel you shudder, and grins wolfishly when your eyes roll back.
"go on," he urges, nodding toward the arm beneath you. "get off on it. i'm not stoppin' you."
you come like thatâpussy convulsing around nothing, drooling stupidly into his palm, whimpering into the crook of his wrist while your body arches and locks. feeling most undignified but extremely satisfied.
"still think my dickâs losing." a beat. he adds with an ominous chuckle, "but iâll let him prove himself."
i cld never shave bush not just bc im morally opposed to it but also bc what would i play with when im lying in bed thinkingâŚa bush is the beard of the modern day philosopher
â´ď¸ Bouncing on tired older bf tojiâs cock after work while he drinks beer </3
Tojiâs already grunting when you drop your weight on his lap. soft, bare thighs straddling his hips and bracketing around him like itâs your goddamn seat, and not the couch. He doesnât even look at youâjust sits there, all slouched and grumpyâdrenched in dried sweat and work stress while he nurses a half-empty beer while Outdoor Boys plays on the TV behind you.
âYou got no patience, do you?â he mutters lazily, eyes flicking over your tits as you shimmy out of your sleep shirt, already bare underneath. âDidnât even let me shower first, dirty girlâ.
You ignore him. His cock is already inside you. You made sure of it, of course.
And now youâre finally bouncing on his dick sloppily, skin slapping hard and loudly as you stuff him all the way up into your guts, whining and gasping every time he brushes deep inside your cuntâdeep enough to knock something loose in your pretty empty head. Your hands are gripping his solid, broad shoulders but youâve got no rhythm. Just frantic little bounces and desperate circles of your hips as your horny pussy slobbers all over his fat cock.
âFuckâ,â he grunts, one big hand casually groping your bouncing ass, spreading your plushy cheeks open like he owns youâlike youâre just something for him to play with while he watches TV. His thumb slides down to your stretched out hole, teasing around it with a slow drag and feeling how sticky you are. âYouâre frothing all over me, baby. What the fuck did you do todayâlay around thinking about this cock?â
âMhmhâuh-huh!,â you nod like a stupid idiot, glossy lips parted into a gaping O, drooling down your chin as your cunt sucks around him. âI missed itâmissed you, missed your cock, missed feeling so fullâfuck, daddy, I needed itâ!â
âYeah?â he sneers, calloused thumb moving higher and rubbing nasty, teasing circles on your tight rim while he drinks his beer. âNeeded to be filled like a little fleshlight while Iâm out busting my ass all day?â
You sob, hips jerking desperately for more as your pussy clenches around him hard. âY-Yeah⌠mâsorry!â
He tsks and takes another slow sip, beer trickling down his jaw. He doesnât bother wiping it. âDonât even care Iâm all fucking filthy. Got home not even ten minutes ago, and youâre already stuffing my cock back inside you like youâd die without itâ.
Your head nods again, uselessly. Droolâs running down your chin nowâshiny, your boobs bouncing wildly with each sloppy grind of your cunt down his length. Heâs not even thrusting. Youâre doing all the work. He just sits thereâsweaty, big and meanâone hand bruising into the meaty flesh of your ass and the otherâs holding his beer, still barely looking at you.
âYouâre so meanâŚâ You whimper, thighs shaking as you try to bounce faster. âYouâre not even helpingââ
He finally sets the beer down with a heavy clink, piercing eyes dragging up to meet yours. âYou want help?â he growls, gripping your hips in both hands. âFineâ.
And then he slams up into you.
Once.
Twice.
Over and over till your eyes are rolling back and youâre moaning like some crazy pornstar bitch.
Your body jerks with the force of it, your mouth wide open in a broken moan. Tojiâs cock bullies your insides, thick and heavy and slicked up with your cream, and he doesnât slow down. He just uses your body like itâs nothing. His sweaty chest brushes your hard nipples every time he yanks you down. Pounding you till your brain turns to mush.
âDumb fucking thing,â he groans, watching you fall apart on his dick. âNeeded daddy to fuck the thoughts right outta that pretty head, huh?â
âIâfuck!âIâm gonna cum, daddddyâ!â
âYeah you are. Fucking better. You make this mess, you take this cock, you cum on itânasty slutâ.
Your whole body shudders as you fall apart, screaming and creaming around him while your ass bounces like a toy in his lap.
And Toji? He leans back on the couch again, grabs his half-canned beer, and smirks like heâs proud.
âNext time, wait till Iâve had a bite to eat, kiddoâ.
thinking about trying face sitting with nanami for the first time :p
you and kento are both so shy early on in your relationship, not wanting to indulge in each others kinks n what not due to embarrassment. it was something in the heat of the moment but definitely brought on by kento.
kento has you with your knees to your chest, thick fingers spreading you apart so he can suckle on your needy bud, occasionally peppering sloppy kisses and licks to your lips. heâs so enamored with your sweet taste and scent, he canât shove his face any further into you but of course he has to try â anything is possible!
heâs dragging your hips towards him, your nails are engraved into his scalp as you ruffle through his blonde locks. heâs backing away while dragging you with him, pulling your plush body to sit onto his chest.
âsit.â he whines. that one single word was said with so much emotion, you donât even know if your pretty boyfriend was all there in the head. his face was flushed a beating red, eyes glossy as though he was about to cry, and mouth parted while his tongue seemingly looked for something to lather itself in.
although you were unsure, you werenât able to voice your concerns for his well being since he was already plopping his face in between your thick thighs, sucking away at your puffy clit. your hands found his hair fairly quickly, rocking your hips to collide his nose with your sensitive bud while his tongue searched for your leaking hole.
kento was whimpering his heart out, bucking his hips upwards to relieve himself just a tad more even though he was already close to cumming with the sounds of your pretty voice calling out his name.
a/n: this idea is by @yxtkiwiyxt !!! i couldn't stop thinking about it.
summary: you can't stop fantasizing about joel taking your virginity.
warnings: UNPROTECTED P IN V SMUT 18+. competency kink. joel is jackson's handyman, reader has no physical description, dry humping, female masturbation, male masturbation, age gap (reader is over 21), reader is a virgin, praise kink, fingering, grinding, aftercare, soft!joel, lmk if i missed anything!!
wc: 4.7k words
Joel was always fixing things around town.Â
Ever since Joel Miller showed up in Jackson, folks started calling him the townâs handyman. The way his hands moved, steady and skilled, fixing what needed fixingâŚÂ he was good. he was good at what he did.
The creak of his boots echoed from the side of the barn as he repaired the gate hinges. A few days ago, it was the broken heater in the art room. Before that, the fencing near the stables. He was the kind of man who did not like to sit still, and Jackson had plenty of things to keep him going. He liked helping around, and it made him feel needed.Â
You didnât mean to notice him every single time. Your eyes just naturally averted to him, every time. At first it was small things.. how he always showed up early in the morning. How he talked to people with that low, Texas drawl, with kindness, and sometimes a little grumpy. It was clear he cared deeply about doing things right.Â
His rolled up sleeves, the grunts he made when he was moving, the way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating ⌠it was all too much. He did everything so well, no neighbor ever complained. Every time you saw him with a tool in his hand, or a smudge of grease on his forearm, something inside you twisted. It started as a quite ache, one you could ignore if you distracted yourself enough. But the more you saw him, the worse it got.Â
And you⌠you were a virgin. Growing up in the apocalypse and all, you never really had the chance to get to know someone that intimately, besides, you were very comfortable with your own sexuality, taking care of yourself, and you were quite satisfied. Boys had thrown themselves at you before, but you werenât into guys your age, immature and inexperienced. You always liked them a bit older, more experienced. You had a thing for competency, and men like him who were good at what they did. blue collar, broad-shouldered, good with their hands. Men who smelled like whiskey, sweat, and knew how to fix shit other people couldnât. Joel, with that salt and pepper hair and his worn button-ups, the way he moved, was turning you on. You couldnât look at him without your breath catching and sweat clinging to your forehead, without heat crawling low in your belly. You couldnât stop thinking about your first time being with him, how protective heâd be, and how good heâd take care of you.
You didnât live super close to him, but the universe clearly had other plans, because somehow your errands aligned with where he happened to be. And always, heâd greet you.Â
Just a âheyâ. Simple, and casual. Too casual for the way heat pooled between your legs every single time. You try to keep it cool, offer a quick smile, or a nod, but your words never come out the way you want them. If he had any idea how tightly you had to clench your jaw every time he walked by, he sure as hell didnât show it.Â
He had no idea what he was doing to you. As far as Joel was concerned, you were just another friendly face in town. You were kind to him, sweet even, traded coffee for paint supplies, but you never stayed long enough to hold a conversation. Joel figured maybe he made you didnât like him, that you, maybe you just werenât the talkative type.Â
He usually worn button-ups, long sleeves rolled up. But with the seasons shifting and the sun hanging higher, he was showing up in tight t-shirts that left little to the imagination. The fabric hugged his arms just right, tracing every muscle and vein, and it was impossible to imagine what those hands could do if they werenât busy fixing shit. One time, he reached to grab something from a top cabinet, and with his arms stretched high, you caught a perfect glimpse of his waist. The way his shirt rode up just enough to reveal his happy trail leading down, and the waistband of his boxers. It made you feral.
Every night, you thought about him. What his huge hands might feel like. What his calloused fingers would feel like on your body. How his grunts might sound like if he was on top of you, whispering something low and filthy in your ear. Late at night, you let your thoughts slip where they shouldnât. Under the covers, imagining what it would feel like to have someone there- Joel, instead of your own fingers, moaning and whimpering his name, hoping one day he would just magically show up and fuck you senseless.Â
One afternoon, you told yourself you werenât going to do anything stupid. But it was a hot spring evening, you had two glasses of wine, maybe three, and it was just enough to make you feel courageous. Or reckless. Tipsy, that made your skin feel too hot, your clothes too tight, and your underwear soaked. You didnât let yourself think it through. You just walked down the street, heart pounding and thighs pressed tight, wearing a top that accentuated your breasts & an old fashioned lie. and knocked on Joelâs door. You told yourself it was innocent. A neighborly thing. Â
He answered the door in a t-shirt. Collar a little stretched, fabric clinging to his biceps. You had to force your eyes to stay on his face.
âHey,â you said, a little breathier than what you meant. âS-Sorry to bug you. I just-uh⌠my sinkâs acting real funny. The one in the kitchen.â
The kitchen sink was fine.
Joel wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder. âWhatâs it doinâ?â
You shrugged, toying with the straps of your shirt. âLeaking. Making a sound. I dunno.â you said nervously.Â
âI can swing by tomorrow,â he said, nodding.
You licked your lips. âIâll uhâŚ. Iâll leave the door unlocked. In case Iâm out. So you just let yourself in.â
Joelâs brow ticked. âYou leavinâ your door open for just anyone, darlinâ?â
Your heart stuttered. Was he flirting with you? âUh⌠no, no.â
He smiled, âIâm just jokinâ.â He clapped his hands. âAlright then, Iâll uh.. see ya tomorrow.â
Before you could respond, you turned around and walked back home, your heart about to rip open your chest. Â
The next day crept up slowly. You woke up flushed, replaying yesterdayâs interaction in your mind like a dream.Â
You told yourself not to get too worked up. Not to overthink it. But by mid-afternoon, you were restless. The house felt too warm, your skin even warmer. You kept checking the clock, hoping his knock might come any second.Â
And when it didnât, you grabbed the wine bottle. To cool you down, ofcourse. To calm your nerves. Youâd left the door unlocked like you promised him. Just a crack, enough for him to step inside. The kitchen sink was fine. Didnât need any fixing. But your bodyâŚ? That was another matter.
You wandered upstairs to your room, still leaving the door cracked, restless and a little tipsy from the wine. The fan hummed softly overhead, but it did nothing to cool the heat spreading low in your belly. Your clothes clung to you, damp from the warmth⌠and your wetness. You ran your hands down the front of your thighs, exhaling a shaky breath as your fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. They felt suffocating. You slid them down your legs slowly, the cotton catching slightly on your hips before pooling around your ankles. The air kissed your skin, and you bit the inside of your cheek, goosebumps rising on your legs.Â
You sat at the edge of the bed at first, on your back. Your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shit. You couldnât stop thinking about him. The way his biceps flexed. His Texas drawl dipped in honey. The way he said your name.Â
Your hand drifted over your stomach, skimming lightly, like even your own touch was too much. You didnât rush â just let your fingertips trace lazy, aimless patterns, dipping lower each time until they reached the waistband of your underwear. There was a steady warmth pulsing at your core, a heat that had been building all day. You let your fingers press down, through the thin fabric, catching your breath at the feeling. You were already so sensitive, so wound up from hours of wanting, of imagining him. You were pretending your hands were his, touching you like this for the first time. You shifted against the sheets, chasing friction, letting your hips tilt just enough to press into your own hand. It was slow at first, knowing your body too damn well, until you started to rub your clit in small circles and gasping softly, your mouth falling open.Â
-
Joel told himself heâd swing by later in the afternoon, but something about the way you looked at him yesterday.. the wine flush on your cheeks, the way your fingers played with your shirt straps⌠He was confused. He was old. Surely, he didnât think you were flirting with him. Why would someone so pretty, want someone like him?Â
The door was exactly as you left it. Unlocked, cracked open a little bit. He still knocked softly at first.
âHey,â he called, voice low. âitâs Joel, you home?â
No answer.
So he stepped inside, slow and polite, calling your name softly. And suddenly, he heard it. Faint and breathless.
âJoel.. Oh..â
His heart jumped. You sounded like you were in pain, or crying. The sound of your voice had him moving before he could think. He dropped his tools, boots thudding against the stairs, every protective instinct in him lighting up. Another soft moan. âOh God...â
He didnât wait. âDarlin,? You alright?â He pushed the door open with his shoulder, chest tight, eyes scanning âŚ. Until he saw you. laying back against the sheets, legs spread, hand between your thighs. Your shorts discarded on the floor.Â
You froze.Â
Joel froze too.
He wasn't dumb. He caught on what was happening immediately.
His mouth parted like he wanted to speak, but no words came out. His eyes were wide, locked on yours. Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence was thick.Â
You sat up in panic, putting your shorts back on. âI-I thought you werenât coming,â you whispered.Â
He looked dazed. He swallowed hard. Took one step closer.
âYou left the door open,â he said quietly. âSaid I could come in.â
âIâm sorry, I didnât thinkââ You whispered, embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. âJoel, I didnât think youâdââ
He nodded once, firm, eyes still on you. âYou say my name like that all the time when youâre alone?â
You couldnât speak.
He took another step. âI came to fix the sink, sweetheart,â he murmured, voice thick with something rough and warm, âbut I think weâve got somethinâ else that needs my attention.â You swallowed hard, heart hammering like it might break through your ribs.Â
Your fingers were still trembling from earlier. From the way youâd whispered his name like a fucking prayer. And now he was here. Real. Solid. Broad shoulders taking up half the space in the room.
You felt small. Exposed. And yet⌠your body ached for him.
Joelâs eyes dragged down your frame, slow and deliberate. His jaw ticked.
âYou donât have to be embarrassed,â he said, voice low. âI just⌠didnât know you⌠felt that way about me.â He swallowed. âI wasnât supposed to see that.âÂ
Your back straightened, chest still heaving. âWell, I do.â You blinked. âJoel, you should probably just go,â you stammered, voice shaky. You started rambling under your breath, words tumbling over each other like a flood. âIâm so dumb. Iâm sorry, Joel. The sink doesnât even need fixing. I mean, what was I thinking? I just wanted to see you, like some fuckass teenager with a crush. You donât even like me like that.â You stared at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his eyes, heart pounding loud in your ears.
Joel shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. âDarlinâ, calm down. I didnât mean to embarrass you,â he said, eyes soft. âI⌠like you, Iâm just surprised,âs all,â
You opened your mouth, words caught in your throat. âI had too much wine. I just need a minute, okay? Iâm overwhelmedâÂ
He nodded, stepping back. âAlright, Iâll head home, okay?â His voice was low, unsure, like he wasnât quite sure on how to act after that, and neither did you. He slipped quietly without another word. Did you just fuck everything up?
The next day, there was a knock on your door.Â
Joel stood there, hand on the back of his head. âHey,â he said quietly. âCan IâŚcome in for a sec?â
You smiled and stepped aside, still mortified from yesterday.Â
He glanced around like he was gathering his thoughts, then finally looked at you. âI been thinkinâ about what happened yesterday.â
You blinked at him, cheeks heating up. Talk about the elephant in the room.  âWhat do you mean?â
Joel let out a slow breath. âI wanted to apologize. You were embarrassed. Thought I didnât⌠want you like that.â
You looked away, heat crawling up your neck.
He continued, gently, âI didnât mean to walk in on somethinâ so personal. I swear, I only came in âcause I thought you were hurt. You sounded like you were in pain, and the door was open, and.. Iâm sorry.â
You chewed your lip. âJoel, you donât need to apologize. Itâs not your fault, I should have closed the door.â You sighed. âI didnât mean to make things weirdâ
âNothingâs weird,â he said. âI just.. Jesus, I had no idea you felt that way about me. And Iâm still tryinâ to wrap my head around it, âcause youâreâŚâ he trailed off, eyes on yours, voice soft. âYouâre beautiful, and young. I donât know how in the world you would want someone like me.â
You stared at him. Your heart was thudding in your chest, heat creeping up your neck, wanting to tell him that youâre a virgin and just blurting it out. âIâve never⌠had sex.â Your voice barely carried, but it felt like the loudest thing in the room. âI just wanted you to know.â You paused, cheeks burning, then forced the next part out. âI guess... Iâve been thinking about it a lot. I just want to get it over with, with someone more experienced, you know. To know what it feels like. So, um. Thatâs what I was thinking about. Itâs okay if you donât want to.â
Joel blinked, his gaze holding yours, unreadable for a second. His eyes dropped for a second, then came back to yours, voice rough, blurting out a confession himself too. âI thought about you too, last night.â
You blinked, confused. âwhat?â
His breath hitched. A humorless little laugh left him as he shook his head. âCouldnât get the image outta my head. Weâre even now. Ainât gotta be embarrassed.â
You tilted your head, searching his face. âare you just saying that to make me feel better?â
His voice was low, thick with something darker, more vulnerable. âNo.â
Your breath caught.
He didnât move. So you kissed him.Â
When Joel kissed you back, it was desperate. His hands gripped your waist, rough palms dragging over your back like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. Your fingers tangled in his soft curls at the back of his head, tugging him closer, swallowing the low groan he let out when you parted your lips for him. You whimpered softly into his mouth, pressing your chest to his, needing him even closer. He smelled so good. Like whiskey, and soap, and musk. It invaded your senses, and your brain turned into mush.Â
His tongue swept over yours before he broke away to kiss along your jaw, then your neck, open mouthed and breathless.Â
âJoelâŚâ you moaned, âFuck,â
Your knees hit the back of the couch, and the two of you stumbled, breathless and tangled in each other until you fell on top of his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he sank back onto the couch, pulling you down with him. Your legs were straddling him, your hands braced around his neck. Kissing you deeper, his hands roamed your back, your waist, your thighs, like he was trying to touch every part of you all at once.Â
You rocked against him as he groaned into your mouth, hips bucking up just slightly. His mouth found your neck once again as you kept moving against him achingly, feeling the thick press of his erection beneath you, hard and growing. You were so turned on it hurt.Â
âShit,â Joel rasped, gripping your hips, trying to hold you still. âBabyâŚâ
You didnât stop. Couldnât. You needed him. But his hands stilled you.
He leaned his forehead against yours, kissing your head, chest rising and falling under your palms. âSweetheart,â he said, voice low and steady now, âwe gotta slow down.â
You blinked at him with doe eyes, lips still parted. âDid I do something wrong?â
âNo, no,â he said quickly, cupping your cheek. âGod, no.â He swallowed, eyes on yours. âItâs just⌠itâs been a long time. And I want this to be good for you.â
He smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear. âYou really want this?â he asked, voice quiet.
You leaned in, lips brushing his, barely above a whisper, âYeah. I do.â
His chest rose and fell against yours, his eyes flickering down to your lips before dragging back up again like he was trying to memorize you.
He leaned in and kissed you softly, slow and unhurried, letting it linger, letting your fingers drift up the back of his neck and into his hair. He exhaled into your mouth, and you felt the way his hands gripped you just a little tighter.
Then, without a word, you reached down and tugged gently at the hem of his shirt.
Joel paused, eyes searching yours. But he didnât stop you.
You lifted the fabric slowly, revealing the scarred, strong lines of his chest. Your fingers brushed over his skin as you pulled the shirt over his head and let it fall somewhere behind the couch.
His breath hitched when you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his chest, soft and reverent. Another to his collarbone. Another just above his heart. He wasnât used to this.
Joelâs eyes fluttered closed for a second, a hand coming up to hold the back of your head like he didnât know what heâd done to deserve this.
You sat up, heart pounding, and slowly reached for your own shirt. You watched his face as you peeled it over your head. his eyes widened slightly, lips parting, awe written all over him like you were a dream came true.
You took his hands and placed them on your waist, his palms warm and steady. Then you leaned in again, and he kissed you hard, lips sliding to your jaw, down your neck. When his mouth finally reached your chest, your breath caught. he was kissing you there, slow and gentle, like he was learning the shape of your breasts with his mouth.
A soft moan escaped you, hips shifting instinctively in his lap. You felt the heat building again, sharp and overwhelming. Every place he touched felt like it burned.
âJoel,â you whispered, voice breathless, âneed you to touch meâŚâ
One of his hands slid down slowly, carefully, finding the edge of your waistband. His fingers brushed your skin, teasing, and you gasped softly. You could feel the heat between your thighs, a growing ache that had only sharpened since the moment he walked through your door.
âIâve never-â you whispered, barely audible.
âI know,â he murmured. âIâll take care of you. We donât gotta rush a damn thing, sweetheart.â
You nodded, heart pounding, eyes locked with his.
âJesus,â he rasped, resting his forehead against your chest for a second. âYou tell me if anything donât feel right. Any second. You hear me?â
You nodded again, lips brushing against his temple. âYeah.â
He leaned back just enough to kiss you again, slower this time like you were something delicate, hands trailing up your spine. You arched slightly as you were dry humping on the couch, gasping at the friction between your core and his erection. You stood up, and discarded your shorts on the floor, just your soaked panties covering you.   When you lowered down on his lap again, your fingers found his, guiding his hand between your thighs.
âYou can touch me,â you said quietly. âI want you to.â
Joel let out a quiet groan. âYou tell me if it feels too much, alright?â he groaned, voice low and full of heat.
His fingers dipped down between your thighs, finding you through the soft fabric of your underwear. He rubbed slow, careful circles against you, patient and steady,  coaxing every sound out of your lips.Â
You gasped softly, hips tilting toward his hand without meaning to. âJoelâŚâ
âThat feel good?â he rasped, lips brushing your jaw, his voice rough but gentle, making sure you were okay.
You nodded, too breathless to speak. Your fingers curled into his hair, holding on as he kept rubbing you through the thin cotton, your arousal soaking through. He could feel how wet you were, even like this.
âJesus, babyâŚâ he breathed, his voice thick. âYouâre already so worked up for me.â
You whimpered as your hips began moving on their own, grinding against the heel of his hand. Joelâs breath caught, he was getting worked up too, chest rising fast, jaw clenched. His free hand slid up your back, gripping your waist like he needed something to hold onto.
He groaned again, almost like it hurt. âYou keep movinâ like that, sweetheart, and Iâm gonna cum in my pants.â
Carefully, he slid his hand beneath your waistband, fingers finally touching you bare. You gasped, the heat of his skin against yours sending a shiver up your spine. Then, ever so gently, he slid one thick finger inside you, slow and deliberate.
âShhh,â he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as you clenched around him. âYouâre alright. Atta girl. Just like that,â
You whimpered again, his finger moving in slow strokes, your hips rocking toward his hand instinctively. He added a second finger, easing you open while his thumb stroked soft circles against your clit.
It was overwhelming, in the best way possible. The stretch, the warmth of him, the way he watched your every reaction like he couldnât look away. This was so different compared to your own fingers. You knew it would feel good, but not like this. Definitely not like this.Â
You whimpered, getting closer, reaching the climax as your hips stuttered against his hand. Joel was whispering quiet praises into your skin, fingers moving slow and steady inside you, coaxing you open like he had all the time in the world. Your thighs trembled, your body arching into his touch, and the pressure inside you built with every breathless second.
âJoel,â you whimpered, voice breaking, eyes squeezing shut. âOh, my godâŚâ
âRight there?â he murmured, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. âYouâre doinâ so good, baby. Just let go for me.â
Your body tightened, back arching, and then the wave came over you. your climax washing over you all at once, sharp and warm, overwhelming and dizzying. You gasped, clinging to him, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as you cried out his name.
Joel groaned, holding you through it, kissing your temple and whispering sweet nothings as your body shook against him.
âThatâs it,â he whispered, slowing his fingers as you came down. âYouâre alright. I got you.â
You were breathless, body still burning for him, for something more. âJoel⌠I want to feel you.â
He stilled, lifting his head to meet your eyes. âAre you sure?â
You nodded, fingers curled around his wrist. âI want you inside me.â
His gaze searched yours for any flicker of doubt. There wasnât any. Just need.
He gently guided you off his lap, helping you lie back along the couch. The cushions dipped under you, the living room warm and quiet except for the sound of your shared breathing.
Joel stood for a moment, just looking at you. Then his hands went to his belt, undoing it slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
You watched as he slid his jeans down, then his boxers, breath catching when you caught sight of him, thick, hard, and flushed at the tip. He knelt between your legs, bracing a hand on the couch beside your head, the other guiding himself gently as he settled over you.
You reached for him, touching his chest, then his face, grounding yourself in the heat of his body.
Joel hovered over you, breathing heavy, gaze locked on yours like he didnât want to miss a single second. He lined himself up slowly, hand cupping the back of your head against the couch cushion like you were something precious.
When he pushed in slow, careful, giving you time to adjust, you both gasped. Your fingers clutched at his back, nails digging in, and Joel groaned low in his throat, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
Oh my god.
Your thoughts spiraled.
This feels so good.
It was everything you hadnât let yourself imagine. full, warm, overwhelming in the best way. You couldnât believe how right it felt, how gentle he was, how every slow thrust was lined with care and need.
This. This is why you waited for someone like him. For Joel.
His body pressed flush against yours, one hand bracing by your head, the other still gently cradling it like he couldnât bear the thought of hurting you. He rocked into you with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips, his breath ragged against your cheek, whispering your name like a prayer.
âGoddamn,â he groaned. âSuch a good girl.â
You whimpered, already fluttering around him, your body starting to tremble again. âI-I think Iâm close again,â you whispered, voice breaking.
âMe too, baby,â he murmured, voice cracking as he started to move faster, hips snapping a little deeper now, rougher but still so tender it made your chest ache.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, lips brushing his jaw as your body built toward the edge again. He kept whispering to you, grounding you, worshiping you through every second until everything tightened, and then you broke for the second time.
You came with a cry against his skin, body shaking around him as he groaned loudly, hips stuttering.
âShit-darlinâ, Iâm gonna,â Joel gasped, and then you felt him follow, his body trembling with the force of it, buried deep and breathless. It was intense.Â
Joel was still above you, calming down his breathing, foreheads pressed together, your bodies tangled and slick with heat. His hand was still cradling your head.Â
You could still feel the aftershocks in your thighs, your chest, the gentle tremble in your fingers. Your heart was hammering. Youâve had orgasms before. You touched yourself often. But this was something else. Youâve never had this kind of orgasm before. Every careful touch, every word, every look⌠he'd made you feel safe. Worshipped. Taken care of.
You blinked up at him through the haze, and he looked down at you like he was in awe.
âYou alright?â he murmured.
You nodded, dazed. âMmmm.â
He exhaled softly, lips brushing your temple, and kissed it. Then your cheek. Then your mouthâŚslow, like he had all the time in the world now.
âLetâs get you upstairs,â he said against your lips.
You didnât protest when he gently pulled out, made quick work of cleaning you up as best he could with trembling hands and soft apologies, finding a blanket from your couch to wrap you in.
Then, like it was nothing,he lifted you into his arms. You curled against him instinctively, head tucked beneath his chin, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he carried you upstairs like you weighed nothing.
Your bedroom was dim, bed undone, but it didnât matter. Joel set you down carefully, then climbed in beside you without a word. One of his arms slid beneath your head, pulling you close, his other hand resting lightly on your stomach beneath the blanket.
You sighed, melting into him.
For a while, neither of you said a thing. Just breathing. Just feeling. His thumb traced lazy little circles against your skin, and you let your eyes drift shut.
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