Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you fumbled with the key, struggling to fit it into the lock. The adrenaline made every move feel clumsy, your mind still completely consumed by what had just happened. Roman Reigns—the Roman Reigns—his smooth, rich voice, and his sweet, calm presence kept replaying in your thoughts, like a movie stuck on repeat. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you at the coffee shop, how his gaze alone commanded your attention.
You barely remembered the drive home. Everything after leaving the shop was a blur. Did you stop at all the red lights? Did you take the familiar streets or end up on the freeway without even realizing? You couldn’t even recall if you had left your half-finished latte behind or if it was still sitting in the cupholder in your car. It was like you were on autopilot, your body moving on its own while your mind was lost in the haze of him.
As soon as you stepped into your apartment, the comforting scent of pine cones and cinnamon wrapped around you like your favorite fuzzy blanket. The warmth inside was a huge difference from the chilly air you had just escaped. It was like the heat itself was welcoming you home, reminding you of how cold it had gotten outside since you left the coffee shop. The sun, which had been shining brightly earlier, was slowly dipping toward the horizon, leaving the sky pretty shades of pink, purple, and orange. The colors lightly shined into your apartment through the balcony making it feel even more homey.
The drastic temperature shift wasn’t surprising—just another typical Los Angeles evening. The day had been warm and sunny as if summer hadn’t quite let go, but by evening, those familiar cool breezes had started creeping in, growing colder by the hour. It was one of those nights where you could feel the cold seeping through the cracks of the windows, but inside, it was all nice and cozy.
You kicked off your Ugg slippers without a second thought, leaving them by the front door, too tired to care about putting them on the shoe rack. They could wait. Your keys landed with a soft jingle on the hook, and you slung your work tote over the back of the nearest dining chair, its usual resting place after a long day.
You let out a deep sigh of relief and finally allowed yourself to relax. After everything, it felt good to be home. The suds clung to your skin as you massaged them over your body, the warm water cascading down like it did every night. You couldn’t help but hum in pleasure, letting the steam and heat relax you. This was always your favorite part of the day—the moment when you could wash away everything and just be. The familiar routine followed: a hot shower, then lotioning up from head to toe, followed by a some good food. Afterward, you'd curl up, rubbing your ankles together as you lost yourself in a good fanfic or binged something on Netflix. It was your perfect form of decompression.
Once you'd exfoliated every inch of your skin and eaten, the couch practically pulled you in. Your body was clean, your belly full, and you could already feel the comforting habit of rubbing your ankles together kicking in. But not yet. First, you needed your fill of him. You grabbed your phone and settled in, sitting upright with your back pressed into the cushion, while your legs stretched out comfortably on the L-shaped section of the couch.
Your oversized t-shirt draped loosely over your body, but tonight, there were no panties sliding down to pool around your ankles like usual. You didn’t want any restrictions, nothing to keep you from fully enjoying the moment. Tonight was about pure comfort, no barriers, just you, him, and the peace of being in your own space.
You opened the familiar app, your fingers moving without a thought as you headed straight to "My Library." There, at the very top, was his glowing image, standing out above all the other audios you sometimes enjoyed but never as much as his. Those others didn’t stand a chance anymore—they’d been permanently pushed to the background, ever since he started sharing himself with this app. He was all you craved.
You’d promised yourself you’d hold off for a few days, saving his audios for those especially tough times when you needed a guaranteed release. But after actually meeting him today there was no way you could wait. He was still in your mind, and the idea of hearing him now, after he’d touched you, was too tempting to resist. Now you couldn’t stop imagining what those muscular hands would feel like around your waist, how they might slide down to slip between your legs. Those hands pressing against your body, while his fingers—so perfectly manicured—teased your clit, playing you so delicately. Your skin tingled just thinking about it.
"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, "I left my damn AirPods in the car." You sucked your teeth and let out a frustrated huff, annoyed with yourself. The experience just wouldn’t be the same. You refused to settle for listening to him through your phone speaker—what was the point if his voice wasn’t fully enveloping you from both sides? And just playing his audio from your phone while it sat awkwardly on your chest? That was downright criminal. You wouldn’t be able to fully hear him, and it would be like having to say “Huh?” during sex—an absolute mood killer.
You looked over to the TV, eyes landing on the sound bar sitting beneath it on the stand. The corners of your lips curled into a small smile. Sure, it wasn’t the same as having him whisper directly into your ear, but hearing his voice fill the entire living room? That had its own appeal. You could already imagine it—the smooth sound of his voice surrounding you, echoing off the walls, wrapping around your body. Yeah, this was going to have you on fire. Maybe you wouldn’t feel him in your ears, but he’d still be everywhere.
Thank God for screen mirroring. The TV lit up, instantly reflecting the same images from your phone, and you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy as you rummaged through the app. Your eyes stayed focused, fingers tapping and swiping as you scrolled through until you found it—the playlist of seductive narration that always hit the right spot. You felt a bit nervous as your gaze fell on the next audio. You tapped "read more," and the description had you practically holding your breath.
Can you handle the sounds of Joe in your ear when he describes himself touching you? Click here to find out.
Something deep inside told you that this man was about to drive you insane. You could already feel it coming and weren’t sure if you were ready for what he had in store.
With a steadying inhale, you hit play, sinking deeper into the couch, shifting your hips forward to get more comfortable. The initial sound of his breathing filled the room through the sound bar, growing louder, surrounding you, drawing you in as he began setting the scene.
"It feels good having you here with me, ya know..." Damn, he sounded just like he did we he had completely grabbed your attention at the coffee shop earlier. It was just so alluring. "Your body right here against mine, your bare back to my bare chest, somehow fitting perfectly."
Your tongue slid across your bottom lip, your body reacting instinctively to his words. You placed your hands on your stomach, twiddling your fingers, trying to focus. You had a pretty good idea where this was going, but you weren’t about to jump the gun. If Joe wanted to see how well you listened, you were going to listen. From the last two audios, you’d learned that he liked to be in control, liked to take his time, and you were determined to follow his lead. No touching yourself yet—that much you knew.
At least, you hoped you were right.
"Your hips sit perfectly between my legs, ass pressed against me in the most tempting way. Fuck, if I didn’t have these sweats on, I’d be filling you up right now..."
Your lips pressed tightly together, trying to hold back a whimper that threatened to escape. It was silly, really—you were alone, in the comfort of your own home, with no one around to hear you. But something about the way he spoke, made you feel like he could sense you. Like he'd somehow know if you made a sound, and worse, punish you for it, scolding you for interrupting with your needy noises. So instead, your thighs pressed together, trying to stifle the growing arousal the same way you did that suppressed whimper.
"My hands begin to massage your shoulders, doing their best to melt away any knots that got my baby girl stressed. I want you to relax, my love."
You closed your eyes, easily imagining his hands working your shoulders from behind, slowly easing away the tension as you sat nestled between his legs in his favorite recliner. In your mind, you could feel the firm grip of his fingers, kneading at your muscles, just as he described. Your body, propped up much like it was now, except this time, he was there behind you, doing all the work.
"Both of my hands slowly make their way down your arms, as if they're trying to smooth away the goosebumps rising on your skin. Goddamn, I got this effect on you, baby?"
You could practically feel the slow touch of his hands gliding down your arms, leaving a trail of heat in their path. The goosebumps rising on your skin, as if your body was physically reacting to his words alone. Your imagination was coming to life.
And yeah, he definitely had that effect on you. There was no denying it.
"Hell yes," you whispered into the air, "You just have no fucking clue," you moaned squeezing your thighs a bit tighter. You were no longer playing with your fingers but now fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Your fingers so desperately wanted to play with something.
"Mmm, I can tell. I love that I can make you crumble like this." his chuckles thrummed through the speaker and right into your chest, "Fucking weak for me like always."
"Ssss," he sucked air through his teeth, "My hands glide right back up your arms, across your shoulders, down your back, then under your arms, moving deliberately toward your breasts. Your soft skin melts into my hands—so smooth, so supple, so perfectly moisturized. It’s like your body is made for my touch." He let out a low moan, the sound cutting through the air.
"The scent of your body lingers around us—shea butter and vanilla—it’s intoxicating. You smell exactly how you look, baby. Appetizing. Ready to be devoured… every last bit of you."
You could hear him inhale deeply followed by a slow exhale. "And the smell of your juices, fuck… it’s in the air too. That mouth-watering scent I never get tired of."
Your own hands slid under your shirt, moving to your breasts, following his lead, mimicking the actions he described.
"I grab your breasts into my hands," his voice continued, painting the scene in vivid detail, "massaging them slowly, working in gentle circles, my fingers grazing inward. Your nipples slip between my fingertips with each caress, becoming the most beautiful kind of collateral damage."
The phantom sensation of his hands moved just as your own were. He made it feel so real.
Whimpers escaped your lips as you followed along, your hands moving to capture your breasts just as he described. Your fingers spread wide before closing in, applying slow, tender pinches that turn you on more than possible. Muscle memory kicked in, and you imagined it wasn’t your own hands but his working over your skin, making your nipples pebble and harden more with every stroke. You remembered exactly what they felt like. You could feel him there, touching you so intimately.
"I start placing slow, sensual kisses against the nape of your neck," his voice rumbled through the speakers, "As if it’s my way of softening the roughness of my hold on you. My lips sink into your skin just like my hands do."
The sound of soft kissing echoed through the room, your skin tingling as the scene played out in your head. It felt so real, the warmth of his breath against your neck, the slow press of his lips against your skin. Goosebumps rose on your arms as you imagined it, "Skin so soft, so pretty—just like you, baby girl."
You heard one kiss, then another, then another.
"The hairs of my mustache brush against the coiling curls near your ear," his voice continued, "I couldn’t help but kiss those too. You always say how much you hate the texture of your hair, but I love it. It always reminds me of how deeply you're rooted—"
Your heart fluttered at that, the tender detail of him appreciating the very thing you’d actually often criticized about yourself. It made the everything feel a bit more real. You imagined his lips brushing against your coils, kissing them softly, making you feel cherished.
"Reminds me of how deep your skin is," he murmured.
"Rich,"
"Chocolate," he whispered, his lips sounded like they were brushing against your skin.
"Beautiful," he finished, each word followed by another tender kiss, the sounds echoed.
"My kisses descend from your neck to your shoulder and then back up again," he continued, "I can feel you molding against me, our bodies fitting together perfectly. Little gasps escape your lips as you're falling apart—overstimulated, frustrated. You want to be touched so bad, don’t you?"
You were panting softly, those gentle breaths gradually getting a bit more intense. Your hands were still teasingly playing with your breasts. You gave a quick, desperate nod, your hair bouncing against your forehead as you did so.
"I know, mama. Daddy is going to give you exactly what you want, you deserve it."
"My left-hand keeps grasping your breast, fingers teasing your nipple, feeling it harden between my thumb and middle finger. It feels so good under my touch. My right-hand starts its slow journey down your stomach, savoring every inch, fully aware that your slick folds are my ultimate destination. I leisurely trace a path, enjoying the torture you must be going through.
As I reach your navel, I draw light circles around it, knowing just how sensitive you are there. I can feel your body shiver at my touch,"
Your fingertips follow along, drawing slow circles right where he is. Each little motion makes your clit pulse. You can feel your juices trickling down your slit, soaking into the fabric of your t-shirt beneath you. You've never wanted to touch yourself so badly.
"My middle finger glides right above your clit, making those same small circles with just the right amount of pressure—enough to get you worked up but not quite enough to leave you fully satisfied. It keeps you writhing beneath me, soft whimpers escaping your lips as you beg for more. Shit." he moans, his voice sending you to the moon.
"I might just nut from doing this to you, baby." He mumbles, he was starting to sound needy.
"My finger slips through your folds, effortlessly separating your lips and sinking deep into your pussy. Mmm, you're so tight, so warm, and so fucking wet for me. I pull it out, relishing the sensation, and then push it back in, this time going deeper. I can feel every little shudder and clench around my finger, and I go deep enough that I graze that spot inside you that makes you gasp. You try to hunch forward instinctively, chasing the sensation, but my grip on your chest keeps you stable, pulling you close to me, making sure you can feel every little thing."
The sounds of wetness fill the air, mixing with the sounds from the audio. Your fingers are deep inside your pussy now, moving in time, mimicking the pace perfectly.
"I just know you're losing it, baby," he murmurs, "My hair dangling against your skin, brushing softly as I lean in closer. My lips trail along your neck, kissing and teasing, while my fingers twist and turn around your sensitive bud. I’m fucking you with my fingers, curling and curving just right as I press against that sweet spot that drives you wild. I know it’s making you crazy, mama, that desperate need for more, for deeper, for everything."
"I know this shit is making your heart flutter," sloosh.
"I know this shit is making you question why I'm doing you like this," sloosh.
"I know this shit is overstimulating the fuck out of you," sloosh.
With each sentence, your fingers dig deeper, pushing you closer and closer. He wasn’t lying—he was talking you through it, and you were losing yourself, drowning in the wave of his words.
“I pull my finger out, watching your juices cling to it, glistening and thick. The further I pull away, the thinner the string becomes, stretching between us. We both just stare at it, like it’s got us hypnotized. It’s mesmerizin', ain't it?” His voice dipped lower, “I’ve been craving this, been too long since I’ve had you like this… and now, I can’t resist anymore.”
"I bring my finger to my mouth, lips wrapping around it slowly, teasingly. Mmm,” he groaned softly, as if he was savoring the taste. “Daddy’s been thinking about tasting you all day, princess. You taste so fucking good, like the sweetest thing I’ve ever had. Can’t get enough.” his words made your body ache for him.
With a soft chuckle, his voice came in closer. “Here, baby girl... just open up for me.”
You bring your finger to your mouth, savoring the taste, and let out a soft moan just like he had when your essence 'brushed against his palate'. The sweet, thick juices coat your tongue, warm and silky as they spread across your taste buds.
“You taste so fucking good, don’t you?” he teases with a smirk you could hear so clearly. The way he says it makes your skin heat up, and you can almost picture the way his lips are curling, just like they did earlier when he was looking at you.
You moaned in agreement. "Now it's your turn baby. I want you to put your fingers in this time. Let's see how long you last listening to Daddy moan in your ear..."
Your fingers slid through your wetness, middle, and ring finger working together as they moved in and out, curling slightly as you explored for that sweet spot. The soft, silky walls of your body hugged them perfectly, the strokes drawing out the knots in your belly as you continued to tease yourself.
“So soft and warm, ain’t it?” he asked, “Fuck, yesss,” you whispered breathlessly, sinking even deeper into the feeling. Your chest and stomach twisting from his voice and the way your body responded. “Shit feels good, don’t it?” he groaned, his voice rough, “Now you get why I never want to escape from being buried deep between those legs. It’s like a trap… those sweet, soft, gushy walls just pull me in, every.fucking.time.” His words came out through clenched teeth.. well, you just knew they were from the way he sounded and it was driving you absolutely insane at the thought of it.
You could feel your juices pooling beneath you, gathering at the curve of your ass, the fabric of your shirt barely holding it back. You knew it was already seeping into the couch, creating a mess you’d deal with later, but right now, that was the last thing on your mind.
“Look at it, baby,” he rasped. His breath hitched as if he could feel everything with you. You obeyed, your eyes locked on the sight of your glistening fingers, coated in your own wetness, moving slowly, as if you were savoring the moment with him.
“That’s it, princess,” he growled softly, “so fucking beautiful. Just like that, nice and slow.” your pussy pulsed with need. You imagined him right there with you, eyes dark as he watched you unravel.
His moans grew deeper, more ragged, and you matched the rhythm with your fingers. “Shit,” he groaned, “feel you dripping for me. Keep going, baby girl, don’t stop. You’re doing so good for me.”
Your breath was becoming more labored, each stroke of your palm against your clit pushing you closer to the edge. The way he spoke, the groans, the shaky breath, all of it made you sink deeper into the cushions of your couch. His voice alone could bring you over and over and over. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, his final words tipped you over the edge.
“Now, baby girl,” he whispered, his voice a soft command, “cum for me. Let me hear how sweet you sound when you fall apart.”
The cool, freshly laundered sheets clung to your skin as you slipped into bed after a much-needed, steamy shower. The day's stress seemed to evaporate with the rising steam, but now it was truly time to unwind and let go of all the tension that had built up over a long, demanding day. You reached for your earphones, knowing that the only thing more rewarding than this moment of solitude would be indulging in some erotic audio. Like a private hotline tailored just for you, it allowed you to surrender to the sultry, seductive voices of your favorite narrators. They whispered pure, unfiltered filth into your ears, drawing you deeper into a world of pleasure without the need for any awkward human interaction—just you, the intimate soundscape, and the fantasies unfolding in your mind.
Your panties were already pooled around your ankles, your right hand delicately nestled between your thighs, teasing and circling your sensitive pearl as you prepared yourself for an evening of pure release. In your left hand, your phone displayed the app you had come to depend on for these moments. With each swipe, the screen revealed a lineup of male voice actors, their deep tones and sultry narrations making your toes curl. Some of the voices even belonged to celebrities, their allure amplified by the forbidden thrill of hearing them narrate explicit fantasies.
One in particular, Sarunas from Insecure, had become a favorite—his smooth, husky voice bringing his character, Malcolm, the app's most beloved character to life. His words were like honey, you lost count of how many times his verbal seduction had left you trembling with need. His low, rumbling tones reached directly into your mind, conjuring vivid images of the scenarios he described. It felt as though he was speaking just to you, his tongue effortlessly fucking your ear with each erotic monologue, leaving you and countless other fans in a state of delicious delirium.
"Oh my God..." you whispered, halting your endless scrolling as something new caught your eye. The app had just unveiled a new character, and you couldn't believe what you were seeing. This was going to be the app's biggest money grab yet, and you knew it.
Introducing Joe, voiced by Roman Reigns.
"No the FUCK they didn’t..." you gasped, your jaw practically hitting the floor. Was this a dream come true? The mere idea of having Roman Reigns' voice—deep, commanding, and intoxicating—whispering in your ear was almost too much to comprehend. He wasn’t your man, but in this moment, with your AirPods snug in your ears, it was close enough to feel real.
Your fingers trembled slightly as you clicked on the tab, and a thrill ran through you as you were taken to a selection of audio stories. There were ten in total, but only one was unlocked—the rest dangled out of reach, locked behind a paywall. The silhouette of Joe’s character dominated the top of the page, a shadowy figure that perfectly outlined the familiar, muscular physique you admired. His broad shoulders, sculpted arms, and chiseled abs were rendered in perfect detail, making your mouth water.
You were tempted, so tempted to splurge and unlock the rest, but you needed to be smart. What if the voice you imagined didn’t live up to the fantasy? The economy was too tight for reckless spending, even for someone like Joe. You needed to know if he could deliver—if his voice would be as commanding and seductive as you hoped. After all, you wouldn’t buy a car without a test drive first, right? Right. You’d sample the free audio, and if it sent shivers down your spine, you’d gladly pay for the rest. But if not... well, better to be cautious than disappointed.
You clicked on the only unlocked audio titled "Watch Part 1 " and quickly scanned the description.
What happens when Joe doesn't want to touch, but simply wants to watch. Click here to find out...
Your heart raced as you took a deep breath, anxiety curled in your belly. With excitement and curiosity, you pressed the small play button, and the screen transformed into a familiar sound display, reminiscent of Spotify or Apple Music. In the center was a cartooned image of Joe, his piercing eyes and chiseled features staring back at you, commanding your attention. Below, the familiar controls—rewind, skip, play, and fast forward—were neatly lined up, ready for you to take control, though you had a feeling Joe would be the one in control tonight.
As the audio began, the first sound that filled your ears was the gentle rustling of sheets, intimate and close, as if he was right there with you. The realism sent a shiver down your spine, making it easy to imagine those same sheets you were currently nestled in being part of the scene. Your eyes fluttered shut, the world around you fading as you became fully immersed in the experience. The gentle movements of your fingers on your clit stilled as you surrendered to the moment, deciding that tonight, you would let Joe guide you. His voice began to weave its magic, and you knew you were in for a night of pure pleasure, letting him tell you exactly what to do.
He took a deep breath through his nose, the sound so close and intimate that you instinctively mirrored the action, inhaling deeply yourself. The connection was immediate, and before you could process it, his voice smooth as silk—filled your ears, weaving its spell around you, nearly hypnotizing you in ways you hadn’t thought possible.
"Mmm, glad you could make it. How was your day baby? Exhausting and stressful? Well, I'm here to relieve all that stress for you tonight. Lay back, relax, and allow me to talk you through it."
"Keep those legs open, baby... yeah, just like that. Daddy's going to sit right across from the bed and watch you make yourself cum."
His words were a dark temptation, drawing you deeper into his world. The sheer power in his voice was pulling you under.
"No. I don’t want to touch, I just want to watch."
"I wanna watch you slide those fingers up and down that sweet slit of yours, the same way my tongue does when it slowly glides up and down that clit, chasing after every drop of nectar that might escape and fall onto the sheets,"
"I can almost taste you on my tongue right now, just thinking about it. I could take a sip of you, but I won’t. I'm just here to watch."
Slowly, you slid your finger down as he described, but his voice quickly stopped you in your tracks.
"Not yet, baby. Daddy will tell you when... I promise we'll get there. But first, let me get comfortable."
The sounds of his feet shuffling against the wooden floor reached your ears. You could hear the subtle shift of his clothing as he moved, the soft rustle of fabric making the scene all the more vivid in your mind. The leather of the chair squeaked slightly as he settled in, the noise unmistakable. You could easily imagine him leaning back, relaxed yet in control, one arm draped over the armrest while his right hand lazily stroked through his beard. You were certain of it—he was playing with his beard, the subtle rasp of his fingers combing through the coarse hairs confirming your suspicion. The imagery, paired with his voice, was almost too much to bear.
"I'm drinking every inch of you in right now, that soft melanin skin and the curves of your body are being softly traced by my eyes. Yeah. you are one hell of a sight to see."
"Slip your palms over your breasts, feel those nipples get hard over your fingertips. Yeah, sweetheart. Fuck, just like that. How does that feel? Just like when I caress you, huh? My calloused hands, roaming over those sensitive buds of yours. Remember when I made you cum just from sucking on them? When I had your hands pinned above your head, listening to you whimper, whine and beg me to stop while I sucked and slurped on them? Mmm, I always enjoy how weak you can get for me."
He moaned softly into your ears as you obediently followed his instructions. For a fleeting moment, you considered reaching for your phone to pause the audio, to gather your scattered thoughts and remind yourself that this was just a recording. But the question lingered in your mind—who was this man talking to? How had this app managed to not only secure such an iconic voice but also craft such a sensual, sex-filled script that he delivered with such raw, intimate power?
It was as if he had been in your bedroom for years, learning every secret, every desire, and now he was laying them bare with every word. The way he spoke made it impossible to believe this was just a performance. He was so convincing, so achingly real, that for a moment, you almost believed this was a private call—a direct line from him to you. The fantasy he spun was so vivid, so personal, that it fed into your most delusional thoughts. The line between fantasy and reality blurred, and you found yourself willingly surrendering to the illusion, allowing yourself to believe that he was speaking to you and only you as if he knew exactly what you needed to hear.
"Now trail your hands real slowly from your breast down your belly slowly and draw light circles with your fingers. The same way I do when I want to watch you suffer. There you go baby girl. I know, I know. It's driving you insane to tease yourself so slowly. But I promise, listening to me..you'll cum harder than you ever have,"
"Now go ahead and play with that pussy for me, but take your time. I don't want our fun to end so soon."
Just as you were about to dive deeper into the fantasy, the sound abruptly paused, pulling you out of the seductive trance you had been sinking into. Your eyes snapped open and you quickly turned your head to the side, your gaze darting toward your phone, where the screen glowed faintly in the dim light. A small notification had popped up, breaking the seamless flow of the experience. The sight of it snapped you back to reality,
End of Watch Part 1
Would you like to subscribe to our app to listen to "Watch Part 2"?
-------------------------
Lolololol sorry ya'll, I like to be a tease too! If ya'll like the little audiobook oneshot idea, the next one I can make longer :) Bye!
x fem!reader
word count → 2.1k
summary → you’re their girl and they make sure the world knows it. when you’re accosted in the parking lot by a group of men with bad intentions, your guard dogs are more than happy to rip them apart.
notes → this fic is kind of dark. inspired by the vibe the usos had in their match against the mysterios at the money in the bank kickoff.
warnings → suggestive content, possessive behavior, hickies, threats of danger and SA from bad men, violence, some mentions of blood and gore, the twins are devoted to you
series masterlist. general masterlist. taglist.
You’d sat at the bar with the twins all night, allowing them to buy you drinks and whisper dirty words in your ear. It was a game the three of you often played: the two of them pretending to compete for your attention, their hands roaming your body in the dim lighting of the bar, all cocky smiles and flirty words. You’d make them work for it, more than happy to get them riled up just so both of them could fuck you stupid when the three of you got back to your shared apartment.
Tonight hadn’t been any different. Jimmy’s leg had been pressed against yours, his smile wide, looking at you like the cat who’d caught the canary. Meanwhile, Jey’s hand had moved from the back of the barstool to your hip, his hand far lower than would be considered decent. The game was afoot, but you could sense that something was off, your skin prickling with a discomfort you couldn’t quite place.
Your instincts were never wrong. You eventually realized that you were being stared down by the man at the end of the bar, his gaze unashamed as he raked across your skimpy outfit, your exposed neck, your low-cut top. When your eyes met his you saw him smirk—a disgusting, ugly thing beneath a greasy moustache. You quickly looked away, returning your attention back to the twins, hoping that the message was clear: Leave me alone.
It was rare for any man to be so bold in their interest of you. The twins hardly ever left your side, their body language making it clear that you belonged to them. Even if their body language wasn’t enough, you knew it was obvious with the matching hickeys you had on either side of your neck, the bruises practically permanent. The twins made sure to worry their teeth into the marks whenever they began to fade, guaranteeing that everyone knew you were claimed. Owned.
You’d get plenty of lecherous stares, curious glances, maybe even a few comments from the ladies on how lucky you were, but nothing more. No man in his right mind would try to approach you, not with two towering Samoans on either arm. Usually all it took was one curl of the lip, fresh grill glinting, for them to get the message.
You’d been relieved when the man finally left. You knew if the twins had noticed him there would have been a fight, especially if they saw how uncomfortable you were. They were incapable of leaving well enough alone, too possessive of you for their own good.
It wasn’t that late, but you knew the boys had an early call at work in the morning. Besides, the evening had already taken the turn you wanted. You’d seen the look the twins had exchanged, already fed up with your bratty attitude and ready to take you home to put you in your place—exactly like you’d wanted.
With Jimmy gone to the bathroom and Jey’s back turned while he paid the bill, it was a rare moment to yourself without one of them beside you. You didn’t think much about it when you stepped out of the building, keys in hand to warm up the car.
As you walked across the parking lot, you noticed the man immediately, his tall form leaned against the hood of the Mustang as you approached. Your eyes widened in recognition, your heart leaping into your throat. It was the same man from the bar, the one who had been ogling you all night. What was he doing here? How had he known which car was yours? You immediately froze, your car keys curled in between your fingers.
“Finally! Been waiting for a while, pretty girl.” His voice was oily, his expression far too smug for your liking as he pushed himself off the hood of the car to face you.
You watched him carefully, keeping the grip tight on your keys. “What do you want?”
The man laughed and the sound was ugly. “What do I want? Boys, isn’t she cute? Acting like she don’t know a real man when she sees one.”
You realized with horror that the man wasn’t alone, three other men stepping from out of the shadows to flank him on either side. They all looked at you with hungry expressions, proverbial wolves arrived to feast. Your blood went cold, instinctively taking a step back at the sight. The man raised an eyebrow, that hideous smirk still on his lips.
“Where are your little boy toys? Not here to protect you I see.”
Your jaw tightened, anger now taking a front seat to your fear. “They’re inside. So unless you want to get your ass beat, I suggest you leave.”
All four men laughed, two of them already beginning to take a few steps in your direction.
“Leave?” The man seemed amused at the idea. “But my friends just got here.”
His eyes narrowed at you and your stomach dropped at the sight. “Figured you’d enjoy this. After all, you take both of your boyfriends at the same time, don’t you honey?”
You felt like cold water had been dumped down your back, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. You took another step backwards and one of the man’s friends moved even closer, his eyes gleaming maliciously. If you ran now, you knew they would chase you. Would you be able to make it back inside before they caught you?
“You on my car, uce.”
You’d never been so relieved to hear Jimmy’s voice in your life. You whipped around and saw that the twins had finally emerged from the bar, their eyes narrowed as they assessed the situation. Jey was quickly by your side, placing a large hand against your cheek.
“You alright, baby?” he asked, pulling you close to his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair. You didn’t have any words for him, but you were able to nod, tears filling your eyes in relief and gratitude at their timely arrival.
“Pretty girl you got there,” the man said, his face still arrogant as he watched the twins approach. “Thought we’d take her for a spin. I’m sure you don’t mind.”
Jey dropped his hand from your cheek, his jaw tightening with anger as he met the man’s amused expression. Jimmy, on the other hand, looked entirely too pleased with this turn of events, a wide smile already forming on his lips.
“Oh, you tryin’ to get fucked up,” Jimmy laughed, though the sound was cold. “That’s why you out here, huh?”
Once he was sure you were alright, Jey released you, stepping forward to place his body between you and the others. His eyes were dark that your heart stuttered at the sight. There was no going back now.
“Come on, boys. What’s wrong with sharing? I’m sure your girl would like it. She looks like she would.”
Something feral glinted in Jimmy’s dark eyes. “You doin’ me a favor, uce.” Jimmy’s tone was far too calm. “Been waitin’ for a smug son of a bitch like you to cross my path.”
Jey curled his lip menacingly, golden teeth flashing in the dim light. He stood beside his brother, his eyes unblinking as he surveyed the scene in front of him. His fingers were flexing at his sides, the same way they did before a match when he was itching to fight. Itching to harm.
“That’s cute,” the man replied, sounding bored. “But you’re outnumbered. Sure you don’t want to just leave her with us and go? I promise we’ll take good care of her.”
Jimmy laughed again, now bordering on something maniacal, his grin positively wolfish. Jey, on the other hand, didn’t look so pleased, his gaze promising blood and violence.
You watched with wide eyes as the twins began to circle the group of men, their movements eerily similar to a predator stalking their prey. The men finally seemed to realize their predicament, a few of them skittering nervously around the car as they watched the twins approach.
You couldn’t remember who moved first, but it didn’t matter. The lead man had stepped back and allowed his friends to attack first, two of them on Jimmy and one of them on Jey. It wasn’t much of a fight.
Jey was quick to grab his opponent by the neck and slam them into the hood of the car, his movements fluid and clean. You watched as the man crumpled to the ground, now unmoving. Jey sneered at him, landing a particularly vicious kick to the ribs for good measure.
While Jimmy was outnumbered, it was clear he wasn’t worried. He laughed as he fought, the sound rabid as his fist collided with one man’s face. Blood spurted from his nose at the impact and you watched as Jimmy continued to laugh, licking the blood off his knuckles with his tongue. Jey was quick to come to his brother’s aid, grabbing the other man and kneeing him in the ribs hard enough to break them and watching with satisfaction as he fell to the ground.
“Oh, come on,” Jimmy complained, wiping the remainder of the blood on his shirt. “That all you got? I was hopin’ for a challenge.”
The man who had started all of this no longer had a smirk on his face, his eyes wide as he stared at his fallen friends. It was clear this was not how he expected this evening to go. He quickly raised his hands, as if to surrender. “Wait, wait, a minute. It was just a joke, fellas. Just a joke. That’s all.”
Jimmy’s eyes were wild. “Oh, a joke?” He turned to his brother. “You hear that, uce? It was just a joke. We must have missed that part, huh?”
Jey didn’t answer, already too far gone to speak. His gaze at the man was positively bloodthirsty, his teeth bared like an animal.
You watched as the twins moved forward together, their movements perfectly in sync as they grabbed the man at the same time, one fist colliding with his jaw while the other struck him in the ribs. Jimmy grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him to the ground, sharp teeth flashing as he laughed.
When both of them began their assault, Jimmy landing brutal kicks to the midsection and Jey landing punch after punch to the man’s face, you felt your stomach flip in fear. Would they kill this man?
You felt frozen in place, searching for a magic word to make it all stop that you knew didn’t exist. You didn’t dare interfere, the scene before you an uncanny resemblance to wolves taking down their prey and feasting as a pack. You could only watch as the twins continued to bludgeon the man, blood staining the cold concrete of the parking lot.
A part of you wanted to feel some kind of pity for the man. He had picked the wrong fight, unknowingly provoked two men who gave beatings for a living and was now about to pay the ultimate price. He couldn’t have known how deep their devotion to you ran. He couldn't have known how much they would enjoy this. He couldn't have known how utterly possessive they were of you.
Despite all of this, you couldn’t find it inside yourself to care. You knew what they would have done to you had the twins not intervened. Although you felt nauseous as you heard the sickening crunch of bone beneath their knuckles, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied. He was getting what he deserved.
You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the twins eventually stopped, both of them breathing hard as they surveyed the man beneath them. You couldn’t decide if you were relieved or disappointed to see that the man was still breathing, but you decided it didn’t matter.
When the twins arrived back at your side, their bloody hands were on you instantly, their eyes wide as they searched your face for your reaction. For your approval.
They’d returned to you as if you had called them back, their master that can make them heel with the snap of your fingers. They’d ripped those men apart for you and returned for their reward, knuckles bloody and eyes hopeful as they met yours.
The Usos weren’t what you would call submissive, but seeing them before you now, Jimmy pressing sweet kisses to your forehead, Jey nuzzling at the side of your neck, you realized that they were protective the same way a guard dog is protective. Submissive the same way a guard dog is submissive. They would only heel for you, the only one who could hold their leash. And they would kill anyone who got too close to their master.
Roman Reigns x Fem Black Reader | 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut | ~1,200 words
Happy reading! Read my other Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨
"You got too much free time on your hands, baby...g-gotta find another hobby besides—mmm, fffuck—thisss..."
"You really complainin' 'bout it? I don't see you stoppin' me..."
Roman had been home for only two months of his year-long vacation, but he didn't let a day go by without indulging in his favorite hobby: You.
You knew he had a point and he made it clear over and over with the pointed tip of his tongue, trailing along the slick, soft valley of your folds that he held open with his broad thumbs. One of those thumbs traveled to your clit to nudge it carefully, just firm enough to make your eyes flit open and down at him as his flickered up at you. His long, wide tongue lapped and traced your pussy lips before he kissed at them with his full ones, your eyes locked together when he removed his thumb to lock those velvety lips on your sweet spot, instead.
"God...right there," you hissed pathetically as another moan rolled from your lips, your head rolling back onto the pillow as your fists snatched up handfuls of the black, cotton sheets surrounding you. Roman surrounded you even more, his big, warm body wedged between your thighs, his bigger, muscular arms slipping around your hips, and his big, calloused hands palming your breasts as his thumbs nudged your hard nipples like they did your clit. His tongue picked up that work now, his mouth and mustache smothered with your lush wet as his tongue smothered your spot..."Right fuckin' there, unghh, I'm 'bout to cum."
You would have lifted your hips to meet more of his mouth but it was impossible. There was no more space between you both as Roman was impossibly close, no telling where his mouth ended and your pussy began as it throbbed once with that telltale heated pleasure before you fluttered on his tongue, fluttered with hot waves that submerged your body. Your moans mingled with his muffled ones that vibrated against your core, both of you savoring that sweet bliss that rocked you on the bed and rocked you on his tongue as only he savored the sweetness of you.
You were still moaning when he eased back onto his knees and pulled away slowly, his hands massaging down your body until they settled on your trembling thighs that he couldn't hold still even with his massive strength. Not that he was trying as he reveled in making you eat your words. You heard him confirm it with a breezy chuckle as you tried to compose yourself.
"Baby," you whimpered as your pleasure wouldn't let you loose, your pussy still grasping at those afterglow spasms that Roman watched with a handsome half-smirk as he pushed your thighs apart further. He wouldn't let you loose, either, his deep brown eyes slanting like he was in deep thought about what to do with you next as his hands kept you pinned to the bed.
"Still ain't tellin' me to stop, I see," he laughed softly again as you shivered from one of his hands that found its way back to your pussy, fingers lapping and tracing in the same sadistic swirls that dangerous tongue of his did. You craned your neck just in time to catch him tap his middle fingers along your clit and draw back, a sticky string of your wet following his caress. He let it drip on his tongue, his fingers seeking seconds before he asked with a satisfied hum, "You really don't want me playin' in this pussy all day, baby?"
His voice was nothing but smooth, slow bass, smooth and slow like his touch teasing and pushing into your little hole that gently expanded around his two long, thick fingers...fingers that then gently curled up to tease and push your g-spot as he caught your gaze again. He caught your pulse on his fingertips, too, the one he made quiver with his smooth, slow thrust up, deeper, thrusting a whiny moan out of your throat that you couldn't keep in.
"I-I'm sayin'...can I get a break?" you uttered and knew the answer was no before it even came out of your mouth. It was the way he ran his unbusy hand to fuss with his hair, pushing off the silky mane where it had fallen onto his forehead to grace his naked, hulking shoulders. His gorgeous face crinkled with furrowed eyebrows and cute wrinkles around his eyes at your ridiculous question.
Ridiculous because as much as your boyfriend loved to wear you like his favorite black, Nike sweatsuits as he chilled at the house with you...you loved how he wore you out, too.
Roman was a man of many tastes, enjoying his time away from work by locking himself in his study to read, whipping around the kitchen to cook family recipes, and exploring the scenic beaches and trails just beyond your backyard.
But his favorite taste was always you.
"You think you earned a break?" he asked you, his bearded chin tipped low to keep his eyes on both your body as it squirmed in the palm of his hand and your pretty face touched with awe at him. His husky tone was gruff, commanding yet whimsical, curious. Like he truly wanted you to think about it.
Yet you couldn't think about anything when Roman lazily coiled the pads of his fingers to your tender spot, over and over and deeper still. Your eyes tried to find the back of your skull as you cried his name for the hundredth time this afternoon, his delicious torture starting sometime when the sun filled your bedroom.
You weren't sure when it was ending as Roman had all the time now to perfect his persecution...
"Tell me, baby. Or you gon' cum for me first?"
"...Mm, unh huh. That's what I thought. Look at this pussy pullin' on my fingers...you ain't tired of me yet."
"C'mon, sweetheart. Get up. Let Daddy make you cum on this dick. Just one more time..."
Whether the clouds absorbed the sunrays that had scattered throughout the room, or if it was simply nightfall taking over, you were overtaken by your boyfriend who relished in you until you were fast asleep at his side, his arm securing you to his strong chest where your lips smudged to his tatted pec you lightly snored on.
Before you dozed off, you knew you'd wake up alone as Roman would be in the kitchen trying his hand at baking faiai eleni for you both to have for dinner as he'd picked up the ingredients, along with a bottle of tequila, from the store last night. That's because Roman was nothing but diligent at everything he sought to do, from his lengthy career that he worked endless days to build to the leisurely days he filled with activities to spoil you with...
"You excited to take the time off?" you inquired quietly on his first night home. He held you to his bare chest then, too, your head on his shoulder as you listened in the dark to the sigh build in his chest before it escaped his lips.
"Excited ain't the right word. Relieved, I think."
"You be workin' too damn hard, so I get that."
"Naw. I get paid real good to work hard, baby. And I love my work." Roman breathed the words with a resolute grunt, one that made you grin as you knew it to be true. But you grinned harder when you felt his arm squeeze you to him a bit tighter. "I'm just...happy to spend more time at home. You know? Spend more time with you."
.
.
.
Thanks for reading! ❤️
a/n: Don't ask me why I felt led to write this today...just know I'm madly in love with Roman more than a person who doesn't know him should be. 🥹
Summary: Bianca Belair is the EST of WWE and WWE Smackdown Women’s champion. She is considered the BESTEST that has faced many “unstoppable forces” in the industry whilst achieving many great things in her career. But what happens when the E.S.T. is faced with the C.H.I.E.F. Will these two exchange some words with each other or share a common ground?
~~
5 minutes after having the face-to-face with Becky and obviously winning, the crowd erupted in the arena, leaving Bianca quickly heading off to her locker room to change back into her regular fit.
As she walks down the long path to her locker room, she meets up with a few of the other Smackdown leading ladies. “Hey Girl, wassup” “Hey boo!” she greets them as she strolls on by.
Bianca looks at the time to make sure she’s on schedule only to see that she’s a bit late so she starts speed walking.
Looking ahead she sees Paul Heyman waiting on the side of a door
It seems like he is waiting for someone, maybe Kayla, she thought.
Not putting too much thought into it she lightly waves at him and
Bianca looks down for a quick second because something caught tries to scoot on by.
But before she even gets to pass him, she suddenly felt a big and strong muscled figure slam right into her without budging causing her to nearly knock her right down onto her feet.
She quickly took a step back and then looked.
There HE was.
HE.
The Tribal Cheif. The man that has been technically caring smackdown for months now. The man of the hour. ROMAN REIGNS.
He looks down to her level and immediately goes “Woah, excuse you?!?” he scoffed.
Bianca curled her lip and responded “Excuse me? Sir, you were in MY way.” she instantly replied.
Roman smirked at her response. “Do you know who I am? Do you know who you just bumped into just now-”
“Boy I don’t care. I have things to do right now so please spare me the lecture of your oh so “great existence” she spat back
Roman was appalled by her tone let alone her body language as she tilted her head to the side and curled her lips so she addressed him.
Bianca decided to move along, ignoring him and proceeded to head back to her locker room but before she can even get to pass him, Roman stuck his right hand out and blocked her from even trying to walk past him.
He lightly tugged on the ends of the jacket bringing her closer to him while making direct eye contact.
“Don’t get smart with me, aight” he said in a deep voice, still not breaking contact.
Bianca rolled her eyes, pushed his arm away, and continued to walk.
“Boy bye,” she said.
She turned around, scoffed, then sized him up and down as she walked toward her locker room.
She couldn’t believe him.
But she felt something as she continued her walk.
Butterflies in her stomach were forming the moment he tugged on her jacket.
She liked the sassy attitude.
Bianca ran back to her locker room with a small smirk on her face.
She secretly hoped that she would bump into him again.
the lads men making you cum on something that isn't their cock
𝜗𝜚 caleb, his fingers. he’s so careful with them at first, stroking soft over your inner thighs like he’s easing you into a bath instead of getting you off. he kisses you the entire time—on your shoulder, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—while two thick fingers push slow and deep inside, curling with that same practiced rhythm he uses when he’s calming your anxiety. he watches your face the whole time, murmuring low praise, forehead pressed to yours when your hips start to twitch. and when you cum—wet, tight, breath caught in your throat—he keeps them there, fingers coaxing you through it while he whispers, “you don’t need anything else right now. just this. just me.”
𝜗𝜚 xavier, his thigh. you were teasing him. straddling his lap during a movie, grinding just enough to get a reaction. but xavier’s the one who turns it filthy—grabbing your waist, shifting you onto one of his thighs, and whispering, “go ahead, then. use it.” and you do. you try to stay quiet about it, but it’s too much—the way his muscle flexes under you, the pressure against your clit, the way he just watches you with wide, blown-out eyes like he can’t believe you’re really doing this. he doesn’t touch you anywhere else. doesn’t even kiss you. just lets you rock your soaking cunt against his jeans until you’re whining into his neck and shaking in his lap, absolutely undone.
𝜗𝜚 zayne, his tongue. you told him you didn’t need sex, just wanted to feel good. and he said okay. said “c’mere then, lay back.” like it was nothing. like he wasn’t about to put his whole soul into eating you out until your voice cracked. zayne’s tongue is everything. he groans when your hips roll up, when you grab his hair, when you cry out like you’re overwhelmed. and when you cum, he doesn’t pull away. not even close. he groans and licks you through it, nose bumping your clit, arms locked around your thighs to keep you there while you sob into your fist. “one more,” he murmurs, already sliding back down. “lemme taste it again.”
𝜗𝜚 sylus, his bulge. he was just sitting there—hood up, legs spread, pretending to read something while you shifted restlessly in his lap. you were the one who moved first, grinding slow over the thick bulge in his sweats, and he didn’t stop you. didn’t say a word. just went still. let you do it. and god, the way it felt—warm, heavy, thick and perfectly placed beneath the soft fabric—you couldn’t help it. your panties were already soaked. his cock twitched under you every time you rolled your hips, and all he did was exhale, eyes low, voice barely audible when he finally whispered, “don’t stop.” he never pulled it out. never asked for anything. just let you rut against him like you were in heat, soaking through both layers, crying out when you finally came with your face buried in his hoodie. and even then, he didn’t move—just held you tighter. let you grind through it. let your mess sink into his clothes. he came untouched minutes later. but he didn’t tell you that until hours after. voice quiet. flushed. “i couldn’t help it.”
𝜗𝜚 rafayel, the toy he bought you. he sits back on his elbows and watches—still dressed, still calm—while the toy buzzes between your thighs. it’s sleek, curved, pink. something he picked out with far too much confidence, pressing it to your clit with a smirk like he already knew what it would do to you. and it does. your legs are trembling, body twitching every time he presses the button to turn it up, voice cracking as you sob, “please—please, rafe, i can’t—” but he just shushes you gently, palm on your thigh, thumb stroking your skin like you’re being so good for him. “you’re almost there,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “show me how pretty you look when you cum.”
a/n: hi, made these in response to this ask :) tried my best to keep things on the fluffy side, lol. these are only a few, will probably add onto this with some angsty/spicy ones at some point. also, this was my first time ever making hc’s, i hope they don’t disappoint. 🥲
divider credit: @anitalenia
ꨄ︎ mia’s absolute favorite flowers in the world are pink roses & peonies. during the early days where roman was just getting to know her, he overheard her mention it to one of her co-workers and immediately took mental note. there was rarely a moment where her apartment wasn’t full of them. he often had them delivered with lil notes saying how beautiful she was or how badly he missed her. she cherished each and every one of them. 🥺 (she still has those notes saved till this day)
ꨄ︎ there’s nothing roman enjoyed more than mia sleeping on his chest. feeling her warmth on him as he inhaled her sweet vanilla scent brought him a comfort he wasn’t sure he could describe. he often fell asleep with his fingers nestled in between her curls. if she shifted positions and rolled to her side, he’d wrap his arm around her and pull her back towards his chest, leaving a gap between them simply wasn’t an option in his book, lol.
ꨄ︎ mia would probably never admit it, mainly due to pure embarrassment, but she’s obsessed with roman’s voice. especially in the mornings/nights when he’s groggy or sleepy. she could listen to that man speak all day with zero complaints. there were times when he was traveling and the time difference was huge between them, he still always managed to find the time to call her no matter how tired he was, hearing his sleepy laugh or chuckle was her favorite thing in the world. (it’s one of the things she misses most about him)
ꨄ︎ roman is extremely protective over mia. (we haven’t seen much of this side yet because i’m a slow ass writer, but that’s besides the point) due to her working as a bartender/cocktail waitress at an upscale gentleman’s club, there have been a few instances where certain inebriated or snooty ass men have been rude to her. one of them most definitely fucked around and found out the moment roman walked in on her getting yelled at. mans literally slammed him against the wall and ended up being restrained back by security, that drunk ass man apologized instantly when he realized who he was. like let’s be real, who wants to fuck with a well-known undisputed heavy weight boxer. 😭 if it was up to roman, he’d have her quit her job and just take care of her financially, but because mia wasn’t comfortable with that, he had the owner of the club hire extra security to keep an eye on her to ensure her safety.
ꨄ︎ they’re both big on physical touch. whether it be roman’s hand on her thigh while he drove or pulling her legs over his lap while they rested, there was always some form of it when they were together. mia loved when roman kissed her temple or when he’d hug her from behind. she enjoyed giving him back massages or shoulder rubs, to physically be able to feel the tension in his body dissipate. she could tell when he had a hard day without him even vocalizing it, she’d just rest her head against his shoulder or chest and would instantly feel his body relax.
ꨄ︎ mia unintentionally has a habit of stealing roman’s t-shirts/hoodies. she lovesss his scent. whether it be his natural scent or his cologne, it’s a comfort to her. times when they had longer gaps without seeing each other she’d wear a hoodie of his to sleep, especially when she was really missing him. roman being the perceptive man he is, didn’t take long to notice, and would purposely “forget” to pack them when he’d leave her apartment. 🥺
18+ ⸝⸝⸝ 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 and body worship w/ insecure!reader
including: nanami x reader with body hair, geto x reader w/ body acne, gojo w/ small chested reader, and toji x reader with stretch marks <3
𓂃 𓈒𓏸 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 // body hair
with the weather getting cooler, shaving had slipped off your list of priorities completely. your entire life, your hair had grown back faster and thicker than you could keep up with and recently you had given up like you did every winter. it wasn’t supposed to matter.
but now…? with your husbands hands drifting lower?
you’re cursing every lazy choice you made.
it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the hairy version of you before. it was just… he had only today gotten back from his weeks long work trip. and because of that, you hadn’t shaved in weeks.
he’s never seen you this hairy. especially down there…. you’ve only been married for a year and you always, always kept yourself neat enough.
you pull away as his hands slip up your thighs so suddenly it makes him frown immediately. you hadn’t wanted to pull away at all and you’re still panting at the intensity of his lips on yours. alas, you had to. you couldn’t let him see you like this.
he had been gone for so long and the confused look that grows on his face only makes your chest ache. “what’s wrong, dear?”
you look away in shame immediately. “i don’t think we should…”
his frown deepens, “did i do something?”
“no!” the response embarrassingly quick that you’re afraid he’ll think you’re lying.
nanami scans you briefly—you’re fustered and breathing heavily. it was clear as day you wanted to go further. “then what’s wrong, honey?”
you melt at his words. you really don’t want to admit what’s wrong with you… but the look on his face forces you to tell the truth.
“well… i haven’t shaved in a while.”
he blinks as if he hadn’t expected that at all, brows quirking. “so?”
your mouth falls open. “so? so— i’m really gross down there!”
he stares at you for a long, quiet moment, unreadable. it’s the kind of look that makes you want to curl in on yourself in embarrassment and just disappear.
“gross?” he repeats, like he’s genuinely trying to understand the meaning of the word. “you think that would ever bother me?”
you shake your head quickly, pressing your hands to his chest, cheeks burning so hot they hurt.
“kento, no— seriously, it’s bad,” you whine, voice cracking. “you don’t get it. i haven’t shaved in weeks. it’s— it’s like— it’s like a jungle, okay?” you ramble, “you’re gonna see it and be like, ‘what the fuck is this?’”
your dear husband just blinks at you.
then his lips twitch, just the faintest reaction—dangerous, because you know that look.
“a jungle,” he repeats calmly. “is that so?”
you groan and hide your face in your hands. “don’t say it like that!”
he gently pulls your hands away from your face, his grip warm and steady, but there’s something new in his eyes now.
“darling,” he murmurs, leaning in until his nose brushes yours, “you’re talking like this is an actual problem.”
“it is!” you insist. “it’s gonna be prickly and weird and—”
“and utterly insignificant to me,” he finishes, voice dipping lower. “but you’re very cute when you panic.”
a whine escapes you like a child, “kento—!”
he hums, amused, sliding a hand up your thigh again—not higher, not yet, just enough to make your entire body jolt. “you’re this embarrassed over something so small?”
“it’s not… small,” you grumble defensively.
his thumb strokes slow circles against your skin, warm and unhurried. “you’re embarrassed in front of your own husband?”
“y-yes…?”
and god, that makes him smile—not mocking. soft. and somehow that’s even worse.
“then i suppose,” he whispers, lips grazing your jaw, “i should find a way to make you even more embarrassed.”
heat rises to your cheeks, scandalized at the implication. “ugh- kento!”
“because if you’re already hiding your face over something so natural…” his hand inches higher, deliberately slow, almost lazy, “…i’d like to see what you look like when i give you an actual reason to blush.”
you grab his wrist, not to push it away—just holding it, trembling. “i’m serious,” you sniff, frustration mixing with heat. “you’re not listening.”
oh, but he’s listening alright. maybe too closely.
“i hear you,” he murmurs. “you’re worried i’ll think differently of you because of some hair on you that doesn’t matter.” he nips lightly at your neck making your defenses weaken. “i won’t.”
you whimper, head dropping to his shoulder in pure mortification. “but it’s so much—”
nanami chuckles quietly against your skin, arm sliding around your waist to keep you close.
“then show me.”
“what?”
“show me,” he repeats, tone maddeningly gentle. “if it truly bothers you that much let me see it.” his fingers brush the waistband of your clothes. “i promise you, love. i’ll still want you. possibly even more.”
you shake your head frantically. “th-that doesn’t even make sense! i can’t!”
“can’t?” he echoes, voice low in a way that makes your stomach flip. “or won’t?”
you whine, burying your face deeper into him, practically vibrating in embarrassment. “kento, please…”
his hand cups the back of your head, with a sigh, thumb stroking soothingly. “my precious wife,” he murmurs, voice warm enough to melt bone. “so worried over something i find completely unimportant.”
then, with a slow, deliberate drag of his palm down your thigh, “keep whining like that and i’m going to forget you were trying to stop me at all.”
you jolt when his fingers hook into the waistband of your bottoms—not tugging, just resting there steadily like he’s giving you one last chance to run.
“ken—” you whisper, mortified. “i don’t want you to look…”
“i intend to do far more than look,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear.
your whole body trembles. “i’m serious,” you try again, voice almost a squeak. “it’s really bad—”
“then i’ll see just how ‘bad’ it is,” he says simply, thumbs slipping beneath the fabric. “and i’ll tell you the truth you refuse to believe.”
you grab his forearm, weak and useless. “kento, wait—”
he presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck.
“lift your hips.”
the words hit you like a shock, your breath catching. “n-no—”
he kisses your throat. then your jaw. then the corner of your mouth.
“lift your hips, sweetheart.”
it’s barely a whisper. gentle. patient. impossible to disobey.
so you do. enough for him to start easing the fabric down. he lays you onto the bed where you’re desperately trying not to look at him.
“stop— stop looking—”
you know he can probably see the unruly pubic hair bunched underneath the cotton of your soiled panties already.
“i told you already that i don’t care about the hair.”
the fabric of your bottoms slides lower. “i care about you.” and then lower. “and i care,” he adds, brushing his lips over your temple, “that you trust me enough to let me see all of you.”
the pants catch at your ankles, and you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment—even though every word sends heat through you.
“ken—”
“breathe,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you.”
without missing another beat, his finger hooks under the waistband of your panties. this time he doesn’t wait for permission he knows you won’t give out loud.
slowly, he slides them down your hips.
your breath trips, a tiny gasp escaping as the cool air hits your skin. you clutch at his shoulders, trying instinctively to close your thighs— but his hands are already there, guiding them open again.
now you’re bare. completely exposed to him. and nanami is kneeling between your legs, looking at you like you’re the home he’s been aching to come home to.
“kento, don’t—” you whisper, voice trembling. “let’s just stop here. don’t look, please— it’s really— it’s bad, it’s so bad—” you beg.
his hands slide up your thighs, thumbs brushing your sensitive inner thighs.
“look at me,” he says.
you can’t. but you try. you manage half a second before your gaze flinches away. nanami’s fingers lift your chin gently, guiding your eyes back to his.
“look,” he says again, softer but firmer. you gulp, throat tight, but you keep your eyes open. he holds your gaze as he speaks. “this is the part you’re ashamed of? the part you keep calling bad?”
your breath hitches audibly, your face burning so hot it almost hurts.
“i just… i didn’t take care of it,” you ramble, mortified, looking anywhere but at him. “i didn’t shave, i didn’t trim, i didn’t do anything. it’s… a lot. i- i don’t want you to think i don’t try for you.”
nanami’s expression shifts, just slightly—a flicker of something sharper beneath all that gentleness. not anger though. never anger. just disbelief that you’d think so little of yourself.
“so that’s it,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. “you think i care about grooming more than i care about you.”
“no— that’s not- that’s not what i meant—!”
“it’s exactly what you meant,” he says softly, firmly. “and you’re wrong.”
“kento—”
“i don’t want you to perform for me,” he continues, leaning in, voice dropping lower. “i want you as you are. every version. in every season.”
your lower lip wobbles, “but… i didn’t want your first night home to be ruined because i look gross. i- i shouldn’t have gotten lazy and forgotten to shave… i just thought you’d be tired tonight and we wouldn’t—”
he tsks sharply, effectively making you shut up.
nanami stares at you for a moment—long enough to make your pulse hammer.
then he places both hands on your thighs and spreads them open wide.
“my night isn’t ruined,” he says, gaze unwavering. “but maybe i’ll be ruining you for thinking so lowly of me.”
“i- i don’t—“
you gasp sharply at his words but he’s already lowering himself between your legs, the heat of his breath ghosting over your swollen cunt. “don’t hide from me. not for this.”
your thighs tremble.
he looks up at you as he leans in. reverent and hungry.
“you say it’s a lot?” he kisses your inner thigh. “good. because i want all of it. you should know that by now.”
you let out a broken, helpless sound—your hands clutching at the sheets, your legs trembling so hard he has to steady them with his palms.
and then he puts his mouth on you.
no hesitation. just a slow, deep slide of his tongue against your wet hole like he’s been waiting for this from the moment he stepped through the door.
your hips jolt, a cry tearing out of you. “kento—! oh—”
nanami groans against you, hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for him as he tastes you again—unbothered by anything except how badly he’s wanted you.
“you see?” he murmurs, lips brushing you, already stained in your arousal. “nothing here is bad…” another kiss to puncture his words, “nothing here is wrong...” his voice dips. “everything here is mine.”
he parts the pubic hair, exposing your throbbing clit.
and then he groans. a noise punched straight out of him.
“fuck…” his breath hits your skin, hot and disbelieving. “you’re asking me to stay away from this?”
your thighs jerk, embarrassment slamming through you, but it only makes his grip tighten. his thumb presses lightly beside your clit—not touching, just close enough that your whole body tenses in anticipation, arousal seeping out of you.
“look at you,” he murmurs, eyes heavy, voice ruined. “you really thought i wouldn’t lose my mind over you and this pretty cunt?”
before you can respond, he hooks his hands under your thighs and drags you closer the same he’d pull a meal toward himself.
you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders.
“w-wait—”
“no.” his voice comes out dark, final. “you’ve been whining. you’re gonna let me taste and prove you wrong.”
and then his mouth is back on you.
his tongue flattens against your clit in one slow, claiming stroke that has your hips arching off the bed. he growls into you at the movement, fingers digging into your thighs to pin you down.
“that’s it,” he mutters against you sending vibrations up your spine, already going back in, hungrier. “keep doing that.”
he spreads you wider with his thumbs, dragging them slowly through the soft, bushy curls between your legs—separating them, feeling them, savoring the sight like it’s something he’s been starving for.
he dips his head again, deliberately letting his nose brush through the thick, warm hair on your mound. he inhales—actually inhales—and you hear the broken sound he makes from it.
“you’re perfect like this,” he breathes, voice shaking with how hard he’s holding back.
then he licks you again, starting lower this time, dragging his tongue up through the wetness that’s gathered in the curls, tasting everything.
it’s obscene. filthy. almost like he wants to make you hear how wet you are on his tongue. a slow, filthy slurp sounds in the quiet room—loud enough that your entire body jolts.
your hands fly to your face, burning hot, but he’s faster. nanami presses one large palm to your thigh, pinning you open, the other sliding up to gently tug your hands away from your eyes.
“darling. don’t you dare hide from me again,” he groans against you.
he goes in—deeper this time—the pink muscle thick and deliberate as it pushes past the hair, past your embarrassment, licking a path that makes your hips twitch helplessly.
you feel his jaw working against you, slow and hungry. he’s savoring every sound you make.
another slick sound fills the air as he moves, and you choke on a gasp. his grip on your thigh tightens.
“oh- oh my god— kento!”
“listen,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “that’s you. that’s how badly she wants me.”
your stomach flips so violently you whine, the noise small and desperate.
“messy,” he murmurs, almost praising. “perfect.”
after that there’s nothing gentle left in him.
his hands hook under your thighs and he drags you even closer in one smooth pull, your hips lifting off the bed. he throws your legs over his shoulders and before you can make sense of the movement, his mouth is back on you—hard.
all thoughts leave your body.
his tongue is relentless, sliding through everything he’s already made of you—slick, hot, swollen—lapping you up like he’s starved. he buries his face deeper, the coarse drag of your hair brushing his cheeks, his nose, and he just keeps going. like the mess only makes him hungrier.
your thighs jerk around his shoulders, trembling violently, but he doesn’t let you move—his grip is unshakeable, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you.
you try to say something—his name, a plea, a warning—but all that comes out is a broken gasp that dissolves into a whimper. your voice doesn’t work. your brain doesn’t work. nothing works except the desperate arch of your back and the tightening knot in your stomach.
he tongues you in long, heavy strokes—then shorter, quicker ones—until he seals his lips around your clit and sucks so hard your vision goes white at the edges. your hands shoot forward, grabbing at anything—his blond strands, the sheets, the fucking air until you’re clawing at the mattress just to stay grounded.
your hips try to pull away, overwhelmed—but he follows, mouth locked to you, dragging you back down on his tongue until you’re shaking.
wet sounds fill the room, your arousal clinging to his mouth, dripping down his chin. every time you twitch, he presses in deeper, tongue pushing past heat and hair and any scrap of composure you had left.
your breath comes out in high, helpless little gasps now—no words, no protests, just pure need spilling out of you in every sound.
your thighs are trembling uncontrollably. your stomach is tightening too quickly, the pressure coiling and coiling until you can barely breathe.
you’re gone. reduced to a mess, feeling and hearing nothing but the sensation of how his mouth and how it sounds between your legs. every flick of his tongue, every press of his lips, every slide of his fingers along your thighs drives you closer and closer, your body trembling beyond control. your stomach is tightening into a coil that refuses to release… until it finally does.
a strangled cry tears from your throat as your hips jerk violently, your thighs clamping around his head, quivering uncontrollably. the sensation is so intense it makes your vision blur.
your hands are tangled in his hair, tugging, unable to stop yourself. your back arches off the bed, head thrown back, toes curled over his broad shoulders, mouth open in a wordless scream—completely lost in the explosion of pleasure ripping through you.
“that’s it, darling. let go.”
he coaxes you though your orgasm, milking you dry until your body is a quivering mess.
slowly, it begins to ebb—your body collapsing against the mattress, boneless, lips parted, and eyes completely glossy and unfocused.
he lifts his head just slightly, leaving a wet trail along your folds. you force yourself to look at him and the sight of the bottom half of his face coated in your arousal makes heat pool deep in your core all over again. your whole body tingles, every thought scrambled into nothing but the memory of what he’s done to you.
“so sweet,” he breathes, giving you a soft smile that makes you melt and heat and want to marry him all over again. “my goodness. my wife came so hard.”
you give him a dopey, flustered smile in return before he moves up your body to kiss you, forcing your to taste yourself on his tongue.
your legs are still over draped over his shoulders as he presses you deeper into the mattress making you gasp into his lips at the strain.
you barely have time to catch your breath before you feel him settling between your thighs, his hips slotting into the cradle of yours like they were made for it, clothed bulge staining against his slacks and pressing against your bare heat.
your hips jerking instinctively.
he groans.
“feel that, darling? that’s what you do to me.”
and that’s how you know he’ll fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.
𓂃 𓈒𓏸 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 // body acne
he knew something was wrong the second you didn’t want to take your shirt off after an intense makeout session. he knew you. and of course, your boyfriend geto had seen you naked before.
so what was different about today?
—
your body acne was flaring up again—angry, red, and painful in the worst places. no matter what medicine you applied this week, it wouldn’t budge.
he’d seen the bumps, the scars, but it hadn’t been this bad since before you had began dating him.
you didn’t want him to see it.
it wasn’t even because you thought he’d judge you—no, suguru would never. you just thought it was yucky, the acne made you feel yucky and he didn’t need to see it all.
he raises a brow, confused. “what is it?”
“can’t i just keep it on?”
he squints at you like he’s trying to read your thoughts. “princess, you know you always beg to get your shirt off when we start anyway because you run hot.”
you swallow. he’s right. “well… i just don’t feel like it today!”
there’s no teasing from him this time. no sly grin, no little laugh to coax you out of your shell. instead, he watches you quietly, something warm and heavy settling behind his eyes.
“come here,” he says, gentle.
you hesitate, but you go, letting him pull you into his lap. his hands stay on your hips, grounding.
he leans back slightly to get a better look at your face. “is it hurting again?” he asks.
your breath hitches.
“how…” you start, blinking at him.
you didn’t say anything about pain. you didn’t mention your skin, didn’t tug your shirt in a way that would’ve given it away, didn’t even glance down at the places your acne had flared up under your top the worst.
he raises a brow like the answer is obvious. “sweetheart.” he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb sweeping slow over your skin. “you think i wouldn’t notice when something’s bothering you?”
you open your mouth, then close it. you’re shocked. but maybe you shouldn’t be. this is suguru. of course he noticed. he always notices.
he huffs a soft, almost fond sound, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “you’ve been sitting different,” he says quietly. “like you’re trying not to brush your back against anything. and you haven’t leaned into me once since we sat.”
heat creeps up your neck. you didn’t even realize.
“suguru…” your voice comes out small.
“yeah,” he murmurs, pulling you a little closer, “i know.”
he presses a gentle kiss to your temple, lingering like he’s trying to wordlessly tell you there’s nothing wrong with you and nothing to hide.
“you don’t have to tell me everything for me to see you,” he says against your skin. “i already do.”
slowly his hands slide up from your hips to your ribs, slipping under the fabric of your shirt. you tense immediately, breath catching, but his palms stay warm, steady, unmoving.
“hey,” he murmurs, voice soft as his thumb strokes your side, “look at me.”
you do reluctantly.
his eyes aren’t heavy, or curious, or scanning your skin. he looks at you like he always does—like you’re the only thing in the room worth noticing.
“i’m going to take this off,” he says quietly, “only if you want me to.”
your throat works around a tiny, “mkay.”
he lifts the shirt an inch at a time, slow enough that you could stop him with the slightest touch. when the first patch of irritated skin is revealed, your instinct is to flinch away, hunch your shoulders, fold into yourself… but he pulls you closer instead.
his mouth kisses the corner of your jaw. then your cheek. then your temple.
every kiss is tender enough to ache.
“none of that,” he whispers. “don’t hide from me.”
another inch, another kiss at the base of your throat.
“it’s so ugly,” you whisper, barely audible.
he presses his forehead to yours, breath warm. “there’s nothing ugly about you.”
your shirt comes off fully, and he drops it to the side without even glancing at your body. not because he’s avoiding it—because he’s focused entirely on you.
his hands come up to cradle your waist, thumbs brushing your skin in slow, reassuring strokes.
then, without warning, he bows his head and kisses just above the irritated area on your chest, soft enough to make your eyes sting.
“see?” he murmurs into your skin. “doesn’t gross me out. doesn’t even make me blink.”
you shake slightly, not from fear—just from the way relief and want and tenderness collide all at once. he wraps an arm around your back, careful of the sensitive spots, pulling you gently into his chest, cradling you there.
“come here,” he whispers, tucking your head into his shoulder. “let me kiss you better.”
and he does. he keeps kissing your skin, always just beside the places that hurt. his lips trail along the curve of your shoulder, the dip of your collarbone, the soft skin beneath your jaw. every touch feels like an apology for the pain you’ve been carrying all day.
his hands never leave your waist. one holds you steady, warm around your middle, while the other slides gently up to the center of your painfully irritated back, fingers spreading wide and light to not hurt any pimples, guiding you closer until your chest is pressed to his.
“there you go,” he whispers, breath brushing your ear. “just stay right here.”
you melt into him without, head resting on his shoulder, hands clutching weakly at his shirt. he rubs your back in slow, soothing lines, careful of everything.
“you’re still shaking,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek. “…let me make you feel good.”
your breath catches, heat blooming low in your stomach at the softness of his voice—like he’s offering something sacred, not sexual.
“suguru…”
he shushes you gently, lips brushing your temple. “you were so worked up before. you don’t have to stop letting me take care of you just because you’re just having a bad skin day.”
his hand slides down from your waist, over your hip, slow enough to make your heart stutter. he slips it between your thighs, pressing his palm over your shorts, cupping your mound and mapping the warmth he knows he put there during the heated kisses earlier.
“you’re still warm,” he murmurs, voice dropping just a little.
your hips twitch.
he exhales a soft, pleased sound into your neck. “there she is.”
his fingers ease under your waistband—no rush, no pressure—just enough to touch bare skin.
he finds your slit, dragging a slow finger through the wetness there, and your whole body trembles in his lap.
“oh angel,” he breathes into your ear, unable to help it, “you’re soaked.”
you bury your face in his throat and he smiles against your hair, kissing your crown.
“don’t hide,” he whispers, curling his finger to circle your clit in slow, gentle motions. “you’re allowed to want this even now.”
your hips roll despite your embarrassment. his hand on your back tightens, pulling you snug against his chest, cradling you while he touches you like he’s worshipping you.
“that’s it,” he murmurs, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “just feel me. don’t think about anything else.”
your breath stutters, and he keeps his movements soft, almost lazy—like he’s got all the time in the world to unravel you.
his fingers slip lower, teasing your entrance, spreading you open with delicate, slow pressure.
“want my fingers inside you?”
you nod, too breathless to answer.
he kisses the corner of your mouth for the nod alone. “good girl.”
he pushes one of his thick fingers in slowly, the stretch making your hips jump. he swallows your sound with a kiss to your jaw, holding you tighter, rocking you gently into his hand.
“that’s it,” he whispers, moving inside you in slow, careful strokes. “i’ve got you.”
his thumb brushes your clit again, as soft as a sigh.
“just let me help you feel good,” he murmurs. “you deserve it.”
he moves inside you slowly, his finger curling just enough to make your hips twitch and he feels it how wet you are. how your body clings to him, slick and warm, like you’ve been ready for him long before he even touched you.
a quiet breath leaves him against your cheek.
his fingers glide so easily through your slick that you can hear it already, obscene in the quiet room.
god. you’re dripping. and it’s not just because he’s touching you.
because he’s him. because he pulled you into his lap like you mattered and he noticed the pain you didn’t even speak.
because he sees you so clearly it hurts.
your thoughts scatter the moment he adds a slow second finger, stretching you carefully, your wetness coating his knuckles. you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.
he kisses your jaw, steadying you. “easy,” he murmurs, voice warm. “i’ve got you.”
the words sink deep, deeper than his fingers, deeper than anything else. something inside you loosens, uncoils, melts. and your body answers before you can think—more slick spilling onto his hand, your thighs trembling around him.
you can’t stop it. you don’t want to.
“mgh… suguru… feels s’good…” you bury your face in his throat, breath shaky. he tightens his hold on your waist, grounding you as his fingers work slowly inside you, each movement unhurried, so careful.
“mhm, that’s it,” he whispers, kissing your temple. “let yourself feel it.”
you do. fuck you do.
a soft, broken sound leaves your mouth when his thumb finds your clit again, barely there strokes that make your body jolt.
you’re obscenely soaked—slick coating his fingers, dripping onto his lap, your body giving him everything without reserve or hesitation.
you’re shaking by the time he makes another slow circle over your clit, pleasure curling warm and insistent low in your belly. it’s overwhelming in the gentlest way, like he’s unraveling you with care instead of force.
your fingers clutch at his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto. “sugu…” it comes out a whisper, thin and breathless. you can’t even get his whole name out anymore.
his voice drops, warm at your ear. “mm? i’m right here.”
you swallow hard, your forehead pressing into his neck as another wave of pleasure rolls through you. you don’t know how to say it—how to put the feeling into words—how to tell him what it means that he’s touching you like this, today of all days. how he made you feel safe when you were so sure you were something to hide.
“thank you,” you breathe—so soft he almost misses it.
but he freezes for just a moment. only a moment. then his hand tightens protectively on your waist, pulling you closer, holding you like the words hit somewhere deep.
“my sweet girl…” his voice is barely a murmur, almost a sigh.
he kisses the side of your head—slow, lingering. he starts moving his fingers again, slower but deeper, coaxing, reassuring.
“you don’t have to thank me,” he whispers, brushing his nose against your cheek. “i always want to take care of you.”
your breath stutters when his thumb catches your clit with more pressure, making your hips jerk helplessly in his lap. you’re so wet it’s almost embarrassing—slick dripping down his fingers because of his honeyed words, pooling warm against his palm.
but he doesn’t comment. he just holds you through it, guiding your motion, keeping you grounded.
“suguru,” you gasp, voice trembling, “it’s so— ah— so much.”
“i know,” he murmurs, kissing beneath your ear, “but you’re doing so well.”
you nod against him, eyes squeezed shut, letting yourself melt into every slow press of his fingers, every warm breath on your skin.
“i’m here,” he repeats softly, thumb stroking your clit in gentle circles. “you wanna cum for me soon?”
“mmmh— mhm…” your hips rock into his hand harder without meaning to.
you’re giving him everything. and he’s holding all of it like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
your breathing turns uneven, shallow, every exhale catching on the next slow curl of his fingers. the pressure builds so quickly you almost don’t notice it at first—like warmth pooling under your skin, growing hotter, tighter, harder to contain.
“fuck- m’gonna—”
“i know angel,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, your jaw, anywhere he can reach. “i can feel it.”
your hips jerk again, helpless, grinding down into his hand because you can’t stop yourself. you’re shaking, thighs trembling around his hand, slick dripping messily onto his palm with every movement. he groans softly when he feels it—soft, breathy, more emotion than hunger.
“let it happen,” he whispers, voice steady, thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. “you don’t have to hold back.”
your breath catches hard—your whole body tightening around his fingers, heat spiraling upward so fast you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but cling to him.
“suguru—” his name breaks on your tongue, fragile and desperate.
his arms wrap around you, keeping you anchored. “i’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin. “come for me, sweetheart.”
the words hit you like a shock.
your body pulls tight—every muscle trembling—and then it breaks. the pleasure crashes over you all at once, sharp and warm and overwhelming. you gasp, then sob out a soft, broken sound as you come, clenching around his fingers, your slick spilling over his hand in hot, pulsing waves.
he holds you through all of it.
one arm around your waist, holding you steady on his lap.
the other still working you gently, coaxing you through your release with soft, slow strokes.
his mouth pressed to your temple whispering, “that’s it… that’s it… i’ve got you… you’re okay…”
your thighs tremble uncontrollably, your fingers twisting in his shirt as you try to pull in air.
the aftershocks make you whimper, your hips twitching weakly, and he slows immediately—softening every touch, kissing your cheek as if to soothe the tremble in your body.
“there you go,” he whispers, stroking your side with his free hand. “breathe for me. that’s it.”
you melt against him, exhausted, still shaking.
he just holds you like he has all the time in the world. like being your anchor is the easiest thing he’s ever done.
𓂃 𓈒𓏸 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 // small chest
lately, you’ve been more particular about them than usual.
you blame it on that girl who was pressed up against your boyfriend at a party—her breasts the complete opposite of yours—full and pushed together in a way yours would never be.
the image stuck with you longer than it should’ve.
and the worse thing was, it wasn’t even her fault you were feeling this way. she was fucking drop dead gorgeous with tits that sat maddeningly perfect in her tight top—tipsy with no idea the man who looked like he’d been handcrafted by the heavens already had a girlfriend, (a lame looking one) she came up to your man with a confidence you didn’t have.
though, when she learned you were his girlfriend later, she apologized profusely.
that only make you feel even worse at how quickly something ugly and jealous twisted low in your stomach when you saw them next to each other (even after satoru had made a face at her and pushed her away in less 2 seconds).
less than a week later, you’re lying on the couch with said boyfriend, one leg draped over his lap, absently scrolling through your phone.
the afternoon sun spills across the room, warm and lazy, and you feel safe enough to speak without thinking. you always do.
“hey…” you murmur, almost to yourself. “do you ever wish i had bigger boobs? so you could… y’know…feel them more?”
gojo freezes mid inhale. actually freezes.
then he sits up so abruptly your legs slip off his lap, eyes blown wide with something like pure, offended, disbelief. “what?” he blurts, staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost. “wait—wait. you actually think that?”
heat floods your face, realizing the gravity of your words. “i- i mean… it’s dumb, i was just—”
“no.” he cuts you off instantly. “no. absolutely not.”
he cups your face in both hands, leaning in with that rare seriousness that always makes your stomach twist. “baby, how could you even think that?”
“well— sometimes i notice other girls, and—”
“stop.” he interrupts firmly, eyebrows drawing together like the thought physically pains him. “stop right there.”
you gulp. “you asked! i just meant—like, hypothetically—”
“no,” he says again, softer but still insistent. “i don’t want to hear it. because it’s wrong. you are perfect. these?” he gestures to your chest, cupping your tits carefully, “they’re perfect. i love them. every little bit. do you understand?”
your cheeks burn at his words and touch—yet you still retort, “but… they’re… so small.”
he groans—dramatically, exasperatedly, forehead dropping to your shoulder like you’re killing him. “small?! so?? do you know how much i love that?”
his hands creep under your shirt and then slide up your sides, warm.
“they’re soft,” he continues, kissing along your neck, “they fit perfectly in my hands…” another kiss, “…and you have no idea how much i think about having them in my mouth.”
your face burns instantly. of course he would be like this. you shouldn’t have said anything.
“satoru— stop—” you whine.
your breath catches, heat pooling low in your stomach as his thumbs creep under your bra without warning, brushing lightly over your nipples.
he lifts his head, eyes molten and earnest.
“i mean it. i want you exactly the way you are. i love exactly the way you’re made.” he sees your still unconvinced look and sighs.
“fine. i guess i’ll just have to show you how much i love them…” his fingers trace gentle circles over your chest. “these perfect little things of yours…”
“shut up.” you stammer, cheeks flushing further.
he doesn’t wait another moment before cupping your breasts completely with warm, soft palms. your breath catches, hips pressing slightly toward him.
“you’re so soft,” he murmurs, thumb brushing lightly over a nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers. “i love this. i love you.”
you whine softly, heat pooling low in your gut at his earnest words. yet you still ask, just to be sure, “do you really…” your voice trembles, barely audible, “…love them that much?”
he looks up at you with wide eyes like you’ve asked the saddest question in the world.
“baby,” he breathes, “i adore them.”
without a moments hesitation, he pushes your shirt and bra all the way off. his lips close around your nipple, sucking, making your back arch immediately.
you let out a small gasp and he hums against the flesh.
he presses you back into the couch with one unhurried push of his palm, settling his weight between your thighs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. his hands slide up your ribs, slow and sure, until he’s cupping your tits again as if he’s been waiting to touch you properly the whole day.
“shit,” he exhales, almost to himself, thumbs brushing over them in deliberate, lazy circles that make your stomach twist. “look at you.”
he doesn’t give you time to be embarrassed again. he’s already lowering his mouth, kissing the soft swell of one breast, and then the other, lips trailing heat until he’s right where you need him.
“satoru!” you gasp when his tongue flicks lightly over your nipple—once, then again, slower, like he’s savoring every second.
your hands fly to his shoulders, nails curling into his shirt as your hips lift helplessly toward him.
“yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, breath warm, mouth shaping around you, “that’s it. let me make you forget everything else.”
his mouth closes over your nipple again, and this time there’s no patience in him at all. he sucks hard, tongue dragging over you, teasing, licking, biting just enough to make you gasp, shiver, and arch into him all at once.
his hands cup every inch of your small breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples again and again, kneading, worshipping them like he can’t get enough.
“fuck, you’re perfect,” he groans, teeth grazing the sensitive tip, mouth hot and desperate. “i could do this all day…”
he bites lightly, above the nub, marking you, and groans as your hips jerk against him. “so soft… ngh— so fucking good,” he rasps.
his one hand move faster now, fingers tweaking one while his mouth trails kissing the curve of your other breast, teasing the underside, sucking, licking, and marking every inch.
you whimper, voice trembling, hips pressing helplessly into him.
his hands trail lower, teasing along your sides before slipping under the waistband of your pants. your breath catches, hips jerking instinctively, and he hums low against your chest—a guttural, hungry sound that makes you clench around nothing once more.
slowly, he drags your pants down your legs along with your panties, leaving you completely bare, every inch of your slick, glistening folds exposed in the afternoon light.
and then he frees himself to press his cock into your wet heat.
it’s slow and heavy in the best way—the perfect weight of need pressing into you, making your back arch and your hips tilt into him without thinking.
he uses the movement to his advantage, hands returning to your chest, rolling your nipples between his fingers as his cock rocks with meticulous precision against your cunt. each slow grind drags fresh waves of fire up your spine.
the slick between you spreads, coating him, warm and sticky, and you gasp at every drag, fingers tangling in his snowy hair, pulling him closer.
“so wet baby for me baby…” he lets out rough with want, lips dragging from your jaw to your collarbone and back down, kissing the swell of your breasts, teasing each peak. “you feel so good.”
it should be you that should be saying that.
satoru doesn’t rush, but every movement is designed to consume you—his hardness dragging across your slit repeatedly, until his thumb joins in, circling your clit in torturous, exquisite precision. each rub makes your stomach coil tighter, chest rising with uneven, shallow breaths.
you whimper, and he groans, teeth grazing your shoulder, lips pressing to your neck, marking every inch of your skin reacting to him.
all the while, his hands never stop kneading your breasts with obsessive devotion, thumbs rolling over nipples that are hard under his touch.
his lips find yours again, messier—tongue sliding, teeth grazing, moaning into your mouth as your knees tremble and hips jerk.
“god, i love you—” he grinds against your clit, slow and deep, the head of his cock hitting it so that it makes your whole body jerk, “haah— i love these pretty little tits…” he squeezes them both, reverent and filthy all at once. “…and this— ugh—gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”
a whine punctures out of you and you’re too gone for any response to form.
you love him so much. you really do.
but you’re too gone in him to say the 3 words back.
you try to show it instead in the way you look at him, you really do. your nails drag down his shoulders, hips bucking, heat pooling so intensely you feel dizzy.
“you feel that?” he rasps, dragging himself through your slick again, the sound obscene. “you’re dripping, baby. fuck—”
he pulls back just enough to look at you. your hair messy, lips swollen, chest littered with love bites and heaving in his hands.
he leans in just slightly, and your bodies shift together naturally. his cock brushes through your slick again—not purposeful this time—just the inevitable result of how close he is, how tightly your legs cradle his hips, how desperate his hands are on your chest.
his focus is nowhere near his own body. he’s buried in you—mouth at your neck, breath warm, kissing down the slope of your breast like he’s memorizing every inch. his hands never stop showing his devotion to you, kneading gently, rolling your nipples between his fingers with this shaking devotion like he’s afraid he’ll never get enough.
you gasp when his teeth graze your chest once more, your back arching into his palms—and that slight arch guides him lower. your thighs pull him in closer without you realizing, and he just follows, shuddering, lips parted against your skin.
your nipple brushes his mouth, soft and perfect, and he exhales a broken, helpless sound against you—and that’s when it happens.
not planned. not even conscious.
his cock slips inside you.
his mushroom tip pushes into your entrance in one smooth, wet glide—so easy, so shockingly perfect that both of you gasp at the exact same time.
his breath catches hard in his throat.
your fingers clutch at his back instantly, a soft, strangled sound escaping you as your body opens around him, warm and tight and instinctively welcoming him deeper.
his whole body goes rigid, trembling.
he didn’t mean to, hadn’t been paying attention—too caught up in worshipping your tits, your sounds, your warmth, the feeling of your nipples perked under his thumbs.
“oh—” he chokes out, voice cracking, forehead dropping to your breast. “baby…”
satoru doesn’t pull away. doesn’t stop. doesn’t even speak again.
he just… sinks deeper.
guided by the slick and the way your hips tilt up for him without thinking, his cock pushes into you. he keeps mouthing at your chest as he pushes deeper, breaths shaking against your skin like he’s overwhelmed to the point of breaking.
you feel every inch of him filling you, stretching you, sliding into the softest parts of you.
his fingers tighten around your breasts, holding you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world.
when his hips finally meet yours, when he’s fully inside you, he lets out a sound you’ve never heard from him—something small, broken, reverent, like a prayer whispered into your skin.
“you feel… so good,” he murmurs, dazed and breathless, lips brushing your breast as he lifts his head just barely. “didn’t… didn’t mean to— but god…”
your eyes meet, his blown wide, soft with awe, completely undone.
“you’re perfect.”
you throw your head back, his unstopping praise combined with him inside you all too overwhelming.
he snaps.
the sight of you—neck arched, lips parted, breasts lifting into his hands as you gasp around him—breaks something in him clean in half. all the careful worship, all the soft kisses, all the restraint he didn’t even realize he was holding vanishes.
a guttural sound rips from his chest as his fingers tighten around your breasts, squeezing. his hips lurch forward, not slow this anymore—just pure instinct, pure want, pure need.
“fuck—” he breathes, voice wrecked, “baby, i can’t—”
he pulls out and then thrusts again, harder, the slick heat of you pulling him in like nothing has ever fit him so well. he buries his face in your neck, kissing you, breathing you in, almost shaking with how good you feel.
your gasps turns into a choked moan, your thighs clamping desperately around his hips.
“satoru—!”
that’s all it takes.
he groans into your skin, hips snapping into you again, the sudden intensity making your body jolt up the couch. he pulls almost all the way out before driving back in, the wet slap of your bodies meeting echoing in the thick, breathless air between you.
“you’re so—” he pants, kissing your collarbone hard, “warm and tight—fuck, baby, i’m losing my mind—”
his hands don’t leave your chest.
even as he thrusts into you, even as he fucks you with this raw, hungry desperation, his palms keep cupping your small breasts, holding them like they’re the center of his world. thumbs brushing over your nipples, fingers squeezing when your breath catches, worship and possession tangled perfectly together.
“look at you,” he rasps, pulling back just enough to see your face, his hips still moving, slow but deep, controlled only by a thread. “you’re—god—you’re perfect, you hear me?”
you whimper—a trembling, breathless sound you can’t stop—and his eyes flicker, pupils blown, jaw clenching like the noise punched straight through him.
“don’t- don’t make that sound,” he whispers, voice cracking as his hips slam into you again, harder this time. “i’ll lose it. i’ll fucking lose it—”
he grabs your thigh, lifting it higher around his waist, sinking even deeper into you. you feel him everywhere—heat, weight, breath, lips, hands—and you can’t tell where your body ends and his begins.
your hips jerk up into his without thinking, needing him closer, deeper, more—and he breaks again.
“baby—please,” he groans, forehead pressing to yours, thrusts turning messy, hungry, like he can’t control himself anymore. “i need you—i need you so bad—”
he kisses you—deep, messy, and desperate—his mouth claiming yours with the same intensity as his hips.
he doesn’t stop—he can’t—but the rhythm falters, growing shaky, every thrust needier than the last.
“wait—” he pants, though he doesn’t slow at all, “baby—hold on— i’m… fuck—”
his voice cracks, hips stuttering as your walls clench around him. his eyes squeeze shut like he’s in pain, head dropping to your shoulder.
“shit— shit— don’t do that—” he groans as you unintentionally tighten again, his entire body jerking against yours. “i’m gonna—i can’t—”
your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and a broken noise tears from his throat, raw and helpless.
he’s right there.
already.
you can feel it in the way his breath catches, in the way his thighs shake against yours, in the way he claws at control with both hands and still slides deeper into you like he’s drowning.
“baby…” he whispers, voice shaking, chest pressed to yours, “i’m— gonna cum—fuck—”
“m-me too— sa—ah! satoru—”
your voice breaks apart as your hips meet his in frantic, messy rhythm. his forehead drops to yours, breath hot and trembling, like he’s barely holding himself together.
“stay with me,” he pleads.
you nod, nails dragging down his back, trying to keep him close as the pleasure coils tight and sharp inside you. his thrusts stutter, rhythm falling apart, a strangled sound tearing from his throat.
“shit— baby—please—”
your cry shatters when it hits you, pleasure exploding through you hard enough to arch your back off the couch. your thighs clamp around his hips, your whole body shaking as you cum, helpless and loud.
he feels it—feels you clench around him—and it ruins him.
“oh— f-fuck—” he moans, voice cracking as he spills inside you, hips jerking uncontrollably. he collapses onto you, still trembling, still pulsing, his mouth pressed to your shoulder as he tries to breathe.
you hold him through the aftershocks, both of you shaking, chests rising against each other, neither willing to move.
finally, he exhales a shaky laugh against your skin. “you made me bust in like— ugh- five minutes. that enough proof you’re perfect?”
you groan a half hearted, “shut up” but you can’t hold your grin back. “i love you idiot.”
𓂃 𓈒𓏸 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 // stretch marks
you’d been standing in front of the bathroom mirror longer than you realized, towel loosely wrapped around you, hair half damp from your shower.
your gaze kept drifting to the faint lines along your hips and ass, and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes at them.
so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice your perv of a husband sneaking into the doorway, leaning casually with that infuriating smirk on his face.
with all your years with him, you still didn’t know how the fuck such a large, beefy man could be so quiet sneaking up on you.
“hey,” he drawls. “what’re ya doin’ doll?”
you startle, spinning just slightly and tightening your towel around yourself. “nothing,” you mumble, cheeks heating.
“towel for what?” he asks, stepping into the bathroom, eyes narrowing playfully as he tilts his head. “nothin’ i haven’t seen.”
you glance away, focusing on the counter instead of him, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way you’d been looking at the faint stretch marks along your hips.
toji chuckles that infuriating sound that always makes you want to roll your eyes harder. “hmmm, sure looks like somethin’,” he says, door, arms crossed. “you’re actin’ all suspicious, ma. what’re you hiding?”
you huff, shooing him away. “i’m not hiding anything. just… checking something,” you grumble, avoiding his gaze in the mirror.
“checking?” he repeats, one brow raised. “right. checking your ass for…what? quality?”
you groan, hitting his beefy arm, doing no damage at all.
of course he saw. the bastard just wanted to tease you.
“stop. you’re ridiculous! at least close the door! you’re letting all the cold air in—”
he grins, closing the door and only stepping closer, thumbs brushing lightly over the curve of your waist over your towel. “ridiculous? baby, you’re the one giving me that look like you’ve caught some crime scene back there.”
“it’s annoying, okay? that’s all,” you snap, exasperated, folding your arms over your chest. “these stupid lines— just… it’s whatever.”
his large hands slide to the sides of it, giving it a cheeky tug. “come on, i wanna see what’s got you so worked up.”
“toji!” you exclaim, yanking it back.
he just laughs, that deep, rumbling laugh that makes it impossible to stay mad. “nah. lemme see doll,” he says, tugging again—this time firmly—and before you can react, the towel slips from your body, leaving you completely exposed to him.
“tojiiii!” you whine, flustered, trying to cover yourself with your hands.
he doesn’t even flinch, smirk growing wider. “jesus, ma, it’s just you. nothing i haven’t seen before.” his large hands land on your hips, thumbs brushing over the faint stretch marks along your ass and sides. “this is what’s got your panties in a twist? baby, your stretch marks?”
you groan, crossing your arms over your tits, trying to cover yourself even though he’s clearly not taking you seriously. “i’m not… they’re just annoying, okay? they’re ugly lines and—”
toji snorts, making your thoughts haywire as he leans in closer, “ugly? you’re ridiculous. i think they’re hot.”
you freeze, jaw dropping slightly. “…hot?”
“yeah,” he grunts, thumbs sliding over your hips again, brushing right over the faint stretch marks on your ass. “hot. makes me want you even more. think i’d complain about a few ‘lines’?”
you groan, pressing your face into your hands, cheeks burning. “you’re impossible.”
“and you’re the sexiest woman in the world.” he grins wickedly.
“fuck off,” you groan again, shaking your head. yet you can’t hide the tiny, begrudging smile weaseling its way towards your lips, “stupid man.”
“mhmm,” he responds, hands sliding lower to rest just above your thighs, thumbs tracing lightly over the curves of your hips, “but this stupid man knows exactly what he likes…”
he murmurs, leaning even closer, and then spinning you around to face the mirror so his chest presses against your back. his thumbs slide lower, brushing over the tops of your thighs, guiding your bare, damp body flush against the cool surface of the counter.
you let out a groan, pressing your hands flat against it for balance, the slight chill against your wet skin doing nothing to dull the heat pooling between you.
toji against you presses harder, his hands firm on your hips, thumbs tracing the faint stretch marks along your ass and sides. “all of this? mine,” he says lowly, lips brushing against your ear.
your body shivers, the mirror reflecting both of you—his wicked grin, your flushed, damp skin, the way his hands claim you without reservation.
his hands linger on your hips, thumbs brushing over the stretch marks you were trying to ignore. the mirror catches every flicker of expression—your jaw tight, lips parted, eyes darting, caught between irritation and something else.
he shifts slightly, pressing closer, and his fingers trace lower along your thighs. his fingers don’t stop sliding until reaching right along the slick heat between your thighs, teasing over your folds with slow, deliberate pressure.
you hiss, pressing back into him, hands gripping the counter like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.
“fuck… toji—” you breathe, but your tone’s half scold, half all consuming heat.
he chuckles and presses himself against your ass, just so you can feel him beginning to harder, jaw brushing your shoulder. “yeah, you’re soaked for me already, baby. not just from the shower, huh?”
your hips jerk against his hand despite yourself. “shut up!”
he ignores you completely, “mmmh, this is my favorite thing. you love me knowing exactly how wet you are for me, don’t ya?”
you groan, head dropping forward, eyes closing, trying to hide the flush spreading down your neck. “ugh— you—”
he hums against your skin, teasing your ear. “don’t fight it, baby… i wanna feel everything.”
your hands leave the counter to grip his arms, trying—and failing—to push him away, but he’s too strong, holding you flush against him, pressing his finger deeper in to make you shiver.
“you’re so wet…” he growls, slipping another finger inside without warning, curling it just enough to make you gasp and arch into him. “all for me, doll… huh?”
you can’t respond, only let out a broken whine, hips rocking instinctively, body trembling.
“you’re driving me crazy.” his other hand slides down to your ass, squeezing lightly, thumbs brushing over the stretch marks that had annoyed you just moments ago. “these stretch marks? they make me want to fuck you senseless right here.”
your knees threaten to give out, and the only thing stopping you from collapsing fully is the counter and him. your towel forgotten, body bare, leaking, and shivering under his touch.
“toji— please…” you gasp.
he growls, satisfied, pressing you harder into the counter. “fuck, ma… that’s it. beg for it.”
he curls his fingers inside you again, slow, merciless, watching you crumble against him.
toji’s fingers slide out one last time, dragging through your slick heat before he pulls back just enough to let you feel the emptiness. you whine, hips trembling, already aching for more.
he smirks, chest pressing against your back, large hands gripping your hips like he owns you. “look at yourself,” he grunts, gripping your cheeks with his fingers stained in your own arousal so you’re forced to see your reflection in the mirror. “watch what i’m gonna do to you.”
you swallow, face heating, cheeks burning, heart hammering. “toji… i— ugh, stop teasing—”
“nah,” he interrupts, low and rough, teeth grazing your shoulder as he lines himself up. “gonna make you watch yourself get fucked.”
before you can blink, the tip of him presses against your wet entrance and you can’t help the gasp that escapes. “fuck… oh god—”
“shit… my little wife’s dripping just for me,” he growls, pressing in slowly, giving you a moment to feel him stretch you, watch yourself in the mirror arching under him. “look at that… you like this, huh? gettin’ fucked right here so i can prove i don’t give a fuck about your stretch marks?”
he slaps your ass to emphasize his words making you whine and arch into the counter.
“toji… move— please—!”
he smirks against your shoulder, tilting his hips just enough, filling you inch by inch. “beggin’ for it now huh?” he cuts himself off with a groan. “god— ya feel like heaven…” he grips your jaw, forcing you to pry your eyes open. “see yourself, doll? look at how perfect you are f’me.”
you obey, watching the ruined woman in the mirror, eyes half lidded, “uh— uh-huh…”
toji starts a slow rhythm, hips rolling, pressing just right, dragging out every gasp and whine that leaves your lips.
your hands clutch the counter desperately. it’s too much.
“can’t even believe you hate these. they make ya so hot.” he brings his palm down to your ass again making you clench around him, the recoil echoing. “love this ass no matter how much you hate these stretch marks. gonna make you like them too.” he murmurs, squeezing to soothe it.
at his words, you squeeze around his cock. hard enough for his eyes to roll back.
you see it all. he tries to pretend it never happened, slapping your ass again, “say thank you.”
“h-huh?” another slap, your breath fogs the mirror, “ah—! mpfhh— th-thank you toji—”
he gives your ass a pat, admiring his work, “goood girl,” he drawls, rewarding you by ramming into you harder. “thank me for loving every inch of you.”
his hands move to your shoulders, gripping you so he can piston into your cunt.
“mghh— tojiii!” you moan, head dropping for only a second.
“tch. look at me.” he grunts, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking, forcing your glazed eyes to lock onto his smug expression through the mirror. “watch how pretty you look when you’re full of me. so dumb already aren’t ya?”
his thrusts turn relentless, each one stealing your breath as the mirror fogs with your moans and sweat.
“n-no! m’gonna cum!” your hands flail—the counter isn’t enough anymore. you need him.
he scoffs. “already?”
you grip his arms, “mmmh! y-yeah—”
toji pushes you forward until your hands are flat against the cold mirror, your chest pressed against the glass. you’re a wreck. he leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, a hot and heavy body pinning you in place, trapping you.
“then cum for me.”
you do.
but still, he doesn't let up—driving into you through every gush, every clench.
“that's it, ma,” he murmurs against your neck, breath ragged. “ya feel so good coming on my cock.” his hips snap harder, chasing his own edge. “gotta make you take more... gonna fill you up just like this...”
“nghh— toji! s’too much!”
he groans in your ear, the sound deep and rich. “no such thing, baby.” his hand moves up your body, gripping your throat and you watch him in the mirror. he twitches inside you and reaches his high right there, hips stuttering as he fills you deep. your second orgasm comes too, piggybacking off the first.
he keeps his face buried in your shoulder, breath hot on your skin. it's only when you shift under him that he speaks again.“still hate those stretch marks of yours?”
“no…” you pant heavily. “not anymore.”
he smirks. “good. now you can ride me in reverse so i can get a nice little view.”
suuper self indulgent (but when am i not?) this is basically a list of my insecurities lmaoo
on a more serious note, i hope this was comforting and relatable! and to everyone reading this—you’re gorgeous and perfect just the way you are <3
