welcome to my masterlist! ♡
i recently got back into writing after a while — and, surprisingly, i’m now using my literature degree to write smut online (and honestly? i love it).
still, i want to do better, so feel free to reach out with requests, ideas, or ways i can improve my writing to serve the masses better.
— ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ —
💌 bucky barnes
Vanilla Custard & Chaos — Part 1 (Mature) . Part 2 (Explicit)
The Pink Tutu Protocol
🕶️ clark kent / superman
I Think Kent Rings Better — Part 1 (Mature) . Part 2 (Explicit)
Synopsis. By day, Nanami Kento is the perfect husband. Devoted. Loving. A gentle father to your two children. By night, he’s aching to stuff you pregnant with your third. CóckbIocked. Ravenous. Just waiting for the moment he can go…full-on beast mode.
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, husband!Nanami, married life, domesticity, Papamin, Yuji and Choso cameos, interruptions, cóckbIocked by your oblivious sons, slight edgíng, 5 +1 things if you squint, FÉRAL Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), face-ríding, manhandIing, spítting, chokíng, fíngering, ROUGH s, cervíx kíssing, all over the house, big Ds, P TALKING, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, matíng presses, creampíes, cúmpIay, MARATHONS, heavy overstím, CÚMFLATION, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 16.1k
A/N. Based on the manga ‘By Day, a Devoted Husband. By Night, Full-on Beast Mode’ by The Waidan.
T-minus 5 days until the long weekend.
“Reading journal…pencil case…extra cap…” You’re rifling through the essentials stuffed inside your energetic son’s backpack. He was five already, and reaching that age where he just insisted he could do all those ‘big boy’ things by himself. “Hm…I think you have everything-”
“Really? Yippee—” Yuji’s pumping his fist in the air, before he’s immediately tugging the Spiderman-covered bag out of your hands and darting towards the open door. “Okay, momma- myfriendsareheregottogoloveyoubye-”
You watch after the blur of Spiderman and orange t-shirt in a slight daze, “Ah- right. I love you, b-” Before…you just slightly turn your head to the side, and in your peripheral vision you see- “Wait! Yuji, you forgot your-”
A hand on your hip. A strong figure by your side.
“Yuuuji—” A stern yet warm voice echoes, stopping the boy in his tracks in a split-second. “You’ve forgotten your lunch box, sunshine.” And towards the blond-haired man, you turn your head appreciatively.
Nanami Kento.
Your husband.
His overlarge palm cupped the side of your hips, and you’re only glad that Yuji couldn’t see from there the way that Nanami gives you a good squeeze—
“Kento-” With a breathy whisper, you’re swatting at Nanami’s chest. Right in-between his prominent pecs, where Nanami’s usual office shirt was pulled tightly over his broad front, buttoned up like a gift- and even then, you glimpse slivers of his white undershirt peaking out.
Nanami was just so naturally chiselled, in all the years you’ve known him. And you could swear that he’d only grown more built since expanding your family, with more hands-on labor - you guessed there was no better gym than a house with two children.
Slightly leaning up to him, you’re biting back a smile to mutter. “Yuji’s going to see.”
Nanami only softly chuckles, walking out through the front door to meet his son halfway. Dutifully, Yuji turns around so that his father can re-pack that haphazard bag of his, squeezing the (also) Spiderman-patterned lunch box inside.
The boy pouts, “I pwomise I packed it.”
“Mmm, I believe you.” He replies, with just a slight hint of amusement. And once Nanami was done zipping up Yuji’s backpack, he turns his son around and crouches down to meet him at eye-level. “But, next time, how about we double check, sunshine? Just to make it easier on poor momma?”
Yuji considers it for a second- “Okay!” Before he runs back down the smooth, grey-stoned pathway leading up to your cozy lil’ house.
Nobara and Megumi were already waiting for him beyond your house gates, and they slightly balked as they watch their friend’s father stand to his full height afterwards. Marvelling at those huge shoulders. His towering height. The way that Nanami Kento was just so large that his hair seemed to form a coiled, golden halo in the morning sunlight.
It casted shadows on his handsome, handsome features. Accentuating that kind smile of his, just the tiniest dimple at the end of his lips.
You couldn’t blame them - you were ogling him, too.
“You’re huuuuge, Mr. Yuji’s Dad.” Nobara squeaks, once Nanami has accompanied his son safely outside. She casts a tiny hand over her brows to shade it from the sun as she stares.
Nanami smiles shyly, and hastens to grip onto the lil’ handle at the back of Yuji’s backpack - likely to stop him from running into (soon) oncoming traffic, you knew what your son was like. “Why thank you, my dear. But you can just call me ‘uncle’ if you’d like-”
“Is your willy huge, too?” That question was, expectedly, asked by none other than Fushiguro Megumi. And you don’t have to look to know that the surly little boy was likely pointing, too.
Honestly- not even covering your mouth and gnawing down on the insides of your cheek can stop the bark of laughter from leaving you. Pwah! Your eyes crinkle into slits of amusement, and through them you’re catching the helpless look that your husband throws your way. Cornered by a vicious, merciless trio of elementary schoolers.
You’re waving your hand in front of him—a motion to just go on.
You wanted to see what he’d say (or not say). And Nanami just opens his mouth when-
“It is.” When all of a sudden, Yuji’s the one to pipe up with the long-awaited answer. Proudly, he’s turning to his laughing friends with his hands on his hips, “Once I needed to pee real bad when papa was showering, so I just went in and saw it- it’s huuu—”
“Look- look! The bus is coming.” Rapidly, Nanami claps his hand over Yuji’s mouth and diverts all attention towards the hounding yellow school bus that was crawling towards them now. Like an oversized caterpillar, of sorts, with the antenna and painted-on face in front to match.
And Nanami Kento was never a fan of these decorated school buses. Never a fan of those soulless blue eyes that a bus should honestly never have.
But right now it felt like the pearly gates of heaven had just opened.
He was bathed in warm relief, ushering the still-giggling trio inside the opening doors of the bus. With a kiss on his cheek goodbye, soon enough you and Nanami were waving off Yuji as he was ferried off to school.
Leaving behind only his gap-toothed grin, the clouded fumes of the bus, and you sighing- “Well, it’s certainly a loud morning.” You’re turning to Nanami, who was still slightly pale from the- ahem…discussion before. “You know, he’s already insisting on making his own school lunch? I just barely managed to keep it contained to packing only his school bag.”
Nanami snorts, “What- and survive on a pack of goldfish all day?”
“And the bugs from the playground, I don’t know why he keeps picking at those.”
Your husband throws an arm around your waist as you walk back to the house together. And his strong, heavy forearm almost seems reluctant to leave your body so that he can continue tying his work tie.
From where it was left off earlier- “Strange child he is.” He loops it ‘round that collar of his, and your eyes watch the bob of Nanami’s throat - so unintentionally attractive. “Can you believe that he’s five already? And Choso’s about to start middle school, they’re growing up too fast.”
“They certainly are.” You hum, handing over Nanami’s neat briefcase once he’s done. “I almost miss when they were just so tiny, and I could pick them both up at once- oh, but I do love them as is.”
He huffs out lovingly, that dimple making an appearance once more. “I know what you mean perfectly, my love.”
It’s a comfortable affair retracing your steps back to the front door, like you had with Yuji earlier. Though much slower, much more…lingering. You’re hanging by the frame of the door as he steps out, and just before he was about to say his goodbyes—“You know- I wouldn’t mind doing it all over again.” Nanami damn near snaps his head turning back to face you, looking you dead-on in the eyes. “The children.”
Two fatal blows.
Nanami’s eyes widen. Nanami’s mouth drops, drier than the Sahara right now. A thin line of perspiration glides down his face. And you watch his body almost step all the way back inside the house. Nanami’s fingers tremble on his briefcase, and you watch it slightly slip-
Before he’s managing to stop himself.
Shaking his head, the blond-haired man retracts his step and clears his throat. “Is that-” Faltering, he has to do so again. “I mean- ahem, is that so, my darling? You wish to have another ch-child?”
Slightly bemused, you only nod.
But of course, Nanami is paying laser-focused attention to each of your words, your signals. And you can see the bump of his Adam’s apple gulp—as he takes in just what you were implying. Tightening his formal silk tie ‘round his throat, “Then I believe, ah…I believe we should perhaps discuss this a little more. For both our own goods. I’ll be back a little early tonight, and we’ll talk through the um- details, is that alright?”
“Sounds good to me—” You hum, not oblivious to the man’s shattering composure inside. Nanami Kento hid it well - always so stoic, always so sensible, always so respected in his work place. On more than one occasion, you’d gotten comments from tittering women that they only wished they could have a husband that held it together even half as much.
But as his wife you knew it all.
And you knew when there was a chance that this stoic, sensible, stern Nanami Kento was about to…break.
So without a single second of hesitation, your dominant hand reaches out to grab him by the tie- simultaneously straightening it at the middle of his chest and dragging Nanami’s head down to meet yours in a soft, soft kiss. Just the slow slide of your lips. Sensual. “I’ll see you then, Kento.” Murmuring against his lips, you pull away with a smile. “Can’t miss the daily kiss. Have a great day at work~!”
A smile that utterly kills him.
Your husband walks slightly stiffly all the way to the car. And with a final wave, he’s speeding off down the street as if getting to work sooner might just make the day end sooner, as well.
With a slight giggle, you head back inside.
.
.
.
T-minus 4 days until the long weekend.
Unfortunately, that ‘discussion’ had to wait until the day after, because Nanami’s workplace had been overdue on a few proposals (inconveniently misplaced by the new intern, and conveniently handed to your husband). And he’d ended up driving back home past 12AM, after you’d already put both the kids down to bed.
With you so tired after a long day of taking care of the house and waiting up for him, how could he possibly even think of infringing on your precious hours any longer?
So all Nanami had done was clean himself up hastily, and carry you back to your shared bedroom where you’d been drowsing on the living room couch. Cuddling you to sleep. Promising that you’d talk about it the day after.
You understood, of course.
You and Nanami had been together for about twelve years, after all (if you wanted to know the exact date, down to the number of hours and minutes, you could ask him and he’d certainly remember). From lovers to a married couple, to being blessed enough to adopt Yuji and Choso when they were young.
Despite two bustling boys, you had to admit that yours and Nanami’s sex life hadn’t exactly died down.
Just a sneaky quickie before anyone woke up…perhaps getting handsy underneath the covers after a long day….And with Yuji now old enough to share a room with his older brother (they’d been begging for bunk beds for too long), you could finally start having sex at home again.
Perfect.
Right?
Except, well, it wasn’t exactly the same as it once was—
“N-ngh, fuck…” Your jaw drops open with a sloppy moan, saliva cascading out of you with a splosh! just as soon as Nanami’s stuffing you all the way to his hilt.
Here was the result of your ‘discussion’ tonight - if you could even call it that.
The trimmed golden hairs decoratin’ his base carnally scratch your clit, and you’re lewdly grinding yourself backwards. Every tiny movement leaves him stirring up your insides oh-so-perfectly, and your body wracks with shivers. “Please- please, Kento. S-start moving…”
“So needy.” Nanami’s crinkling his straight nosebridge as he stares you down, with your spine curved perfectly back into him. Those plump lips of his kiss a line down your back—long tongue coming out to taste your skin. “Missed you s’much. Fuck, you don’t know how much I missed you-”
And with that, he gives a heaving thrust that makes you gasp and grab at the rickety headboard. You could feel the plumpness of Nanami’s tip throb-throb-throbbing at your throat- “Missed you, too. Been wantin’ for you to- ngh, fuck me so bad, baby.”
“N’ that’s exactly what I’m about to do.” He’s smugly crooning out, the curvature of his shaft just lightly puckering up at your sweetest spots - Nanami had you mapped out exactly.
Hard and fast.
Moving in slight bucks and grinds.
Smearing his reddened, swollen tip against your tender insides.
“Exactly about to fuh-fuck you until that pussy’s all satisfied.” The toned lines of Nanami’s hips rut into you like such an animal- and his meaty thighs push you further and further up the springy mattress. “To fill you up.” Leaving you whining wildly at his spears. “To pound a ba- mm.” Leaving you limp under his touch, leaving him reaching his hands over and cupping your tits so that he can manhandle you upright and at his mercy when-
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—!
“Momma? Papa?”
And that was exactly why it wasn’t the same as before.
You freeze instantly.
Tiny sniffles ring out from the other side of the door, and the locked door handle jingles to no avail. Yuji’s small, scared voice pipes up, “Momma, I frew up…”
You look at Nanami, and Nanami looks at you.
“Shit.”
“Shit-”
He’s easing out of you with the loudest, messiest sluuuuurp—! Multiple ribbons of slick n’ precum combine to form a sheen that glues the insides of your thighs together, and you’re shivering at the feeling of his wide girth pulling out.
Letting off a slight noise of discontent as your walls clench emptily, cunt throbbing angrily for him to fuck you again. Your hips buck in primal instinct as you watch Nanami tuck himself back into his pants and put on his large shirt, though you have to hold yourself back - you were missing him already.
“Shhhh, shhh.” Nanami’s clammy palm rests down on your sticky thigh, and he’s carressin’ the skin there back and forth to soothe you. It works…somewhat.
And you’re making to move off of the bed, “I’ll get-”
“No, let me.” Firmly, he’s pinning you back down just with that singular, clammy palm plastered to your thigh. Just that show of his strength is enough to make your glistening hole throb once more- and you’re forced to bite down on your lower lip to stop yourself from making a noise.
He lovingly taps your leg, and lets the bedframe creak in agony after him (you felt much the same). Nanami hums, “I’ll take care of it. You just get some rest, my darling. You did so well.”
You’re burying yourself underneath the soft covers as the spike of light from the hallway enters the room. Nanami - fully softened now, fully shook of the shreds of carnal desire within him - opens the doorway to crouch in front of his teary son. “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll read you a bedtime story, how about that, sunshine?”
The pink-haired boy nods, “Mhm!”
By the time he got back, you were peacefully slumbering away.
Nanami Kento only fixed the straps of that cute nightgown you were donning once more, snuggling up to you underneath the covers with the half-asleep promise of a proper (proper, this time) discussion tomorrow.
.
.
.
T-minus 3 days until the long weekend.
Nanami Kento was hungry.
Famished.
Absolutely ravenous.
He’d made it only two steps after getting home early from work. Inside your sweet-smelling kitchen, the scent of vanilla and summer heat in the air- before your strong husband was sprawling you out across the marble counters and lavishing his long tongue down the side of your cheek.
Swirlin’ tastebuds licking away the smudges of cream on your skin, “Mmm—” Nanami’s groaning against the side of your face, his scorching breath simmering against your flesh. “Something smells…” His fingers slipping down between your trembly legs- “-sweet, darlin’.”
And before you know it - fuck, before you can even think of it - you’re gnawing down on the edge of his plush deltoid.
Your moans cracking at the back of your throat as he’s slipping his way inside, the deliciously curved tip of his cock stuffs against the roof of your cunt. Burrowing out a bruise there that makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull, “Shit- I swear you become bigger- ngh, every time.”
“Mmm, that’s because this pretty pussy’s been missing me too much.” He breathily chuckles, a slight hitch in his breath as your sloppy walls clench. “Probably harder for her to take me every time.”
“No no, I swear—” With a whine, you’re arching your back in a signal for him to rover past your folds even deeper. Teeth setting on edge once one of Nanami’s thick veins grope into your slobbery insides, stretchin’ out your cunt to his sheer size.
He was being so gentle. He was being so loving. He was absolutely ruining your pussy on his half-thrusts- just trying to fit inside.
Probe after probe, the slippery line of his slit leaves your mouth watering. The perfect crevice that renders you babbling away stupidly, “I swear you get even bigger whenever we- hck! talk about—ngh.”
“Yeeees?” There was something wild in your husband’s eyes, boring down at you through his clammy blond strands. It was just so fuckin’ cute the way that you lost your train of thought anytime Nanami’s length went mazing inwards- “Whenever we talk about what, my love? Haaaah, finish your sentences.”
As he tuts you’re gasping—and he knows exactly what you’re alluding to. “Whenever we t-talk about-”
“Mhm—?”
Drooling mouth snapping open, he’s bottoming out. “Ba-” Directly hitting your cervix with the crowned, globular end of his shaft. So, so reddened with need. “Bab-”
“Momma—? Papa—?” A voice calls out, young and painfully oblivious to what was obscured in the kitchen. In the distance, you could hear the slamming of the front door.
A bag being set down on the table.
Footsteps.
Choso’s voice echoes out once more when he doesn’t receive an answer, unused to not having his parents respond to him immediately. You could hear the slight pout in his voice even from here- “Can one of you help me with my homework—?”
Mercifully, Choso doesn’t enter the kitchen - instead, keeping himself confined to the television room where he was starting to set out his school books. Choso doesn’t take a peak at where you’d urgently disjointed yourself from Nanami, smoothing down your upturned skirt and taking a look at the clock-
“Oh my goodness, I forgot his art classes were cancelled today- it’s time already.” You gasp, reading the ticking face of the clock that knew what you two just did.
Apologetically, you’re whipping your face around to face Nanami - who was back to tucking his softened length inside in a way that reminded you of just last night. Despite the slight furrow between his blond brows, Nanami shakes his head understandingly. “S’just time.” He grunts, zipping his pants back up and wiping away the droplets of sweat on his forehead. Your husband kisses your temple, “We’ll find some other time, my love?”
“Mhm.” Heart fluttering at the soft peck, you watch as his hulking frame walks out of the kitchen to help Choso with his homework. “We will…”
Though, a part of you doubted you might.
But you hoped.
.
.
.
T-minus 2 days until the long weekend.
“Fuck…” Nanami’s peering down at you through partially-cracked lids, and from down here it looked as if his molten peripherals were almost made of fire.
Burning straight at you underneath his professional work desk. Trying for al his will not to flutter them shut at the feeling of your lavish tongue gliding down his cock—“Fuck, my love- that mouth of yours is absolute sin.”
He’d been wading through some important work documents before you’d ambushed him in his office. Before you’d simply dropped to your knees and fumbled with his shorts like you were a woman starved.
Lappin’ all over his thick, throbbing like the shiniest of lollipops.
Lick after lick.
Your saliva-glazed muscle flattens over the top of his cock for a few seconds. “Mmm—” You’re vibratin’ out your moans against his length, and it sends sparks travelling all the way down from the line underneath Nanami’s plum-colored tip. Where your husband’s shaft was just dribbling out hot wires of pre down to your tastebuds, puddlin’ all over. “Tastes sho, mmm, nice-”
“Oh- fuck!” His head falls back against the back of his chair, and you catch the way that Nanami’s Adam’s apple bobs at the feeling of your greedy tongue.
Just that sensual ridged texture- fuck, it was all that he could think about. A carnal scratch. The way you were flopping it right out into his most sensitive spots, drag-drag-draaaagging it along his elongated length.
Nanami’s right hand comes down to grip his base, and you’re whining as he lifts his shaft off of your open tongue. With a chuckle, he’s placing his cock side-by-side with your face- and your cunt throbs at the fact that his nine, massive inches looked incredible up so closely.
So sensually rubbin’ his girthy hilt up and down the corner of your mouth. Just teasing.
Up and down. Up and down. Up and down—
“Shouldn’t be saying these dirty things with such a s-sweet mouth, y’know?” Nanami tuts, merely lining the edge of your lips with a gloss of your pre. He was so hot and syrupy—practically melting against where your tongue was darting out to try n’ taste him even more. “Should control yourself- what if- fuck.”
“Mmm—” Moaning, you’re managing to press his rotund tip against the middle of your tongue once more, starting to suck.
“What if you say those things and- oh, you’re too loud, hm?” He prattles away still, mouth working overtime whilst you stuffed yours. And yet…and yet even disciplined Nanami Kento couldn’t stop himself from bucking off of his cushiony chair, “What if- haaaah, if you’re too loud and the boys hear-”
“Momma—! Papa—!”
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—!
Nanami groans, “-us.”
Ah, well…you’re removing yourself from Nanami’s still-twitching cock. Red-hot. Rock-hard.
He was so needy that just wrenching yourself off with a wettened plop! makes Nanami’s hips chase the soft insides of your mouth, a translucent wad of precum spraying out of him instantly.
And as he looks down at you with a dismal face, you’re managing out a smile. “I’ll go see what it is.” And Nanami Kento thinks that he might as well pass out before any ‘next time’- because you’re pressing a chaste peck to his mushroom tip, and pulling his shorts up. “Next time, Kento.”
Nanami puts his face in his hands and lightly groans.
With a huffed giggle, you’re sauntering your way out of the office - knowing damn well just how intensely his eyes were locked on the sway of your hips. The way your thighs were more clenched than before.
“Alright-” Unlocking the firmly-shut door (thank goodness for Nanami’s foresight), you’re met with the tear-stained face of your oldest son. Snot-faced and bawling.
Your brows raise right up to your hairline as you take in the vision of your usually-calm Choso, turning your sights to his (only slightly tear-stained) younger brother beside him. Yuji, who hurries to explain what his brother couldn’t- “I wanted bubba’s comics but bubba wanted bubba’s comics, so then we got into a- um, ah…” Slightly squirming underneath your stare, your boys knew you hated when they fought. “-scuffle, and then I got bruised.”
He raises a chubby hand up, and you can easily spot the faint blue-ish mark on his forearm.
Yuji looks at Choso, “But bubba’s the one crying.”
And that was being generous, Choso was all but choking on his sobs. Taking one look at the bruise you were appraising - the place where he’d either directly or indirectly hurt his little brother - and bursting into peels of cries all over again. “I’m so- so- sor- wahhhh—”
“Aaaaalrighty then-” You hasten to pick up your oldest boy, with slight exertion due to his size. Though when you finally do succeed in hoisting him onto your hip, he wraps his arms around your neck and buries his wet face into it. “Now, how about we go downstairs and make ourselves a cup of hot chocolate, hm?” It seems to calm Choso down a bit. “Maybe we can even watch a movie- a movie night?”
“Yippeeee—” Yuji squeals, arms raised as if he wanted to be carried, too. “Me as well?”
“All of us.” Comes a deep voice, and Nanami’s finally making his way out of the office. Having calmed himself down, he carries his younger son and places an innocent peck on your temple.
Choso gags, “Bleh!” Whilst Yuji only giggles - and despite the slight embarrassment coursing through your body at your husband’s obvious loving gesture, you were glad to have Choso express anything other than sadness.
You’re starting to walk as a family, “Now, who’s up for some Kpop Demon Hunters?”
“Meeeee–!”
.
.
.
T-minus 1 day until the long weekend.
“Fuck-”
“Kento-”
“Fuck, just a bit-” He’s hotly whispering into your shoulder, blond strands tickling your skin once Nanami’s jerking his hips back and rutting them into yours. You could feel his thick, throbbing erection against the globes of your ass cheeks - so hard by now that you could count every throb.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump-
And with every furious pulsation, he’s jerking his pelvis forwards- almost thrusting. Dry humping you like an animal in heat. “Just- just a little bit.” So rough that the sheer force leaves you bending even deeper against the dining table, and Nanami has to loop his greedy hands underneath your body n’ jerk you backwards. Push. Pull. “Just want to feel you a little bit- haaah- my love.”
“You’re being so- oh.” Even though you both still had your clothes on, Nanami’s pryin’ aside those flimsy panties of yours to let his bulge smear against your naked cunt. “-so insatiable, Kento.”
And with a few more vulgar strokes, he’s finally answering. “Couldn’t stop thinking of you all day- no, all week, darlin’. I’ve been running into that damned office bathroom to fuck my fist like some- ngh, fuckin’ teenager all week now.”
“Oh, Ken—” With a mewl, you’re grinding your hips backwards- but the friction just wasn’t enough.
Just wasn’t the feeling of his incredible cock splitting apart your insides, and the way that you knew he could fill out your every orifice so perfectly leaves you wanting more, more, more. So without thinking much - without thinking at all, really - you’re whipping your body back around.
Nanami grunts at the loss of contact with your drippin’ wet core- only for a brief moment before he realizes what you’re really trying to do. And the blond-haired man eagerly leans his hips forwards when you start to fuss with the buttons n’ zippers on his trousers.
“Shit-” Impatient, you thrust your hand directly down his pants, and Nanami throws his head back with a sultry shiver at the feeling of your ravenous palm.
Accurately cupping his swollen erection, you feel him splurge out a slimy wad of pre at the mere touch. Just so sensitive. “We’re gonna hafta to be quick.” You’re murmuring, back to fiddling with his buttons. Pop! Pop! “Before they come back-”
SLAM!
“Momma, what’s for dinner?”
Pop!
The last of Nanami’s buttons are torn open- right before they’re forced back shut at the sound of your sons entering the home. It’s a team effort by the both of you, and you’re just barely putting your rumpled clothes back in place, making sure anything was covered, ready to act like everything was normal before-
“Oh, shit.” Your eyes drop back down to the place between your husband’s legs.
His erection had softened by now, and there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary…except for the massive stain of syrupy slick that’d been left by your grinding, gyrating cunt. It darkens the beige fabric of Nanami’s trousers like a puddle, glistening in the yellowish yolky lighting of the kitchen. Your hands are on him immediately - though, not like earlier. “Shit, Kento, you’re going to have to go-”
“Go?” Nanami balks, but he doesn’t resist when you start pushing him out of the second entrance to the kitchen. “Go where?”
The house you’d chosen for your family was one of those large, more open plans; and the kitchen itself had one entrance for those who accessed the house by normal means, and then one more entrance that opened up to the bottom of the house’s staircase. Ones that you lead him up the first few steps of, “Go change those pants!” You squawk. “I tell them that you’re- I don’t know, showering, or something!”
“Good thinking, my love.” He chuckles, clearly finding amusement in your panicked charge. With his palms raised in surrender, he’s making his way up- though, not before landing a peck on your forehead once more.
“Now!”
“Aye aye, my madam.”
Nanami (and his stained trousers) just barely makes it out of the kitchen before the boys walk into the kitchen, mud-stained and slightly out of breath still.
“Cho!” You’re admonishing before they’re able to take their seats, “How many times have I told you not to put your skateboard on the dining table? We eat there.”
“Yes, momma.” The dark-haired boy recites, listening to what you were saying and placing it on the floor. As he kicks it out of the kitchen, he turns to you and asks- “Where’s papa?”
Turning your back to your sons, you’re fussing over the dishes set on the kitchen counter now - what you were doing before you’d been…interrupted, that is. “Papa wanted to take a shower, it was getting a bit ah- hot in here.”
“This time of year?” Choso raises a brow, but doesn’t question it any further.
“Anyways-” You hasten to change the subject, “-why are you boys in so early today? Papa and I had just barely gotten started on dinner.”
And at this, Yuji jumps up in his seat- eyes sparkling as he slams his hands down on the table. “Oh, momma, you’ll never believe it. So Nobara said she had to go to some dentwist’s appointment and Megumi was feeling sick- so I went with bubba’s friends but then we decided to do some exploring- and then there was also this ice cream truck that—”
And so it went on. By the time that Yuji was done with his (condensed for your enjoyment, according to him) version of events, Nanami was back downstairs in a new pair of unstained trousers. The two of you quickly wrapped up dinner preparation, and used the boys’ help to set out the food.
In less than an hour or so, you were all seated around the rectangular table.
Nanami beside you, and your sons in front of you.
“So-” And, to your surprise, he’s the one starting off the conversation. Dinner always was quite a lively event with the four of you, with either you or Yuji being the ones that dominated the nightly discussions most days.
But to have Nanami be the one to start off? It must be something quite important…
So you all turned towards him, excited to see what he had to say.
He gulps down a bite of rice, and continues. “Remember that starting tomorrow there’s a long weekend, my loves. Monday is a holiday.” Nanami addresses all of you, in that soft tone that always makes you melt. Yuji cheers at the mention of such a thing- “It’s rare that we get a treat like this to be together, and I wanted to know what you all wanted to do on those days?”
“I’m fine with anything.” You hum, turning to Yuji and Choso.
“Something fun.” Choso stares off into space ponderously, “Maybe like to the park? Or a resort?”
You nod, “Fancy, I like it. And what about you Yuji?”
And, dear little Yuji - who’d been so patiently waiting for his turn to speak, who oh-so-sweetly hadn’t wanted to speak over anyone else - simply just burst. “Joypolis!” He stands up on his seat, and you don’t even have the heart to tell him to sit back down properly. Chanting, “Joypolis! Joypolis! I want to go to Joypolis—”
Choso’s eyes light as well, excitedly- “Oh- oh, can we?” Turning to face the two of you with pleading eyes.
And, of course, you’re turning to exchange a look with Nanami.
“Of course!”
You’re humming thoughtfully, “And since it’s for a few days, I’d heard of this really nice resort nearby that I think would be a nice place to stay at? We could make it a long stay for Saturday and Sunday, and come back on Monday morning.”
Expectedly, Yuji bursts into even more cheers.
“It’s settled then-” Nanami speaks over the cacophony of voices- and what was clearly not settled were the two boys, who were having trouble listening to your calls to not jerk the table lest they wanted to splash over the food. “Kids, listen to your momma.” Until, finally, some semblance of silence broke through—“We’re going to Joypolis.”
“Yippeeeee—!”
“Hell yeah-”
“Cho, language…”
Nanami chuckles, about to say something more about the plans for the weekend when-
BZZZZZZZZZZZ—!
In your peripheral, you see Nanami reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. Clearly, you imagine, it must be something important for him to forgo (his own) rule about no devices during dinner time. And you’re watching on in slight curiosity-
“Oh.” Nanami’s mouth slightly parts, a somewhat surprised expression dazzling his face. The longer the phone call goes on, the more dazzled he grows. “Oh?”
By then, even Choso and Yuji had quietened down. And you’re tugging on his elbow in slight concern, “Something the matter, Kento?”
He’s shaking his head, attention still on the call. “Oh?” Perhaps unable to communicate anything more eloquent, whoever was on the other end of the line seemed to have said something that made one of his blond brows raise. And for his tongue to finally work, “Have the kids stay overnight?”
.
.
.
T-minus 0 days until the long weekend.
In other words: 9 hours and 17 minutes into the long weekend.
Also in other words: 9:17AM, Saturday.
According to what you, Yuji, and Choso had derived from your instant interrogation after Nanami had set down the phone- it seems that your mother-in-law had won a raffle just that day. The prize? Tickets to a two-night trip to the hot springs of Oita.
Three of them - and she claimed that she didn’t want to spend the holiday with her friends who couldn’t move as well as they were once able to. Might as well give the kids the time of their life, huh? There was much to see in Oita, and they were practically bouncing out of their seats once Nanami had announced the change in plans - neither had been upset about the postponement of Joypolis, either!
With their sheer excitement, the two of you had trouble setting them down for bed. And they’d been jumping on yours like a trampoline before the clock had even hit five-
“After all—” Nanami’s mother had crooned, her eyes wrinkling prettily at the ends as she smiled - Nanami had her eyes, and her smile. The very same dimple at the end of her lips, “-it’s a lot of work taking care of kids, isn’t it? Oh, I was blessed to have one as sensible as Kento, but even then…”
“Certainly is.” You’re chuckling, setting the boys’ luggage down inside her house - one lil’ Spiderman suitcase, and another that was just pitch-black in color (it’d been a long night sorting and packing).
She’s nodding her greying-blonde head, “It’s important that the two of you spend some time together, too. Can’t forget that you’re lovers, as well as parents.” Looking towards your husband, who was firmly giving Choso instructions on how to keep him and his brother safe throughout all times of the trip.
You can feel your veins bubble up, and hope that the sinful evidence of these past few days don’t show up in your expression. “Th-that’s true, it’s quite important to have time for each other.”
“Besides- I’m sure the children don’t mind spending some time with their grandma, hm?” As Nanami finishes off his lecture, your two sons run towards their grandma and hug her tight- agreeing in tandem.
“I can’t wait for the hot springs! Bubba says he’s going to teach me cool new swim tricks, grandma-”
“That are within papa’s safety guidelines.” Choso gulps, feeling his father’s burning stare already. “And all end up with the both of us, as well as grandma, coming home to mama and papa safe and sound and perfectly alright. With no limbs missing and also no ugly souvenirs- only pretty ones, because momma deserves only the prettiest ones.” He recites, beaming back at Nanami’s bemused expression.
Your husband stands next to you and shrugs at your deadpan gaze.
With delighted laughter, Nanami’s mother looks up at the two of you. There was a somewhat knowing look in her eye- “You two don’t mind, do you?”
You glance at Nanami.
Nanami glances back.
You know you’re both thinking the same thing.
In unison—
“I-if you insist!”
.
.
.
10:08AM, Saturday.
A tender goodbye.
A hasty drive home.
A slam! of a door that you’re only later recognizing as your home door.
You could barely even remember anything before you’re suddenly back inside your home and turning to Nanami with a meaningful, “Kent-”
His lips are on you instantly.
Teeth clawing.
Moaning.
Ravenous.
“Fuck- shit, you’re so—” You’re languidly gliding your hands down Nanami’s front, feeling the way his ripped muscles ripple n’ flex through his thin shirt.
And Nanami’s panting so hard that every scorching breath simmers against your face, and as you speak- your husband’s gripping you easily by the back of the throat to re-slot your mouth over his. Unable to even speak past his crashing, open-mouthed kisses.
You’re whining as you tug down on his cold belt buckle, “Kento- mmpf, I want- fuck.”
And before you know it, you’re being pushed against the closest flat surface that Nanami Kento can find. You’re being shoved against the wall. You’re being pinned by the strength in his hips- grinding the raging hot erection already between his legs.
“Hngh, fuck.” You’re hearing him snarl in a ragged tone behind you, kissing your neck, your shoulder, down the length of your spine. “Fuck- fuck- fuck- fuck.” Each one was faster than the last, smooch after smooch after smooch, and there’s a dull thud! ringing out across the empty house when Nanami’s knees finally hit the floor.
“Oh my-” Shivering once his roughened fingertips latch onto your easy skirt n’ flips it upwards. You’re left practically bare, with only your flimsy cotton panties on as he holds up your skirt and shoves his handsome face nose-deep between your folds.
From behind.
Letting the straight edge of his nose bridge plap against your cunt, your jaw drops once you feel your husband filthily breeeeeeathe in—“Fuh-fuck, darling.”
Your knees feel weak already, “Kento, are we really just going to do this over here-”
“No.” Comes Nanami’s guttural mutter and oh…by the husky need in that tone, you already know that he’s far from sane. Already gone. “No, not at all.”
“Really?” Brows slightly raising, you almost want to look back- when another one of Nanami’s hands reach over and flip your restless body around. It doesn’t take him much to manhandle you with his incredible strength.
Your back against the wall. Your glistening cunt facing his mouth.
You’re still standing up. But one of your legs is being picked up and thrown over his broad shoulders, now you’re being held up with partially his support - mostly his support, you imagine.
And it’s with this position that he can take a goooood, long look at your pussy. Your puffy folds spreadin’ open. Your hole clenching around nothing. She was just so dripping wet with your honeyed sap, streaming right down your thighs—“No- don’t you worry, darling.” He mutters, and you wonder just who he’s talking to - you or your pussy, right now.
“Don’t worry, because…?” You’re babbling out.”
“Because-” Nanami’s gusting out with his hot, sticky breath clinging to your cunt. And he’s leaning in closer, closer, so much closer. Until the curve of his attractive chin edges towards the end of your cunt, “-because m’gonna take you here.”
And then your body flinches with a shock of pleasure as he leans his plump lips in and presses a firm peck to the front of your pussylips.
Sloppy and wet.
“And on the dining room table-” Mwah! “And in my office-” Mwah! “The kitchen-” Mwah! “And the- fuck, the bedroom-” He’s snarling, dimpled lips curling as he sniffs your sweet folds once more. “-gonna take you all over the fuckin’ house-”
All those promises - he can’t even finish them before your husband, Nanami, has his face stuffed between your pretty legs and his tongue lapping your cunt like a madman.
Darting to every slippery nook and crevice that his tastebuds can reach- first he’s sliding up n’ down your folds, lapping up the ounces of slick that spray out of you. “Mmmm—” His head throws backwards- or, at least, it tries to. Before that dark, carnal part of Nanami’s own self manages to stop himself, and his quavering hand guides one of yours to grab onto his blond scalp.
“Roughly.” Nanami gasps between your wet pussylips, his drool drenching it in a whole new layer of gluey liquid for him to taste.
Your mouth gapes, “You want it…”
The veins on his large hands pop out as he tightens your fist on his hair, “Roughly.”
Finally letting go of your smaller hands, Nanami’s then holding onto both sides of your waist- practically glued. Pushing and pinning you back down against the cold wall when his tongue slithers out.
So loooooong and lucious, he’s tingling your tastebuds over your swollen clit. “Mmm- mmpf-” Gurgling, gulping, swallowing the cloying wads of syrup that dripped to the back of his throat and alllll over the lower half of his face.
He’s grunting, “So sweet so- fucking- fuck- sweet.” You could feel your husband’s wet lips flapping away at your nub, before they’re finally parting and plunging between your pussylips like he was possessed. “Never gonna get used to this. This pussy- she’s the- hah, sweetest thing I’ve ever fuckin’ tasted- and I think I might just be addicted-”
“Shit- ngh.” You’re clawing at his sweaty scalp for dear life, because Nanami Kento was usually such a gentle lover. Usually so smooth. So slow. But now…“Oh my god- I don’t even want to ask what’s gotten into you today- fuck.”
It takes him a few vulgar strikes with his tongue to even think of responding- to even formulate a coherent enough answer.
And it’s only with a sloppy mwah! that he’s bringing himself to part with your dewy cunt, just the most lecherous damp noise ringing out in the air. When Nanami speaks out, it’s with his ribbons of saliva departing into your quivering hole. “Can you fucking blame me?”
Oh. Your eyes widen, “You- you really are-” Fuck, but his sloppy tastebuds are back to drilling into your entrance. His scratchy tastebuds plaster against the roof of your cunt, back n’ forth. “You really are pussydrunk? But the thing is- already?”
It’s easier for Nanami to detach himself from your damp pussy- with his two thumbs swervin’ down, he’s smearing apart your folds and spitting straight inside your hole once more. “Can- you- fucking- blame- me-”
It wasn’t even a question, and his lengthy tongue probes between your folds after each word. Slipping straight into your deepest depths, with the curvaceous tip of his muscle sticking in, in, in.
Again and again.
Preeeeeeessing into every depth, “Can you fucking imagine what I’ve been going through these- hah, these past days without you?”
“N-no?” His carnal strokes make you throw your head back with a whine, tears starting to bead behind your eyelids. “What have you been- fuck, you’re going in so deep, Kento.”
Though Nanami doesn’t even seem to hear you- “How can you blame me-” Like a mantra, he’s muttering between those swollen pussylips of yours, eating you out so raw that even the slightest movements of his lips make you see stars. “How can you blame me- hah, how can you blame me, how can you blame me—ngh.” The flatness of his sizzlin’ tastebuds moves back and forth into the roof of your cunt, making itself well at home there. “Not when I haven’t had dessert for a week now-”
“Haven’t had dessert?” You’re questioning, your senses slightly hazed by his ministrations between your legs. Is that what he’s been talking about going through? “What do you mean, baby, just last night for dinner we had-”
“No.” He says, meaningfully. And Nanami looks up at you straight in the eyes when he’s spreadin’ that wet muscle of his wiiiide open and probin’ into your hole- “I mean…dessert.”
Your back arches off of the wall, a perfect curvature. “Dessert-”
Your pussy.
Your mewling whines are cut off by the feeling of him pulling out of your cunt with a wet plunge, strings of your slick following his movements n’ still connecting his mouth to your core. There was something crazed in Nanami’s hazy peripherals, something utterly gone. “Yes.” He spits for the nth time into your cunt, swervin’ right past your folds. Pinning you down whilst you try to run, “Don’t you fucking run- don’t you fucking know that she’s my favorite dessert, darlin’?”
And then you sob. With a loud, primal sluuuuurp—Nanami’s splittin’ you apart from the inside.
“And I’ve been without her for too long, my wife.” Perfectly molding your channel to him, the cushy tips of his fingers open your entrance up- and oh, he’s digging them deeeeply into your tiniest orifices. Scissoring in a second finger as if it already wasn’t enough to have his thick joints pushing your insides apart. “How can a husband be expected to go so long without his wife’s pretty pussy?” Gently nibblin’ on your clit, “I’ve missed her.”
“I’ve missed this mouth of yours.” You don’t think you’ll ever get used to just how big his size was, the blustering crowns of his two fingerpads opening up your insides. He filled up every cranny- “Fuck, keep going.”
“You have no idea how- hahhh—” Nanami emits a breathy laugh, like he was in utter disbelief at his own self. And you watch as your husband’s jaw hangs open to collect the glittery wads of slick that constantly leak out of you, “-how fucking thirsty I’ve been. I would eat the sweetest sundaes after work- remember the ones I bought for us? Fuck, just imagining that was you.”
You’re shivering at his admission- he’d what?
But Nanami wasn’t done yet - in fact, he was only lapping away his tongue even harder. And when you get used to the caress of his velvety underside, he’s spanking it down on your clit. “Just wishing that was you on my tongue- but nothing would even come as close.” He gasps, “So now that I have you, oh, I could drink from this pretty pussy for aaaaages with how parched I am.”
You’re tugging at his hair, and Nanami only directs you to pull at him even rougher. To use him. Teasing, “And here I thought that large water tumbler of yours was enough-”
“Oh, my love, it’s not even close to enough- look at this-” You’re being guided to look down at the ropes of sap that he was tunneling out of you- chin hitting your chest. After each movement of his fingers, your slick glazes his wrist in splats.
Sensually, he’s ducking his head down to lick off the polish on his skin. Gleaming like glitter, Nanami moans when the candied taste hits his tongue- “You’re like a fucking waterpark f’me. And I’ve- hah, I’ve been dreaming about her for ages now. Been hungry. Been imagining-”
Lapping and probin’. A third crowned tip rovers inside and starts pushing in and out with the others, “Yes- yes yes yes yes-”
“I’ve had to run to the fucking- ngh, office bathroom more times than I can count.” He admits, spittling between your lips. “All because I spent a whole meeting imagining just how wet you’d feel on my tongue, mmm, like this.”
You’re crying out, bucking your hips into his- and though he might’ve usually pinned your squirming hips down for moving, teasing, now…now Nanami was welcoming those half-ruts. “More- deeper-”
“And look how eeeeeasy I can slip in-” With a final cobweb of saliva, he’s trying to pry inside a fourth finger—managing.
Nanami’s prolonged length empties out right near your cervix with harsh thuds, you could tell that he was searching for that sweet spot inside you.
Babbling away, Nanami seemed to be getting even more drunk on your pussy with each passing second. “Wanted to feel you dripping like this- aaaaaall up in my throat- see- watch.” Your husband commands, and with your head turned down like this you can’t help but watch the way he takes a big swallow of your slick. With a messy glistening face, he grins up at you. “If you could possibly be any- ngh, any fuckin’ wetter then I’d want you to in a second.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been wetter in my life, Kento.” As if to prove your point, even more tear trails of your slick drip down - all for Nanami Kento’s munching delight, of course.
“…Yet.”
And you know one quality that attracted you to your husband the most? It was the fact that, no matter what, he would do what he promised. He would deliver.
Because with a few more sultry slams, his long index is burrowing into your g-spot. Perfectly. It’s as if that bundle of nerves was a target, and Nanami’s able to slide his trimmed nails right where you wanted him to.
Your knees bend limply as the pleasure hits you, and you wail. “Oh- there!” Too gone in your own bliss, he’s actually holding up your weight with one of his strong arms now, looped at your waist.
“Found it.” You can feel his grin against your entrance, “And you did get wetter, my love—”
And he’d found it, alright. Constantly thump-thump-thumpin’ away near the back of your pussy with his relentless fingers, Nanami made sure that the plush pads of his digits would then graze your nerves- making you twitch n’ whine n’ buck in pleasure maddeningly.
“I- I don’t think-” With one of your legs raised upon his shoulders, it was just so easy to squeeze Nanami’s bobbing throat. Almost suffocating him. You blurt, “I don’t think m’gonna last long, Kento-”
“Good.”
The firmness with which he says that one word makes your entire body quiver- and you don’t know whether it’s because of his purely carnal tone, or the way he slithers his fingers inside your cunt, presses down on your g-spot and holds it there.
Unmoving.
No matter how much you squirm or whine.
And Nanami doesn’t waste a single second before he’s immediately trying to topple you over the edge of your high, “Because you don’t have to.” He pants, “Your dear husband is here for a- hah, a reason, my wife. Don’t you know?”
“A- a reason.” You’re babbling, and you don’t know which one of you is more gone by this point.
You’re having trouble holding yourself up, and Nanami claps his chin against the end of your cunt with enough pressure to keep you standing straight. His tongue teasingly rolling out over your clit, “M’here to make you cum.” Push after push, thud! after thud! “Because don’t you know…”
“Don’t I know- fuck, don’t I know what?”
His grin is just sinful—“Don’t you know that you taste sweeter when you cum, my love?” Said in such a tender tone, even though the slashes of his fingers were anything but.
In next to no time, you’re gripping one hand into Nanami’s hair and the other onto his shoulders as you cum all over his mouth. It’s in invisible waves ridden straight from the tip of his nose n’ down to lacquer his chin with gleam, “C-cumming.” Even though he already knew, “M’cumming, Kento. Cum- fuck, s’the best I’ve ever had.”
“Mmm, why thank you, darling.” He’s crooning out lovingly, not even a hint of teasing as he takes it on. All your pushes and bucks- until the skin ‘round Nanami’s mouth was red and raw.
Until his jaw aaaaaached.
And yet, he’s still eating you out through your high, the sparks of bliss absolutely leave you shaking. Toes curled. The top of your crown feeling light and airy- “Think you’ve fucked me- ngh…” Stupid. Even though you don’t say it out loud…at least, you don’t think you do.
But Nanami puffs out a slightly drunken giggle between your pussylips as he hears that word leave your mouth - without you even knowing. Realizing. Dutifully, your husband doesn’t tease you as he plunges his tongue in n’ out, in n’ out. “C’mon- c’mon, c’mon- oh. I was right, you do taste so sweet.”
You’re whimpering as he pulls his fingers out, feeling your convulsing shockwaves peter out into almost nothing.
And even then, Nanami rolls his thick thumb over your clit a few times- just to watch you shake and whine prettily above him. “Done cumming?” He asks, once he feels your body go slightly wobbly. And when you nod- “But I really do wonder if you’d taste even sweeter if I overstim you a little, darling…”
“Oh my god-” Your chin drenches with the spittle that falls out of you unbeknownst to your subconscious, just so sensitive that they’re about the same as the tears dripping from your eyes. “I don’t know if I even can cum so soon again, Kento.”
“We’ll never know until we try.”
He’s tracing squelching wet—hearts?
It feels even more teasing than usual when Nanami’s fingers are toying with your clit, because right now he’s drawing the cutest patterns to watch you react. The way you flinch even more when he draws a big heart- and that cute hitch in your breath when it’s a little one.
“So cute…” Nanami groans, fingers nothing but a blur on your cunt. Spreadin’ you wide open, you can’t believe that your husband then has the audacity to bear his canines and gnaw down on your puffy pussylips. “So sweet-”
“Kento-” You bawl, the pleasure making your senses all bleary. “K-Kento-”
“Oho?” Those blond brows of his raise in interest, and through your tears you can make out the pinkish outline of his tongue coming out to taste his slick-glossed lips. Purring, “It tastes like you’re going to cum again, my love.”
And that’s exactly what you do.
Hard and fast. This one takes you by surprise, just a surge of white-hot electricity that shoots up your spine and leaves your thoughts all muddled.
And, just like before, he’s dragging you through it incredibly. Through every peak of euphoria. Through every flash of bliss every time his slurpin’ tongue accidentally slipped past your entrance when he was sucking you dry.
“Cum- fuck, I’ve already….” Mouth dry. Body shaking. By the time that Nanami’s lengthy tongue has finished lapping up every droplet of your slick, you’ve felt thoroughly fucked through your orgasm. You honestly wouldn’t even have been able to keep yourself standing had it not been for his unrelenting grip on you, refusing to let you fall.
You lean onto his support, feeling your joints protest at the long time you’d spent in this position. “Kento, now I really don’t know if I can cum any- hck! more.”
But Nanami Kento could read what you were saying without saying.
He knew you well enough.
And you knew he did.
Just because you didn’t know doesn’t mean he sure as hell wasn’t allowed to try.
In an instant, your husband’s pulling away—mwah! All that sloppy slick that he wasn’t able to swallow now drips all the way from the tops of his cheekbones, and all the way down his chin. Partly down his neck. Nanami then grips your hips with a loving, pussydrunken smile. “But, when I have a wife that looks like you, my darling, how can I not make you cum?”
Oh.
11:57AM, Saturday.
“Oh my g-god—” Your voice is cracking out in both sobs n’ whines, dribbling out saliva like slick as Nanami’s rutting his naked hips against the globes of your ass cheeks.
It’d taken your husband only a few minutes to manhandle you from the threshold of your house entrance down through the house. Having to hold you up where you were so overstimulated, he’d carried you princess-style. Where he’d pressed you face-down against the polished mahogany of your dining room table.
All fours. Ass up. Cunt dripping.
You’d shivered as you heard Nanami’s pants hit the floor- his belt ending up in a heap with the rest of it with a loud clang! of metal on tile. And he was simply oooozing out thick pre at the sight of you bent over for him like this, just smearin’ it down your pussylips so that it looked like a gloss. “Mmm—” Nanami grunts out from behind you, his mouth watering at the hot feeling. “So pretty like this, my wife- fuck, so pretty.”
And you’re clawing onto the wood - trying not to make too much of a mess (you’ll have to disinfect this entire house, later) - as he just lightly smooooches your tight orifice with his mushroom tip. “Sh-shit- you’re so hard, Kento.”
“Mhm–” Nanami huffs out smugly- so drunk on his cock, you were craning your head over your shoulder to take a good look at him. “Admiring your husband?”
“Yes.”
In all his rock-hard glory. Nine entire inches.
Veins were zig-zagging down Nanami’s shaft, and they end where his sparse golden hairs start to decorate his hilt. He was just aaaaching to enter you- plump tip colored the prettiest shade of pink, almost as if his painful cock was almost shy to meet your cunt.
You can’t help but notice that it matched the blush creeping up on your husband’s ears, as he leans down and purses his lips to spit straight down to your cunt. Hitting his target dead-on, Nanami grins- “I wonder why we haven’t done it like this sooner, daring?” One of his hands attach to the side of your hips, and he’s just smearin’ apart your folds to take a good look inside. “Before me I see the tastiest fucking dinner I’ve ever seen-”
“Y-you’re so filthy, Kento.” You almost can’t even believe your ears, and you arch your back into his touch. Hamstrings quivering when you nudge your hips up into his, “Why don’t you just f-fuck me already- oh.”
“As you wish, my madam.”
Because he’s already entering you as you squeak out your demands - Nanami Kento was never a man that would leave his wife yearning and wanting, of course.
Anything you wanted, it was yours.
And the same went for his throbbing, hot cock- just the curved end of his shaft plops inside your elastic hole. Because of his sheer girth, Nanami doesn’t even have to try to push apart your tight pussylips - you’re already opening up lewdly for him.
With a cracked whine, your snug channel is gobbling his inches up with a sluuuuurp—making the blond-haired man raise his brows with a chuckle. “Oh- oh, my god.” He pants, breaths coming out ragged. “Ohhhh fuck- you’ve been needy, my wife.”
“I’ve been- hah, been what?” Pathetically, you can only turn your face ‘round to meet his and take it- because Nanami wasn’t letting you off easy just because he was rovering his thick cock inside.
No…in fact, he was pounding and pounding his flared tip past your tender orifice- or, at least, he was trying to. Despite the slight resistance of your tightness, Nanami has one hand on your hips, dragging you back into him with each thrust. “Fucking- needy-”
“Not as much as you.” You’re protesting, feeling the wetness of his precum mix with your slick to travel downwards. “You’ve been the one eating me out like you’re addicted-”
“And you’re the one swallowing me down like you’re trying to suck me dry, my love.” He’s bickering back gently, “Or…” And there was a tinge of something in his carnal tone that makes you shiver, “-should I put all the blame on her instead?”
Her.
Your sultry, wet pussy.
The one he was probin’ his split-ended cock into. The one that was making him grunt after every one of your slight squeezes. The one that was so cozily tight that Nanami had to hold onto your hips and jerk you backwards to try and fit himself all inside.
Jerking and pulling.
Manhandling.
When he feels the tight shield of you still trying to get used to his sheer size, Nanami properly loops his arms ‘round your thighs. And then he’s fucking holding you up- your heels dangling off the tile, your body supported only by the dining table and your husband.
Your geysering cunt purely at the mercy of him, him, him.
“O-ohhhhh, this pussy.” As he sinks in, it’s so good that Nanami hunches his bulky body over - as if he was breaking apart on your hole. Properly in half, breaths heaving out. With every inch of his globular cockhead spearing inside, you can feel Nanami grow more and more feverish. “Oh this pussy- oh, this- this pussy-”
You’re moaning at his broken mantra, “Nanami, are you fuck- alri-”
“The first time in- in what feels like ages that m’getting to fuck you the way I’ve been aching to.” He’s spitting out - literally, back down your sultry slit to make you even wetter for him. And with that, Nanami’s voice veers octaves higher. Crazed. “And you ask me whether m’fucking alright, darling?”
“Well I’d say you were becoming- ngh, pussydrunk already.” You’re whining out, staring into Nanami’s eyes and oh—they were so dilated.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen them this dilated.
They always were, whenever he was gazing at you. But to this extent? It seemed as if his entire iris had just turned back, and Nanami Kento was hanging on your every word, your every breath. You’re whispering, “But…but I think you’re even past that now.”
“P-pussydrunk?” He breathes out the word as if it was a joke- spits it out in almost distaste. Which was strange…because it was honestly one of his favorites. “You think I’d be pussydrunk by now?”
Confused, “Y-yes?”
Before you’re being shocked by a sudden burst from his hips, his meaty thighs striking the backs of yours until his skin there turns red. His blustering tip scrape-scrape-scrapes your insides carnally, and you can feel the line of his slit driving in even deeper.
“Oh, honey- oh, my love- oh, my wife…” Nanami’s droning on out, and if you were in any better state of mind then you’d have realized that the usually-eloquent Nanami Kento was slurring. Smack! Through your kaleidoscope of tears, you’re registering that the skin of his pelvis had just slammed into yours, a stinging impact.
Your husband pliably scoops you up, dragging your hips back down his shaft as if you were nothing but a ragdoll. Your gummy channel was being meshed apart for his upright erection, sliding down it slooooowly. Bit by bit. Inch by solid, throbbing inch. “Don’t you know that- hah-” Until you were fully bottomed out, “-I’ve been pussydrunk aaaaall week?”
All week?
Your mouth opens - perhaps to question him, perhaps to counterpoint him - but the only thing that echoes out is a sensual whine as he then starts ramming into you at a sloppy cadence.
Sloppy and fast.
Hard.
Nanami’s pulling all the way back till juuust the crown of his red tip kissed your entrance, then shoving back in until the hilt. Your orifice stretched all widely open ‘round his base, the spattering of curly golden hair tickling your folds. “Don’t you know?” Your husband asks, “Didn’t you know I’ve been- hngh, ruined on your pussy all week?”
“Ruined?” You repeat, clawing onto the table for some semblance of stability. “But we haven’t even properly-”
“Exactly.”
Oh.
He was now rutting into you like an animal, the curve of his luscious tip swabbin’ at your every ounce of space. “You don’t know how fucking greedy- how impatient I’ve- hah, I’ve been-”
And that surprised you, “Impatient?” Though, he was certainly fucking you like it. After every rugged bash of Nanami’s cockhead, he was surging back in for more - barely even letting the springy recoil of your walls start before he’s plummeting back in.
Again and again.
A particularly hard thud! has you feeling him at the back of your throat, and your cheeks stain with a few lacquer of tears. “I almost can’t believe that- oh-”
He’s pinning down your squirming hips, and you can feel the line of Nanami’s happy trail scritch-scratch your skin. “I am not a patient man, my wife.” He says, darkly. Holding you down whilst he fucks you like a madman- “I could barely hold myself back this entire week- could barely- haaah, you don’t know how many times I’ve almost cracked n’ called off work just to be able to stay home and fuck this pussy stupid for a few hours.”
“And- and then?” You’re hiccuping, feeling his slamming tempo get even faster. “Then what?”
“Oh, you’re enjoying this—little slut.” Pure shock sparks down your body at the words he was using - absolutely filthy. “Let’s see how much you like this then-” And before you know it, one of his hands lifts off of your waist to rover down to between your legs.
Nanami’s rough index and thumb pinches your clit- “Fuh-fuck! Kento!”
“Wanted to do that for so long.” He watches with relish as you shake beneath him, “If the boys weren’t there- ngh, you have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to just reach over as you ate and pinch this cute clit. Just to tease. Just to see if you’d gasp.”
“Please- please-”
Only toying with your sensitive nub even harder - no matter what, he was always such a rough player. “Wanted to see if you’d scream my, mm, name like that.” Now alternating with his sensual drags of your clit, and rough rolls of his thumb flat. “If this hole of yours would get even wetter because—fuuuck.”
And then the girth of his length starts snaggin’ against your pussy walls, every ounce of blood in Nanami’s body flowing to his cock and swelling it up even further.
“-because I’d sure get harder when you do.”
Just as he said, he had.
Your head lolls stupidly in front of you- but of course, Nanami couldn’t have that. So he’s using his free hand to help you rest your clammy scalp back against his shoulder, so bent forwards that it wasn’t much of a stretch, honestly.
Like any good husband, Nanami Kento wanted to gaze lovingly into your eyes will he fucked you deep.
“Aaaand then there’s this spot-” Plop! The raw vibrations start from where he’s bashing in your g-spot, set your teeth utterly on their edges. He angles his hips so that it digs a pretty bruise right there on your nerves, “-this spot that I looooove- n’ I know she loves me, too. Because she’s- haah, squeezing me so tight- never wants to let me go-”
“Right there-” You cry out, as if that wasn’t already obvious. “There there there there- faster, Kento.”
Precisely, Nanami’s smoochin’ away at your g-spot - with such incredible accuracy that your dazed mind starts to wonder whether he has some sort of superpower that lets him calculate the ratio. The speed of his hips- the vulgarity. He’s viciously gnawing down on your ear as you try to buck, “Just how many times have I squeezed my c-cock like this, just imagining that it was you-”
“You h-have?”
“Mhmmm, and all those times I’d fuckin’ salivate just imagining—” There’s almost a pout in his voice, something so starkly cute whilst he tunneled into you savagely. “But it never was quite the same.”
“I thought about you so much, too, Ken.” You admit, your thighs clenching together- which your husband easily swats away to start twisting your clit even harder. “Wanted you to fuck me just like this-”
A sultry smile spreads across his lips, “Oh yeah? And was it just like this?”
“Mhm—” You’re fervently nodding, “Just like this and I- also…” And only at Nanami’s reassuring look do you continue, “…you also had your- hah, your leg up.”
“My leg up?” Nanami asks, “Like…this?”
There’s a thud! and then a clutter once one of his meaty thighs rests up on the table, capped knee coming to rest where your peripheral vision could see. This change in angle made him just enter his round cockhead into completely deeper parts of your womb.
Swirlin’ around your gummy walls, just pushing his bawling divot into spots you didn’t even know existed. Again. And again. And again and again and again—
“And you know what I was fantasizing about?” He’s panting out in scorched waves, hips leaving a fever pitch.
“Wh-what?”
“Ohhh, you know…just like this-” You could hear the grin in his voice, “-fucking you rough. Fucking you hard, feeling your hot pussy for the first time in- hck! ages. I’d been missing her so much, taking her so much. My favorite lil’ meal- oh, I really want to taste you right now…”
Arching your back into his glissading abs, “Kento, don’t stop. I feel like I’m about to-” Cutting yourself off with a breathy intake of air when he’s drawin’ hearts on your pulsating nub.
“Oho–? Then perhaps I should go on- I was thinking of you exactly like- ngh, this, my love. Except for one key difference…”
“And that is?”
To answer your question, Nanami gets up reeeeal close in your ear- he glides his hot lips down the side of your face, letting his breath send shivers skittering down your spine. “It’s that not only was I fucking you rough, darling, I was fucking you with the intention of getting you pregnant-”
And then it’s white-
And you’re cumming.
Surging even harder than any of your ones before, your heartbeat thumps in your ears like a war drum. Body at the mercy of your husband, Nanami Kento, as he bucks and bucks and bucks you through the perfect peaks of your high. Until, ultimately…
“F-fuck.” Even with your popped eardrums, you manage to catch the way that Nanami’s voice breaks as he swears his surrender. The drivelling circle at the end of his cockhead suddenly bursting into his own high- “Fuck, exactly like this-”
Hunching over. Pinning you to the bed.
He’s shoving his leaking cock deep into the goopy crevices of your pussy, letting you flood up with each miry line of his cum. “Exactly like this- just like this-” Nanami’s groaning out, webbing up your sweet insides with his orgasm. “This entire week I imagined pinning you down like- this—”
“Oh, please.” You’re blinking back the stars in your vision as one of his hands lets go to push down your hips. Wrestling you into stillness for a second-
“And then my cum- fuck, your pussy’s so hungry for my ngh, cum. She’s sucking it up like- th-thiiiiis—” You’re feeling the exact moment that even more of his ivory syrup seeps out, trickling against the back of your cervix. He’s fucking you through both of your highs almost aggressively, “And then- and then…”
“And then?”
“Oh, honey—” Nanami grins, like he knew something you didn’t. The hand pinning you down slowly scrapes down until it was plastered against your front, pushing down where a lil’ cumflation was threatening to start. A little bulge. In many ways. “-then you’d be pregnant, is what.”
3:01PM, Saturday.
It was only a few more rounds and a hasty lunch later that Nanami had cornered you again (or perhaps you had cornered him, it was hard to say with just how ravenous the two of you actually were). Until, ultimately, you were perched atop the very kitchen counter that the two of you had made yourselves lunch in.
Your body draped across the frigid counter, your legs in the air.
Cunt directly in the line of sight of your husband, who’d just been hankerin’ for something more…sweet (and had rejected every other dessert option until it came to this).
Nanami’s looooong tongue was dipping in and out of your hole, gathering up all those creamy wads of cum that he’d stuffed in there just moments prior. As if he was forgetting his objective of getting you pregnant- and then starting all over again.
“Mmm—mmpf.” Came his strangled moans, being completely crushed between your legs- and his two hands plastered upon either side of them as if trying to get them to tighten ‘round his neck even more. “What did I say about this being my favorite dessert—?”
Slightly leaning back, you can see the full scope of the messes that you and Nanami have made of each other. Slick n’ white cum glued across his face, a sheen that his tastebuds dart out to lick every ounce of.
Dripping wet.
Plunging in and out.
Lavishing his mouth between your trembly, overstimulated legs for more, more, more. It was just so wet that it felt like you were melting underneath him, with all your excess staining down his throat now.
With a shiver, you’re clawing at Nanami’s blond head and attempting to push him down- “And wh-what have I said about not talking with your mouth full?”
Unexpectedly (or perhaps not, you shouldn’t be surprised by now), this doesn’t deter Nanami a single bit. Doesn’t make him falter a single shred.
In fact, he’s actually wracking with primal shivers, the lower half of his body that was obscured by the angle below ruts—“Ohhhh, love when you go all momma mode.” He’s spitting between your pussylips, plastering those swollen lips of yours to his own. And just bubbling out in dewy wads every time he’s pokin’ his tongue inwards and swirling it all around, “Can’t- hah, can’t wait to make you a momma all over again. Can’t wait to fuck a baby into ya, my darling. All round and glowing and- and mine…”
Faster and faster. You’re wondering just how it was possible for Nanami to talk with his mouth all full, and his tongue working overtime to reach for the hidden spots deepest inside you. “And how will you do that when you’re- ngh, greedy for every drop of…”
He looks up with a darkly amused glint, “Drop of what, my love?”
“Drop of- of cum.” You’re finally managing to shrill out, and you think it may have something to do with the fact that Nanami had finally gulped down any and every bit of evidence of the mess he’d made of you. That glistening lacquer of creamy white not dotted his lips, and he was rovering his mouth over your clit and biting it now-
“Drop of cum, hm—?” Nanami pretends to think, so seriously that it reminded you of the way he’d be when he was in the midst of some important business project. “Oh, you’re right. I do need to fill you up with my cum before I can get you, ngh, pregnant.”
You’re squirming, “I genuinely can’t tell if you’re seriously that gone or not, Kento.”
“H-heh…”
And it seems that that was all the answer you’re getting for that particular answer- as for the other demand of yours, Nanami doesn’t quite answer it until you’re cumming ‘round his mouth all over again.
He licks up the tenderest spots of your insides until you feel yourself tipping over the edge - by now, your orgasm was nothing more than a few tingles that ran from the pit of your belly n’ left you all numb.
All quivering.
You look down and realize, with a jolt, that he’d cleaned you off perfectly - and Nanami Kento always was great with aftercare, but this seemed to be something else entirely. Something filthy. And your cunt almost missed the hot splashes of cum that were once overspilling out of you.
Tears slick down your cheeks and - for the nth time that night - you muse that you can’t possibly cum again, for at least a few weeks.
“Oh yes, you can.” He answers—oh, you’d said that out loud. Fuck. “And you will-” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. With a final few slurping smooches, Nanami wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gets up from his place kneeled on the kitchen floor. And you can already see that his dick is rock-fucking-hard-
“After all, I have to fill you all over again, don’t I?”
7:18PM, Saturday.
You haven’t even had dinner yet.
You haven’t even had dinner yet - but Nanami Kento was making sure that you were stuffed.
Like the cutest of lollipops, looooong and hard. His blushin’ cockhead was licked pink at the very tip, dribbling out in wads of precum that leave your tongue feeling all sticky. He pinpoints the salty taste of it right against the back of your throat, and you whine—
“Sh-shoooo- mmpf.” You manage to gurgle out, and by the way that he’s swabbing every inch of your maw with his length- it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you were claiming he was ‘soooo big’.
But Nanami wanted to tease you a little bit…
“What was hah! that, my love?” He’s crooning, overlarge hand coming down where you were seated beneath his meaty thighs. They quiver every time the lavish muscle of your tongue traced his muscles, like that was all it took to leave your poor husband on the verge of breaking.
Oh, and how cute you looked with your angrily furrowed brows, mouth full of his cock, huffing n’ puffing at the question he’d just asked.
You were underneath his office desk by this point, and Nanami’s leaning his body back in his chair to buck up ever-so-slightly inside you. Hushing at you all the while to relax your throat, “Shhh—breathe through your- ngh, nose, darling, breeeeathe. Breathe n’ try to repeat that sentence f’me?”
You’re popping off of his flared mushroom tip with a wet pwah! “But why—? I said you’re so-”
“I want you to say it with my cock in your mouth, m’kay?” Nanami says in that stern tone of his. And you’re letting his massive palm cradle the back of your throat to get you moving your maw over his length once more, nuzzling the curly hairs of his happy trail.
You’re breathing in his musky masculine scent, “Just so mean.” Pouting, and your dear husband already knows that he’s won.
That when you perk your head up, he’ll be guiding his flushed tip to tap-tap-tap against your puckered lips. Your mouth was just so raw from so many kisses that you wince at the stinging sensation, your spit drivelling down both sides of your face.
“I said- hck!” Cut off right as Nanami plugs your dewy mouth hole with his cock, plunging iiiiin—“That you’re so- mmmpf—”
Intentionally, whenever it showed even the slightest signs that you may be emitting any coherent sentences, Nanami would buck his mean hips. Until the toned lines of his pelvis massaged your jaw, he’s lodging his beading cock all the way against the back of your throat- and then has the audacity to coo. “Awww, why aren’t you speaking, darling? I just looove your voice so much.”
“Mmmpf-” You rake your nails down his milky thighs, leaving sinful marks for days. “Hngh-” Slightly managing to find a bobbing pace that let you breath enough, “I said you’re so-”
“Aaaand there we go ag-fuck, again.” Before you can finish your sentence, he’s then reaching over to pinch your two nostrils together. A mean smile twitching at one corner of his mouth as you struggle and claw your way down his thighs even more.
Head bobbing desperately, he’s finding that that cute jaw of yours unhinges even more when he restricted your air like this. Interesting…
Finally - finally - letting go of your only form of breathing, Nanami lets you pull off of his throbbing red cock with a gasp. Lines of miry precum still connecting your mouth to his tip, chest heaving- “Fuh-fuck, Kento. What I was saying was-”
“And how can you expect to teach our new baby all those phonetics if you can’t even- ngh, string together a sentence yourself, my darling? No offense but—oh, fuck, that feels good.” He whispers, shutting you up with his girth once more.
Nanami’s cock was just so wiiiide that he made your mouth create the cutest lil’ ‘oh’ whenever he rammed himself right down to the base. Right. Down to. The. Base.
Your husband airily asks, “Now…what were you saying a-again?”
12:27AM, Sunday.
By this time, you’d finally reached the bedroom - though, only after Nanami had taken you on every single spot inside your shared home and saved your king-sized bed for best and for last.
You were practically running on fumes by this point, and could barely even hold up the messy mating press that he’d pressed you into. With his beefy arms tangled up with yours, his thighs pressed against the backs of yours, cock probing into you deeeeeeep.
You swear you could almost taste the salty sweetness of his cockhead at your throat, just oozing out in creamy white wads- almost as if cumming was a perpetual state that Nanami was in whenever he was inside you from now onwards.
Again and again and again-
“Please!” You’re wetly gasping out, head thrown back into pillows that were drenched with your tears by now. “Please- I think it’s already t-taken by now, Kento-”
“Taken?” Nanami asks, almost in a daze. “Taken- you mean…”
And then you watch - in real-time - as the blond-haired man’s mouth parts ever-so-slightly. As understanding washes over his face. As he’s once again swatting at the door to your womb, and you can feel it splosh! with the overspilling remnants of his ivory sap.
It trickles out of your overworked hole in a line of white, and Nanami languidly rovers his hand over to push back in those excess wads. He grins, “I almost forgot that we were s-supposed to get you pregnant, my darling.” You gawk as he continues, “To be quite honest, I’ve just been- ngh, addicted to your cunt.”
“A-addicted-”
“Can’t pull out.” He admits, slashing rude spanks into the back of your pussy with every hoarse syllable - you’re sure that you weren’t too far behind, and that your voice would give out soon. “Can’t even imagine it- can’t even dream of it-”
You squeal as a hand at your throat helps Nanami pull you back along to every one of his rugged thrusts, his plap-plap-plapping hips almost stinging against yours now.
“All I want is her- all I need to feel—” Growing even rougher with his nudgin’ at your cervix, you wonder whether you might just pass out and see the pearly gates at this rate. “All I need to see- taste- smell- feel—h-hck! Oh, I can feel my cum swirlin’ around inside you- s’like heaven.”
With a shiver, you’re feeling him splat! out a few more wads of ivory white cum, emptying out to add to the rest of the slicked mess he’d made. You might just be reaching your own high, as well, but with how far you were overstimulated- you couldn’t even be sure at this point.
Gasps scorching as he says, “And it makes me…”
Oh, you knew something was coming up when he started speaking like that.
“And- and it makes you?” You claw onto the dampened sheets- you might just have to change them soon, because something told you that you won’t be leaving this bedroom for a while.
“Makes me want to…do it all over again.”
4:56AM, Sunday.
“Get pregnant-” Nanami grunts, furiously pumping his reddened, raw cock inside you. Absolutely furiously. “Get pregnant- get pregnant- get- get pregnant…”
“I think- fuck, can feel it—” You’re sobbing out, holding onto Nanami for dear life by this point.
You were right in assuming that neither of you would be leaving this very bedroom for a while, because it’s hours later and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep - hours later and Nanami Kento was still trying to mold his thick, vein-covered cock to your walls. Still trying to get you pregnant as soon as possible.
Right now, actually.
Not even in a proper sex position by this point (you’d already tried everything there was to try), this was more of a sloppy prone bone. With your legs sprawled behind you, and Nanami’s hulking body melting down into yours.
His abs gluing to your back, his thighs shivering from behind.
He could barely even hold himself up on overworked limbs, and Nanami was left collapsed on top of you. Pinning you down helplessly. Crushing you to his sculptured body, his sweaty abs mingled with your back as he pushes n’ probes n’ cums—“A-another…” Nanami pants, and something wet hits the line of your spine—tears. Nanami Kento was crying overstimulated tears.
“Gonna get you pregnant with th-this one- I can, haaah, feel it, my love.” His hand scours underneath your tummy, and you can feel him preeeeess into the spot of your womb where you were all filled up to the brim. “I just know it- I, fuck, just know this one left that pretty pussy o’ mine pregnant.”
“Of yours?” You’re babbling away, feeling so full. You’d only have done this for Nanami - for his ravenous urge to get you pregnant with your third child.
“Mhmmm, of mine.” He answers, grinding so that his tender ballsack scrapes your puffy folds. “Of my lovely wife. Of the beautiful m-momma to by three beautiful children- fuck, just saying that made me cum again, my love, look at that…heh.”
“I think m’close to…” You’re babbling pathetically, not even sure if you could by now.
But Nanami was probin’ against that spot so perfectly still, and by now your nerves were so tender that every tiny graze sets your teeth on edge. Vision a kaleidoscope of tears- “Kento, I think m’gonna-”
And before you can finish your sentence, you’re cumming.
Well, you’re not just cumming, to be quite honest.
You’re squirting.
Thick, watery splashes of your high that leave your husband’s sloppy staccato faltering for but a few seconds- as he takes in the constant gush of sap that was leaving you. Gush after gush. Directly following the peak after peak of your orgasm.
And what does Nanami do?
Well, other fuck you ferally through your squirtin’ high, that is? He’s slithering a hand down to roll over your clit whilst you cum, making you whimper at the delicate feeling.
Intentionally, he’s drenching his skin all a gleaming sheen to- fuck, to bring up to his gluttonous maw and lick off—
“So…baby names, my wife?”
.
.
.
1:26PM, Sunday.
You think you might have passed out some time after you’d squirted, and slept straight through until it was past noon. When you’d awoken, you discovered that you’d actually been…cleaned off and tucked safely under the covers.
The bedsheets had been changed, too, with one of your favorite pillows fluffed underneath your head. Blankets raised high. Food on your bedside counter in case you’d woken up hungry. And your husband cuddled up beside you, waking up to your lethargic movements.
Of course, he’d taken you then, too.
It’d been slooooow and sleepy this time- and you think that Nanami had barely even registered the fact that he was awake before his primal mind was immediately filled with the urge to impregnate, impregnate, impregnate.
A slight tear track lined down his handsome cheek and to his (thoroughly bitten) throat once he pressed his plummy cockhead inside- smiling at the whoosh of cum that’d just splashed out of you. “Hungry, my love?”
“Not that much-” You’re answering, “Since we already…” Only- you realize that your husband wasn’t looking at you at all.
He was looking at…
A wet sluuuurp emanates once your entrance swallows his cock past your puffy pussylips, welcoming the lines of Nanami’s veins back inside once more- oh, how the tiniest of crevices inside you had missed him already. “Oh, you had been hungry.” He titters, almost to himself. “Look at you g-go-”
You’re yelping as he bottoms out, “So you were talking to-”
“Oh? What’s that?” Knowingly, Nanami’s cupping his ear to lean down and listen- the most lecherous of noises once he ruts in and out of your treacly cunt. In and out. In and out. In and out. “Uh uh? Uhhh uh—oh, I see-”
With his devilish eyes, he’s turning towards you and you almost flinch at the look in them-
“She says the baby’s hungry, my wife-” One of his hands ends up on your right tit, and Nanami brings your hardened nipple up to his mouth to suck—and, oh, the poor thing was sensitive? It made you thrash?
Worry not, because in a singular fluid motion, Nanami’s reaching over towards the bedside table to grab one of his infamous silken work ties. Using it to tie your wrists up- “At least, my baby’s hungry- for me to fuck a baby into her.”
Again.
5:44PM, Sunday.
You’d had a brief call just before this with Choso and Yuji in Oita (with the video option carefully turned off on your side so that they wouldn’t be able to see the state their parents were now in, all bitten, broken).
And right after- oh, right after, Nanami had all but pounced on you.
Maybe it had been the joy of seeing his sons again, maybe it had been the urgency of realizing that they’d be home by this time tomorrow. Tomorrow morning itself.
But he had you bend like a lawn chair back into your favorite mating press position, your hamstrings screaming at you to slow down- and your husband doing anything but that. “Preg-pregnant-” He’s whispering out brokenly, unable to manage anything above a rasp. “Have to get you pregnant- have to have everyone look at you and just know what I did-”
You feel his reddened tip twitch inside of you and you moan, “Yes- yes yes yes yes, Kento-” His cum spurting out in sloppy streaks. “I want it all inside, I want a baby with you- ngh.”
“Fuck, don’t say that- s’just gonna wanna make me go again.” He pleads with you, overstimulated lower lip wobbling at the feeling of your velvety, heart-shaped insides clenching ‘round him. “Just gonna make me- ngh.”
“Fuck, Kento-”
“P-pregnant…” He babbles onwards, “I get the f-feeling s’gonna be a girl, momma.”
8:45PM, Sunday.
After that, there were likely multiple more rounds that melted into one lustful haze in your mind. But the one round that you remember the most fondly out of that particular Sunday, was the one directly after Nanami had skipped dinner to go straight back into fucking you.
Your last round.
He was a crying, whimpering mess by this point - this large, towering hulk of a man that had been reduced to absolutely nothing on your pussy. You could clench and it would be enough to make your husband shed a few tears, his strawberry-red divot streaming out in pearly beads of cum. Allllll emptied out in the back of your pussy-
“I think-” He’s gasping out towards the end, feeling your slimy walls contract with what might just be another one of your highs once more. “I think this one—hnghhh.”
“Oh my-” You’re speechless-
Because Nanami only lazily probes his thick cock inside you, holding onto the front of your stomach- he presses doooown right where his mushroomy tip ended at, thudding deep into the front of your overspilling womb by now.
Drenched in his cum.
A white, hot mess because of him.
And with a carnal grunt of your name, Nanami’s finishing out once more. With a few vulgar strokes of him swirlin’ aside the webs of sap already inside of you- you’re realizing that-
“Fuck…” Your maw drops agape, “Did you just- hngh, c-cum dry, Kento?”
“Wha—” He’s hazily turning his eyes downwards, only now realizing that the end of his shaft hadn’t burst out in creamy white like it always did these past two days. He had the faint sparks of electricity, all the twitches—but Nanami hadn’t actually cum.
You’d sucked him dry.
He was cumming dry.
The realization hits him hard enough that his breath hitches, “O-oh-” Tears glitter the ends of his molten stares, “You’re right, my love, I did cum dry.” With his palm still plastered against your front, Nanami pulls you towards him - no position at all by now, just a tangled heap of limbs. “And you wanna- fuuuuck, don’t squeeze me like that- you wanna know something else, too?”
You’re cracking your teary lids open at him, “What?”
Only for your husband, Nanami Kento, to lean down and whisper—“I think it really took this time, my wife.”
“Oh…” You’re smiling up at him, your lids heavy. “That’s…good…Kento.”
And it’s the last thing you remember before you’re closing your eyes into a deep, deep slumber.
.
.
.
“Oh, fuck-” You’re shooting upright in your comfortable bed, which only seemed to wish to drag you back down onto its springy mattress with invisible arms. And it was tempting, you have to admit.
Very, very tempting.
If only sunlight hadn’t been flowing with gusto even through your bedroom curtains, and birds and traffic weren’t twittering in competition outside. It was one of those mornings when the world just seemed a little bit brighter- and with growing panic, you’re slamming your hand out to grab your phone off of the bedside table.
Muttering to yourself, “Oh, fuck fuck fuck- fuck.” It hurt to even move your limbs out for this simple action, though that was the least of your worries right now. “It seems so late- don’t tell me I missed the pick up time for-” You tap on your phone screen—
10:45AM, Monday.
(Public holiday)
“Fuck, I did-”
3 missed messages from Hubby <3
“No- wait.”
Hubby <3: I went to go pick up the kids, so don’t worry, my love. I’ll also take care of breakfast so don’t even think about it!
Hubby <3: You just get all the sleep you need. I love you.
Hubby <3: So, so much.
You’re exhaling in relief, falling back against your pillows. Out of curiosity, you’re checking the timestamps on the messages that Nanami had sent, and find that it had actually been a fair amount of time before you’d awoken. So that means…
“Papa, where’s momma?”
Ah, Yuji’s loudly curious voice emanates from downstairs - as well as the sweet, simmering smell of pancakes and syrup. Just hearing your sons so close by makes you excited to step downstairs (and you had to admit that the thought of breakfast made your stomach rumble, too)- and yet, you persist. If just to hear what excuse your husband might come up with.
Fuck, it hits you all at once - right along with the immensely satisfying fatigue in your body. The soreness. The bruises. The bites. You’d just fucked like animals for two days.
“Ah…” Nanami’s deep voice hesitates, “She’s asleep, sunshine.”
“Still?” Choso pipes up this time, and you could almost imagine the way that his dark brows would knit together when he wanted to get to the bottom of a mystery. “That’s odd, is she sick or something?”
“Or something.”
Yuji pouts, “What’s that mean, papa?”
“Momma’s just very ah- tired, you two know how hard she works.” He replies, and your heart soars as you listen to two little voices of agreement. “Let’s let her sleep, okay? And maybe if she isn’t awake by the time we finish these pancakes- then you two can get momma’s plate ready, and I’ll go upstairs to help her down, alright? We can surprise her with a fancy breakfast just for her!”
“Yes, papa—!”
“Sounds good!”
You hear Nanami chuckle, “And make sure you plate quite a bit, kiddos, I have the feeling that momma’s gonna have to eat for two very, very soon.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, papa?”
“Heh, that’s a secret, sunshine…”
A/N. Y’all were asking for thisssssss so ofc daddy has to deliver mwahahaha…
☆ after a hard week at the daily planet, everyone decides to go to the bar for drinks, when things take a turn.
☆ warnings: fighting/injuries, secret relationship? swearing (once or twice), pet names (honey, baby), overprotection, not proofread (cause i'm lazy like that)
☆ notes: hey everyone, i'm finally back. sorry it took me so long life has been busy lately. this one is a bit meh but hope you like. also thank you so much again for the love i've been receiving it means so much.
☆ wc: 1,404
The week was finally finished. It was busy for the employees in the main room, as the political state in Gotham declined rapidly. But nevertheless, it was a Friday afternoon and everyone was prepared to let loose. The idea started when Jimmy suggested everyone got a drink at Ace O’Clubs to celebrate the end of whatever the heck that week was. Cat was the second to agree, which automatically meant the rest of the team would follow.
You cleaned up your desk quickly, aiming to leave the office for the bar by 5, which was in two minutes. While you cleaned, you see Clark’s head peak over the separator between both of your desks.
“So you going to this thing?” He questioned, obviously aiming for a nonchalant approach to the conversation, but he couldn’t help the pitchy voice which came out of his mouth.
“Mhm, you?” You muttered under your breath, trying to keep your hands fast as you gathered your papers and laptop into your computer bag, eyes darting to the clock every two seconds.
“Well if you are, I guess I should too.” He replied, moving closer to you with his chair, hand snaking up to your waist.
“Clark.” You whispered, slightly shaking your body to move his hand from your body. He let go and dropped his hands to his hip, before he stood up, brushing his pants. You sighed, looking around the office before you spoke again. “Clark, I’m sorry. I just don’t want people to know about us yet, not until I finish this front cover article. I really don’t-“ Clark cuts you off.
“Want people to think I have something to do with it? Baby I’ve heard that a million times. You know no one will think that. You’re an amazing writer.” His hand reaches your waist once again as he pulled you in for a hug. Thank god Jimmy ushered everyone out five minutes earlier.
“Yeah yeah I know,” You kept your head down before Clark hold your chin in his hand and presses a kiss to your lips.
“Let’s go get our cocktails on huh?” He jokes, and does what you think was supposed to be a shimmy? He holds out his arm and you link yours with his, leaning your head on his bicep.
You guys finally arrived at the bar and hung your coats up next to each others. Everyone was already gathered at a large table right at the back of the room as you and Clark walked closer.
“Hey, where’s Jimmy?” You say amusingly, earning a tiny chuckle from Clark which you heard behind you.
“Getting beers of course, what else?” Lois answers, giving the same energy as you which made you excited for the night ahead, since Lois never ever did that.
“Want me to get you something?” Clark asks quietly as you sit down at the table. You look back up at him, almost seeing his real face from under his glasses.
“Margarita please.” You smile back up at him.
“Ooh watch out everyone, Y/n’s starting with tequila!” Cat screams out so loud you’re sure the whole bar heard despite the blasting music.
“Anyone else want anything?” Clark quickly asks, masking any suspicion from him only asking for your order. Everyone’s orders start getting spit right at his face, so you get up and start typing on your phone.
“I’ll help you don’t worry.” You knock Clark slightly and give him a grin, making him slightly blush.
Once you have everybody’s drinks down, you and Clark start walking to the bar, you making a joke about something that went down in the break room today. Then all of a sudden it catches your eye, Jimmy getting into a fight with another man at the bar. A man who was noticeably bigger and angrier than he was. You and Clark walk closer and you hand him your phone.
“One sec honey” You say to Clark. Your voice was noticeably shaky and you would never call Clark a name is public, which means you obviously needed some sort of ground.
“Y/n, I don’t think you should-“ Clark’s voice quieted as you walked towards the fight, heart pounding in your chest. You finally reached the scene, Jimmy turning around as he could see the man staring.
“Y/n what are you…?” He cut himself off as you tried to talk to the man.
“Hi sir, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but it seems like it has lasted a while. So why don’t we part ways so everyone can properly enjoy their drinks, huh? You calmly said to the man who was still visibly frustrated.
“Well, why don’t you tell your little friend here to give me my drink back. Seems like both of you have the fucking confidence to start things but not finish them properly.” The man yelled into your face, spit getting all over you and Jimmy.
“Hey man, I told you that is not your drink! I paid for it, so I’m taking it!” Jimmy screamed back at the guy, obviously angering him. Clark still stood at a distance, not wanting to get you hurt if he did do something to the guy. The argument was escalating, and you stood right in the middle. Jimmy and the guy going back and forth still and you getting squeezed in between them. Before you even noticed, the man was throwing a punch towards Jimmy as you turned towards him and right into his fist, sending you down onto the floor. The whole bar suddenly went silent, a kind you only see in movies; and Clark’s voice cuts that.
“HEY!” Is all you can hear as you hold your face as youthful lay on the ground in shock, as well as everyone else. You see feet run past you and a crack come from above you. You slowly sit up and are met with the sight of Clark beating this hell out of this guy. In that split second, you regained all consciousness as you quickly stood to break it up.
“CLARK! CLARK STOP IT!” You yelled, trying to hold back your tears. Wiggling to get behind Clark and stop whatever was going on. “CLARK COME ON! STOP!”. You impulsively grabbed his arm and attempted to pull him off of the man, but to no avail. He was too strong for his own good. You quickly looked around to see everyone at the bar watching what was going on before you very eyes, so you tried to pull him away once again, this time succeeding. As Clark stood back up, his brows furrowed and heavy breathing, you slowly moved to look infant of him. The man was on the floor, laid out with blood all over his face.
“Oh my god,” You whispered, wrapping your arms around Clark’s huge one to try and provide some sort of ground for him this time.
“We need to get out of here. Now.” He muttered to you. You responded with an eager nod as he led both of you out the bar.
“What the actual fuck just happened.” Jimmy said, turning to the rest of the crowd.
The two of you had just arrived back at Clark’s apartment. You quickly headed to the bathroom to get the first aid kit that you usually used when he had a Superman related injury, except for tonight. You met him back at the kitchen, taking out a bandage and some alcohol wipes to clean his knuckles.
“That guy didn’t stand a chance huh?” You said, breaking the 45 minute silence between you. Clark let out a huff, mixed with a chuckle; which was reassuring to you.
“I’m sorry hon, I don’t know what came over me I mean for heavens sake, he hit you!” Clark exclaimed and you cupped his face to bring him back to Earth.
“I’m okay, a little shook up, but I’m okay. You don’t need to worry.” You reassured him.
“Guess everyone knows about us now?” He mentioned. You shook your head.
“I’m not worried about that anymore. What I am questioning is how your glasses stayed on your head during that whole ordeal.” You laughed, and you swear you saw him flash a smile.
Both of you spent the rest of the night in bed, curled up into each other, having what may have been the best sleep you’ve ever had.
Disclaimer: I do not own Superman, Clark Kent, Lex Luthor, or any other characters associated with DC Comics or the Superman franchise. All recognizable characters belong to DC and their respective creators.
Rating: Mature (Part 1) / Explicit (Part 2)
Warnings: This section contains detailed descriptions of mature sexual content (M/F) and explicit references to the breeding kink (non-condom use/internal climax). Reader discretion is advised.
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
You were contemplating whether to catch up with Clark while the rest of the people left the conference. Just as you were about to get ready to leave, Tina from the PR Team came over to you. “Hey, I just wanted to say you did great. I didn’t realize Lex Luthor could be quite a handful.”
“Oh, he is,” you quipped, raking your hands through your hair. Lex was such a prissy little brat, strutting in like he owned the place—like he owned you. You were just glad that Lex decided he had better things to do than stay around and cause even more of a scene than he already had.
“Tina, I have to go,” you said, leaving her mid-sentence to catch up with Clark. Hopefully, by the time you got to the lobby, Clark was still there. And then you realized how he genuinely smiled at you back there, making you melt under his soft gaze. The way he stepped in like a knight in shining armor without needing to be beckoned left a pang in your chest, making you want to just hug him.
“Y/N,” Clark’s familiar voice calls out the moment you set foot in the lobby.
“Clark,” you say breathlessly as the two of you meet in the middle. “I just had to say thank you back there. That question... you cut him off perfectly. He hates being put on the spot about anything that isn’t his own ego.”
“Well…” Clark shrugged, a nervous smile touching his lips. “It was a legitimate question about the foundation’s long-term funding, Ms. Luthor.”
“It was a rescue, Clark,” you insisted, stepping closer. “And he knew it. Thank you.”
Clark’s gaze softened entirely. “Lex had it coming. And that whole interview we had six months ago... I see you, Y/N.”
“Clark, that’s such a sweet thing to say,” you answered, unable to hold back. You reached out and pulled him into a spontaneous hug.
Clark was stiff for only a second, surprised by the contact, before his arms came up, holding you tight. He smelled faintly of fresh paper and something clean and outdoorsy—like rain.
He murmured into your hair, “It’s the truth.”
Then, he gently pulled back, his large hands resting lightly on your shoulders, his thumbs barely brushing your collarbone.
“Actually... I was hoping you might let me buy you dinner. Maybe somewhere Lex hasn't already ruined for you?”
The invitation hung in the air between you, a question so simple yet so impossibly vast. It wasn’t about dinner. It was about choosing a different life, one free from the gilded cage Lex had trapped you in. The very fact that he had even considered where you might feel safe made a lump form in your throat.
You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his earnest, hopeful one. There was no pretense in his eyes, no agenda. Just... Clark. The kind man who had just risked a billionaire's ire for a woman he barely knew.
A small, genuine smile finally touched your lips. The kind that felt like sunshine after a long winter.
"Yes," you said, the word coming out firm and clear. You didn't need to ask where, or when. "Yes, I'd like that very much."
Clark's relief was immediate and visible, a flash of pure warmth that made your chest ache. He didn't pull you in for another hug, or even squeeze your shoulders, but simply let his hands linger for another moment before he let go. The quiet respect in his touch was more powerful than any grand gesture.
You watched Clark's face light up with obvious relief when you accepted, a pure, uncalculated warmth that felt alien and wonderful.
“Great,” he said, but then the relief gave way to a flicker of panic. “Great, I—I’ll call you later tonight to sort out the details.”
You nodded, stepping fully away from him, allowing him to retreat before he realized how much he’d just committed to. The formality of the lobby felt suddenly petty and small.
Clark walked out and immediately entered a state of internal crisis. Oh, shoot. He hadn't thought that far ahead. Where in Metropolis could he possibly take Y/N Luthor—the woman who had dined at every Michelin-starred establishment in the city? And had he even called it a date? He said dinner, nothing more!
After twenty minutes of staring blankly at his tiny apartment kitchen, he had his answer: he wouldn't risk Metropolis. He wouldn't risk her comparing a restaurant to something Lex had gifted her.
He settled on his own place. He’d make his Ma’s hearty lasagna recipe, a dish that felt like home and honesty.
The next hour was dedicated to an epic battle with a strand of fairy lights he had impulsively bought from a street vendor. He planned to string them around the small living room to soften the harsh overhead light. One bulb would flicker out, forcing him to trace the line back to the beginning, only for another to pop off moments later. He swore under his breath, hands, normally so steady, fumbling with the tiny wires. In the end, with a triumphant, muttered grunt, he got them all glowing, casting a warm, slightly haphazard ambiance across the room.
He had exactly an hour to start the lasagna.
When the buzzer rang later that evening, the apartment smelled richly of tomato sauce, herbs, and slightly burnt cheese. The setting was simple: two mismatched chairs pulled up to a small, worn dining table, centered beneath the glowing constellation of his temperamental fairy lights.
Clark, wearing a comfortable, slightly rumpled cotton shirt, opened the door with an apologetic smile.
"Hi," he said, gesturing to the humble space. "Sorry for the modest setup. I couldn't exactly think of a place in Metropolis that Lex hadn't already taken you, so... I figured I'm guessing if there’s one place he hasn't ruined, it’s my apartment."
You stepped inside, the heat of the lasagna and the soft, imperfect glow of the lights washing over you. The apartment was simple, lived-in, and wonderfully, undeniably real. It felt safer than any sterile, marble-floored penthouse. The thought of whether this was a date or just dinner vanished instantly.
"It's perfect, Clark," you said, pulling off your coat and letting out a slow breath of relief. "Absolutely perfect."
The night unfolded with an ease that was foreign to your life in Metropolis. The aroma of herbs and baking cheese filled the small apartment, immediately putting you at ease.
You forked a large piece of the lasagna, the warmth and richness melting in your mouth. "Clark, this is incredible," you declared, closing your eyes in genuine appreciation. "It actually tastes like real food, not something prepared for a magazine spread."
Clark slightly flustered, pushed his glasses up his nose. "It's my Ma's recipe. I think I even messed up the layering a little, but she swears by a little extra oregano."
"Mess up or not, it's the best thing I've eaten all year," you said, meaning it. You took another bite, letting the small, cozy room settle around you. "This is... nice. No cameras, no press."
Clark’s gaze was steady, watching you with an intensity that made you forget the fairy lights, the bank, and even Lex. "You handle him better than anyone I've ever seen," he said quietly, shifting the conversation back to the source of the day's stress.
"But I could see how much that cost you today."
You sighed, the walls you usually maintained beginning to crumble under the weight of his genuine concern. "Lex never talked to me," you admitted, swirling the wine in your glass. "He only talked at me, or he talked around me—about what I was supposed to wear or what I was supposed to fund. After a while, you start to feel like a piece of his real estate."
Clark reached across the small table, not to take your hand, but to simply shift a bread plate closer to you. It was a gesture of service, not possessiveness.
"That’s why I asked about the Hamilton County shelter," he said, his voice earnest. "That wasn't LexCorp's name on the application; that was yours. You genuinely care. You’re not his real estate, Y/N. You’re the foundation’s heart."
The genuine, uncalculated sincerity of the compliment hit you harder than any harsh word Lex had ever thrown. You fell silent, feeling a prickle behind your eyes as the honesty of his words washed away months of suppressed self-doubt.
Clark seemed to sense the intensity of the moment and spoke softly, filling the silence. "I didn't know if I should have asked you out. You're... Metropolis royalty. I'm just a guy who writes about corn."
You finally met his eyes again, a small, resolute smile forming on your lips.
"I'm not royalty, Clark," you said, reaching out to gently cover the back of his hand on the table. "I'm just a woman trying to get off a very expensive throne. I've had the penthouse view. I think I prefer this."
The fairy lights above suddenly seemed to sparkle brighter, and the distance between you, now just the length of the small table, felt infinitely small.
You stepped out of the dining area and closer to him, the lasagna and the small table instantly dissolving from your awareness. When you reached him, he didn't rush. He simply pulled you gently in, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that the earlier hug felt like a distant prelude.
Clark lowered his head, his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that was utterly disarming. It wasn't the passionate, demanding kiss Lex used to administer, but a soft, grounding one. It felt like an arrival. It was slow, sure, and filled with the quiet, overwhelming promise of safety.
You melted against him, your hands finding their way up his soft cotton shirt, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world full of expensive, shaky marble. You kissed him back with a needy desperation born of months of suffocating control, a wordless plea for the normalcy and honesty he represented.
The kiss deepened, becoming less about safety and more about desire. Clark murmured something soft against your mouth, a sound that was less a word and more a confirmation, before lifting you effortlessly.
In the soft, slightly disheveled space of his small apartment, surrounded by the warm aroma of home-cooked food and the imperfect glow of his hastily strung lights, you finally found the intimate connection you had been unknowingly craving.
Clark didn't carry you far. His small bedroom, illuminated by the spill of light from the living room's fairy lights, was simple and warm. He gently laid you down on the bed, a soft landing that felt impossibly safe.
His kisses followed, lingering and unhurried—on your lips, trailing heat down your neck, and eventually finding their way to your thighs. Each touch was a quiet, tender question, and every breathy sound you made was an eager answer. There was an honesty and a gentleness to his passion that was the total opposite of the calculated demands of your past. With Clark, there was no performance, only mutual, escalating desire.
You reached for the cotton of his shirt, pulling him down, needing the feel of him—the reality of him—against your skin. As your clothes disappeared, the warmth between you became palpable. He moved over you, his eyes asking permission before his lips found your chest, your stomach, tracing a hot path that made you arch your back against the soft mattress.
He moved lower, his breath hot against your core. His fingers brushed against your heat, a gentle graze across your tenderness, finding the slick, wet folds that were already begging for his attention. You gasped, burying your hands in his soft, dark hair as he gave you a deep, focused pleasure that felt utterly overwhelming in its selfless intensity. His devotion was a physical experience.
Clark groaned, a deep, earthy sound that vibrated against your skin, pulling his head up just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. The idea of you beneath him, slick and desperate and moaning his name, was clearly driving him over the edge.
When he finally rose and settled the weight of his body between your legs, filling you slowly, completely, you felt a profound sense of rightness. The feeling of his cock stretching you, possessing you, made you moan his name without restraint. This wasn't cold control; this was fierce, tender ownership you had chosen.
In the rush of sensation, the thought hit you—pure, primal, and urgent. You wanted nothing between this feeling and a lasting connection to him.
"Don't pull out, Clark," you managed to whisper, squeezing your legs around him. "I don't want you to. Please, cum inside me."
He paused, looking down at you, the surprise quickly replaced by a fierce, protective tenderness. "Y/N," he breathed, the word a heavy question.
"Yes," you insisted, pushing up against him. "Just... give it to me. All of it."
Clark’s eyes, soft and heavy with sleep, fluttered open. He blinked slowly, a wonderfully rumpled and sleepy smile forming on his lips. He squeezed your hand, which was resting on his chest.
“Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and deep affection.
You smiled back, tracing the faint stubble along his jaw. The anxiety was already creeping in—the 7:00 AM reality check of the Metropolis Bank and Lex's inevitable wrath. You tried to pull away, needing to move, but Clark simply shifted, pulling you fully against his long, warm body.
“Don’t go yet,” he mumbled, his lips finding your neck. The urgency in his touch was tender, not demanding. He knew you had to leave, and that knowledge made the moment more precious, more immediate.
The warmth of his arousal pressed against your thigh, and the memory of the night before—the intimacy, the simple freedom of saying yes—sent a swift, answering fire through you. You turned fully in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist, meeting his gaze with a fierce, possessive need that felt entirely new.
"We don't have time," you whispered, the words already a lie as your hips instinctively moved against his.
"Just a minute," he promised, his voice low and ragged.
He kissed you deeply, a hungry, consuming kiss that bypassed all thought and conversation. He rolled you onto your back, his eyes locked with yours. There was a raw, primal connection between you now, forged in the honesty of the night.
He settled against you, pushing inside with a familiar, welcome stretch that made you gasp. You clung to his shoulders, riding the quick, desperate wave of pleasure. This was raw, safe, perfect.
"Inside," you breathed out, a firm, non-negotiable command that was half-moan. "Clark, I want you inside again. Now."
His control snapped. With a deep, guttural sound, Clark surrendered to the moment, accelerating his pace, eyes closing in effort and exquisite relief. He drove into you, a final, urgent series of thrusts, pouring his seed deep inside you with a shuddering release. He collapsed onto your chest, heavy, safe, and breathless.
You held him tightly, your heart hammering against his. This was your new reality, the beautiful, messy, permanent connection you had chosen to make.
He lifted his head minutes later, his expression a mixture of guilt and possessive adoration. "I couldn't help it," he confessed, kissing the corner of your mouth.
"I know," you sighed contentedly. "And you weren't supposed to."
He pulled you in closer, burying his face in your neck. "For what it's worth..." he murmured, the words almost lost in a soft exhale. "I think Kent rings better anyway."
The audacity of the statement—the open, casual suggestion of a future he knew you desperately wanted but couldn't dare to claim—hit you like a wave. You knew him for such a short amount of time, and you didn’t know what the future held, but you immediately relished at the thought of him being there beside you. The suggestion was a quiet, powerful promise of a life built on truth instead of transactional expectation.
kinktober ✮ filming
pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x f!reader
synopsis: after Hangman makes a comment about Bob not being able to "handle all that", Bob sets out to show him different
content: 18+ MDNI!!! matching couples' costumes, hangman likes to tease bob <3, territorial bob, he's very commanding, overstimulation, unprotected pinv (make good decisions), creampie, filming, he gets a little rough, a little grabby, very little foreplay
word count: 2.1k
author's note: my first time writing for bob floyd so apologies if he's a little ooc <3, but have this kinktober entry hehehe <3 everybody enjoy!! see you next writing post!!
kinktober masterlist ☆ main masterlist
Bob has never been a jealous man, has never had a reason to be a jealous man. You rejected people’s advances, couldn’t keep your hands off of him in public, reassured him whenever he needed it. But right now as he watches you and Phoenix absolutely demolish Rooster and Hangman at beer pong he can’t help but feel a bit… unsettled at the way everyone’s eyes seem to be on you. He couldn’t blame them, you looked good. Too good. You’d dressed as Shego for the Daggers’ first ever costume party; green and black suit hugging your body tight, leaving nothing to the imagination. He’d been your Dr Draken of course, blue lab coat and a scar that you’d painted under his eye while you sat in his lap earlier that night. He could feel you in his hands if he closed his eyes. Could remember the weight of you while you’d done the scar for him. He’d wanted the two of you to stay home, enjoy a night of scary movies from underneath his covers instead, but you’d managed to convince him.
“Just one hour won’t hurt. We’ll just hang out a little and then come back home,” you’d said as you zipped up the suit, put the final touches on your wig.
He wishes he’d said no when he sees you laugh at something Hangman says, his hand on your waist, dangerously close to moving lower while Rooster looks for drinks to top up the cups.
“Go over there, man. Stop staring holes into Hangman,” he hears Fanboy say as he nudges him, pushes him forward. Bob snaps out of it, starts to argue with him, but then changes his mind and takes his advice. He walks over to you slowly, composing himself. He hopes the jealousy doesn’t show on his face. He’s not sure when he got so territorial, but there’s something about the way not just Hangman has looked at you in that costume tonight that has him guarded. When you see him, your face breaks out into a smile, you wave at him.
“Here’s my Dr. Draken,” you beam, putting some space between you and Hangman so Bob can squeeze in beside you. You thread your fingers through his, press yourself up against him.
“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” Hangman actually looks surprised.
“Why would I be kidding?” you cock an eyebrow, amused.
“Because there’s no way Baby on Board can handle all that,” he ribs. You miss the way Bob’s jaw tenses when you roll your eyes. The subject changes when Rooster comes back with a bottle, refills the cups so you guys can start another round. Bob tries to stay neutral, to not let that comment from Jake plague him so much, but he just can’t. He lets it grow legs and run through his head while he watches you and Phoenix demolish Hangman and Rooster yet again, whooping when they admit defeat. He checks his watch. It’s been well over an hour, and he thinks he’s been patient enough.
“Let’s go,” he whispers in your ear when he has your attention. “It’s been an hour, we can go now.” His hand is on your waist, already guiding you up from where you’re leaning on the counter.
“Why so impatient,” you murmur, looking up at him from underneath your lashes. His grip on your wrists is tight. Not tight enough to hurt, but you feel his urgency regardless.
“You look good. Wanna get you home,” he answers, voice low as he guides you to the door, smiles and nods as you say your goodbyes to everyone else.
He doesn’t speak while he drives you home, just grips the wheel tight and keeps his eyes on the road. When you pull into his driveway he’s ushering you through the door and into his room, barely giving you time to speak before he’s pressing his lips to yours, the taste of root beer on his tongue and his hands strong on your hips.
“Bob, wait calm down,” you’re saying when he pulls away, his glasses sitting crooked on his nose, cheeks red and breath coming in pants.
“I’m calm,” he says as his hands find the zipper on the back, pull it down slowly. His eyes roam greedily over you, drink in the way more of your skin becomes exposed with each second as he pulls the zipper further down. He peels the top half of the costume down slow and measured, no hint of the urgency he’d displayed in the car. The slow gentle touch disappears the moment he gets his hands on you properly, the heat of his palm almost scorching as he palms at your breast.
“Fuck, you went out without a bra?” He says as he dips low, closes his mouth over a nipple. He lets his teeth graze it, sucks hard when you remain silent. “Answer me,” he says, squeezing at the other one.
“It has a bra built in,” you explain, hands on his biceps.
“Anyone could’ve taken this off, seen you like this,” he complains, words muffled by the soft flesh of your breast.
“Anyone? Or Hangman,” you probe. You have your answer when he bites down just a little bit; enough to make you arch into him, dig your nails into the flesh of his arm. “Bob, you don’t need to worry. I told you, I’m not interested in anyone else.”
Bob knows he’s being irrational, that the only thing stopping you from being official is that he’s trying to find the right way to ask you. He’s scrapped about three dinner ideas and a day out. But the longer he kept putting it off, the longer he had to deal with Hangman’s joking remarks. “I’m not worried,” he says when he finally pulls away, lets one of his hands slide down between your thighs. “Just can’t stop thinking about what he said,” he says as he comes up to kiss you again, mouth hard over yours, his teeth pulling at your bottom lip. He pulls your thighs apart, slots his knee between your legs as he walks you to the bed. He turns you around, palms pushing into the small of your back as he bends you over. You feel him press himself against you, and you can vaguely register how hard he is through the layers of his costume. He’s peeling the rest of your costume down your thighs, and you hear the unbuckling of his pants followed by the rustle as he kicks them off. He’s pressing his head against your clothed core, slowly teasing you. You feel him squeeze; much harder than he normally does, and you know he’s pissed. “What the fuck does he know, huh?” He asks as he pulls your underwear to the side. His hand has to come down to push you into the mattress again when you arch off the mattress. He’s so hard, and you feel a soft ache in your belly when he runs his tip through your folds, his head butting up against your clit. You’re squirming, and he has to press into the small of your back harder to keep you still. You can feel him at your entrance, heavy and leaking as he just waits there.
“Bob,” you whine, “he doesn’t know anything, c’mon,” you’re saying as you try push up against him. “Show him he doesn’t know anything. My phone’s in my bag, show him you handle all this just fine,” you say when he still doesn’t budge.
“You fine with that, fine with him seeing you like this?”he asks, the grip he has on you loosening slightly, tone softer.
“If it’ll get you to actually fuck me, then yes. Do whatever you need to, just please Bob, stop teasing.”
He leaves practically immediately, and you miss the warmth of his body. You don’t move, keep your face buried into the mattress until he comes back. “Good girl,” he says, hand gripping your hip. “My hands are full, help me,” is all he says as he stands behind you, still just waiting at your entrance. You whine, but move your hands underneath you so you can line him up anyways, listen to the way he hisses as he slowly pushes into you. “Fuck, you’re so wet already, haven’t even warmed you up properly,” says as he moves in you, pushing himself in until his hips are flat against you. “Been thinking about this since you put that costume on, couldn’t stop staring tonight. Kept checking my watch,” he mutters as he begins to move, hard and fast, giving you no time to get used to the way he’s stretching you out. You can feel the way his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, hear his breath hitching every time you pulse around him. Even with one hand his grip is strong as he moves you back and forth on him, no time to be gentle.
“Bob, honey,” you whine out, fingers gripping his covers so hard you feel your hands start to shake.
“Look at the camera for me, tell him how good this feels,” he orders. When you hesitate he slows down, threatens to get dressed and leave you like this.
“Fuck, it’s so good. Need more, please Bob,” you say as you look at him, squint your eyes against the flash.
He doesn’t say anything, just grunts as he clicks your phone shut, tosses it onto the mattress. His now free hand comes up to rest on your head, fingers pressing gently into your scalp as he pushes your head back down, keeps you pinned beneath him.
“Love when you listen to me, love when you’re under me like this,” he says as his hips piston into yours, fast and unrelenting. “Fuck, you’re so wet. You like this? You like when I fuck you like this?” You just whimper, too focused on the way he presses against your walls, fills you up and makes you pulse around him. He moves you up the bed, and you feel it dip as he kneels behind you, leans his chest to your back so he can kiss the nape of your neck. “You’re so perfect like this, you gonna keep being good?” You do your best to whisper out a yes, whining out when one of his hands glides down your front and he presses his finger to your clit. “Send it to him,” he says as he rubs those slow circles into you, letting his hips go still. “If you want me to make you cum you’re going to send it to him yourself,” he says as he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. You pick your phone up with shaky hands, scroll to your text conversation with Hangman. The last thing he sent you was a message asking whether you’d left because he offended Bob. All you manage to type is ‘don’t show anyone else,’ before you attach the video and hit send. You let your phone fall back into the covers when you’re done, beg Bob to move again.
“Good girl, you’re so good, of course I can for you sweetheart,” he presses into your skin as he starts fucking into you again, his breath coming shallower and shallower by the thrust. “There you go c’mon,” he’s saying as he moves his fingers faster. “Make those pretty sounds for me, just for me,” he whispers into your ear, his hand gripping your hip so hard you know the bruises are gonna last.
“Jesus Christ, honey,” you’re panting out when he finally gets you there with one particularly harsh thrust, your hands fisting the sheets harder than you ever thought possible. He doesn’t stop even when you start whining, trying to pull away.
“I’m almost there, just hang on a little longer,” he’s saying as he speeds up, chases his own release.
“Bob–”
“Just a little longer, been waiting for this since you put the costumer on, wanna fill you up, watch it drip out of you, fuck. She’s so tight around me, you want me to fill you up sweetheart?”
You’re just nodding, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he keeps rocking into you. He gets sloppy, leaning down to kiss at your shoulders, pushing his face into the crook of your neck as he twitches inside of you, a drawn out whine coming from his lips. He doesn’t pull out immediately, just pushes his chest into your back until you can feel his heart hammering in his chest.
“Sorry, don’t know why that got to me,” he kisses into your hair.
“It’s fine. I like you when you’re territorial,” you smile, turning so you can kiss him. “I’ll have to thank Hangman tomorrow,” you snort.
Bob just groans, but whatever he’s about to say is cut off by the chime of your phone.
It’s a text from Hangman.
Shit. My bad, he’s really got it huh ;)?
You just laugh at the mortified sound that leaves Bob’s mouth as his face turns red. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this!”
Disclaimer:
I do not own Bob Reynolds (Sentry) or any characters associated with Marvel/MCU.
Rating: Mature (Part 1) / Explicit (Part 2)
Warnings:
Smut · Angst · Drug Use (Implied) · Strong Language · Unprotected Sex · Rough Sex · Vaginal Sex · Oral (f receiving) · Emotional Intensity · Past Relationship · Regret
⚡ ───────── ⚡
Bob was reeling, the image of the blonde boy and the crushing words we were planning a life together echoing in his skull. The Watchtower had buried this; the Void had consumed this. The Chatramue cart dissolved, replaced by the suffocating intimacy of a cheap motel room from a time when the world was sharp, messy, and intensely focused on the next high.
Bob kissed you with such fervent passion it stole the air from your lungs. Every brush of his lips, every look from those burning blue eyes left you dizzy—drunk on him, but also on the weed smoke still lingering in the room. He laid you down gently on the bed, his mouth never straying far from yours.
His kisses deepened—tongues meeting, breaths mingling—heat radiating between your bodies like a live current. With a teasing grin, Bob slipped his hands beneath your shirt, lifting it inch by inch, his eyes glinting with mischief and want.
Words became unnecessary. His mouth trailed down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the path to your chest, each one pulling a quiet gasp from you. When he reached your skin, you arched instinctively, every nerve alive beneath his touch.
“Beautiful,” he muttered into your skin, his breath dangerously close to your heat. You felt even more abuzz, being high and all, but this sensation—this heat—was love-drunk.
Bob removed his shirt and threw it on the floor. Your pants quickly followed. “Bob, please fuck me.”
“No, baby, I gotta make you cum first, remember?” Bob kissed the valley of your thighs, making your breath shakier. You closed your eyes, feeling the softness of his lips. You then felt his teeth slowly removing your undies, followed by a pair of digits rubbing through your wet folds.
Bob didn't wait long. He dipped his head down, his mouth closing expertly over your slick, waiting flesh. He fingered you with a desperate rhythm while his mouth worked on your clit, sucking and teasing until the pleasure became overwhelming. You arched and cried out, a loud, ragged sound lost in the cheap motel room. He didn't stop until you came once, then twice, leaving your body shaking and drenched in sweat.
Then he pulled back, his own breathing ragged, his eyes dark with predatory hunger. He stripped off his sweats. His erection was emergent—thick, heavy, and straining.
You watched, dizzy and aching, as he hovered over you. He teased you mercilessly, pushing just the tip of his length into your tight entrance, pulling back, then pushing the tip in again, causing you to let out a whiny, frustrated moan.
"Stop that, Bob," you demanded, trying to grab him, but he just chuckled, a low, guttural sound that matched your shared, raw moans.
With one powerful push, he buried himself fully inside you.
You gasped, your eyes flying wide as you took time to adjust to his girth and his length. It stretched you in ways you had yet found the words for. It was a dizzying, painful fullness.
“Don’t move,” you whispered urgently, pushing his hips still. “Please, just stay there for a minute.” You liked the heavy, solid fullness it gave you.
Bob leaned down to kiss you, his breath hot against your ear. “Baby, I’m getting impatient.” He grunted, then surged his hips forward, thrusting deep into you.
You moaned and immediately bucked your hips up, urging him to match your pace. Bob got the message and began fucking you relentlessly. The bed hammered against the wall with every thrust. He reached down with one hand and gripped your throat lightly, the pressure grounding you even as the sensation sent you higher.
He felt you tense, knowing you were moments from climax, and with an animal grunt, he switched positions, pulling you to the edge of the bed and taking you from behind. Doggystyle.
Your hands were pinned and restrained behind your back as Bob continued to fuck you with relentless speed and force.
“I’m cumming!” you said, gasping for air. “I want you to also cum inside me, Bob.”
Bob’s thrusts became sloppier, erratic, like a madman chasing a high. “Oh shit, I was so high,” he giggled, the sound manic and unsettling, his voice thick with the combined effects of lust and the drug. “I’m gonna cum inside you, baby.”
With a final, shattering thrust, he roared your name and emptied himself into you.
Then, just as quickly as the frenzy began, it stopped. Bob let out a long, shuddering sigh, his body going instantly slack. He pulled out with a soft schlick.
You whimpered, a small, involuntary sound of loss and emptiness as the heavy fullness left you.
Bob was still breathing hard, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your back. He rested his head between your shoulder blades for a moment, letting his muscles completely relax before slowly sitting up. He gently released your pinned hands, kissing your wrists.
“Woah,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. He turned and caught your gaze, his blue eyes soft and hazy. “That was amazing, baby.”
He slid off the bed and, instead of rushing off, he moved with the languid, thoughtful pace of a man utterly satisfied. He grabbed a cheap, damp towel from the bathroom, returning to kneel beside you.
He gently began to clean you up, his touch slow and careful—a stark contrast to the roughness of moments ago. “Don’t wanna drip on our nice pillows, do we?” he teased, flashing a grin as he wiped the slickness from your thighs.
You giggled, completely spent, and watched him through heavy eyelids. He tossed the towel away, then pulled you back into his chest, laying down, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You pressed your ear against his chest, hearing the heavy, fast beat of his heart slowly returning to normal.
He buried his face in your hair and pressed a sweet, non-sexual kiss to the top of your head. “Think we got another one in us before the sun comes up?” he whispered, already knowing the answer.
“Shut up, Bob,” you mumbled contentedly, snuggling closer. “Just hold me.”
He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Yeah. Always.”
Disclaimer:
I do not own Bob Reynolds / The Sentry or any characters associated with Marvel or the MCU.
Rating: Mature (Part 1) | Explicit (Part 2)
Warnings:
Amnesia • Angst • Past Relationship • Emotional Tension • Mentions of Drug Use / Recovery • Partial Memory Loss • Light Fluff • Bittersweet Reunion • Hints of Fatherhood
⚡ ───────── ⚡
Bob hadn’t been given missions of any kind but had been living in the Watchtower ever since his little incident. However, the mundanity of his routine was what kept him going—specifically, going to this quaint little milk tea cart called Chatramue near the Watchtower. He often ordered one, two, or even three Thai Milk Teas to calm his nerves.
While there, he endlessly daydreamed of a murky figure from his sleep, someone he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was frustrating how real it felt, but doctors had told him that his partially wiped memory was temporary. Amnesia was strange, and he wasn’t sure if he could decipher what was real and what was merely a dream. Considering his history of drug abuse, he wasn’t surprised this was the case; after all, he was drugged in the experiment that granted him his inhuman powers.
Bob had decided to forgo bringing a phone—something he would regret later, because just as soon as his eyes began to wander...
He saw his vision come to life in the form of you, sitting right across from him underneath one of the tables with umbrellas. He squinted, then blinked a few times, half-expecting the vision of you to simply disappear like thin air. You stared back, looking at him like he was crazy for gazing so intently, then you laughed—a short, nervous burst of sound.
“Bob, it’s you,” you said—the name a sudden realization, not a greeting. You instantly moved, sliding into the empty seat across from him. The expression on your face was no longer amused; it was a mixture of disbelief and immediate grief.
Bob felt his hands grow clammy against the condensation of the plastic cup. His body was radiating heat underneath his gray hoodie and sweats. He could feel the anxious, golden energy thrumming just beneath his skin, reacting to the sheer weight of your presence.
“I can’t believe it,” you said, your voice suddenly quiet and unsteady. “It’s really you. Out of all the places in the world—Chatramue.”
He stared at you, his mouth slightly parted. The memory wasn’t murky or a vision; it was a person, real and vibrant, sitting less than a foot away.
“You know me,” Bob managed to whisper, his striking aquamarine eyes wide with a mixture of terror and overwhelming recognition.
You met his gaze, and for a silent beat, the street noise faded. A single tear tracked down your cheek, a vivid punctuation mark to a memory he couldn’t grasp.
“I remember you, Bob,” you corrected softly, avoiding the word know because remember carried the true, heavy truth. “You don’t remember us, do you?”
The raw question hit him harder than any physical blow. He didn’t remember, but standing there, he knew with absolute, terrifying certainty that everything he needed to suppress—the danger, the Void, the past—was sitting right across the table.
“Well, I can’t blame you. It was such a haze, not being sober,” you said, your tone lightening just a little. “I’m sober now, by the way. For a while. I’m a graduate student studying literature. How about you?”
You talked to him like no time had passed between you. You never even bothered mentioning your name. Bob, on the other hand, was in disbelief—at the sight of you, at the sound of your voice, that particularly fond soundtrack of his summer. Your eyes were that striking color from his dreams, almost making him wonder if he was losing his mind.
“I’ve been sober too—for a while now,” Bob said. “I work at the Watchtower.”
“Oh my god, then you must know the Winter Soldier! Ugh, he’s so cute. How’d you end up there? Is that why you left?”
“What? Oh, I left?”
Bob tried to piece together the information, afraid that if he stopped talking, you might slip away from him. And with every second that you remained in his presence, he remembered more—bits and pieces, fragments of a past that suddenly felt too real.
“Yeah, you were—well, we were junkies,” you said quietly. “I think you signed up for that experimental drug program. I tried stopping you because, well… we were planning a life together?”
The words hit him like a sudden flash of lightning, cutting through the fog of his fractured memory.
“But anyways, Bob. My son’s probably waiting for me,” you said, glancing at your phone. A photo of a blonde little boy with blue eyes flickered on the screen.
“He’s yours,” Bob croaked out, the words barely escaping his throat as flashes of your laughter, a cheap motel room, a promise he couldn’t keep, and the sound of your voice whispering his name in the dark flooded back.
Bob stared a bit too long, his vision tunneled on the photo. He didn't realize you didn’t bother to linger. By the time he finally looked up, around the busy streets of New York, you were gone. You hadn't left a number, a name, or any trace—only the crushing weight of a life he had completely forgotten.
