[puprut]

DARK CONTENT FOCUSED BLOG

CONTAINING BUT NOT LIMITED TO: NONCON/DUBCON. STEPCEST/INCEST. PISS KINK. YANDERE. VIOLENCE. DRUGGING. DEGRADATION. 

NO MINORS ALLLOWED. HATE ANONS DELETED. CURATE  YOUR OWN ONLINE EXPERIENCE — BLOCK & MOVE ON IF  YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE. THIRSTS ARE WELCOME.

+ MASTERLIST

[puprut]

Now if I said zanka x reader x goka where they're not so silently in a competition to see who can fuck you the best ... would I be hung in the town square??

[puprut]

Bro being a pantie stealer and getting caught while doing it..

cws // male reader but its only like 1 or 2 lines at the end that reveal it, so it can be read as gn!reader up until that point. unedited.

He hadn't meant to make it a habit.

He hadn't meant to make it anything.

He had planned to throw your laundry in with his since you had done him a solid with Dear a few weeks ago, agreeing to watch the grumpy kid while Bro had reluctantly went along with a few of the other guys from HQ to a bar. It had been... weird.

He couldn't remember the last time that he had gone out without being accompanied by Guita's chatter in his ear or Dear's hand gripping the back of his shirt while he trailed behind them. He never thought about pawning them off on someone else while he roamed the streets – he had done plenty wandering in his younger years, and it had been fun, but he had left that behind when he decided to put on the cap of 'father figure' and he didn't miss his life before that one bit.

He had never seen himself as someone's parental figure, never having wanted kids of his own when he was younger, but he had taken the change in stride and found that he was actually good at it, and most important of all, that he liked it.

So, it had been an ordeal to get him to agree to going out in the first place, but enough of Enjin's bitching and Gris's coaxing had worn him down to the point he had given you his best pleading look while nudging Dear in your direction. You had agreed, happily, and Bro had catalogued the sight of your smiling face as you squatted down to his son's level and tried to make conversation, not letting the frown and silence deter you.

Being as though you had been so cool about it, and the fact that he had come back to you and Dear engaged in a serious game of 'the floor is lava', he had made it his mission to do little odd things around base, and outside, to help you out.

It had started with him fixing your plate during dinner, plopping the full plate down in front of you and ignoring your complaint of it being too much for you. Or volunteering himself up for the more bothersome missions so you could focus on other things instead. Or covering the bill whenever the both of you ended up in the same place. And more recently, it had been grabbing your laundry whenever he did his and the kids after he had overheard your complaint.

~

"What's with the shorts?"

Bro keeps his gaze focused on the cards in his hand, a tick working in his jaw as he recounts his last three losing hands. Make it four. Pendejo.

"I forgot to do my laundry again." Your voice reaches him, and unbeknownst to him, the irritation in his face melts away and his posture relaxes in his chair, shoulders dropping from where they were hunched and legs spreading. "You'd think I'd remember since it's right there in my face, but alas." You heave a sigh, and a hand lands on his shoulder a second later. "Hola, papi. Que pasa?" You purr, and his tongue pokes at his cheek as he grins, a low chuckle leaving him as he looks to the side to meet your gaze.

You have a matching grin, amusement clear on your face, and he lays his cards face down on the table and spreads his legs further. "No sé, dime tú." You blink, smile not wavering.

"No comprendo." Bro snorts.

"He said sit your ass down so you can watch me take his money again." Enjin says, a puff of smoke following his words.

"You're losing?"

"No."

"Yeah."

You reach for his cards, body stretching over, and he snatches them up before you can reach them. You quirk a brow, now partially leaned over him, and his eyes drop down to drag over your form, finally getting Enjin's earlier questioning of your shorts.

They're short and fitted, the fabric snug around your thighs and likely your ass too but he doesn't check. Not yet. They look two sizes too small for you, and he subconsciously thanks your laziness for giving him the view in front of him.

He forces his eyes back up and meets your knowing smile, and he gives a sheepish one of his own, skin warming and tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"What? Don't want me to see your losing hand?"

"A man has to have some pr—para!" You try to snag the cards again, only for him to move it further out of reach, causing you to lose your balance and fall across his lap. His eyes are drawn downward, and he licks at the back of his teeth when he confirms that the shorts are snugger in the back, and then he notices the bright piece of string peeking out the top of the shorts. Are those...? "You want a hand with your laundry?" It comes out before he can think better of it.

You pop your head up, hand pausing in its quest to reveal his cards, and eagerly nod.

"Sí."

~

Bro taps the toes of his sneakers against your dorm door, calling your name right after, and when you don't give a response he turns the knob and shoulders the door open, laundry basket tucked underneath his arm.

The scent of vanilla greets him, coaxes him in, and he pushes the door shut behind him and stands at the door for a minute as he takes in your room. He's been in here a handful of times, more recent as of late, and the feeling that he should turn on his heel and haul ass has yet to fade. He always ignores that feeling –of fucking course he does. Cochino- and he does the same now, setting the laundry basket down onto your bed before heading over to your overflowing pile of laundry.

He had missed a few days, trying to talk himself out of this, but every time he had passed you by in the hall his eyes had drifted down to your hips, your ass, your crotch, and well, here he was.

He takes in a deep, slow breath and stops in front of your dirty clothes, and like a singing siren, the neon green fabric sitting at the top of the pile calls out to him.

His cock is already straining in his pants, had been all the way on the walk over, and it aches and throbs as his fingertips grab hold of the garment. He rubs the fabric between them, twisting and turning them to get a better look, and he swallows harshly when he notices a dark patch on the gusset.

Torn between wanting to draw out this moment and not wanting you to waltz in and see just why he was so eager to take on the extra loads, he brings the panties up to his face and breathes in deep, cockhead leaking pre as he does. Your musk is all-consuming, and he can't help but wish he was getting this straight from the source instead.

He groans lowly, the sound coming straight from his gut, and he has to force himself to pull your panties away from his face. He moves to toss them back into the basket and pauses, then resumes, but pauses again.

He pockets them instead.

With yours and his laundry in tow, a basket under each arm, he turns into the laundry room and sets them down on the empty table. He goes about getting the load ready: pouring in the detergent, separating the whites from colors, imagining how your ass sits in each pair of underwear he comes across.

He imagines how the fabric stretches across the fat of your ass, the swell of your hips. How the elastic digs into the pudge of your belly. How the material cups your—

"So that's where my underwear keeps disappearing to."

Bro damn near has a heart attack when he feels the stolen treasure being snatched from his pants pocket. He flinches, heat immediately settling in his face, and he whirls around to find you standing behind him, brow arched as your underwear dangles from your finger.

"These are my favorite pair, ya know. And you were just gonna what? Cover them in cum and toss them in the trash after?" His mouth opens but nothing comes out, and he wonders if he's old enough to play the senile card.

"...Lo siento. 'M sorry, guapo—ay, fuck, I didn't—"he flinches again, this time from you tossing the panties back at him. They hit him square in the chest and he catches them on instinct.

"If you're just going to just toss them afterwards, at least use a pair that I don't really like." Before he can fully comprehend the turn of events, your thumbs are hooking into your sweats and you're pushing them down your legs. The loose pants pool around your ankles, leaving you in a pair of white briefs that get pushed down next, and he sucks in a sharp breath when you bare yourself to him, soft cock resting against round balls.

You bend to pick up your briefs, and then that is tossed his way as well. "There you go. Use those. They're not as cute as my other pairs so I don't mind if you toss them after." You pull your pants back up, cock hidden away once again, and you go to turn on your heel before making a face as if you suddenly remembered something. "Oh, and next time you wanna jerk off to my dirty panties, how about you take them off of me instead of stealing them like some kind of pervert, 'kay?"

"...'kay."

[puprut]

Mmggghhpp, ure good

Oh god I love praise. Thank you kindly.

[puprut]

The thought of Bro dubcon with an innocent virgin gf makes me cry scream and shidd my pants

thx for sending this in, shiddy pants

cws // fem reader. dubcon -> noncon (reader withdraws consent mid-act). college!au. drinking. mentions of drug use.

a/n // when i use italics in dialogue, it's to signify that bro is speaking in spanish. also i kinda hate this eughhh

You and Bro hit the unmade bed in tandem, the springs underneath creaking from the sudden onslaught of weight.

Bro laughs at the sound, a full belly guffaw that you can't help but crack a smile at despite your earlier annoyance with him getting, quite literally, drunk off his ass. He was supposed to be the sober one tonight, ensuring you that he'd stay glued to your side so you wouldn't feel like a complete dunce at his frat's party.

You hadn't known anyone here except for him—well, you had known of the other members of Omega Psi Phi, of whom were commonly called The Cleaners, but you didn't know them on a personal level. They were notorious around campus for a variety of things, but being as though you ran in a completely different circle from them, you rarely paid any attention to their happenings.

The only reason you had managed to land yourself in a relationship with Bro, who was apparently notorious in his own right as well, was due to the fact that your professor had recommended you to him for extra help in his English classes. He had been falling behind, something along the lines of he had been raised in a Spanish speaking household and a primarily Hispanic community, so it had been the default both at school and at home, leaving him with more fluency in his native tongue opposed to English.

You had politely declined at first, already buried to your neck with your own double major, a class schedule jam-packed with advanced courses, part-time job, unpaid volunteer work that your advisor swore would help you migrate to a high paying job once you finally graduated, and not to mention the many other people who had been practically begging you to tutor them as well. You used to be filled with glee and pride at being dubbed the Valedictorian every year, from junior high all the way to Uni, but now all it did was put a target on your back in bold, red letters labeling you as the campus genius who could magically shoot your GPA up from a low 1.9 to a modest 3.3 in little to no time.

Bro hadn't accepted the no at first, of course, none of them did, and you had spent days dodging the man that you couldn't stop running into, despite you never having seen him on campus before. He pulled out all the tricks to get you to change your mind - exclusive invites to parties you had no interest in, contacts with the campus drug dealers (you actually had that contact since the man, Jabber Wonger, had been the only person you had to fight with to keep your title of valedictorian. After a three semester long fight, you had come out on top and he had grinned and slapped a small baggy into your hand with a low 'this one's on the house for making this year fun, mamas.') and had even offered himself up for a night or two, to which you had threatened to report him to the campus police for prostitution.

Eventually, he had ditched the unsavory methods and had been honest. Genuine. He had spoken about his struggles in school, at home, about how he was here on a sports scholarship and that meant he had to pass all his classes with a C or better if he didn't want to lose it. His whole life was riding on this scholarship, and well, you weren't a monster, so you had reluctantly agreed.

Thankfully, Bro had actually put in the time and work needed to improve. He came to the sessions on time equipped with a notebook full of highlighted questions, a Spanish-to-English dictionary, and an attitude that showed just how serious he was. Tutoring him hadn't been bad at all, the Spanish classes you had taken all throughout middle and high school paying off, and you had found that he mostly struggled with the spelling of English words, since many sounded nothing like how they were written. He had also struggled with pronunciation, unable to stop the rolling of his r's, along with phrasal verbs. There were many other things he had a bit of trouble with, but those had been the most obvious ones to you.

The two of you had spent weeks together, and due to Bro's inability to go a whole session without joking or chatting you up, you had grown somewhat of a likening towards him. He was funny, nice, and he actually cared about his grades – you didn't know much about the frats on campus, or the people involved with them, but it seemed to be a consensus that all they cared to do was drink, do drugs, party and have sex. And while it was clear that Bro partook in those things as well, that wasn't all there was to him. Unfortunately. Because if it had been, you wouldn't have found yourself as his girlfriend and finally, after dating for months, being coerced into attending his frats welcoming party for the new pledges.

"Where you goin'?"

A hand curls around your bicep just as you're about to slide off the bed, and you turn your head over your shoulder to look at Bro. He's laid on his back, curly hair fanned out on the pillow underneath his head, and he looks up at you with lidded eyes, his pupils blown out.

"Back to my dorm – it's late and I have work in the morning." Which you had told him multiple times as the reason why you couldn't come, but all it had taken for you to eventually cave in was a few strategically placed kisses and some very convincing puppy dog eyes. "I told you I couldn't stay past midnight and right now it's–" You glance over at the digital clock on his nightstand. "–three in the morning."

He groans, his grip on your arm tightening, and you begin the impossible task of prying his fingers off of you. "Don't leave me, baby. I'll drop death if you go."

"It's drop dead, dummy." You smile and he grins, straight teeth flashing as he playfully rolls his eyes at you.

"So fuckin' smart. And sexy. C'mere." He begins pulling you down, and you weakly resist, a protest on your lips that's quickly stifled when he kisses you. The liquor on his tongue transfers over to your own, and your face scrunches up at the taste only to immediately relax as he slots his body against yours, his front plastered to your own. The hand not keeping you tethered to him by your arm moves to hold the back of your head, and he swallows down the quiet moan that forces its way up out of your throat.

Taking that as permission to take things further, his leg pushes between your own, jean-clad thigh pressing up against the junction between your thighs. You gasp, hands moving to his shoulders, and you reel your head back to detach your mouth from his own, just for him to surge forward and kiss you again. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue flicking against it a second later, and you breathe hard through your nose as your resolve weakens.

Kissing Bro is always a disorienting ordeal, and you always have to pull away before you agree to something you're not quite ready to do. You try to do so now, but he only rolls on top of you, bulky body keeping you immobile and pinned underneath him. You make a noise, the sound lost in the midst of lips noisily moving against each other, and his knees push your legs apart so he can settle more comfortably between your thighs.

He rolls his hips into yours, something firm and big pressing up between your legs, and you gasp into the kiss, a jolt of pleasure racing up your spine. Your hands move to his shoulders and give a gentle push, yet your lips never stop moving against his, mouth opening so he can once again explore it with his tongue. He maps you out, dipping into all the nooks and crannies until you're both gasping for air and he's got his forehead pressed against your own.

Your heated breaths mingle together in the charged air of his room, and you smooth back the errant strands of his hair that have come to hang down into your face. The strands are soft to the touch, and you thread your fingers through his hair.

"I've gotta go." You murmur, and he pouts like a child before dropping his full weight on you. "Ungh. God, you eat too much."

"Not as much as I want to." He gives you a slow smile, the thickness of his accent fully coming out as he practically purrs down at you. "Won't you let me eat your pussy, baby? Just for a little bit."

"N-No!" Your face burns at his words, and suddenly you're not so glad to be able to understand him. "I told you that I'm not... I don't — I don't want to have sex right now, Bro. I'm not ready." Your voice is quiet by the end of your sentence, and you avoid his gaze, your hands still tangled in his hair. It's a hangup of yours, one that you've learned men don't particularly care for. It's one of the reasons you had been so hesitant to get into a relationship with Bro. You weren't ready to go all the way, some innate fear of going that far having kept you untouched all these years, and recognized that sex was a normal progression of most relationships.

You'd have sex, eventually, but you wanted to be fully comfortable and at ease, and right now you were riddled with nerves. Your heart was pounding in your ears, your hands were clammy, and you could feel the tremor in your lips.

"Me eating you out isn't sex though, mami. 'S just somethin' fun." He brushes his nose against your own, lips pressing against the corner of your mouth, and you suck in a quiet breath when he rolls his hips into yours once again. "If you don't like it we'll stop. Promise."

He gives you a look that looks too soft to not be genuine, and your body loses a bit of its stiffness as you relax underneath him. You give a slight nod, and a smile breaks out onto his face as he pushes up so he's sat back on his haunches. His hands waste no time going to pants, and you watch with wide eyes as he undoes your belt with quick, sure movements and undoes the button on your jeans. He shimmies them down your legs, your hips hesitantly lifting so he can pull them all the way down, and he flings them somewhere over his shoulder before he removes your panties just as quickly and rests his hands on your knees.

You've got them pressed together, head turned to the side, and he drums his fingers against your kneecaps. "Can't lick your pussy if you keep hiding it from me." His voice is amused, and you're struggling to find the humor in the situation. You had agreed to this, but the nerves have once again taken hold. No-one has ever looked at you below, not even your doctor despite their incessant reminders to schedule your Pap smear and pelvic exam, and the reality is finally setting in now that you're exposed. "C'mon. Open up – lemme see you."

"I don't know... Maybe I should just go home." You sound unsure, and you silently wish he'll catch on and put a pin in this so the both of you could try again later. Much, much later.

"Mm, no." He chuckles, and his hands tighten on your knees the littlest bit. "We haven't even tried it yet. Just give it a chance. Just one." He pushes your legs apart, quickly and forcefully, and your eyebrows pull together at the roughness of his actions. He sees your expression and coos, face swooping down so he can plant one of those dizzying kisses on you again.

When he pulls away you take in a much needed breath, only for it to rush out of you when something hot and long licks against your sex. You jerk up instantly, hips bucking and stomach caving in, and Bro laughs against your folds, his hair tickling against your inner thighs.

"You alright? Sensitive?" He licks you again, tongue parting puffy folds, and you suck in a gasping breath when he reaches your twitching clit. You only have your own clumsy hands to compare to, and his tongue feels infinitely better – it makes your stomach roll in waves, similar to the feeling of being at the highest point of a terrifyingly high rollercoaster. But with that pleasure comes that everpresent hesitation, that nagging in the back of your head that always made you push away grabby hands and end the night early.

You want to do that now, curl your fingers into his moistened curls and tug him off of you, make the awkward waddle over to your displaced clothing and stiffly put them back on, give him a sheepish look and a meek apology before doing the walk of shame out of his room.

You're forced out of the moment, the flow of your arousal coming to a shaky halt, but the ample amount of saliva leaving Bro's mouth is more than enough to make up for it. Your thighs are sticky, a unique mix of him and you, and you flinch as you hear him slurp up the mixture before he spits it back onto your clit, just to once again take it back into his mouth. He suckles, and you stiffen when you feel his fingers circle around your entrance.

"W-Wait, Bro." He makes a sound as if to say 'huh', and you go to sit up, only for a thick forearm to plant itself across your waist and force you back down. "Bro?" Brown eyes blink open to stare at you, and he suddenly looks awfully sober compared to how he had been practically falling down with every step as you struggled to help him up.

His finger pushes in without warning, and you jolt at the foreign intrusion, hands forgetting their earlier hesitation as they tangle into his hair and pull. His name flies out of your mouth in a shaky cry, and tears instantly flood your lash line.

His mouth pulls away from you, mustache and goatee glistening with your arousal. He runs his tongue along his upper lip, arm applying more pressure each time you try to shift away. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I-I said I didn't want to have se–!" Your voice cuts off with a strained whine when he pushes his finger in to the last knuckle, the thick digit twisting and curling as if he's trying to map out every inch of you.

"And we're not. 'M just making you feel good – you said you'd try. You said you'd give it a try for me." Maybe he is drunker than he looks because you never said that – you had agreed to some of it, but not this. Not to this extent!

He begins to work in a second one, his head dipping back down as he puts his mouth back on you, and the heels of your feet kick against the bed as the flow of your slick resumes – your arousal comes back to life like a rusted machine getting oiled, Bro's fingers and tongue acting as the pistons.

Your protests grow weaker and weaker, the grip on his hair loosening, and you feel his lips pull into a grin as he thrusts his fingers into you at a dizzying speed, his thumb stretching up to join his tongue on your clit.

Your chest heaves at the pleasure, tears wetting your hairline, and shame burns your ears when you hear just how wet you are, a wet squelch sounding each time he pushes into you.

Something has been building inside you since the moment he touched you, a point that you had brought yourself to a few times while in the privacy of your dorm, but this stronger, bigger, almost as if your heart will explode afterwards if the speed in which it's currently beating is any indication.

A sheen of sweat gleams on your forehead, and your first moan of the night spills through bitten lips. The sound spurs Bro on, his tongue wildly flicking against your clit as his fingers push and curl and rub and scissor and—

You come with a sound that has him chuckling against you, and you once again struggle to find what's funny as he kisses his way back up your body, wet lips moving to plant a kiss on your own. You turn your head at the last second and he catches your cheek, making an obnoxiously loud kissing noise before he flops down on the bed beside you, perfectly content as he drags your rigid body into his side and keeps you there till the early morning hours.

[puprut]

Fauxcest with Enjin... f-fauxcest with Enjin!!!

[puprut]

cws // fem reader. noncon/dubcon. jealousy. slapping. biting/marking. forced pussy inspections ;)

"You're being ridiculous, Goka."

You don't spare the man behind you so much as a glance as you storm down the hall, your face hot and your fists balled up. You're more than familiar with your husband's streaks of jealousy and his penchant for feeling inferior when he was anything but, and for the most part you take it in stride, assuring him that he's the one you want and that you think the world of him despite what he may be thinking in his head, but sometimes you get tired.

You get tired of the accusations, of the possessive touches, the pissing contests that he has with any man that comes within thirty feet of you, the very clear, very uncomfortable one-sided rivalry he's locked in with his younger brother.

It's pathetic, and quite frankly embarrassing that Goka assumes that anyone with a smile whose semi-decent in a conversation will be able to sweep you off your feet, or that you're some insatiable beast that just has to fuck any and everyone that you come into contact with.

"You sent the guard that I ordered to accompany you away, so how the fuck am I being the ridiculous one? You don't think that's suspicious?"

You burst into your shared bedroom and throw the door closed behind you, but he forces it back open, the wood slamming back against the wall as he does. You ignore the sound, ignore him, and move to take a seat on the bed as you begin to undo the buckles on your shoes.

"You go to meet with a man, claim that I can't go with you for whatever reason, so I compromise and send a guard with you for your safety—"

"–for surveillance." You spit out, your short bout of giving him the cold shoulder over with.

"—and you kick him out of the goddamn room. What else am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to trust me, Goka! I married you! I love you! So why the fuck can't you just trust me? Like what the fuck? What is your problem?" Hot tears burn at your eyes as your voice cracks, and you don't bother keeping the betrayal out of your voice. "You treat me like I'm one of those criminals that you arrest. L-Like I'm just some disgusting whore that you can't let out of your sight."

You drop your face into your hands, your tears falling into your palms despite you trying to hold them back, and a gust of wind brushes past you as you feel Goka kneel at your feet, his hands smoothing against the sides of your thighs as you hear him sigh.

"I do trust you. I do. I don't trust them. I interact with the lowest of the low day after day, the things I've seen... if you knew, then you'd understand why I act like this. 'M just trying to keep you safe." His voice has taken on a gentler tone. "I'd... I'd lose my mind if something happened to you that I could have prevented."

You sniffle.

"Don't cry. Look at me." He pulls at your wrists, and you resist, but you're you and he's Goka so they lower anyways. He takes in your tear-streaked face, his brows drawn together. "I love you."

Your skin warms despite yourself. It's a declaration that he doesn't verbalize often, so you always cherish it when he does, even if it comes at the wrong time. You avert your eyes, shoulders drooping as a sudden wave of tiredness washes over you.

"Goka.." Before you can get another word out he leans forward, chapped lips pressing against your salty ones, and you still against him, not giving any reaction. He licks at your bottom lip, nose pressing into you, and draws circles against the back of your hands with his calloused thumbs.

He tugs at your lip, eyes boring into your own, and then he's harshly biting down. You gasp in pain, and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth to run along your teeth. He licks at the back of them, then moves to the roof of your mouth, his hand coming up to anchor your head when you jerk back at the sensation, and then he rubs his tongue alongside yours.

Spit trails down from the sides of your mouth, and he pulls a moan from you when he kisses you harder, exerting his will over you until you sag against him, lips turning malleable and willing as you return the kiss. Your lashes flutter until your eyes finally close, and when he finally pulls back, saliva stretching from your mouth to his, you find yourself leaning forward in an effort to reconnect.

That urge dies a quick death at his next words.

"Take off your pants and underwear so I can check you."

"Go fuck yourself." You shove him back with all the strength you can muster and he doesn't budge. Instead, you crawl back onto the bed in an effort to get to the other side to stand, but his hand closes around your ankle and yanks you back to him. "Let go, you asshole!" You go to slap him, hand reeling back and lips pressing together, and he doesn't bother stopping you.

Your hand meets his cheek with a sharp sound, your palm erupting in pain, and red blooms on his cheek as he breathes in deep through his nose. "Do you want me to do it for you?" You go to hit him again but he pushes you back against the bed and pins you down against the bed with a heavy hand in the center of your stomach. Your legs kick out as you scream obscenities at him, and he ignores you, skilled fingers easily popping the button on your pants before he begins to yank them down your legs.

"Get off of me, Goka! Stop it, you di—Goka!" The fabric of your underwear tears as he roughly tugs them down, and you clamp your thighs together at the sudden onslaught of cold air against your folds. He shoves them apart, and you continue to kick at him, your foot catching his jaw and flinging his head back. You freeze for a moment, guilt wrapping around you from head to toe, and he slowly brings his head back down to level you with a hard stare. "I-I'm sorry..." You shouldn't be the one apologizing, you know that, but you can't help it.

He doesn't reply, instead moving his hand from your stomach. You go to sit up, but he only cups his hands under the backs of your knees and sends them up into your chest, effectively folding you in half. You wheeze, your breath leaving you in a rush, and he pushes your legs together and keeps them pinned with one strong forearm.

The hand that's free drops down between your legs, and you wheeze again when he pushes his fingers through your folds without care. He goes downwards until he reaches your hole, and your skin blazes hot as he reaches it, one long digit breaching past the rim and attempting to delve inside.

You whine at the discomfort, no slick to aid his entry, and he retreats just as fast as he had entered, a relieved sigh leaving him. "I'm sorry. I had to be sure." The tears fall free once more, and you cover your face once again as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stifle your cries. "You don't know how special you are – what people would do to get their hands on you." His palm covers your sex, and you jolt as he rubs it back and forth, the pads of his fingers catching your clit as he does. You can't help the way you moisten at his actions, and your heart lurches in your chest when focuses his attention on your swelling clit, fingers sliding back and forth over it. "The things they'd do just for a taste."

The flat of his tongue swipes down your slit, and your teeth sink in harder when his tongue pushes into your cunt, the treacherous thing welcoming him in with a wet squelch. He fucks it into you, fingers still working on your clit, and your hands leave your face to instead push at the top of his head as much as you can.

You don't want him to make you cum—you don't want him to think that this is okay, that you're fine with this just because he put his mouth on your pussy. He hadn't trusted you, he had accused you, he had forced you open and checked you like you were some piece of property and not a human being—like you weren't his wife.

"Fuhh–fuck off." He loudly slurps at you in response, knuckles pinching your clit between them, and your eyes roll as he imitates your earlier kiss, head tilting so he can mouth at your lower lips as if he's tongue-kissing you. You're a wet, dripping mess, your juices trailing down to wet the crack of your ass and wet the blankets underneath you. He laps it up like a starving animal, tongue scooping and digging as if he's a dog fighting to get the last bit of a creamy treat that's stuck to the bottom of a container. "Stop..." Your protests grow weaker and weaker, body melting into the mattress, and his nose nudges up against your clit as positions his mouth over your hole and sucks.

He comes off of you with a wet pop, and you choke when he plunges his fingers into your painfully empty hole – two? Three? "We'll do daily checks from now on. Every time I let you out of my sight." Your fingers brush against his hair, and you snatch it into your grip immediately. He lets you pull and tug, his voice not wavering as he fucks his fingers into you cruel and slow. "I get peace of mind and you get to have your pussy played with and whatever else you want."

You pull hard and he slams his digits in. Your grip loosens and threatens to fall off, but then his fingers pull out of you and come up to curl around your own. He keeps your hand tangled in his hair and forces your hold to tighten.

"Keep pulling."

You do as he says and he rewards you with feverish licks up your slit, tongue mashing against your clit and lapping at it until he switches to traversing through your folds, exploring every nook and cranny. They grow puffy under his abuse, and your stomach lurches when he individually sucks them into his mouth and moans.

He pulls back, just slightly, and spits a fat blob of spit directly onto your clit before dipping down to suck back up into his mouth. It's perverse, disgusting, and you cry out in pleasure at the filth of it.

His tongue slides down past your pussy, down, down, down, and you feel a few of the strands of his hair in your grip break free just as he reaches your puckered hole. He laps at it, tongue threatening to venture inside, and your toes curl and uncurl as you pant, eyes unfocused and lips parted.

His lips move to the fat of your ass to press wet, open mounted kisses to the unmarked flesh, and you wince when he sinks his teeth into the meat. He kisses the sting and murmurs an apology in your skin, immediately sullying it as he picks another spot to do the exact same thing. He doesn't stop until you're littered with bites, baby bruises blossoming, and hiccuping between sobs of his name.

"Don't cry." He kisses at your inner thigh, and you tense and hold your breath as you wait for the gnash of his teeth, but he only licks at your tacky skin. The arm keeping your legs pinned lowers them instead, and they fall apart with his assistance. You blink through teary eyes and take him in; messy hair, slick-coated face, swollen lips, shot pupils, flushed cheeks. "I'll make you cum, don't worry." He lowers his head back down, two fingers finding their place inside you while he drags his tongue up in long, slow drags. "Always. Just me. Only me."

He hooks and curls his fingers, rough pads seeking out that spot tucked away inside of you, and your thighs tremble as the heels of your feet weakly kick at the sheets

"G-Goka.." You croak and he hums, lips closing around your clit as he loudly sucks. "Please. Pleasepleaseplease. O-Oh, fuh–Goka!" He finds what he had been looking for, and he's relentless as he moves his fingers against, upping his antics on your clit as well. The two sensations combined send you hurtling to your end, and you gush in his mouth, his lips leaving your twitching bud to instead join his fingers down below. He greedily swallows down your juices, fingers still thrusting inside you, and you have to once again push at his head to get him away from you.

He reluctantly moves back, tongue swiping over his glossy lips, and you watch as he gathers the cum dripping off his chin with his fingers before bringing them to his face. He breathes the scent of you in, and then his eyes clash with yours as he licks them clean. You gasp and cringe away.

"I'll tell my men to release the shop owner from custody."

"You had him arrested?!"

"Yes. On suspicion of lecherous foul play."