-> blue balls over. now bend over.
ft. toji, gojo, higuruma, choso, nanami
cw. mdni. established relationship, unprotected sex, daddy kink, mommy kink, creampie kink, overstimulation, edging (higuruma, gojo), light bondage (nanami), degradation, hate sex, spanking, age gap (higuruma)
The bedroom was dim, just the low glow of the baby monitor casting flickering blue shadows across the walls. It had been exactly thirty-one days. Thirty-one fucking days since Toji had been inside you, and every single one of them had clawed at him like a curse he couldn’t exorcise. You were the mother of his kids—his pretty little wife, the one who’d given him Megumi and then another on the way—and he loved you for it. But goddamn, the way Megumi had been calling for you every single night lately? The toddler’s tiny voice cracking through the monitor at the worst possible moments? Toji was losing his mind. Jealous. Actually jealous of his own three-year-old son.
Tonight, though… tonight the house was finally quiet.
You’d barely made it through the door after putting Megumi down for the third time when Toji’s big hands were on you. He didn’t even let you finish changing out of the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed. He just shoved you face-down onto the mattress, that dingy sage comforter bunching up under your tits as he yanked your panties down your thighs in one rough tug.
“C’mon, pretty thing,” he growled, voice low and mean, the same gravelly tone he used when he was done pretending to be patient. “Let’s see that ass. Show me what it’s fuckin’ made of after a whole goddamn month of blue-balling your husband.”
You whimpered, already arching for him like muscle memory, because your body remembered exactly who it belonged to. Toji’s hands—scarred, calloused, huge—gripped your hips hard enough to bruise as he freed himself from his sweats. His cock was already leaking, thick and heavy, the fat vein along the underside pulsing with a month’s worth of pent-up frustration. He didn’t tease. He didn’t ease in. He just lined up and slammed home in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt until his heavy balls smacked wetly against your clit.
“Fuuuck,” he hissed through his teeth, head falling back. Your pussy was so tight, so fucking wet already just from the way he’d manhandled you, that it made his eyes roll. “Still grippin’ me like you missed this dick, huh? Like you didn’t spend every night cock-blocking me for that little brat.”
You moaned into the pillow, the stretch burning so good it made your toes curl. “Toji—baby—wait—”
“Nah.” His palm cracked down on your ass, the sound sharp and filthy. “You had your chance to wait. Every time I tried to get between these thighs, Megumi started cryin’ like the world was ending. ‘Mommy, mommy!’” He mocked the toddler’s voice in a low snarl, hips already snapping forward in short, punishing thrusts that made your whole body jolt. “Well guess what, mommy? Daddy’s had enough.”
He was pissed. You could feel it in every ruthless drag of his cock—thick, veiny, curved just right to bully that spongy spot inside you over and over. The wet, obscene squelch of your cunt swallowing him echoed through the room, louder than the low hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand. Toji’s tank top was already sticking to his abs, the fabric dark with sweat as he fucked you like he hated you. Like he was punishing you for every interrupted night, every time you’d slipped out of bed to soothe your son instead of letting him wreck you.
“Mngh—Toji—slow down—” Your voice cracked, but your hips pushed back anyway, greedy for more even as you tried to sound like you meant it.
“Slow down?” He laughed, dark and ugly, and slammed in so deep his tip kissed your cervix with a wet kiss that made your eyes cross. “You want slow? After you left me walkin’ around this house with blue balls for a month? Nah, baby. You’re gonna take every inch like the good little cumslut you are.”
He folded over you, chest pressed to your back, one massive hand fisting the back of your neck to shove your face harder into the mattress. The other hand snaked underneath you, two thick fingers rubbing messy circles over your swollen clit while his cock pistoned in and out, in and out, the lewd pap-pap-pap of his hips against your ass filling the room. Your pussy fluttered around him, already dripping down his balls, coating the coarse dark hair at his base.
“Fuckin’ listen to her,” he grunted, voice right against your ear. “So sloppy for me already. Missed this dick that bad, huh? Missed getting fucked stupid by your husband while our kid’s sleepin’ down the hall?”
You could only sob out a broken moan, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how deep he was hitting, how full you felt. He was relentless—pulling out until just the fat, leaking tip stretched your entrance, then slamming back in so hard the headboard knocked against the wall. His balls slapped your clit with every thrust, the wet smack-smack-smack obscene and filthy.
First orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your whole body locked up, pussy clamping down on his cock so hard he actually snarled, hips stuttering for half a second before he fucked you right through it.
“That’s it—cum on it, mommy. Cum all over daddy’s cock like you haven’t had it in weeks.”
You wailed, thighs shaking, but he didn’t stop. He just kept pounding, harder, meaner, the wet sounds of your creaming cunt getting louder as he chased his own frustration out on your body.
Second orgasm came faster. Your eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out against the pillow as your pussy gushed around him, squirting messily down his thighs and soaking the sheets. Toji groaned, low and guttural, but he still didn’t slow down.
You blinked through the haze, vision blurry, and your eyes caught the baby monitor screen on the nightstand.
Your three-year-old was sitting up in his crib, little face scrunched up, tiny fists rubbing at his eyes. He looked like he was having a nightmare—whimpering softly, the sound crackling through the monitor just loud enough to cut through the filthy slap of skin on skin.
“T-Toji—stop—Megumi’s—” You tried to push up, tried to reach for the monitor, panic cutting through the pleasure like ice water. “He’s having a bad dream—baby, please—”
Toji’s hand shot out and pinned your wrist to the mattress, his hips never faltering. If anything, they got meaner—deeper, harder, the lewd curve of his cock dragging right over that spot that made your brain short-circuit.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, voice pure venom and lust. “You think I’m stopping now? After a month of you choosing him over this pussy? Over me?” He leaned down, teeth scraping your ear as he fucked you even stupider, cock bullying so deep you swore you felt it in your throat. “Nah. You’re gonna stay right here and take this dick until I’m done. Until this womb’s so full you can’t even walk to his room without leaking me down your thighs.”
You sobbed, overwhelmed, pleasure and guilt crashing together as Megumi’s little whimpers filtered through the monitor. But Toji just reached over with his free hand and turned the volume down—not off, just low enough that the cries became background noise to the wet, brutal sounds of him ruining you.
“Beg for it,” he snarled, slowing his thrusts just enough to grind deep, letting you feel every inch, every vein, every throb. “Beg for daddy’s cock, mommy. Tell me you need it more than he does right now.”
You were crying, drooling, pussy clenching helplessly around him as another orgasm threatened to rip through you. “P-please—Toji—fuck—don’t stop—need it—need you—”
“Louder.” He spanked your ass hard, then gripped both cheeks and spread you open so he could watch his thick cock disappear inside your sloppy hole. “Say it like you mean it. Say ‘fuck me harder, daddy, I’m your stupid little mommy who forgot who she belongs to.’”
You broke. “Fuck me harder, daddy—please—I’m your stupid little mommy—forgot who I belong to—please, Toji, fill me up—cum in me—make me forget everything but your cock—”
He snarled in satisfaction and let go.
His hips snapped forward like a machine, brutal and unforgiving, the wet slap of his pelvis against your ass loud enough to drown out the monitor completely. He fucked you so deep, so fast, that your vision whited out. You came again—third time, harder than the others—squirting messily around his cock while he kept pounding through it, grunting like an animal.
“Atta girl. That’s my good fuckin’ mommy. Squeezin’ me so tight—gonna knock you up again just to remind you who put that baby in you in the first place.”
His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as his cock swelled impossibly thicker. He buried himself to the hilt, grinding against your cervix as the first thick rope of cum flooded you. Then another. And another. Hot, heavy spurts that painted your insides white, so much it started leaking out around his cock despite how tightly you were stretched around him.
Toji didn’t pull out. He just collapsed over you, heavy and sweaty, still buried deep as he panted against your neck. His hand reached over lazily and turned the baby monitor volume back up.
Megumi had settled. The little whimpers had stopped; he was curled up again, breathing steady.
Toji huffed a dark, satisfied laugh against your skin, slowly grinding his softening cock through the mess he’d made.
“See? Kid’s fine. Daddy took care of mommy real good.” He nipped at your shoulder, voice dropping into that low, filthy drawl again. “Now keep that ass up. I’m nowhere near done with you tonight. Gonna fuck you full until you can’t even remember your own name—let alone his.”
He pulled out with a wet pop, cum immediately gushing out of your ruined pussy. You whimpered at the loss, but Toji just flipped you onto your back, shoved your thighs open wide, and buried his face between them.
“Gonna clean this pretty cunt up first,” he mumbled against your swollen folds, tongue dragging through the creamy mess he’d left behind. “Then I’m fucking it again. And again. Until you remember exactly who this pussy belongs to, mommy.”
You moaned, fingers threading through his messy dark hair as he ate you like a starving man—like he’d been waiting thirty-one days just for this.
And the baby monitor stayed quiet the rest of the night.
The bedroom was bathed in that soft golden lamplight you both liked, the kind that made Gojo’s pale skin look almost unreal. Two fucking months. Nearly sixty days of blue-balled torture, and Satoru Gojo—the strongest, the cockiest, the man who usually had you bent over every surface—was losing his goddamn mind. Every single night the toddler’s tiny whimpers crackled through the baby monitor, you were up like a shot. “Mama’s coming, baby,” you’d whisper, slipping out of bed before Gojo could even grab your wrist. Overprotective didn’t even cover it. You were a helicopter mom on steroids, and he was jealous. Actually jealous of his own kid.
But tonight… tonight he’d been patient. Sweet, even.
You were on your back in the middle of the massive bed, legs spread around his hips as he kissed you deep and slow, tongue sliding against yours like he was savoring every second. His long fingers—those stupidly pretty, calloused fingers—were between your thighs, stroking your slick pussy with lazy, gentle circles. Two digits gliding up and down your folds, occasionally dipping just the tips inside to tease your entrance before pulling back to rub your swollen clit. He was rock-hard against your thigh, thick and leaking, but he hadn’t rushed. Not yet.
“Missed this so much, baby,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and husky, that usual playful lilt softened by raw need. “Missed my pretty wife’s tight little cunt. Been so good for me, holding out like this…”
You whimpered into his mouth, hips rolling gently against his hand as he dipped two fingers deeper, curling them just right against that spongy spot inside you. He was being so sweet tonight—kissing down your neck, sucking lightly on your throat, thumb circling your clit while his fingers pumped slow and deep. Your slick coated his palm, the wet sounds soft and intimate.
The baby monitor crackled to life. Just a sleepy little mumble. Your eyes snapped open, body already tensing to get up.
You started to push yourself up. “Satoru, he—”
One big hand slammed into your chest and shoved you back down hard against the cushions, the mattress dipping under the force. His other hand snatched the baby monitor off the nightstand and shoved the glowing screen right in front of your face.
“Look,” he growled, voice dropping from sweet to dangerous in a heartbeat. “He’s fucking asleep, mommy. See that? Eyes closed. Not crying. Not even moving. Just said your name in his sleep like the little cock-block he is.”
His eyes—those brilliant, icy blue eyes—were dark now, pupils blown wide with fury and months of frustration. The gentle stroking between your legs stopped. He yanked his fingers out of you with a wet pop, making you gasp.
“No.” He grabbed your thighs and shoved them wide apart, so wide your hips ached. His massive cock—long, thick, flushed angry red at the tip—slapped heavy against your soaked pussy once, twice, then he lined up and rammed in with one brutal thrust.
“Fuuuuck—!” you screamed, back arching clean off the bed as he bottomed out in a single stroke, his fat cockhead bullying straight into your cervix. He was so deep it hurt in the best way, stretching you open after two months of nothing.
Gojo didn’t give you a second to adjust. He pulled back and slammed in again, harder, the wet slap of his hips against your ass echoing obscenely. “You were gonna run again, weren’t you?” he snarled, folding you in half, knees to your chest as he started pounding you into the mattress. “Gonna leave me with my dick throbbing just because the kid mumbled in his sleep? After two fucking months?”
Each thrust was punishing—deep, mean, relentless. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every brutal snap of his hips, the lewd pap-pap-pap-pap filling the room alongside your broken moans and his angry grunts. His cock had that perfect upward curve, dragging right over your g-spot on every stroke, bullying it until your eyes rolled back.
“Mngh—Satoru—too deep—slow down—!”
“Slow down?” He laughed, sharp and bitter, and slammed in so hard the headboard cracked against the wall. “You want slow after you’ve been cock-blocking me for sixty goddamn days? Every time I even looked at this pussy, you were already halfway down the hall to ‘check on him.’” He punctuated the words with vicious thrusts, grinding his pelvis against your clit on every inward stroke. “Well guess what, mommy? Tonight you’re not going anywhere. This cunt is mine.”
He grabbed the back of your neck and yanked you into a messy, bruising kiss, teeth clashing as he fucked you stupid. His tongue fucked your mouth in time with his cock destroying your pussy, sloppy and wet and mean. You were creaming around him already, white rings of slick forming at the base of his thick shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets.
First orgasm ripped through you without warning. Your walls clamped down like a vice, gushing around his cock as you wailed into his mouth. Gojo groaned but didn’t slow—he fucked you straight through it, hips pistoning faster, harder, the wet squelching sounds turning filthy.
“That’s one,” he panted against your lips. “Give me another. I want this pussy sobbing for me.”
He pulled out suddenly, flipped you onto your stomach, and shoved your face into the pillows. Ass up, back arched deep, exactly how he liked you. He re-entered in one savage thrust, folding over your back so his chest pressed against you, one hand fisting your hair while the other reached around to rub your clit in tight, mean circles.
“Fuck—Satoru—ahh!” you cried, voice muffled by the pillow as he railed you from behind. His cock was even deeper at this angle, the curved tip kissing your cervix with every brutal plunge. He was so long he made your belly bulge slightly with each thrust—you could feel it when you reached down, the outline of his massive dick ruining you.
“Yeah? Feel that?” He pressed his hand over the bulge, grinding deep. “That’s daddy’s cock owning this womb again. Two months of nothing and you’re still this fucking tight? Greedy little mommy.”
The baby monitor stayed quiet, but Gojo still glared at it like it personally offended him. He reached over and turned the volume all the way down, then spanked your ass hard—once, twice, three times—leaving bright red handprints on your skin.
Second orgasm hit you even harder. Your legs shook violently, pussy squirting messily around his cock as you screamed his name. Gojo snarled in satisfaction, hips stuttering before he doubled down, fucking you through it with short, punishing strokes that made your eyes cross.
“You’re not done,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Not until I’ve filled this sloppy cunt so full you’ll be leaking me for days. Until you remember who the fuck you belong to.”
He pulled out again, flipped you onto your back, and shoved your legs over his shoulders. The new angle let him drive impossibly deeper. His thrusts turned erratic—wild, desperate, angry—his heavy balls tightening as he chased his own release. Sweat dripped from his white hair onto your tits, his abs flexing with every savage snap of his hips.
“Beg for it,” he demanded, thumb pressing hard on your clit. “Beg daddy to cum in you. Tell me you’re sorry for neglecting this dick.”
“I’m sorry—fuck—Satoru—daddy—please cum in me—fill me up—please—!”
Gojo buried himself to the hilt with a guttural moan, cock throbbing violently as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your womb. Pulse after pulse, so much it immediately started leaking out around his shaft, creamy white mixing with your slick and dripping down your ass. He kept grinding through it, milking every last drop into you, eyes half-lidded in feral bliss.
Even as he softened slightly, he stayed buried deep, slowly rolling his hips to push his cum deeper. His hand moved back to your clit, rubbing tight circles again.
“Third one,” he murmured, voice dark. “You’re gonna cum on my cock while it’s still stuffed full of my load. Then I’m fucking you again. All night, mommy. Until that monitor stays quiet and you can’t even walk tomorrow.”
You whimpered, overstimulated and overwhelmed, but your hips still rolled weakly against him, pussy fluttering around his spent cock as another orgasm started building.
Gojo leaned down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting.
“That’s my good girl. Now take the rest like you owe me two months of this pussy.”
And he started moving again—slow at first, then faster, meaner, ready to ruin you until sunrise. The baby monitor stayed silent on the nightstand, but Gojo’s filthy groans and the wet, relentless slap of skin on skin filled the room for hours.
He was finally collecting what was his.
The bedroom door clicked shut behind Higuruma with a soft, final sound that felt louder than it should. One whole month. Thirty agonizing nights of your five-year-old son slipping into your bed after another nightmare, tiny body wedging itself right between you and your husband like a living cock-block. Every time things got heated—every single time Hiromi’s hands had finally slid under your shirt, his mouth on your neck, cock already straining against his slacks—there’d be that knock. Or the creak of the door. Or the sleepy little voice calling “Mama…” right as your panties were about to come off.
He was ten years older than you, patient by nature, but even Hiromi Higuruma had his limits. Tonight, though, he’d played dirty.
After you’d tucked your son in, kissed his forehead, and murmured sweet dreams, Hiromi had lingered in the doorway.
“Hey, kiddo,” he’d said, voice low and calm like always. “Just saying… if you stay in your own bed all night tonight, I’ll take you to the amusement park tomorrow. The big one. All the rides you want.”
Your son’s eyes had gone wide, a squeal ripping out of him. “Yes! Please, Dad!”
Now the house was quiet. No footsteps in the hall. No baby monitor crackling with nightmares. Just the two of you.
Hiromi didn’t waste a second.
The moment the bedroom door locked, he was on you—tall frame crowding you back against the bed until your knees hit the mattress. His suit jacket was already discarded, tie loosened, the top buttons of his shirt open to reveal the sharp line of his collarbone. At thirty-eight, he still had that lean, powerful build, shoulders broad from years of sorcery work, hands veined and strong as they grabbed your waist and tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing.
“You’ve been teasing me for thirty fucking nights, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice deceptively calm, the way it got right before he unraveled. “Every time I finally get my mouth on that pretty pussy, our son decides he needs Mommy more. I’m done being patient.”
He climbed over you, caging you in, and kissed you hard—deep, hungry, tongue sliding against yours with ten years of experience and a month of pure frustration. His hand shoved your nightdress up to your waist, fingers immediately finding your bare cunt. You weren’t wearing panties. You’d hoped. He groaned into your mouth when he felt how wet you already were.
“Already soaked for me? After edging your poor husband for a month?” Two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spot that made your back arch. “Look at you. My pretty young wife… dripping like a slut just from a kiss.”
You moaned, hips rolling against his hand as he pumped his fingers slow and deep, thumb circling your swollen clit with maddening precision. He knew your body better than you did. He edged you beautifully—bringing you right to the brink with those long, skilled fingers, then slowing down the second your walls started fluttering. Over and over.
“Daddy—” The word slipped out, breathy and desperate. You only called him that when you were losing your mind.
Hiromi’s eyes darkened behind his glasses. He pulled his fingers out, ignoring your whine, and stripped. Shirt tossed aside, pants shoved down just enough to free his cock—long, thick, the head already flushed dark and leaking precum. Veins stood out along the shaft, pulsing with need.
He grabbed your thighs and spread you open obscenely wide, then dragged the fat head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your entrance, bumping your clit, never pushing in.
“You want it?” he asked, voice low and rough. “After making me wait a month? Beg, baby. Call me Daddy and beg properly.”
“Please, Daddy,” you whimpered, trying to rock down onto him. “Please fuck me— I need your cock, been so empty—”
He pushed in halfway, stretching you open, then stopped. Just the thick head and a few inches, letting you feel the burn.
“Not good enough.” He rocked shallowly, only giving you that little bit, thumb still torturing your clit. “Tell me how sorry you are for letting our son cock-block me every night.”
“I’m sorry—fuck—Daddy, I’m so sorry—please, I need all of it—”
He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
You screamed, back bowing clean off the bed as his cock bottomed out, pressing hard against your cervix. He was so deep it made your belly bulge faintly, and Hiromi pressed a hand there, feeling it.
“That’s right,” he growled, starting to fuck you in long, punishing strokes. “Take every inch, sweetheart. This pussy belongs to Daddy. Not to midnight cuddles with our son.”
The wet slap of his hips against your ass filled the room—filthy, loud, obscene. He fucked you like he’d been holding back for years, not just a month. Deep, hard, relentless. Every thrust dragged his thick cock over that perfect spot inside you until you were seeing stars.
He edged you mercilessly.
Right when your walls started clamping down, orgasm so close you could taste it, he pulled out completely, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. Then he’d flip you—onto your stomach, ass up, and eat your pussy from behind like a starving man. Tongue fucking into you, lips sucking your clit, scar on his lip rubbing deliciously against your folds. He’d bring you right to the edge again, then stop. Flip you back. Slide back inside. Fuck you stupid for a few minutes, then pull out again.
“Daddy—please—please let me cum—” you sobbed the fourth time he denied you, tears streaming down your face, pussy swollen and drooling all over the sheets. “I can’t— I need it— been so good—”
Hiromi chuckled darkly, sweat dripping from his brow as he stroked his glistening cock over your trembling body. “You think you’ve been good? Thirty nights, baby. Thirty nights I went to sleep hard as a rock because you chose him over me.”
He shoved back in, folding you in half, knees by your ears in a mating press. The new angle made him hit even deeper, cock bullying your cervix with every savage snap of his hips. His heavy balls slapped wetly against your ass, the lewd pap-pap-pap-pap mixing with your broken cries.
“Call me Daddy again,” he demanded, grinding deep, pelvis rubbing your clit on every thrust. “Tell me who this womb belongs to.”
“Daddy—fuck—Daddy, it’s yours—my pussy is yours—please cum in me—fill me up—”
He fucked you harder, pace brutal, glasses slightly fogged. The headboard slammed against the wall. Your tits bounced with every thrust. You were creaming around his cock, white rings coating the base, dripping down to soak his balls.
When he finally let you cum, it shattered you.
Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave—walls clamping down violently, squirting messily around his cock as you screamed his name. Hiromi groaned, fucking you straight through it, prolonging it until you were shaking and sobbing.
Only then did he let himself go.
He buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, guttural moan, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your womb. Pulse after pulse, so much it immediately started leaking out around his cock, creamy and obscene. He kept grinding through his orgasm, pushing it deeper, making sure every drop stayed inside his pretty young wife.
Instead, he flipped you again, this time onto your side, spooning behind you. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand reaching down to lazily play with your oversensitive clit while his cock—still hard, still leaking—started moving again in slow, deep rolls.
“First round was for me,” he murmured against your ear, voice wrecked but satisfied. “Now we’re going to take our time. I’m edging this perfect cunt until sunrise. Until you’re begging Daddy to knock you up again just so you remember who you come home to every night.”
You whimpered, already fluttering around him, hips weakly pushing back.
The house stayed quiet. No knocks. No nightmares.
Just the wet, filthy sounds of Hiromi Higuruma finally claiming his wife—long, detailed, and intensely—until the sheets were ruined and you couldn’t remember anything but his name.
The bedroom was thick with tension, the kind that had been simmering for three long, agonizing months. Three months since Choso had last been inside you. Three months of him biting his tongue, jerking off quietly in the shower so he wouldn’t “annoy” you, telling himself it was fine—your son needed you more right now. The toddler had been going through a brutal phase: night terrors, separation anxiety, crawling into your bed every single night like a tiny, unintentional cock-block. Choso loved the kid. He really did. But fuck, he was only human. And his cock had been aching for his pretty wife for so damn long he was starting to lose his mind.
Tonight, though, you were the one who snapped.
You’d put your son down after another hour of rocking and stories, finally closing the nursery door with a soft click. When you stepped back into the master bedroom, Choso was already in bed—shirtless, dark hair messy, sweatpants doing nothing to hide the thick, heavy outline of his neglected cock. He looked up at you with those tired, blood-red eyes, soft and patient like always, ready to just hold you and fall asleep.
But you were done waiting.
You crawled onto the bed without a word, shoving the blankets down and yanking his sweatpants low enough to free his cock. It sprang up, thick and veiny, the flushed head already glistening with precum after months of nothing. Choso’s breath hitched.
“Baby— you don’t have to—”
“Shut up, Choso.” Your voice was husky, needy. You wrapped both hands around his massive length—still not enough to fully circle it—and leaned down, dragging your tongue slowly up the underside from base to tip. He groaned, low and broken, hips twitching.
You took him into your mouth like you were starving. The fat head stretched your lips wide as you sank down, tongue swirling, sucking hard. Saliva dripped down his shaft as you bobbed, taking him deeper each time until he bumped the back of your throat. Choso’s hand fisted the sheets, the other gently threading through your hair, not pushing—just holding on for dear life.
“F-fuck… so warm… your mouth—ahh—” His voice cracked, thighs trembling. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him messily, gagging softly when you forced more of his girth down your throat. The wet, obscene gluck-gluck-gluck sounds filled the room as you worshipped every inch—licking the thick veins, sucking on his heavy balls, then diving back down until your nose pressed against his pelvis.
Choso was panting, muscles tight, trying so hard not to thrust up into your throat. “Baby… gonna cum if you keep—ngh—”
You pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his cock. “Not yet.” You stripped fast—nightdress tossed aside, panties soaked and flung across the room. Climbing on top of him, you straddled his hips, gripping his throbbing cock and rubbing the fat head through your dripping folds.
You were soaked. Three months of frustration had left you aching and empty, pussy clenching around nothing as you finally sank down.
The stretch was brutal. Delicious. His cock was so thick it split you open, inch after veiny inch disappearing into your tight heat until you were seated fully on his lap, belly bulging slightly from how deep he was. You both moaned—loud, raw.
“Choso—fuck, you’re so big…” You started riding him immediately, hands braced on his toned chest, rolling your hips in deep, needy circles before bouncing. Your tits swayed with every movement, ass slapping against his thighs. Wet squelching noises echoed as your creamy pussy coated his shaft, dripping down to soak his balls.
Choso’s hands rested on your waist at first, eyes half-lidded in bliss, watching the way your cunt swallowed him over and over. “So tight… missed this pussy so much… been so patient…” His voice was wrecked, low and raspy.
But after three months, patience snapped.
His fingers dug into your hips—strong, bruising grip—and suddenly he took over. He planted his feet on the bed and started thrusting up into you like a man possessed. Hard. Fast. Relentless. You didn’t have to move at all. He was fucking you from below, yanking your hips down to meet every brutal upward snap of his pelvis.
“Choso—ahh! Fuck—slow down—!” you cried, but your walls fluttered greedily around him, gushing fresh slick.
He didn’t slow. Couldn’t.
His hips pistoned up like a machine, cock slamming into your cervix with every thrust. The wet pap-pap-pap-pap of skin on skin was deafening, your ass rippling from the force. He held you in place, forcing you to take every thick inch as he railed you, the curved head of his cock bullying that spongy spot inside you mercilessly.
“Three months,” he growled, voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, eyes glowing with feral need. “Three fucking months I waited. Jerked off thinking about this tight cunt every night while you were busy being Mommy.” He slammed up harder, grinding deep on every thrust so his pelvis rubbed your swollen clit. “Now you’re gonna take it. All of it.”
You could only sob and moan, body jolting violently on top of him. Your hands scrambled for purchase on his chest, nails digging into his skin as he fucked you stupid. The bulge in your lower belly appeared and disappeared with every savage thrust, his cock rearranging your insides.
First orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your pussy clamped down hard, squirting messily around his cock as you screamed, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Choso didn’t stop—he fucked you straight through it, hips snapping even faster, the wet sounds turning sloppier, filthier.
“Good girl—cum on it—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—” He flipped you suddenly without pulling out, putting you on your back and folding your legs up to your chest in a deep mating press. The new angle let him drive even deeper, cock kissing your cervix with bruising force on every stroke.
He was panting against your neck, dark hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping onto your tits as he pounded you into the mattress. “Gonna fill you up. Been saving so much cum for this pussy. Gonna make it drip out for days.”
You were babbling, incoherent— “Choso—daddy—please—too much—cum in me—!”
He snarled, hips stuttering before he buried himself to the hilt and came with a guttural moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your womb—pulse after heavy pulse, so much it immediately overflowed, creamy white leaking out around his cock as he kept grinding deep, pushing it further inside you.
But he stayed hard. Still throbbing.
He pulled out only long enough to flip you onto your stomach, ass up, face down. Then he mounted you again, sliding back into your cum-stuffed pussy in one smooth thrust and starting that brutal pace all over again. His hands gripped your ass cheeks, spreading them so he could watch his thick cock disappear into your wrecked hole, cum frothing at the base with every thrust.
“Again,” he growled, voice hoarse. “Ride wasn’t enough. I need to fuck you until you can’t walk. Until the only thing you remember is how deep I can get.”
He railed you like that for what felt like hours—switching positions whenever he felt like it, but always taking control, always making your body move exactly how he wanted. You came again and again—second, third, fourth time—until your voice was raw and your thighs were trembling nonstop. Each orgasm milked more cum out of him until the sheets were absolutely ruined, soaked with sweat, slick, and his seed.
By the time he finally collapsed on top of you, cock still buried deep and twitching with aftershocks, you were a limp, drooling, cum-filled mess. Choso pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, breathing hard, arms wrapped possessively around your waist.
“Never letting it go three months again,” he murmured, voice soft now, but still edged with that raw hunger. “Next time you’re frustrated… you come to me. Understand?”
You could only whimper and nod, pussy still fluttering weakly around his spent cock.
The baby monitor stayed blessedly quiet all night. And Choso finally got to hold his wife the way he’d been aching to—full, claimed, and thoroughly fucked.
The front door clicked shut with a decisive sound that made you glance up from the kitchen counter. You were still in your loose tank top and panties, hair messy, timer set for when you’d have to leave to pick up your toddler from kindergarten in less than an hour. Nanami wasn’t supposed to be home for hours. Yet there he stood in the doorway—tie already loosened, jacket slung over one arm, blond hair slightly disheveled, jaw tight with something dark and hungry in his usually composed eyes.
“Kento?” you asked, surprised, a small smile forming. “You’re home early—”
He crossed the room in three long strides, dropped his things, and cupped your face with both large hands. The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t the gentle, reverent press of lips you’d grown used to over the years. This was starving—teeth clashing, tongue demanding entrance, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he backed you hard against the counter.
“A year,” he growled against your mouth, voice rougher than you’d ever heard it. “Over a fucking year, sweetheart. I’ve been patient. I was gentle when you were pregnant. I waited when you were exhausted with the newborn. I held back every single night the toddler climbed into our bed.” His hands slid down, gripping your ass and lifting you onto the counter in one smooth motion. “No more.”
Your breath hitched. Nanami had always been soft—slow, deep thrusts, whispered praises, eyes locked on yours while he made love to you like you were something sacred. But the man pinning you now looked like he was about to snap.
He didn’t give you time to respond. He yanked your tank top up and off, mouth latching onto one breast, sucking hard enough to make you moan sharply. His other hand shoved your panties aside, two thick fingers plunging straight into your cunt without warning. You were already wet—just from the intensity rolling off him.
“Quiet.” He curled his fingers, stroking that spot inside you with ruthless precision while his thumb ground against your clit. “You’re going to take everything I give you today. No gentleness. Not after I’ve been walking around with a hard-on for months because my own child cock-blocks me every night.”
He finger-fucked you right there on the counter until your legs shook, then pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean with a dark, satisfied hum. Before you could catch your breath, he threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing and carried you to the bedroom.
The door slammed shut. He tossed you onto the bed face-down, the mattress bouncing under you. You barely had time to push up on your elbows before he was behind you, stripping off his shirt and slacks. His cock sprang free—heavy, thick, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. He’d always been big, but right now he looked almost painfully hard.
You obeyed instinctively, wrists together behind your back. Nanami grabbed his silk tie from the discarded pile of clothes and bound your wrists tightly, knotting it with practiced efficiency. The silk dug into your skin just enough to make your pussy clench.
He shoved a pillow under your hips, forcing your ass up high, back arched deep. Then he gripped your bound wrists with one hand like a handle and lined up.
No teasing. No slow push.
He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
“Fuuuuck—” you screamed into the mattress, eyes rolling back. The stretch burned deliciously after so long, his thick cock forcing your walls apart, bottoming out so deep you felt him in your stomach.
Nanami groaned, deep and guttural, hips flush against your ass. “So fucking tight… still my perfect little wife.” He pulled back almost all the way, then drove in again—harder. The wet slap of his hips meeting your ass cracked through the room like a whip.
He set a punishing pace immediately. No warm-up. No mercy. Just raw, animalistic fucking. Each thrust was deep and mean, his heavy balls slapping your clit on every inward stroke. The curved head of his cock battered your cervix relentlessly, the lewd squelch of your soaked pussy echoing obscenely.
“Year and a half of nothing,” he snarled, yanking on your bound wrists to pull you back onto his cock. “You’re going to feel every single day I waited.”
Backshots like this—ass up, face down, wrists tied—had never happened with him. He was relentless. Hips snapping forward with powerful, controlled force, every thrust making your ass ripple and your toes curl. The pillow under your hips kept you perfectly angled for him to destroy that sweet spot inside you over and over.
You came embarrassingly fast—the first orgasm ripping through you without warning, walls clamping down around his thick shaft as you squirted messily around him.
Nanami didn’t slow. He fucked you straight through it, pace brutal, sweat already glistening on his chest.
“That’s one,” he grunted. “Give me another.”
He released your wrists only long enough to flip you onto your back, then immediately tied them to the headboard above your head. Now he could see your face—tears of overstimulation already streaking your cheeks, mouth open in constant moans. He shoved your thighs wide apart and drove back in, folding you nearly in half.
The new angle was even deeper. His pelvis ground against your clit on every savage thrust, cock bullying your insides until you were babbling.
“Kento—too much—fuck—slow—ahh!”
“Not slow,” he growled, leaning down to bite your neck hard enough to leave a mark. “You’re going to cum again on this cock. Then again. Until you remember exactly who this pussy belongs to.”
He pounded you mercilessly, the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust. Your tits bounced violently. The wet pap-pap-pap-pap of skin on skin mixed with your broken cries and his low, ragged grunts. When your second orgasm hit, you screamed, back arching clean off the bed, pussy gushing around him.
Nanami pulled out suddenly, flipped you back onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up again. He re-entered in one brutal stroke and gave you the best backshots of your life—hips snapping like a machine, one hand fisted in your hair, the other slapping your ass hard enough to leave red handprints.
“Look at this ass,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Bouncing so pretty for me. Taking my cock like you were made for it.” Another hard slap. “Say it. Tell me who fucks you this good.”
“You—Kento—fuck—only you—daddy—please—”
The honorific made him snarl. He reached around and rubbed your clit in tight, mean circles while railing you even harder. Your third orgasm crashed over you so intensely your vision whited out, body shaking violently as you soaked the sheets and his thighs.
Only then did Nanami let himself go.
He buried himself to the hilt with a deep, broken moan, cock pulsing violently as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your womb. Pulse after heavy pulse—months of pent-up frustration emptying into you until it overflowed, creamy white leaking out around his shaft and dripping down your thighs.
He didn’t pull out. He kept grinding deep, slow and possessive, pushing his load further inside while you twitched and whimpered from overstimulation.
“Thirty minutes left before you have to pick him up,” he murmured against your ear, voice still dark. He reached up and loosened the tie just enough to free your wrists, but stayed buried inside you. “That’s enough time for one more round.”
He pulled out only to flip you onto your side, spooning behind you. One strong arm hooked under your knee, spreading you open as he slid back in and started thrusting again—still rough, still deep, but now with the added grind against your clit.
“You’re going to walk out that door leaking my cum down your thighs,” he promised, teeth scraping your shoulder. “And tonight, after the toddler’s asleep, I’m taking you again. Properly. Until you can’t remember a single day we went without this.”
You could only moan and push back against him, pussy fluttering around his still-hard cock as another orgasm started building.
For the first time in over a year, Nanami Kento wasn’t gentle.
And you loved every brutal second of it.