mdni !! note. this is my first post on this blog, let me know if there is anything on here that you would like me to expand upon <3
yudai
this is a man who knows what he's doing. i picture him as being very sensual and attuned to what his partner wants and needs. he reads your body like an open book, none of the sounds or faces you make go unnoticed by him. which means that even for your first time together, he needs mere minutes to have you coming undone for him.
he's a gentleman. he takes things slow at first, and he always makes sure you're comfortable with everything happening. his hands are gentle with you, his kisses reverent. he has very good self-control and only deepens things when he's sure it's alright with you. and even once he's got that confirmation, he's checking in and treating you with the utmost care. maybe to the point that you become frustrated—and while, your first few times, he gives you what you want when you ask for it, after some time, he becomes such a tease. dragging things on for even longer, roaming his hands over your body without ever touching you where you need him most, smirking as you squirm and whine beneath him, saying things like, "is my baby getting impatient?" he definitely gets you to beg for him, although he can never refuse you for very long. he just likes to see you get riled up because of him.
i feel like he's not overly freaked out—he sees sex as an opportunity to connect with his partner on a deeper level, to show them how much he loves and desires them. probably likes those classic romantic vibes—rose petals, candles, massages as foreplay, holding your hands and looking into your eyes during missionary. very much husband material. he might get a little rougher once in a while, if he has steam to blow off from work perhaps, and you tell him it's okay to let it out on you. but with the right partner? he'd definitely get a bit more exploratory. if kink was your thing, he'd want to try it, just because he wants to please you as best he can. i feel like seeing you enjoy yourself would be enough for him to be into something. and he might discover a few of his own kinks that way as well...
fuma
princess treatment!!!! he is such a gentleman when you guys are in your flirting, getting-to-know-each-other phase, so respectful, so aware of whatever boundaries you might have, and that doesn't stop when you find yourselves in bed. for the first few times at least. i think he'd want to show you how well he can take care of you, and when he deems you're ready for it... you might be blindsided by a completely new side of him.
he always naturally takes the lead, and you gladly give control over to him. but gradually, praise turns into taunts, he gets cocky, and even a little mean, if he's feeling a certain way. his goal is to get you all flustered and even more pliant, and boy does it work. you'd let this man do whatever he wants to you. i think sex with him would be very intense, both physically and emotionally, although there'd be more relaxed moments, like during lazy mornings or after a tiring day at work. but when he's working with his usual energy levels, he has you coming over and over again, manhandling you into whichever position he wants, all while whispering filth directly into your ear. the more dishevelled you get, the prouder he is of himself. he'll have you babbling incoherently, tears running down your cheeks, either from edging or overstimulation—depends on the night. you can't get enough, and he knows that.
he's back to being a gentleman afterwards, stroking your hair and gazing lovingly into your eyes as if he wasn't just telling you how good you looked taking his cock minutes prior.
nicholas
i need to take a deep breath before this. okay. we've reached freak central. first of all he cannot get his hands off of you, which goes for your relationship in general, but is so so true during sex. your hair, face, wrists, hands, chest, waist, hips, thighs, ass... you name it. he always has to be touching you, he loves the feeling of your skin. and he would love it if you were as handsy as him—he'd take it as a sign that you want him as bad as he wants you. you are 100% the exception to his never-touch-my-hair rule. he loves it when you pull at the strands, when your nails graze his scalp. he loves your nails in general—please scratch this man and mark him up all you want. he'll go feral finding hickeys and scratch marks in the mirror the next day, as long as they're in places he can hide.
i feel like sex is always different with him. depending on both of your moods, it can be playful and light-hearted, slow and intimate, intense and desperate, or straight-up feral. he likes to try new things, and while i think he leans on the dominant side, he can and will adapt to what you like. definitely like yudai in that he's into you, which means he's into whatever you're into. if you want him to choke you out while pounding ruthlessly into you, he'll do it. if you want to tie his hands behind his back and edge him until he's begging you to let him come, he'll do it. he probably has the mentality of trying everything at least once, and just doesn't want things to get repetitive or boring.
he has the craziest stamina. he can go for round after round, and if his schedule permits it, he'll probably wake you up in the middle of the night to do it again, and once (or twice) more in the morning. more often than not, if you have plans to go out during the day, you have to cancel them—or cut them short and go home when he gets that look in his eyes. he probably gets very chatty and likes to make you shy with his words, telling you how pretty you are and how good your pussy feels around him in the same breath. oh and when he gets really into it and isn't thinking quite straight he for sure talks to you in mandarin, not even realizing you can't understand him (if you don't speak the language). AND he goes crazy when you say his name—bonus points if you call him yixiang in a really shaky, really desperate tone, like you're about to burst any second.
euijoo
he is SO soft with you. treats you like you're the most delicate thing in the world, until he feels too good and absent-mindedly presses his fingers deep into your skin, or ruts his hips into you harshly. the oncoming orgasm always clouds his thoughts but once he's regained his clarity, he's apologizing profusely and making sure you're okay and holding you close to him. even when you tell him you like this sharper side of him, he gets worried he's hurt you. he'll gladly spend hours getting you off without thinking of himself, but when he's inside you, or when your lips are wrapped around him, he quickly loses himself in the feeling. has the prettiest whimpers and moans you've ever heard. he grabs tightly onto whichever part of you he can reach—your hair, your hips—and sighs your name right as he comes, almost sounding like he's in pain. you could come from the sound alone yourself, along with the sight of him—eyes screwed shut, plump lips, cheeks flushed red.
it'd take him a while to not just figure out what he's into, but open to you about it. i think there are certain occasions during which he might be more dominant—if he got jealous over something, or if something happened at work and he needed to let his frustration out. but most of the time, he's more comfortable letting you take charge. he has so many responsibilities and so much pressure on his shoulders as not only an idol but a leader, and having someone take care of him after a long day at work is the easiest way for him to relax and forget about his worries. the feeling of your hands on him is the most effective therapy—if you tell him how good of a job he's doing, he'll be putty in your hands. yes this is sub and praise kink euijoo agenda. he probably likes sex to be soft and intimate, but wouldn't say no if you wanted to be harder on him once in a while... feel free to order him around.
yuma
second stop at freak central. he is already so playful and likes to tease you in the first stages of your relationship, and this doesn't stop when you're in bed together. i think he's an even more mischievous version of nicholas—likes to see you all shy and flustered because of him, likes to make you cry his name out, likes to feel you holding tightly onto his shoulders while he's eating you out or fucking into you, and is not shy to let you know. will praise and degrade you in the same sentence. will imitate your moans afterwards. will play with you for ages before properly fucking you, just to hear you beg. will slow down his thrusts when he feels you getting close just to get you to lose your mind a little bit. he probably likes when you cuss him out as a result. he loves you, and yet he acts like he wants to get you to hate him when you have sex. he knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going.
now hear me out... brat tamer yuma. he would love a partner that isn't afraid to fight back. he would love having to wrestle to get you to relinquish control, and he would especially love putting you in your place when you try to tease him or get the upper hand. he'd let you live in delusion for a little while—sure, you can ride him and tell him to "shut the fuck up" for a bit if it makes you happy. but he'll always remind you eventually that he can flip you over with disconcerting ease and have you coming all over his cock in a matter of minutes if he wants to. the look on your face as you stop fighting the overwhelming pleasure he's providing you and finally hand yourself over to him is priceless every single time. he never lasts very long after that.
jo
this sweet little angel. if yuma is nicholas but worse, jo is euijoo but somehow even shyer and softer. i don't think he has a dominant bone in his body, but i don't think he's even submissive—he's just not that interested in power dynamics, in making sex into a game. it's probably something he'd only do with someone he felt very safe and in love with, someone he'd trust enough to show this side of him to. and because his emotions are so mixed up in it, it's probably a very intense, almost overwhelming experience to him, especially in the beginning, but even months into your relationship. i just feel like he's very very sensitive and he loses a little bit of sanity not just being on the receiving end of so much attention, but having access to such a vulnerable part of you, too.
he wants to do so well for you. the first time, he overcomes his shyness and asks you how to do things, if he's touching you properly, if you feel good. he studies your face intently and feels himself teetering close to the edge when he realizes you're coming from his fingers alone, even if you're not touching him at all. he can't handle things like mutual masturbation—the moment your hands are on him, he can't focus on anything else, and to him, your pleasure comes first, always. his hands probably shake as he rips open the condom wrapper. he's so quiet the first few times, only letting out a strangled moan when he comes, but when you urge him to make more noise and he starts to grow less self-conscious, you are blessed with his pretty moans and gasps and grunts. he can only keep his eyes for so long—not only is the pleasure too overwhelming, but the sight of your hands wrapped around his cock, or of your face right front of his, is also way too much for him to handle. eventually he might grow more confident, might become more open to trying out new things. but be patient with him—if he's a goner when you so much as graze your nails along his lower stomach, how can you expect him to handle much more?
warnings: oral sex (f & m receiving), cum swallowing, cumming inside, unprotected sex, thigh riding, fingering, cursing.
in which the teamies participate in no nut november and how long i think they’d last.
k: lasts all month! king of self control. obviously he WANTS to cum, but is able to restrain himself from doing so. however, you don’t make it easy for him. just because he’s participating in nnn doesn’t mean you are. you still wanna cum, and kei will find a way to achieve that for you without being able to cum himself.
“i want your cock, kei,” you practically cried out.
“i know you do, baby,” k cooed, pausing eating your pussy to plant a kiss on your thigh. “you just have to take what i give you for now, though. you can be good and wait a month.”
an entire month without your boyfriends dick. you didn’t know how you were going to manage.
he licked a firm stripe up your puffy lips before wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers nudged their way into your entrance.
you watched him practically devour your cunt, eyes trailing down to his sweatpants. you could see the outline of his clear erection, and in that moment, you wished your boyfriend didn’t have the willpower that he did. you wished he would give up and just fuck you already.
but he was determined. and you couldn’t really complain when he ate your pussy so good, never stopping at just one orgasm. he gave you as much as you wanted, and reminded you to think about how good he was going to fuck you on december 1st.
fuma: also lasts the entire month! yes he has good willpower and self control, but also he’s just mean! you’d begged him several times to just give up because you wanted him to fuck you, and he looked you straight in the eyes with a smirk, uttering a single word: “no.” he told you if you wanted to cum, you had to find a way to do it without his cock.
“look at you,” he said with a dry laugh, watching you grind your needy pussy back and forth on his clothed leg. “so desperate to cum that you’ll hump my leg for it. look how wet you’re getting my pants.”
you leaned forward, hiding your face in his chest in embarrassment. your face was bright red from both humiliation and exertion. it wasn’t easy, and he was no help at all, but you were desperate to cum. it was supposed to just be no nut november for him, but he somehow managed to drag you into it, too.
“you gonna cum like this, honey?” he asked, rubbing your back. “are you that worked up?”
“please, fuma!” you cried, working yourself harder on his lap.
“go ahead,” he said. “cum all over my leg, my dirty girl.”
nicholas: lasts like a week. and that week is torturous. just knowing he’s not allowed to cum makes it harder to be around you. you could be doing the simplest of things, like making breakfast, and suddenly nico is popping a boner.
“nico!” you scolded as he pressed himself against you, rubbing his erection on your ass while you were standing at the stove. “you can’t.”
he planted his lips to your neck, licking a strip up your skin because he was so desperate. just to taste you was what he needed, but it wasn’t enough.
“i don’t care,” he mumbles, already pulling his throbbing cock out of his pants. “fuck this no nut november shit. i need to give my girl my cum.”
you really couldn’t argue with that, so you let him pull your panties to the side and stuff you full with his cock. since he was so pent up, it didn’t take long at all for him to dump his load into you, pushing your panties back to cover you and keeping his cum stuffed inside your cunt.
ej: lasts two weeks. insists he could’ve lasted longer and that it was YOUR fault! it wasn’t really your fault, though. he was just too turned on by you without you even needing to do anything. all you did was sit there and look pretty and he was a goner.
“it’s your fault,” he whined as he buried his cock all the way inside you before pulling out, then shoving it back in.
your head was thrown back, taking each thrust he gave you with a high pitched moan.
“i d-didn’t do anything!” you insisted, nails clawing into his biceps.
“you did,” he replied, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. “you just look too good all the time, i just have to give you my cock.”
you clenched around him, sending him over the edge. with a few more thrusts, he was giving you his big, warm load, promptly ending his nnn journey.
yuma: almost makes it. lasts like 3 weeks, and would’ve made it had he not had the wettest, sexiest, most realistic dream of his entire life that him waking up on the brink of cumming. he was so hard, so covered in his own precum that he absolutely had to finish the job.
he woke up gasping and immediately pressed himself against your sleeping form, shamelessly humping you in desperation.
“baby,” he groaned. “wake up. please wake up. need to be inside you, need to fuck you so bad.”
you woke up in a groggy haze, confused by what was happening.
“yuma? what’s—”
“need to put it in,” he interrupted, pulling his cock out from his pajama bottoms. “tell me i can, please please please. need it so bad.”
you gave him permission and he didn’t waste a single second before sliding inside you, your cunt somehow always warm and wet and ready for him, even when you’d just woken up.
all it took was a few thrusts. he was so pent up from his dream that he was cumming in no time at all, releasing all his cum from the past few weeks deep in your pussy.
jo: hard to tell whether he could last all month or like a few days lol. for the sake of smut i’m gonna say he lasts about a week. and this time, it actually is your fault when he loses.
“fuck,” he puffed out, throwing his head back to reveal his bobbing adam’s apple. “‘m not supposed to cum, r-remember?”
“i remember,” you told him from your position on your knees, kitten licking his leaky red tip. “but i want it, jo. i miss the taste of you.”
you wrapped your lips around his tip, taking his long length as deep into your throat as you could without gagging.
jo sighed, delving his slender fingers into your hair. he knew he was a goner, that there was no point trying to stop you because you wanted his cum, and he wanted to see you swallow it like you always did.
it didn’t take him long. it never really did since he was so sensitive, especially when you deep throated him.
before you knew it, he was twitching and gasping for breath as he released his cum down your throat in long, thick warm ropes. he tried to watch you, tried not to let his eyes fall shut, as you swallowed every last drop of his specimen, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand once you were finished.
tags - power imbalance, p in v, creampie, big dick rough fuma🤤
for months you had been struggling with constant pain throughout your body. the worst points being your neck, which caused horrible headaches, and your hips. you had visited quite a few doctors hoping they would just give you some sort of pain medication, but most recommended giving physical therapy a try. they mentioned other patients who had experienced similar pain, with most agreeing it helped greatly.
you found fuma through an online ad. reading through reviews, most mentioning him by name, you figured it was worth a try. him being handsome was just a plus. you booked your first appointment that night for the following weekend.
as the day got closer, you felt yourself growing more nervous, causing your pain and headaches to become worse. you had been thinking about how handsome fuma was since the first night you had seen it.
when the day you had been overthinking about finally came, you were a nervous wreck. you kept stuttering, which fuma pretended not to hear. he was so professional about everything. his professionalism helped ease your nerves.
he started out by giving you a neck and shoulder massage, his rough fingers pressing against your stiff neck. as much as you tried to ignore it, warmth began pooling low in your belly.
you moved on to doing certain exercises after, mostly targeting your abdomen. he would occasionally adjust your limbs himself, moving you into the correct form. your mind began to wander, thinking about his firm hands moving all across your aching body.
fuma noticed your breath quickening and your body growing tighter, “do we need to take a break?”
“oh no, i’m okay,” you muttered, feeling embarrassed he noticed. “sorry,” you practically whispered.
”nothing to be sorry for, happens all the time.” your knees felt weak at the sound of him, his deep voice sounding like heaven. no wonder this happens all the time.
the session ended just as quickly as it started. you definitely felt better, as much as you wished you didn’t. you began booking more sessions, hoping this was just a one-time feeling.
it wasn’t. every session your desire for him grew worse.
fuma grew more relaxed, his professionalism cracking each time he saw you. it killed him he couldn’t touch you in the ways he truly wanted. until finally, he just couldn’t take it anymore.
this session started out with him massaging your neck and shoulders, like usual. his long fingers on your neck, your mind melted at his touch. the tip of his finger slowly making their way down your neck to your shoulders, his rough thumbs rubbing deep circles onto your tense muscles. he moved with precision—and with lust.
his hands moved dangerously low, the edges of his fingers pushing your tank top ever so slightly, watching you intently for any sign of discomfort not knowing you wanted this just as much, stopping himself before he crossed a line he couldn’t come back from. he decided to move you onto doing your regular exercises.
you started out with the one pose you struggled the most with. you just couldn’t get right for some reason. you were laying on your back, maybe your legs were in the position? maybe it was the way your arms were? you weren’t sure, but fuma— who was usually very willing to help you get in the right form—was noticeably out of patience.
something darker spread across his face, as his body moved closer to yours. you laid on your back, your knees up. he slowly spread your legs further apart, saying it was “just to help your posture.”
your body felt hot, seeing your hot physical therapist in such a position. you tried reminding yourself this was all a part of his job, but you felt the feeling growing in your belly once again.
sweat beaded on his forehead as his hand crept over your thighs, pushing your knees outward. your mind went fuzzy, you knew this shouldn’t be happening, but you let it. it felt too good not to happen.
a small wet patch started to form on your thin leggings, as his hands ever so lightly brushed against your cunt. the soft touches drawing a heavy breath from you. fuma watched as your face went from shocked to pleased, like you were begging him to go further.
it felt like hours of him teasing you—in reality it was only a few minutes. until fuma finally had enough. his hands gripped parts of your leggings, a loud ripping sound echoed in the quiet room. a startled gasp escaped your lips. the usual fuma, who always made sure you were okay, long gone.
his fingers circled your clit through your pink panties.
“you wore these for me, huh?” fuma groaned, “you just knew i couldn’t resist you,” you whined as his hands left your body.
his hand palmed his long, aching cock, breathing heavily as he pulled his joggers down just far enough.
precum beading at the tip, you assumed he was big, but the actual sight made you dizzy. “gonna take this big cock for me, aren’t you sweet girl?”
moving your cute panties to the side, his veiny dick rubbing against your wet pussy, coating himself in your slick.
the thick tip nudged at your entrance, bullying its way inside you.
”‘s too big—“ you whined, not thinking you could take anymore of him. it was like he was splitting you in half. “fuma- please—“
“fuck your so tight” his hand cupped your mouth, “shhh, i know you can take it, deep breaths”
you squirmed underneath him as he bottomed out, letting you adjust before continuing.
once your breath started to even, he began to draw back, then slowly push back inside you. “see? i told you that you could take it, such a good girl”
your walls fluttered around him as he thrusted deep, drool covering his hand that was still covering your mouth. wet squelching sounds filling the room. you could feel every vein of his throbbing cock as he moved deeper and harder.
“pretty girl gonna cum?” you nodded, too fucked out to form words. his free hand rubbing your sensitive clit, you were already seeing stars. though it hadn’t been long, your orgasm was quickly approaching. the perfect stretch of his cock making it impossible not to.
it crashed over you in waves, your vision blurring, your ears ringing. you had never felt such sweet pleasure before.
fuma continued thrusting, chasing his own high. your body convulsed beneath him, the sight sending him over the edge. white, hot spurts of cum filled you. his hips still rolling into yours as you both caught your breath. you had never felt so full before.
other: trouble, kinks, big tits, thigh/panty fucking, fat ass, chunky y/n, daughter, bent over, obey, break, worship, squirt, belly dance, i miss you, subspace, i love you, small tits, shooting blanks, oral fixation, teasing, brat taming, too shy, ass fucking (u regret it), we should break up
Synopsis: Your husband just can't keep it in his pants when he sees you holding baby clothes.
Pairing: husband!fuma x fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you), mating press, big dick fuma, size kink, breeding a shit ton of breeding, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, dom!fuma, sub!reader, we're fucking against a wall btw, mentions of pregnancy, fuma's just horny asf, romance because obviously, yudai cameo i love him
A/N: i love you anon for requesting this, initially wrote about it here! i fainted 3497348 times writing this because lord knows im so pathetic for husband fuma THE SHIT I'D DO FOR HIM TO CALL ME DARLING THE SHIT I WOULD DO. Tagging my mother @blueuijoo because i need to get revenge 🫶 as always, enjoy, my babies!
Word Count: 6.7k (yall are getting bred good)
“What about this one? Too green?”
Murata Fuma was a fucked man.
He knew that the moment you had asked him to accompany him to the mall to buy presents for your best friend’s baby shower, his dick twitching at the prospect of seeing you run your hands over baby clothes. Earlier that week he had already seen you fawn over your baby nephew, holding him close to your chest and bouncing him up and down, all wide smiles and laughter that sounded poetic to him.
Murata Fuma was a fucked man everytime he thought about having children with you, laying you down on your bed and drilling you with his cock all damn night, pumping you full of his cum and waking up the next morning to go to the gynaecologist.
“Not green enough.” He chuckled, leaning against the shelf as you scanned your eyes with laser precision through all the shades of green of baby clothes neatly folded in front of you.
“Well, can’t say I trust you, baby.” You laughed, reaching to the very back of the shelf, “If it was up to you, we’d be shopping for Pokemon baby toys.”
“Hey, gotta get them in young.” Fuma shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms and feigning deep thought as you pulled out an olive green shirt the size of his biceps, “Perfectly green enough.”
“I know right?” You smiled at him, looking down at the cloth in your hand with shining, triumphant eyes, “God, I hope she likes this.”
“Of course she will, darling.” Fuma stepped forward slowly, filling your senses with his cologne, “You picked it out didn't you?” His hands came up to your waist, eyes fixed on your lips as he ran a tongue over his.
Fuma stepped closer until the shelf behind you pressed lightly against your back, the tiny green shirt still clutched in your hands. You barely had time to raise an eyebrow before he leaned in.
“Fuma—” you started. But his lips met yours first.
Warm, oh so warm and certain, like he already knew you were going to laugh about it a second later. His hand stayed at your waist, steadying you as he kissed you, gentle but lingering enough that your protest turned into a muffled giggle against his mouth.
You pushed lightly at his chest. “We’re in public,” You whispered, breathless and amused.
“And?” He pulled back just a fraction, close enough that you could still feel the warmth of his breath, “Can I not kiss my darling wife in public?” The playful look in his eyes made your resolve wobble.
You shook your head, trying to look annoyed, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. For a moment you simply looked at him and something about the closeness, the familiar comfort of it, pulled you right back.
Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward again. This time the kiss was yours, soft and unhurried, your lips brushing his as if you were testing the moment rather than stealing it. His hand tightened slightly at your waist in quiet surprise, and he leaned into it instinctively, deepening the warmth of the kiss. You tasted faintly like the honey he’d put on your pancakes earlier in the morning.
When you finally pulled away, your cheeks were warm and your heart was beating a little faster than it should have been for a quiet aisle full of baby clothes. The moment sparked a memory so vividly that it made you smile.
The first time you had ever kissed each other was on your third date, You could still see the scene in your mind—your apartment lit softly by the ikea lamps you got on sale, the city lights outside the window flickering against the glass. A half-finished glass of wine sat on the table between you while the two of you talked about everything and nothing and the newest pokemon cards.
He had been sitting beside you on the couch, turning the stem of his wine glass slowly in his fingers, pretending to be calm but clearly working up the courage to do something. You had noticed of course—call it a lover’s intuition.
And when he finally leaned in that night, the kiss had been messy as messy could be, teeth accidentally bumping into each other, you almost biting his lips off and a glass of spilled wine.
But here you were, years later, wedding band on your finger and his wine stained shirt sitting somewhere at the back of your closet.
How beautiful a thing love was, you thought, even after all these years, kissing him felt exactly the same.
“You wanna go checkout?” You smiled, pressing your forehead to his. Fuma laughed softly.
“Five minutes more.”
___________________
Spring had arrived softly that year.
The air in the backyard carried the faint sweetness of blooming jasmine and freshly cut grass, sunlight filtering through the branches of a large maple tree that stretched comfortably across the yard. Someone had strung delicate pastel ribbons between the branches, and they fluttered lazily whenever the breeze passed through.
Tables were arranged across the lawn with soft cream tablecloths, each one decorated with small glass jars filled with pale pink roses and sprigs of baby’s breath. A long wooden table near the patio held the gifts—colorful boxes stacked in cheerful towers. Somewhere near the fence, a group of guests laughed over plastic cups of lemonade and iced tea.
It was the kind of afternoon that felt warm without being heavy, the perfect afternoon for a baby shower.
And the perfect afternoon for Fuma to internally combust whenever he saw you.
You had chosen a soft pastel summer dress for the occasion, the color somewhere between blush pink and pale peach, the fabric light enough to move gently whenever the wind touched it. The hem reached your lower thigh, brushing lightly against your legs as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.
Your hair caught the sunlight every time you turned your head, strands glowing gold for just a second before settling again. You sat beside the mother to be—your best friend—talking excitedly with animated gestures, your hands moving as laughter erupted.
Even from across the yard, Fuma could hear the brightness in your voice. He leaned casually against the wooden railing of the deck, a plastic cup of lemonade in his hand that he had completely forgotten to drink. His attention was fixed entirely on you, watching the way you smiled when your friend showed you a tiny pair of baby socks.
Something about it made his chest feel tight.
“Man.” The voice beside him cut through his thoughts. Yudai appeared at his shoulder, arms folded as he followed Fuma’s line of sight across the yard. It took him about half a second to realize exactly what his friend had been staring at.
“You look ridiculous.” Yudai snorted, looking ridiculous with a flower crown on his head.
“What?” Fuma said absentmindedly, not moving his eyes away from you.
“You,” Yudai said, pointing directly at his face, “look like a wide eyed idiot.”
That earned him a small huff of laughter from Fuma. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” Yudai continued, leaning his elbows on the railing. “You’ve been standing here staring at her for ten minutes like she’s the last person on earth.”
“That obvious?” Fuma finally looked at him. Yudai stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing.
“Oh my god, it’s worse than I thought.”
Across the yard, you had crouched down beside the stroller someone had brought as a decoration display, picking up a tiny stuffed bear and holding it up with a delighted smile. Your friend said something excitedly, and the two of you dissolved into laughter.
Fuma turned his attention back to you without even realizing he had done it. The sight made something warm, like coffee steam, settle in his chest.
“Oh wow,” Yudai said slowly, noticing immediately, “How close is your heart to giving out right now?”
Fuma sighed heavily, “Extremely.” The admission slipped out more easily than he expected. Yudai tilted his head, studying him.
“You know,” He said thoughtfully, “I used to think you were exaggerating when you talked about her.”
“What do you mean?” Fuma frowned, turning his attention to his older friend now.
“I mean,” Yudai gestured toward the yard, “the way you talk about her sometimes? I figured it was just normal relationship stuff.” He paused to adjust his falling crown, “But that look on your face right now?” he added with a grin. “That’s like……the exact same expression every male lead in a romance anime makes.”
Fuma leaned back against the railing, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah.” He admitted quietly.
“You’re not even going to deny it?” Yudai blinked, the only time he’d ever seen his friend like this was at an eevee convention.
“What’s the point?” Fuma said, “I didn't marry her for nothing, you know.” His gaze drifted back to you again. You were still laughing with your friend, holding the tiny stuffed bear to your chest, the sunlight catching the soft folds of your dress, making the pastel fabric glow softly.
For a moment you looked angelic.
“I just….love her so much.” Fuma exhaled slowly.
“And?” Yudai’s brow arched.
Fuma watched as you stood up again, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear while listening to someone else talk.
“She’d be such a good mom,” He murmured, almost to himself. Yudai followed his gaze again.
“You’re thinking about that already?” He said, nudging his shoulder.
“It’s been two years already.” Fuma shrugged slightly, “Is that too fast?”
Yudai studied his friend carefully, watching the way his eyes went all droopy and drunk every time his gaze landed on you.
“You’ve got it down bad, man.” A giggle came from Yudai.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Fuma chuckled under his breath.
For a moment they stood there in silence, the sounds of the party drifting through the yard—laughter, soft music playing from a speaker near the patio, the clinking of glasses.
“You should tell her.” Yudai nudged him with his elbow.
“Tell her what?” Fuma blinked at him.
“That.” Yudai said simply.
“What do you mean, ‘that’?” Fuma frowned.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Yudai replied. “If you’re standing here thinking about having kids with her, maybe you should actually say something.”
Fuma hesitated. The idea made his stomach twist slightly. You two hadn't had a proper conversation about kids before getting married—he knew it was an immature thing to do, but love always seemed to make time seem like an ephemeral thing, passing by like the honest wind. And he would rather die than put that burden on you.
“She might think it’s weird.” He said, gaze flickering down to the grass.
“Why?”
“It’s a baby shower.”
“Exactly, you stupid man.”
Fuma blinked at him as Yudai sighed and gestured toward the yard again, clearly done with the lack of romantic tropes in his best friend’s life.
“You’re literally surrounded by baby decorations, gifts, and people talking about parenting. If there’s ever a moment to say something about wanting a future together, this is probably it.”
Fuma glanced back toward you. You had moved closer to the gift table now, examining the olive green baby shirt you had picked out together. The sight made him smile automatically. You looked so proud of that tiny shirt.
And suddenly, without warning, the thought appeared again. A family with you. You laughing in a backyard like this again someday, except the baby everyone was celebrating would be yours. The idea sent a strange mix of excitement and nervousness rushing through him.
“Oooh you’re thinking about it.” Yudai teased, his voice a pitch higher as he giggled at the expression on Fuma’s face, “Go tell her, already!”
Across the yard, you turned slightly, scanning the guests as if searching for someone. For a brief moment, your eyes met, your face lighting up instantly as you waved to him. Fuma felt his heart stumble in his chest as he raised his hand in return without thinking.
“She’s looking at you like you hung the moon,” Yudai said casually.
“You’re exaggerating.” Fuma laughed softly.
“I’m really not.” He nudged Fuma again. “Seriously. Go.”
Fuma looked at you one more time. You were still smiling at him, waiting for him to come over. And suddenly the world felt like the simplest thing ever—just you two in it, sitting atop clouds and drinking lemonade wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“Alright,” He said, “But I’m doing it when we get home.”
“That’s my guy.” Yudai grinned, triumphantly pushing up his crown.
Fuma pushed himself off the railing, setting his untouched drink down on the deck table. As he stepped onto the grass and began walking toward you, the sounds of the party seemed to fade slightly into the background. The only thing he could really focus on was the way your smile grew wider the closer he got.
Love was a simple thing really, or at least the definition of it was.
Every version of it always started with you.
_________________
You stepped through the front door of your home, the faint scent of baby powder and cake from the baby shower still clinging to your clothes. The afternoon had been sweet—eating cake and getting pumped with lemonade as you cooed over baby clothes with your friends. It was one of those rare moments when the world felt like something more than gray matter.
But now, exhaustion tugged at you, and you kicked off your shoes, heading straight for the bathroom. Fuma had left before you did, tugged away by a work call which he apologised at least fifteen times for before you placed your hand on his and told him gently that it was alright.
He was already home; you'd seen his car in the driveway, but the house was quiet, save for the distant hum of the refrigerator.
The hot water cascaded over your skin in the shower, washing away the day's stickiness. You lathered up with your favorite lavender soap, letting the steam fill the small space. By the time you stepped out, wrapping a towel around yourself, the sun was dipping lower outside the window.
You dried off and slipped into your lace camisole and matching panties—soft, sheer fabric that hugged your curves, the delicate patterns whispering against your skin, perfectly comfortable for a lazy evening, you thought, as you padded into the kitchen to make yourself a snack.
Chopping fruits at the counter, you absentmindedly hummed a tune, unaware of the absolute storm brewing behind you. You were completely absorbed in your task, blissfully unaware of his presence.
Fuma stood in the doorway of the kitchen, admiring you from behind. The soft glow of the setting sun cast a warm light across your silhouette, highlighting the curves of your hips.
He stepped closer, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every detail. The way the soft lace of your camisole clung to your skin, the way the sheer fabric revealed tantalizing glimpses of what lay beneath. He felt a surge of desire, a hunger that grew with each passing moment.
It had been like this ever since the afternoon, ever since the moment you leaned into his touch when he wrapped his arm around your waist to tug you closer whilst you both ate cake. The way you had teasingly sucked on his thumb when he reached to wipe cream off of your lips sent blood rushing everywhere in his body.
His footsteps were silent until they weren't. Suddenly, his presence loomed behind you, heat radiating from his body like a furnace.
“Oh.” You made a soft noise as the smell of soft cotton filled your senses, “Hi baby. Want some strawberries?” You held up a piece to him.
Your husband didn't answer you, his lips finding your neck instead. He began to trail soft kisses along your skin, starting at your collarbone and working his way up. Each kiss sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to his touch instinctively.
“Alright then, more for me I guess.” You chuckled, used to being bombed with his love randomly at times like this. As he continued to explore your neck with his lips, his hands began to roam, slipping under the hem of your camisole to caress the smooth skin of your stomach. His touch was gentle at first, but as the heat between you grew, his kisses became more urgent, more demanding.
“Fuma, sweetheart, you alright?” You asked, tilting your head back. Before you could turn, his hands gripped your hips, pulling you back against him. His breath was hot against your neck, ragged and urgent.
He nipped at your earlobe, sending another wave of pleasure through you. His hands moved higher, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened beneath his touch.
You let out a soft moan, your head falling back against his shoulder, lost in the sensation of his touch. He took advantage of your position, his lips finding the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, and he began to suck and nibble at the skin, leaving a trail of red marks in his wake.
“You’re so beautiful.” Fuma sighed, lips brushing your ear, “Too damn beautiful." Fierce, open-mouthed pressed along the curve of your throat, teeth grazing just enough to send shivers racing down your spine.
Your body arched against him, your hips pressing back into his own. His hands continued to explore, one moving down to slip beneath the waistband of your panties, his fingers brushing against your most intimate area.
You gasped, the knife clattering to the cutting board as your hands braced against the counter. Fuma's worship was consuming; his mouth trailed lower, sucking at the sensitive spot below your jaw.
His arousal pressed hard against your ass through his jeans, unyielding and insistent. He nipped at your shoulder, pushing the strap of your top aside to expose more flesh, his tongue laving over the mark he'd made.
The intensity built like a wildfire, you tried to steady yourself, but Fuma spun you around, backing you against the kitchen wall with a thud that rattled a nearby cabinet. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust, as he caged you in—forearms braced on either side of your head.
“So beautiful, darling.” He repeated, crashing his lips to yours in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, devouring you, “Looked so perfect today.” His hands roamed, one sliding up to cup your breast through the lace, thumb circling your nipple until it peaked hard and aching. He broke the kiss only to drop to his knees, his gaze locked on yours, feral and reverent.
“Fuma…” You sighed as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, glancing up once to make sure you’re alright. When you gave him a small nod, he yanked them down your thighs in one swift motion.
You had no idea just what had gotten into your husband today—he was never one to initiate sex, always waiting for your approval and arousal and following through. A gentleman, in many ways.
There was nothing gentleman-ly in the way Fuma gripped your thighs now, his strength unyielding, and hoisted your legs over his broad shoulders, god his strength turned you on so much.
The idea that this man could you probably crush you between his arms with one gentle squeeze, and yet here he was, worshiping your pussy like it was his only diety—werent you the luckiest woman on earth? Your back pressed flat against the wall, the rough texture scraping lightly as he buried his face between your legs.
His mouth was ravenous, sweet tongue flat and broad, he licked a long stripe up your slit, savoring your taste with a guttural moan that vibrated through you. “So sweet for me, darling.” Fuma praised, words muffled as he delved deeper.
He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, relentless in his assault, as you practically rode his face. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging at the dark strands as the pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Fuma's grip tightened, holding you open, his nose bumping your mound with each eager thrust of his tongue inside you.
He ate you like a man starved, alternating between broad laps that coated his chin with your arousal and precise circles around your swollen nub. One hand slid up your inner thigh, fingers teasing your entrance before plunging two inside, curling them against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. It was his favourite spot, the way it made his pretty wife shake in his grasp always made his dick twitch.
“Fuma!” You cried out, hips bucking involuntarily, “Right there, right—ahh fuckkkk…” Fuma pinned you firmer, devouring every drop as your thighs trembled over his shoulders.
“Relax, baby.” He urged, “Let go for me, that’s a good girl.”
The pressure built until it snapped—your orgasm crashed over you, walls clenching around your husband’s fingers as you flooded his mouth, body arching off the wall. You cried out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. He held you close as you rode out the waves of pleasure, his own breathing ragged as he watched you come undone in his arms.
When it was over, he pulled back slightly, looking up at you with his beautiful eyes. “Are you alright, darling?”
“That was….” You breathed, as he lowered your legs gently and rose, “What horny demon possessed you today, my dearest husband?”
“I’ve been asking the same question.” Fuma chuckled, claiming your mouth in a deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, “It's just….”
Fuma stopped in his tracks as he saw the way you looked at him, wide, loving eyes that held nothing but trust in them. God he felt so stupid, he could have just told you what he wanted. But—akin to a spoiled child—he had to go and fulfill his whims, and now he didn't know how to breach the subject.
“What happened baby?” You tilted your head, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. Fuma melted into your palm, closing his eyes for a brief second, letting himself get lost in the cotton of your touch.
“You know how we were at the baby shower?”
“Uh huh.” You said, suppressing a giggle.
“And you know how we went to shop for baby clothes the other day?”
“Baby—”
“I want to do that again.” Fuma pressed a soft kiss to your palm, “I want to do that all over again, but—” His hold on your waist tightened, as if to ground himself, “—I want to do that for our family.”
When you married Fuma, a little voice in your head had told you that this would be the man you’d spent the rest of your life with, and it had asked you, are you sure? And you had answered back, yes. If life was three seconds, three days, three months or thirty years long, this man would be the person you’d spend the rest of it with. To run through dandelion fields, to talk about everything and nothing all at once under a starry sky, to celebrate the poetry of life with.
“Our family?” You repeated softly.
Fuma nodded once, though the movement was small. “Yeah.” His heart was beating fast now, faster than he would have liked, suddenly looking far less confident than he had a moment ago. “I mean—not right this second,” He added quickly. “I’m not trying to rush you or anything like that.”
You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your face at that. Your husband looked like a child in trouble.
“But…” He continued, searching for the right words. “Standing there today, watching you with your friend, seeing how excited you were about everything…” He glanced down briefly, then back at you again. “You’d be amazing.” He said quietly.
“Amazing?” Your expression softened.
“A mom.” The word seemed to surprise the both of you. Fuma laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck again.
“See, this is why I didn’t plan to say this out loud.” He muttered, the tips of his ears turning faintly red.
“You’re doing great so far.” You laughed softly. He looked at you carefully, trying to read your expression.
“I just—” He paused, then tried again. “When I think about the future, you’re always there, every version of it.” You didn’t interrupt him this time. “And today just made it… clearer, I guess,” He finished.
Fuma reached up to brush a strand of your hair back behind your ears, another shuddering breath from him as he saw how damn beautiful you were. Two years of marriage and he still couldn't help but feel like a stupid 20 year old boy everytime he looked at you.
“You really thought about this a lot, didn’t you?” You asked
“A little.”
“Fuma.” You raised a brow.
“Okay.” He admitted. “A lot.”
That made you laugh again. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly when he heard it. Then you reached up again, your hand returning to his cheek.
“And what if I said—” You smiled sheepishly, “—I thought about it too?”
Fuma didn't know if it was relief or something else that washed over him at your words.
“Say sike right now.”
“Oh god Fuma.” You laughed, slapping his chest, “What has Maki been teaching you?” You laughed with him for a second before sighing and smiling softly, “If I’m being a hundred percent honest…the thought has come into my mind a few times, especially whenever you held a baby.” You ran a tongue over your lips, “You look exceptionally dashing when you do that.”
“Dashing?” Fuma cocked a brow, eyes flickering to your lips, “Go on.”
“Well,” You continued, “It’s been two years already.” Your hand reached down slowly, “And we’re both logical adults.” You palmed his cock, “And we’re both very horny right now.” He was already so hard beneath your touch, “And I don’t think I can sleep without another orgasm tonight."
Whatever Fuma did in his past life to get you in this one, he was thankful he did it. He let out a soft groan as you palmed his cock straining through his pants. God you were such a perfect fucking wife.
“You’re sure darling?” Fuma asked, “It’s a really big decision you know.”
“Good that I make really nice decisions then hm?” You squeezed his hard length through his pants, a playful smile on your lips, “Need you so bad Fuma.” You rocked your hips against his, fluttering your lashes.
Fuma groaned at your words, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily into your touch. "You're going to be the death of me."
With that, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you off to the bedroom with a determined stride. The mattress dipped under his weight as he laid you down, the lace camisole still clinging to your sweat-damp skin, his eyes roaming over your body with a hungry gaze. Two years of marriage and he was still putty beneath the power of your gorgeous face.
Fuma crawled onto the bed, covering your body with his own. He kissed you deeply, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you—though you were already his. His hands roamed over your body, caressing every inch of your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
Your husband took a moment to admire your chest, running his thumbs over your hardened nipples. You gasped at the contact, arching your back to press yourself further into his touch.
Fuma stripped quickly—shirt tossed aside, sweats kicked off—revealing his toned body, cock thick and straining, tip red hot and angry. He slowly (very very agonizingly slowly) settled between your thighs, propping himself on one elbow while his free hand traced lazy patterns over your hip.
“You’re so beautiful, darling." He breathed, repeating the same praise for the fifteenth time that evening, eyes tracing every inch with worshipful intensity. His fingers dipped lower, gathering your lingering wetness before circling your entrance teasingly.
Slowly, so slowly, he pushed one thick finger inside you, watching your face as your pussy stretched around the intrusion.
“So damn tight….gonna have to work her open first, yeah?” Fuma pumped it in and out, deliberate strokes that had you mewling, the earlier orgasm leaving you hypersensitive. He added a second finger, scissoring them gently, stretching your walls with patient precision.
Fuma leaned down, kissing your collarbone, then your breasts, sucking a nipple through the lace until it was soaked and translucent. “I love you, my darling.” he murmured against your skin, his voice a mix of ferocity and adoration, “My everything, sweetheart.”
“Fuma—feel so good…..fuck!” His fingers curled inside you, stroking that inner ridge over and over, building the heat anew.
You writhed beneath him, hands clutching the sheets, as he worked you open—three fingers now, thrusting deep, preparing you for what was to come. The room filled with the wet sounds of his fingers fucking you, your moans echoing off the walls.
He kept the pace languid, draaawing out every sensation, his free hand pinning your wrist above your head in a gentle hold.
“Taking me so good, my darling.” Fuma’s eyes never left yours, passionate and intense, as another climax built, slower this time, like the coming of a spring, “Let go for me, go on.”
When it hit, it washed through you in waves, your pussy fluttering around his fingers, pulling him deeper. Your husband groaned, withdrawing at last, his cock twitching against your thigh.
“Alright, baby?” Fuma asked, gentle faze tracing over your twitching body. Cute, he thought, she’s shaking from just my fingers.
“Fumaaa…” You whined, bringing your hand up to stroke his jaw, looking at him though half lidded eyes, “Want your cock, please?”
Your husband was a….large man. Compared to others atleast, fucking hell was he built like a truck—one of the many reasons you married him. He was big in every aspect, broad shoulders and chest, thick fucking fingers (the fluid dripping down your thighs was proof it only took one deep plunge to make you cum), and perhaps the fattest cock you had ever seen in your life.
And by god did it fill his ego to the brim to see you struggle to take him.
His pretty little wife.
“Ready darling?” Your husband asked, all formal, as if anything was formal about that dick, positioning himself.
“Just put it in already.” You huffed, wrapping your legs round his waist to bring him closer. You needed him right now.
“So impatient baby.” He chuckled, tilting his head, “And if it doesn't fit? You know it never fits in the first try.”
Technically speaking, your husband was correct. Two damn years and you could never take him all in the first go. He had to make you cum at least three times to get you wet enough. But speaking from your horny brain, you did not give a fuck.
“I’ll make it fit.” You said, voice breathy, “Please, Fuma? I’ll be your good girl, I swear.” He groaned at your words, his hips twitching forward slightly as if seeking more of your touch.
“Well, who am I to deny such a pretty girl?” He purred, hovering above you, his cock heavy and throbbing against your slick folds, the broad head nudging your entrance. You moaned at the contact, your hips bucking up as if it were a conditioned reflex.
You could feel the stretch already, just from that initial press, your pussy still fluttering from the slow fingering that had left you open and aching for more. Fuma gripped the base of his cock, guiding it with deliberate slowness, but as he pushed forward, only the tip breached you before resistance met him—your walls clenching tight around the intrusion, too snug even after all his preparation.
Fuma let out a cocky laugh as he took his time, savoring the feeling of your right heat as he slooowly pushed inside. He groaned, low and frustrated, his hips twitching as he tried to sink deeper.
“So fucking small.” Fuma rasped, eyes locking onto yours with a mix of lust and amusement, “Pussy’s so damn small—pretty thing can’t even take half of me, yeah?”
“F-Fuma slow down!” You gasped, your hands reaching for him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life, “Fuck—hah oh god Fuma too much!”
“Tch tch.” Your husband clicked his tongue, “I don’t think I’m the problem here darling.” He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, “You’re just—” thrust, “too” thrust, “small.” Your body shook like a dandelion in the wind as he forced his fat fucking cock into you, “Fuck she’s gripping me—ahh—like she wants to keep me out.” He rocked forward again, forcing another inch inside, but your body rebelled, muscles fluttering and squeezing in protest, “Does she want me out, my darling?”
You whimpered, hands fisting the sheets, the burn of the stretch mingling with sharp pleasure. Fuma chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to let you breathe before thrusting shallowly, teasing your entrance with the thick ridge of his cockhead.
“Look at you, all worked up and still too tight for your husband.” His free hand trailed up your thigh, thumb pressing into the soft flesh as he watched your face contort—lips parted, brows furrowed in that exquisite mix of pain and need. “What am I supposed to do with a wife who milks me like this? Can't even fit all the way in without—fuck—a fight.” Fuma loved this part, the way your body yielded inch by inch, proving how perfectly you were made for him, even if it took effort.
You arched your back, trying to ease him in, but he held your hips steady, controlling the pace. “Calm down sweetheart.” His voice was gravelly, “You said you’ll make it fit, so we’re going to make it fit.”
He pumped in and out of that shallow depth, the wet slide of your arousal coating him, but he couldn't bury himself fully—not yet. Frustration edged his teasing, his breaths coming harsher as he ground against you, clit catching the friction of his pubic bone on each nudge.
Finally, the playfulness snapped. With a feral growl, Fuma's hands clamped onto your thighs, fingers digging into the meat of them hard enough to bruise.
He pulled your legs up roughly, folding them back against your chest in one swift motion—the mating press that pinned you open and vulnerable beneath him. Your knees nearly touched your shoulders, pussy splayed wide and exposed, the angle forcing your walls to part just enough.
“Theeere we go.” Fuma grunted, satisfaction lacing his tone as he aligned himself again. “Now you'll take it all, like the good girl you are.”
Surging forward, his cock speared into you in a single, brutal thrust, bottoming out with a slap of skin on skin. You cried out, the fullness overwhelming—his girth splitting you wide, the head of his dick kissing your cervix in a deep, unyielding press.
It burned, god did it fucking burn, the stretch bordering on too much, but the pleasure crashed in right after, your pussy clenching greedily around his length. Fuma didn't give you time to adjust; he pulled back almost to the tip and slammed back in, setting a punishing rhythm that rocked your body against the mattress.
“Fuck, yes—feel that? How deep I am now?” He panted, hips snapping forward relentlessly, each thrust driving him balls deep into your core.
The position kept you locked in place, unable to escape the onslaught, your thighs quivering from the strain as he folded you tighter. His weight bore down, chest pressing your legs further, turning you into a pliant vessel for his cock. He fucked you hard, the bed creaking under the force, your pussy squelching around him with every plunge—wet, obscene sounds filling the room alongside your moans and his grunts.
Sweat slicked his skin, dripping onto your chest as he rutted into you like an animal, chasing that primal need that had been resting in his chest ever since he saw you with a baby in your arms.
“Gonna fill you up.” He mumbled into your ear, lips brushing the shell as he nipped at your lobe, “Pump you so full—hah you’re so tight baby. You want that sweetheart? Wanna have our kids?”
“Fuma!” His words sent heat flooding your veins, your walls fluttering around his pistoning cock, pulling him deeper as if your body agreed, “Fuma fuck! Yes yes yes!” All your senses were gone at this point.
He shifted his angle slightly, grinding against that sensitive spot inside you with each thrust, the friction on your clit from his body adding layers of sensation. You were lost in it, head thrown back, nails raking down his back as pleasure built relentlessly. Fuma's pace never faltered—rough, demanding, fucking you into oblivion as promised.
“Take it darling.” His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing firm circles, pushing you toward the edge, “Take every fucking drop—ahhh god you’re squeezing me so tight.”
The first orgasm hit you like a freight train, ripping through your core as your pussy spasmed around his cock, milking him in tight pulses. You screamed his name, vision blurring, body convulsing in the tight fold of the mating press.
Fuma groaned, feeling you clamp down, but he didn't stop—thrusting through it, prolonging the waves until you were sobbing from the intensity. “One more, darling, just one more, I promise.”
He kept pounding, the overstimulation making every slide of his cock electric, your sensitivity heightening the drag of his veins against your walls. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he chased his own release, but he focused on you—thumb pressing harder on your clit, hips rolling to hit that spot over and over.
“Fuck baby, go on—milk me dry. Show me how much you want our kids.” The words, combined with the relentless fucking, coiled the tension anew, faster this time, your body already primed.
You shattered a second time, orgasm crashing harder, your pussy gushing around him, soaking his balls as you clenched and released in rhythmic waves. Fuma cursed, the vice of your walls tipping him over.
With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, cock pulsing as he came—hot spurts of cum flooding your depths, painting your womb white. He ground against you, ensuring every drop stayed inside, his growl vibrating through your joined bodies.
“Full…….so fucking full for me.” Fuma had no idea what he was saying, dick and mind already milked to the brim, collapsing forward slightly, still folded over you as aftershocks rippled through both of you.
He stayed like that for long minutes, cock softening inside your bred pussy, plugging his cum deep. Only when your breaths evened did he ease your legs down, kissing your forehead softly as he pulled out.
“Shit.” You sighed as you felt him ease out, leaving you empty. Fuma cupped your cheek in his palm, tilting your face to look at you properly.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Emotionally or physically?” You chuckled, fighting the urge to fall asleep right there and then, “Because emotionally, I won’t accept anything else other than all that for sex after this.”
“All that?” Fuma chuckled, sliding down next to you, warmth radiating off his body, “You sure we’ll even be able to have sex after all that?”
“Oh shut up.” You laughed, tossing one leg over his to tangle yourself in his grasp, “It takes people at least three attempts to get pregnant.”
“We can be an exception darling.” Fuma laughed, melting into your touch as the lady of the night pulled you both into her arms.
The two faint lines two weeks later proved you to be the exception, indeed.
— ⋆˚꩜｡ put on my favorite show. :: 1.7OO + words. ..ᝰ.ᐟ
𑣲. tiny love letter :: your boyfriend soobin doesn’t mind sharing, especially if it’s with his (other bunny) best friend, fuma. ⋆🧸ིྀ
warnings :: (18+) mdni. smut — bf! 최수빈 x bf’s bsf!村田風雅 x afab!reader … brief prior consent mentioned , threesome , exhibitionism , voyuerism , cuckolding , unprotected sex , soobin’s a cuck , reader’s a bit shy at first , fuma’s all in , intimate love making & rough fucking , tongue sucking , voice kink , positions: missionary to anvil to pronebone to doggy , manhandling , slight dumbification , edging , just soobin admiring fuma’s and reader’s sex as art … basically :P
sticky note :: when they’re both bunnies & soft doms & bsfs… just got dizzy thinking about this. so yummy. we’re keeping the perv soobin alive with this one ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
melody on loop :: heal your heart (interlude) by brent faiyaz.
clothes strewn all over soobin’s floor, long forgotten from the heated moment, soobin felt like he was the one intruding—
except he was not at all, he was right where he wanted to be. he’s the one that made the plan to get together for brief details, fuma thinking your nervous giggles afterwards were outright adorable, soobin’s reassuring squeeze on your thigh being your anchor. you’ve all agreed to this.
but his jaw couldn’t help but drop slack and his breath couldn’t stop hitching at the sight in front of him. was that really you? he wonders, but the more he witnesses, the more he gets his answer.
this was your raw self, with fuma.
soobin was manspread and arms crossed over his chest, unaware of his flaccid yet slick cock twitching back to life over his tensed thigh, leaning back against the soft chair and just stares at the messy art you and fuma display. he can see the battle between intimacy and unadulterated lust with your movements, the push and pull, the widened to narrowed stares you give each other.
bodies in motion, his head tilts to gather more visuals for his mental spank bank.
and then he thinks a bit crazier; putting himself in a different perspective entirely. that, what if he wasn’t a part of this relationship and was watching from an outsiders perspective? would his body react the same way?
or perhaps, in an alternate universe; you two were the couple and he’d be watching you two in a candid setting, all wholesome and with pure giggles, just interacting. he wholeheartedly believe his first thought would be:
“oh they’re so cute, but i just know this couple fucks so nasty behind closed doors.”
and he’d be so right if, somehow, he was able to see you both completely devour each other’s pleasure, just like you are now.
putting on a show for just him, showing him how nasty you both can really be, on his bed. and he knows you both are still fully aware of his presence, but he’s starting to get the feeling that you’re slowly losing focus on everything except for each other.
an effect that usually happens when you’re in the equation.
… fuck. soobin can see the way you lose composure, how you battle the desire trying to override your every motion and sense, keeping fuma close with your nails clawing into his flexing scapulas to kiss your appreciation right onto his tongue.
the way fuma stops his punching thrusts and resorts to grinding instead as he sucks onto your tongue in response. stopping his lust filled drive to come back down and meet you at your attempt for a deeper connection. drool dripping down your chin, slick pink open mouths sliding against each other, hands gripping bruises onto each other’s skin.
soobin doesn’t realize the slight twitching furrow of his brows from his intense analytical studying, only keeps his hawkeye on how you break apart when fuma coaxes you back up with him once his pace quickens again, coddling you back into insanity and lust when he snaps his hips just right. soobin reels at the visuals laid out before him;
your peeking tongues still pressed flat together after you couldn’t keep up with fuma’s open mouthed kisses from the pleasure you felt, puffing your saccharine noises into each other’s drooling mouths. the pointed tip of your tongue flicking over the middle of fuma’s flat tongue one last time before your head tips back onto soobin’s pillows like a fallen angel.
soobin knows fuma can be more of a menace than him sometimes, seeing it in the way he wraps his plush lips over your tipped chin and jawline to coax more huffing moans out your vibrating throat, then leaning back when he knows your hands will feebly attempt to keep him close.
my poor honey, soobin thinks as he sighs so soft you both wouldn’t hear past your own noises, shifting on the chair with an itch to just walk over and bite fuma for teasing so much.
but he sits still and watches as you stay pliant underneath fuma’s swift hands, raw and bare open, allowing him to press your ankles together and place them over one of his shoulders. soobin stays, watching fuma’s eyelashes flutter shut as he turns his nose into your skin and presses his lips there on the nimble bone while his other hand runs down the expanse of your outer thigh; admiring the small reminders of softness fuma tries to keep amidst his mean hips. just for your sake, since he knows you need a balance.
leaning fully back, soobin knows you’re in good hands. he knows you’re okay when fuma gently unhooks your legs off his broad shoulder and turns you over to one side, guiding your frame into another position. he knows you’re okay when you suddenly stop fuma mid turn to meet his lips in a searing passion, still staying connected even as you fully turn onto your stomach, neck craned uncomfortably back and exposed in an upside down kiss.
soob can see your desperation, how quick you break apart to shift and maneuver feverishly underneath fuma’s frame until your legs spread over fu’s thighs, and how fuma responds by spreading his own to knee you open, like it’s second nature. like it’s natural, perfect, the way your bodies understand what they need from each other.
a smile rises on soobin’s lips when fuma’s broad frame inches closer, head hovers higher over yours so that you could stay comfortable and not have to crane so much to keep kissing, nudging himself deeper within your clenched walls and pressing his pelvis against the fat of your ass. you’ve disappeared underneath fuma, encapsulated completely and all soobin can see was the deep slope of fu’s spine dipping out into his curved ass cheeks and your bent legs mindlessly kicking in the air against fuma’s tensed outer thighs with each shallow rut.
and when you break apart, face falling into the mattress, hair puffing around your face and hands gripping cold fabrics instead of warm skin, the sound of your muffled noises is a symphony in soobin’s twitching ears as his eyes drink in the way fuma curls around your frame to imprint a line of fluttering kisses down your nape and upper spine.
small wisps of softness still bleeding through, heart aching intimacy to let your inner self know you’re being well taken care of. it feels so familiar because soobin told his best friend beforehand exactly what you like, confusing your brain by mixing the soft kisses with his insistent hips.
this is better than any movie he could ever watch. it’s not just eroticism in its rawest form, it’s rhythm, alignment and connection in the most intimate way..
his eyes sparkle at the beauty of your bare bodies when fuma leans back, marveling at the human body and it’s wonders as he watches your ass ripple against the force of fuma’s soaked pelvis and your toes curls when his hand furls around your ankle again.
soobin thought he counted all the beauty marks on both your bodies enough to know where each one was, but his eyes narrow when he sees another on your upper left cheek, right underneath your hip.
and he knows fuma is staring at the exact feature too, eyes shadowed underneath his bangs with his head tilted down, watching as his hips make the small beauty mark dance. he can hear fuma mutter something in japanese under his breath, make out the syllables but it was intonation of his deep voice that had soobin’s teeth biting down harder on his bottom lip.
“cute, so cute when you’re ruined..” voice thick in his japanese dialect, drowning in the sweet puddle of your muffled whimpers warbling in the pillow. soobin feels his own body prickle with excitement, knowing it’s directed for you. and somehow, it makes him prideful, knowing that this cuteness is still all his.
feral, and that’s when soobin sees the switch to lust once again. when fuma suddenly snakes both hands around your hips and pounds into you with one sharp thrust, stopping quick. the veins in his hands protrude as he uses his strength to pull you back with him as a signal, prompting you to respond regardless. he couldn’t hold back anymore; craving to ruin more.
soobin’s rock hard cock twitches at the strangled moan that leaves your sloppy lips at fuma’s urge, and he registered the ache from his blood rushing quicker than he realized, but he’s not focused on himself right now— he’s more intrigued on what fuma’s trying to do.
but it twitches again to a point where he cannot ignore when you let yourself get pulled, following fuma’s silent request immediately and waking your melting body out of the dumbed haze to act. soobin’s fascinated, eyes wide when you shuffle onto your knees and hold yourself up on trembling thighs with the help of fuma lifting you up, lower half now raised high into the air with fuma still bottomed out in your drooling pussy.
he couldn’t help but marvel at fuma’s satisfying hum, the approving nod of fuma’s head, because of how intuned you are with him already, when he pulls you back enough for you to brace yourself on your forearms instead of your squished cheek, when you start throwing yourself back onto fuma’s soaked cock immediately and he slides a hand down the dip of your spine to keep your pace steady. keeping your arch form perfect like a divine sculpture.
soobin could cum untouched at this art.
the constant ripple of your ass in coordination with the bouncing echo of your skins smacking, how your force slightly knocks fuma back even when he meets you midway with heavy thrusts, how your thighs tremble as they slip further apart, how he can see bliss on your bitten lips when your press your forehead against your forearm.
nasty. succumbing to lust once again, pure desire and crude carnal desperation.
that’s what this is.
a perfect blend of devotion and lust between you and fuma; in soobin’s terms, just what nasty is.
but he wonders. fascinatingly intrigued if nasty can change, can be different in fuma’s eyes as they watch what nasty means to you and soobin. it makes soobin wanna have fuma watch how you truly act, how you truly take when you’re with soobin, and he’ll make it happen again— knowing fuma would watch happily like he’s done before.
could you pls write about the teamies reaction to having a superrr sensitive gf that cannot control coming back to back no matter what (i feel like nicho and taki would lose their mindss 🤭)
I love this prompt. I wrote some of the teamies just accidentally overstimming you and others having fun once they realize how easy it is to make you cum over and over again.
~OT9 x Reader, female anatomy, feminine terms, no use of Y/N, "you" used
~cw: Overstimulation and aftercare in everyone’s. Praise. Light humiliation. Begging. Public play. Free use. Rough sex. Oral (f receiving).
~wc: 1.5K
Koga Yudai
Overstimulation, praise, aftercare
“Oh, okay. I can work with this.”
When Kei first finds out that you're that sensitive, he kinda freaks out. Not necessarily in a bad way, but he’s not expecting it, especially if you go dumb or start shaking. You can expect lots of aftercare and cuddling and apologizing for making you forget how to walk.
But the second time? After you let him know it feels good and you like it? Oh, he’s prepared. He’s cleared his schedule. He’s putting you in every position he can think of until you can’t remember his name or your own.
Then, he’s taking care of you. He’s getting you water and carrying you to the bath and telling you just how pretty you look for him and how well you did. He’ll tuck you into bed and sing you a pretty lullaby, making sure you feel safe and secure with him.
The first time you cum around him, he’s happy. Then you cum for a second time and he hits you with a deep little, “Again?” And then you do, “again” and “again” and “again”, that little taunt following each climax, teasing you for how easily you cum for him.
You don’t need to be embarrassed. He likes it. He fucking revels in the way you tighten around him over and over. The way you can’t help but show him how good he makes you feel. It almost feels like a challenge. Can you keep cumming like that through his second round? Of course you can, you’re a good girl like that.
By the time he’s gone two rounds (and you’ve gone a bit more than two rounds), you’re both spent. You just collapse into each other, panting. Everything else can wait, you just need each other. Fuma just keeps stuttering out how amazing you are for him and how lucky he is to get to fuck you like that.
Wang Yixiang
Overstimulation, light humiliation, aftercare
“Count.”
How many times did Nicho make you cum that first time? You can give an estimate, but not an exact number. Well, that won’t do. Next time, you’ll have to count for him.
He holds you to it, stopping dead unless you say that pretty little number nice and loud for him. He’ll keep going until you hit his age or maybe yours, maybe even Fuma’s birth year, whatever’s hardest for you. Whatever keeps you counting for him. And if you mess up, well you might as well start from “one” again. If he’s feeling especially evil, he might have you practice counting in different languages. Can you get the tones right while moaning? He’ll be the judge of that.
I have the sinking feeling his stamina is borderline unethical, but once you are done, he’ll take care of you. He won’t really touch you or cuddle you unless you ask or whine for it, but it’s only because he’s trying to be nice. He’s probably touched you enough for now, but he’s more than happy to be proven wrong.
Byun Euijoo
Overstimulation, begging, aftercare
“Tell me you want more.”
He’d notice almost immediately that you’re cumming a lot. I think his first reaction would be to pull away, stop touching you (as frustrating as that would be), and check to make sure that you’re okay and that you want it to continue. He’s not touching you again until you use your words.
But once you do, he’s back to fucking you the way you like. Then you cum again and he pauses. Each and every time. With his tip still in you or his thumb hovering so close to your clit you can feel his heat or his mouth barely far enough away from your cunt for his lips not to touch, he asks if you want more. You adapt quickly, screaming “more” and “please” as you cum as if it was his name.
Once he finishes, he gets shy. Euijoo asks if it’s okay to stop, if you’re okay with “less”. He gets so cuddly after. And curious. Asking what it feels like, debating if he should let you give him “more” next time.
Nakakita Yuma
Public play, free use, aftercare
“You’re so pretty after you cum.”
Once he finds out how sensitive you are, Yuma is hell-bent on using it for evil. At any and every point, he’s pulling you away to coax a few orgasms out of you. How could he not? You’re so pretty after you cum.
Soon enough, you forget what it’s like to not have a soaking cunt and thighs around Yuma. If he has a moment to taste you in some dressing room, he’s taking it and not stopping until he has to change his shirt. And dinner would be so boring if you weren’t already three orgasms deep when the waiter brought the water.
When you finally get home, he helps you wash up. If you really want, you can help him cum, but he’s more focused on making sure that you know you’re more than just a hole for him, even if he does love using your holes.
Asakura Jo
Desperate Jo, overstimulation, conflicted feelings, aftercare
“I’m sorry. Please just let me finish.”
When he first notices how much you’re cumming, he reassures himself that it’s normal for girls to cum more than guys. But you just keep tightening around him and those moans are different and fuck, you feel so good, but are you okay? He’s not sure that he is. Jo’s worried for you, but he’s so close. He feels like he’s about to explode.
But that little bit of worry is a problem. It keeps pulling his mind away from finishing. It’s taking him so long to finish. And you just keep cumming over and over and getting more sensitive and it’s just this feedback loop of “Can she handle any more?” and “I’m so close. Yeah, yeah, she can handle it until I finish.”
When he finally finishes, he pulls out and holds you tight. He just needs to know that you’re okay. You’re both shaky. He’s already started planning how to not overstimulate you like that next time. He just keeps apologizing until you finally say how good it felt and he shuts up and kisses you.
It's the first time Harua's eating you out and you just keep cumming on his tongue. The first few orgasms, he feels good, just so proud of himself. After that, when your legs start shaking, he gets nervous. Is he doing this right? Are you even enjoying yourself? Once he gets that confirmation that you feel so good, he's so happy.
He just loves the way your body reacts under his tongue. He loves making you feel so good that the only thing you can think of is how wonderful he is between your legs. When he's done, he just loves tasting you and cleaning you with his tongue. Harua would beg so prettily to fuck you just one time. He's so close. It won't take long. Please just let him feel as good as you do. He'd come a few strokes in.
Now, he'd obviously be a little embarassed, but his legs still work. He'd clean both of you up with a towel and get you water. You can just hold each other until you can form sentences again and thank each other.
Takayama Riki
Overstimulation, exploring your body, rough sex, aftercare
"So that also makes you cum."
After you cum for the second time so quickly, he's pulling out and testing. Will you cum if all he does is rub your clit? What about playing with your tits? Can you cum just from him marking your neck? Taki explores your body as you get more and more sensitive, cumming again and again.
Hearing you moan and whine as you cum around nothing makes him go fucking feral. After he has his fun, he's pinning you down and fucking you into the mattress. Now he knows exactly where you're sensitive and he will abuse that information. He uses his hands and lips and teeth to make you cum as hard as possible until he's satisfied.
When he's done, he'd make sure you knew how proud he is of you for taking everything so well. He'd love rubbing your back and kissing your forehead until you can speak again.
Maki would love a sensitive girl. He would fuck you standing up just so he could feel you dripping down your thighs and his. Oh and when your legs give out! He'd just pick you up and fuck you against the wall. You don't need working legs when you have a strong man who can fuck you in the air.
His hands grip your thighs so hard they leave fingerprint bruises as he groans and whispers in your ear how well you're taking him. As he gets closer, he'd wrap your legs around his waist and brace himself against the wall, desperate to finish without sending either of you to the ground.
Once he finishes, he lifts you off his cock and sits down, putting you in his lap. He kisses your nose and tells you how much he loved playing with you. You can just nuzzle into his shoulder until you're ready to be a person again
A/N: I'm so sorry to this anon. This is an ask from September that got lost in my notes app
