bratiella

A ravenous growl rumbles through him, the saccharine droplets of slick quickly swiping across his nose bridge, coating his cheeks in your aroma. His long pink tongue flicks out to slot between your lips, kitten licking a trail of salvia up your slit.

“Tastes so fuckin’ sweet baby,” he’s moaning, the sounds muffled by the weight of your entrance fully smothering him, yet he’s loud enough for you to hear him, voice low and vibrating your clit, “stop movin’ ‘n lemme take care of my girls.”

Licking and slurping, the noises fill the bedroom, silky wetness so egregious it rivals the sobs slipping from your shocked face. “Katsuki!” It’s astonishing how easily he holds you still, even as your legs completely give out beneath you. Bulging biceps hardening against your thighs and lifting you up, up, up! to the ceiling, gripping you perfectly in place to lick your walls clean of sap.

“Thinkin’ you’d hurt me? That I can’t handle you?” He’s questioning, tongue sliding down to your tight hole, digging the flicking the fat muscle up into it, “would let you kill me as long as you were the one askin’, baby.”

The gravity only works you closer, body caging in your hips to rock against his mouth, skilled tongue diggin’ in and out of your clenched hole, the button of his nose smushing into your clit. “Oh Kats, s-shit! I—too much! C-Can feel you everywhere!”

Holding onto the headboard for dear life, the wood grain begins to squeak at the hinges, soft nipples hardening when you press yourself tightly against it, the cold texture sending shivers down your spine.

“Can’t help it,” Katsuki's tongue travels back up towards your clit, placing a sloppy kiss to the warm bud, “tastes so damn good, baby.”

You throw your head down to the top of the headboard, drool collecting at the sides of your mouth. Squishy cheeks pressing deeply into grain in an attempt to stifle your moans, eyes slamming shut to savor the feeling of him absolutely ravishing your sex.

He looks up, passionate crimson eyes squinting and blond brows furrowing when he can’t find your face looking down at him. “Oi!” His strong arms prod at your thick hips, swiftly pulling you further down to his chin, your body tumbling backwards.

“H-Huh?” You should have never underestimated his strength, large hands easily spaying around your ass to throw you around like a ragdoll, fingers white knuckling at the soft flesh he grips snug to his mouth. “W-Wha—”

“—Quit hidin’,” he mumbles, teeth nipping at your inner thighs, placing a graphic porno-sounding kiss to the skin, the slick residue from his swollen mouth painting your skin, “needa hear you screamin’ so I know I’m doin’ a damn good job.”

Biting your lip, you rapidly nod down at him, jaw falling open as he begins to rock you on his lips, pink tongue flattening on your slit and applying even pressure.

“K-Kats—mmfuck! Gettin’ close.” Your voice comes out high pitched, a sinful moan roaring from the back of your aching throat, fingertips hooking into the hair sticking to his sweaty forehead to rock against him, mouth perfectly rolling the gooey flesh of your clit.

“Take what ya want from me, know you deserve it,” he’s grumbling beneath you, hand reaching up to spay on your tummy, digits traveling up your navel and towards your breasts, fingers rolling around your nipple. “Know you’re close baby, give it to me, yeah?”

Katsuki knows the exact moment you finally break, head thrown back with a sob, your slick coats his face, hips rapidly rolling fast around the slope of his nose to ride out your high, cunt drenching his face full of your glistening essence.

“Tsuki—Stop!” The high hits you much harder than usual, the strong pink muscle pulling every last ounce of pleasure out of your sore clit, causing you to jump off his face with a yelp, “too much!”

“Where you goin’,” he scoffs beneath you, palms massaging the soft flesh of your ass to anchor you back down, his tongue finding your used hole, “‘m not done yet, come ‘ere.”

It all started with that damned house dress, the one you slipped on just as you tumbled out of bed, body completely bare beneath the silk.

Seeing you standing in the kitchen swirling sticky honey into a steaming mug, every last sense of rationale Shoto Todoroki had left inside of him quickly evaporates, leaving the man at a standstill in the doorway. It’s as if he was still stuck in a dream, a dizzy bout of sleep walking he doesn’t dare pinch himself awake from.

Shoto’s legs move on their own accord, bare feet stepping off the tatami towards you. The hardwood flooring speaks before he can, the paneling creaking beneath his heavy frame.

“Shoto?” You’re asking, popping your head over your shoulder, and when you see him standing in the doorway, you're smiling—eyes wide as saucers.

You twirl around to greet him, skirt easing off your hips as the fabric swishes in the air, “was getting started on some tea, I know you like to make it but I thought I’d surprise you.”

Shoto can’t speak.

Not when you’re looking at him like that.

Shoto desperately wants to fill the empty void due to his lack of response, yet every word falls flat on his lips, heterochromia irises far too focused on your presence to think of anything else.

It wasn’t like you were wearing anything special. The airy, cloud-white garment hung loosely on your frame, chantilly lace wrapping around the swell of your breasts matching the hem at your hips, the length cutting off just above the small divot between your thighs.

You looked angelic, and when the sunlight cut through the opened window, warm hues dancing over your features like a painting, Shoto found himself tumbling down to his knees.

“Sho? Are you okay?” Gasping, your hands grip his forearms, the stocky man easily wrapping himself around your front, red and white hair spaying over your abdomen.

He can only find it in himself to shake his head ‘no’, hands fisting the fabric on your thighs, lips pouting into the silkened garment. “I love you.”

You laugh, fingertips grazing the hair out of his eyes, his chin digging into the soft spot just below your navel, feeling his warmth surround your skin. “I love you enough that I want you to get off the floor,” teasing him, you reaching behind you to turn off the stove, giving him your full attention. “You’re looking at me like you’re going to eat me alive or something.”

Oh? But I am.

The words linger, never daring to leave his mouth.

It’s unfair, he thinks. Everything about you is so perfect. You always know exactly what to say whenever there’s an uncomfortable beat of silence, how you’re so kind to everyone you meet—including himself, showing your appreciation in the small moments that many others would ignore.

Shoto can feel his heart swell in his chest, blood pooling to his ears, the tips surely shining the brightest shade of merlot.

“Love when you wear this,” he mutters, head bowing to place a chaste kiss to each thigh, soft lips mumbling into the flesh, “you are beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it, Sho.”

I’d like to rip it off.

He’d buy you ten more if he could; if you’d let him that is, all to tear the flimsy fabric to shreds, a shameless cycle of his devotion to you.

Shoto doesn’t realize his hands have fallen onto your legs, palms gliding smooth over the skin, hands massaging your hips. He kneads the skin just to feel the way it pebbles beneath his grip, the slightest hint of your blood thumping through your veins instantly grounding him in you.

“Sho,” it’s your turn to grip at the fabric, body flushing with the tiniest bit of warmth that pools in your belly at his groping, the hem treading just above your bare mound, “d-don’t know what’s happening but—”

“—You.” He’s growling, voice slicked in the same way the honey sticks to the forgotten ceramic mug, face diving between your legs.

Shoto doesn’t ask as he’s spreading you open, tongue indulging in the way your silky slit coats his tastebuds, the heady flavor causing him to moan, voice shaking. “You happened.”

Taken aback, the sheer force of his greedy muscle licking you clean makes your hands shamelessly bundle the fabric frantically off your hips to gaze down at the starving man, his eyes closed to focus on funneling his tongue deep inside of you.

“Shoto! Oh my god! W-What are you—”

“—Showing you how much I love you.”

Your cunt was his altar, the delightful sap-like nectar seeping out from your drenched folds his savior, lapping the honey slick as if it’s his last meal on earth, one to praise and devour all at the same time.

“Love you,” he’s moaning, reddened tongue making out with your sex as if it was another pair of your lips he was kissing instead, mouth moving in tangent with his words, “love you so much.”

“Sho! Love you too, l-love your mouth.”

“Keep talking,” he smiles, head bowing up and down with each fat lick to your cunt, his tongue prodding the fleshy bits of your sensitive nub, pleasure blossoming in your upper thighs, “tell me how you’re feeling, honey.”

“Wha—I can’t!”

Not when he’s devouring you with a fever you can’t seem to recognize. Tongue soft and sweet; licking every little crevice between your legs, mouth taking every last rational thought from your mind out of your body with a suckle to your clit.

“Please,” he’s begging, widened pupils gazing up at your fucked out face, “tell me what you love about it, talk me through it.”

In fear of him halting his moments, you’re talking faster than you can think, words shakily fumbling out of your withering chest. “Your mouth,” you moan, thighs shaking at the force of him kitten licking your clit, “a-always take your time—shit! So warm ‘n soft.”

“Keep going, love.”

His hands move you easily, arching your hips to allow his long tongue to plug its way into your aching hole, the action causing you to squeak. “Oh your hands Shoto! Love your hands s-so much.”

“Want me to use them?” He asks gently, dominant hand leaving your hips to prod at your entrance, anxiously awaiting your approval.

How could you possibly tell him no?

“Please.”

His finger dips between your lips, the digit easily swallowing up past your entrance from how wet it is, knuckles pressing into you with a ‘squelch’. He pistons it in and out of your hole, tongue latching on your clit to create a seal, loud slurping sounds echoing from damp skin.

It would be dirty if it was anyone else other than Shoto.

“Shoto! D-Don’t stop—please, please don’t stopppp.” Tears are brimming the corners of your eyes as he adds another finger to the equation, fingerprints curling up into your g-spot to brush the point of no return, your sobs turning into wails of pleasure.

“Close? I can feel you squeezing.”

“Yes, yes!” You were stricken by some life altering hysteria, mind utterly preoccupied by the way Shoto worked your cunt wide open, “want—gonna cum in your mouth.”

“Go ahead, I’ll take care of you,” he’s whispering, mouth muffled by the sound of your pussy, nose deep into the puffy flesh of your mound.

Clammy fingertips grasp at his hair, gripping a handful of hair to roll your hips against him. You’re not sure what you're going for, yet nonetheless you chase it, curses falling from your slacked mouth. “Shit, shit, cumming!”

The sensation hits you all at once, Shoto’s hands, his mouth. He will always take care of you, always worship you, even in the kitchen on his hands and knees in the early hours of the morning.

Flurries of sputtering stars burst behind your eyes, Shoto’s hand holding you in place as you ride it out, hips shaking, spine aching.

When he finally pulls away, licking your slick off his lips he’s smiling, hands finding yours.

His fingers are wet. Your tea still isn’t made.

Izuku Midoriya's been waiting for this all day long, discovering you tucked snugly in bed awaiting for him to finally come home, your frame slowly snoozing between the sheets.

His tartan suit was half way off, beige dress coat hanging over the peg of the bed frame, white sleeves of his button up rolled past his elbows, work badge still hanging from his stocky chest.

He’d woken you up in a daze, scarred hands spreading your legs wide open for him, cunt gleaming in the lowlight of the yellow lamp, your nightie barley clinging to your skin.

“Was waiting up for you, didn’t think you’d be so late,” you’re mumbling, voice shy.

He gleams. Of course you waited for him, cunt leaking and begging to be touched, holes ready for him to toy with.

“I’m sorry baby, a-and thank you for being so patient,” he’s murmuring into your neck, taking a deep breath and smiling when he smells traces of his body wash on your skin, “want to make it up to you, will you let me?”

An hour later he had you fully awake and stretched out for him, knees kissing either side of the mattress with his favorite green hued plug popped inside your tight ass, the customized authentic jade gemstone poking out between your cheeks.

“How are you feeling?” Izuku asks, face inches away from your cunt, watching the soft rise and fall of your belly, pussy dripping slick down to the white sheets.

“G-Good,” you’re stuttering, tight ring clenching the metal protrusion inside of you, words glued to your tongue so nicely; gooey mind worried you’ll say the wrong thing starting to scare you, “feels really good ‘zuku.”

“Good.” He parrots, running two fingers that rest on your knee up towards the inside of your thigh, the soft skin feeling like butter on his calloused fingerprints. “I think you’re ready for something else though, aren’t you?”

“Y-Your mouth? Please?” Your woozy eyes look down at him, body shivering as goosebumps erupt everywhere he’s touching you, a hopeful dopey smile spreading on your shiny cheeks.

“You’re silly,” he’s almost chuckling, chest swooning at how devoted you are to him, mind and body completely vulnerable to his heavy presence.

His fingers dip into the crevice just beside your mound, trailing a ghost-like touch up and down to watch you writhe against the mattress, nipples hardening in the dim lighting.

Two fingers lightly touch your clit, the thick digits forcing your slit wideee open, the sloppy sounds of your lips widening to fit him forces your sensitive body to heat up in embarrassment, face smushing into the side of your pillow.

“A-And you’re mean,” mumbling, you suddenly jump at the contact, a firm slaaaappp! landing down on your clit. “Izuku!”

You feel your clit begin to throb, the rapid heartbeat in your chest traveling down to the aching bundle of nerves as he goes right back to massaging it, his eyes absorbing your wild reaction.

Clenching down, the plug presses itself even deeper inside you, the cold metal working its way around your ass, the width squeezing around your sensitive walls.

Izuku goes back to massaging your clit, the soft touch doing little to stimulate it, hips jerking up to reach his touch.

He pulls back, slotting the slick coated fingers into his lips, tongue licking them clean. “Mean? You think this is mean?”

Suddenly, two thick digits are plunging into your cunt, walls clenching down around the protrusions, hot womb easily sucking him in, fingertips hitching knuckles deep.

“Fuck!” You’re mewling, head thrashing.

You wanted him to be inside you think, mind woozy as your holes become equally filled, the pressure of the large plug shifting his chunky knuckles up towards your g-spot—still not fully touching it, yet letting you feel that he’s there.

“Still so tight,” he’s observing, watching the way your pussy expands to take his fingers, the tight lil’ hole squelching for attention around them. “Can feel you sucking me in… feels good, doesn’t it?”

You can’t respond as another finger joins your slit, the pointer finger long and prodding as it slips inside, the stretch forcing a cry out of your dry mouth.

Izuku talks you through it, tells you just how good you’re doing for him, coaxing your body to relax for him, now three fingers deep.

“Let me in, you’re almost there.”

“Doing so good for me, baby. Look so pretty stuffed full of me.”

“You trust me, right?”

You focus on his words, body contorting around his intrusion deep inside of you, fully relaxed to take whatever he gives you.

“Izuku?” The pain quickly blooms into pleasure, an uncomfortable sensation building deep inside your core causing you to beg. “Want your mouth so bad Izuku, e-everything feels too tight—too full!”

Izuku almost feels pity for you.

His pretty baby begging for release, pleading for a smidge of attention from him.

“Since you’ve been so good tonight, maybe I’ll give you what you want?” He’s coaxing you to say what he wants to hear, emerald green eyes laser focused on the soft prodding of your squishy mound, fingers swabbin’ around in your gushy insides like he’s trying to memorize the ridges of your canal.

“Please Izuku,” wishfully thinking, your words slur, spine arching off the bed to greet his freckled cheeks, warm breath tickling your slit.

He places a kiss on your clit just to watch you squeak, eyebrows raising down at you like a hawk watching his prey. “Please what? Use your words.”

“Please use your mouth,” you’re whining, yet he doesn’t move, your eyes widening, “Izuku, can you please u-use your mouth and…”

“Go on.”

He wants to hear you say it out loud. The very words that always cause you to shy away from him, the perverse nature of the descriptions of what you desperately crave from him heating your body up.

“Please eat me out.”

You must really want to cum tonight Izuku’s thinking, his thighs tensing at how sweetly you’re asking, wide eyes gleaming over with sex.

He doesn’t respond, and right when you believe he’s about to stand up from between your legs, an arm anchors around your lower belly, mouth diving in between your legs.

Izuku is messy with it. All tongue and meticulous direction, he teeters between light swiping and harsh sucking against your nub, fully coating himself in slick.

“Mppf! Zu! Oh god!”

He’s purposely holding you from bucking off the mattress, rather having you thrust around in his grasp to feel how his pleasure blooms throughout your body.

His large fingers reach spots inside of you yours could never, rapidly flicking up into your spongey g-spot, he easily stretches out the muscle to take what he wants.

“I’m close—”

“—already? Such a good girl.” He has a way with making you hold on to every word he says, Izuku’s heavy presence invading your space in every way possible.

The only thing you can picture is him, the way his fingers smooch your pussy, tongue licking your clit; even down to the plug, stuffing you completely, all because he asked so nicely.

“Izuku, Izuku, Izuku!” You’re the fullest you’ve ever been in your life, tummy bulging as he flicks his fingers up, the depth so strong you can almost taste it.

You throw your head back, eyes slamming shut to devote yourself in the feeling, your high coming head on, body unable to escape the way its throwing you off the edge.

“Don’t go shy on me now, look at me.” Izuku’s pulling you from that ledge, dripping eyes peering up at him in awe, irises daring to roll back into your skull as he eats you like an animal, fingers scooping your cunt.

“There she is, mmmm my pretty girl,” he hums in approval, the vibrations heading straight to your clit, thighs shaking. Izuku notices, forearm pressing roughly into your lower belly, “oh baby, you’re so close, do you want to cum?”

Izuku is attentive, calculating the best possible outcome using your cunt as his test subject as the feeling takes over you, thighs tensing, toes curling.

“Yes, yes, yes! Please Izuku!” Mumbling, you get lost in the moment once he’s pressing his lips roughly to your clit, the pleasure overbearing, jaw dropping, mouth going silent.

“Go ahead honey,” he’s mumbling, fingers fucking your g-spot, your body breaking beneath him, “because after this one, you’ll give me another, right?”

“Fuck!” You’re nodding, mind blacking out into perpetual bliss, completely unaware the night is just getting started.

“Babe… didn't realize you were this wet, would’ve left Sero's place like hours ago.” Denki Kaminari can’t help but gawk at the painfully beautiful sight unfolding before him.

He’d been teasing you all evening, sitting you prettily on top of his lap whilst everyone else was far too focused on the movie playing in front of them to realize he was rubbing your clit beneath the blanket spread on your legs.

Darling lil’ pussy lips soaking right through lace panties, the skirt you wore granting him easy access as he dipped two fingers between them, pressing the fabric snugly into your slippery clit.

It was blatantly obvious when you were about to finally cum. Body twitching on top of him, legs shaking and muscles flexing. Each attempt to hide your mewls by chewing loudly on pieces of popcorn or sipping your drink, Denki would quietly laugh in your ear, gold earring cold against your skin, as he’d quickly pull his hand away from the mess he’d made to rub at your thighs instead, wrinkled fingertips edging you to soaked oblivion.

When the movie was finally over and you were waddling around in a puddle of slick with legs like jelly, Denki rushed your goodbyes, swearing that he couldn’t get you home any faster.

Feverishly pulling you down onto the carpet of the living room, the anticipation of tasting you takes over him. Large hands flip your skirt above your belly, his golden locs situated snuggly between your legs to stare at the sloppy liquid pouring from your poor neglected pussy lips onto your panties, his mouth salivating at the sight.

“Stop teasin’ me,” you plead with him, the fabric so embarrassingly wet it nips at your heated slit, thighs uncontrollably sopping as Denki's tongue only makes it worse, a fat dribble of spit slopping against your covered cunt.

“I’m nottt—hey! If I knew it was this bad, I would've ate you out in the bathroom.” He’s laughing, voice sleazy, golden irises blown out and dark, pupils fully covering the amber hues.

His fingers pinch the fabric up, up, up! between your fat lips, watching them rapidly swallow up the material like they’re quenching for thirst, your fat cunt sticking out on the sides.

Gasping, you wiggle around in his grasp, hole pulsating and clit throbbing, your hips pressing up towards his nose, the slope catching on your covered clit. “You’re such a freak, a-and Sero’s a perv… he would’ve probably liked that shit.”

You can hear the same thick digits touching your lips begin to tug at the fabric, a dull ‘riiiiipppp’ screeching beneath you as he breaks the stingy fabric in two, leaving your bare glistening cunt shining in the darkness of the room.

“Not when I’m done with ya he won’t,” placing a slow lick from the bottom of your tight hole up to your sensitive clit, Denki groans at the taste, his own hips humping the floor, “it would suck having to buy him a new sink though.”

Your fingers find purchase in his hair, rolling the yellow tendrils between your hands in a tight grip, matching the hectic rolls of your hips to the lazy gyrations of his head.

“Fuck Denki!” You let out a relieved curse when he begins to suck on your clit, his wiggly tongue lapping every last drop of slick that falls from your hole, “I’m done replacing his furniture everytime we b-break it.”

“Want to-mfdph—I want to.” Denki's words are inaudible as he rapidly licks at your pussy, tongue getting completely lost in the feeling of your cunt rubbing his face raw, cheeks warm and covered in your essence.

You peer down at him, his eyes slammed shut as he shakes his head like a dog, mouth moving side to side. “What babe? C-Can't hear you over your sloppy mouth.”

“Shit,” he’s gasping, head coming up for air just long enough to take a sharp breath, his finger finding your neglected hole, “wanna fuck you in every room in his house, show everyone who you belong to.”

“Oh Denki, everyone already kno—oh, fuck!”

His finger instantly flicks up into your gummy g-spot, mouth latching on your clit to lap at the flesh as if he needs to taste you to survive, skilled tongue flicking up and down your sensitive bud.

“Denki!” The familiar hitch jumps deep inside your core, body heating up as your thighs clench around his head, voice cracking, “gonna make me c-cum!”

“Fuckkk-please, give it to me.” Moaning, his cock head manically weeps through the fabric of his pants, the taste of your gushing cunt pushing him closer to the edge, your voice causing his balls to tense up.

Denki’s hips roughly fuck into the floor with such veroccity it jerks him forward, your body fully rocking aginst his fingers, the knuckles traveling further past your walls.

“M-More! Fuck—Please!”

He groans in approval, slipping another finger into your stuffed hole. The burning stretch causes your waterline to prickle with the faintest globes of tears, fingers alternating between gripping the frills of your skirt and the strands of his hair, body teetering on the edge of your high.

“C’mon, you’ve got it babe,” Denkis mumbling into your clit, words vibrating deep into the slippery flesh sending little dull bolts up and down your thighs, knees shaking beside his ears, “soak me—pleaseee, need to feel it-ruin me babe—”

Your voice cuts him off, a wild mantra of his name rapidly falling from your slacked maw as you cum against him, little volts of electricity swirling around the sensitive nerves in your mound, body rolling in ecstasy.

“Fuck babe, jus’ like that,” he’s mumbling, ripping off your swollen clit to watch your face as you fall apart on the floor, his hips stuttering on the pale carpeting beneath them, “aw, shit!”

Before he can realize what’s happening, Denki is cumming untouched with a whimper, mouth returning to lap at your release while his own creates a syrupy mess in his pants.

The pleasure quickly becomes painful, clammy hands gripping him by the head to pull him up towards your lips, locking him into a sloppy kiss.

You moan when you taste yourself on him, palm falling down to fumble his belt wide open, pulling his shaft out of the material and swipin’ your hand over his red beating cock, his cum sticky on your fingers.

“Fuuuck,” he mumbles between your lips, dragging his face down to rub between your neck, sticking your slick onto your skin, “should have done that at his place babe, n-next time I’m dragging you to the bathroom, I swear!”

Your hand grips down hard on his sensitive cock, releasing a whine from the overstimulated boy. “Can you please stop talking about your friends when you’re about to fuck me, please?”

“like what?”

“like you’re about to ask for some weird shit.”

“put the suit on.”

he stops brushing.

you can actually see the words register. they move across his face in stages: confusion, disbelief, offense, and then the horrible, dawning realization that you are dead serious.

he spits into the sink. “no.”

“you didn't even think about it.”

“you said put the suit on.”

“yeah.”

“so, no.”

“katsuki.”

“absolutely fuckin’ not.”

you tilt your head at him, still smiling sweetly, and it is cheap. it is shameless. it works anyway, because his shoulders tense like he’s bracing himself for impact.

“baby,” you say.

he points the toothbrush at you. “don’t.”

“i just want to see it.”

“you’ve seen it.”

“not on purpose.”

“you saw it yesterday.”

“you were bleeding yesterday.”

“yeah, and?”

“and i was busy being mad.”

“you’re always busy bein’ mad lately.”

“because you’re spider-man.”

“keep your voice down,” he hisses, glancing toward the hallway like aiya— in her six month old glory— is going to rise from her crib and report him to the authorities.

you grin wider. “put the suit on.”

“why?”

you blink at him.

he stares back.

a second passes.

another.

then his mouth drops open just slightly, like he has finally, belatedly, realised that the woman who had his child is, in fact, still capable of wanting him so badly it becomes everyone’s problem.

“no,” he says again, weaker this time.

“yes.”

“it’s not—” he drags a hand down his face. “it’s not for that.”

“i know.”

“it’s work gear.”

“i know.”

“it’s dirty.”

“is it dirty right now?”

“no.”

“then put it on.”

“you’re fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“please?”

he groans like you’ve asked him to jump into traffic. which is rich, honestly, considering his usual hobby.

but he goes.

because he is impossible and stubborn and a liar and currently still on thin ice with you, but he is also whipped down to the marrow. you hear him open the narrow cupboard in the hallway. the quiet scrape of the false back he thought you didn’t notice after you found out. a zipper. fabric. muttering.

“stupid,” he says from the hall.

“love you.”

you settle back against the pillows, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh too loudly and wake the baby. the monitor crackles once, just static, and both of you freeze out of habit.

nothing.

then katsuki appears in the doorway.

and you forget every single thing you were about to say.

because it is one thing to know.

it is another thing entirely to see him standing there in your bedroom, mask off, hair a mess from tugging it on, the suit sealed up to his throat and clinging to every brutal, familiar line of him.

it’s not shiny. not exactly. more matte, more practical, dark red and black with webbing worked into the fabric, reinforced at the shoulders and ribs. there are seams you never would’ve noticed on the news. small armored panels along his forearms. the faint outline of hidden web cartridges at his wrists. a tear near his thigh that’s been repaired messily by hand, probably his, because he never lets anyone touch his things unless they’re you or aiya, and even then he complains the whole time.

your eyes drop.

his hands immediately move in front of his crotch.

“nope.”

you blink back up at him. “what are you doing?”

“what’re you doin’?”

“looking.”

“yeah. stop.”

“no.”

“baby.”

“move your hands, boy.”

his face goes red so fast it’s actually beautiful.

“fuck off.”

“katsuki.”

“no.”

you sit up straighter, interest sharpening. “are you embarrassed?”

“i’m annoyed.”

“you’re covering yourself.”

“because you’re lookin’ at me like that!”

“like i love you?”

“like you wanna eat me.”

“also love.”

“not helpin’.”

you crawl to the edge of the bed on your knees, and his gaze dips before he can stop it. you’re only in one of his old shirts and underwear, hair still loose from your shower, skin warm from the lamp beside the bed. you know exactly what you look like. you know he knows. he swallows like he hates that you know.

“turn around,” you say.

“jesus christ.”

“turn.”

“no.”

“i had your baby.”

he glares. “you can’t use that for everythin’.”

“watch me.”

“that’s manipulation.”

“that’s motherhood.”

he shuts his eyes for a second, jaw working, then turns around with the stiff, humiliated dignity of a man being led to execution.

you make a sound.

you really don’t mean to.

it’s small. barely anything. just a little breath punched out of you because the suit is tight over his back and tighter over his thighs, and his ass is, frankly, a public safety hazard.

his head snaps around. “don’t.”

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you made a noise.”

“i have lungs.”

“you have problems.”

“yes. one of them is standing in my room dressed like japan’s sluttiest arachnid.”

he turns back so fast you almost laugh. “never say that again.”

“spider-suki.”

“no.”

“spider-man.”

“no.”

“daddy long legs.”

“fuck no.”

he’s trying so hard to be irritated that it wraps all the way around into adorable. his hands are back in front of himself, shoulders hunched, mouth in that pout he pretends is a scowl. and the worst part is, you know him too well. you can see the exact second embarrassment gives way to want. the way his breathing changes. the way his eyes keep catching on your mouth. the way he shifts his weight like he thinks it’ll hide what the suit is already starting to make painfully obvious.

you smile.

his eyes narrow. “don’t.”

“move your hands.”

“no.”

“let me see.”

“it looks stupid.”

“i’ll be the judge of that.”

“i don’t usually have a fuckin’ boner in the suit.”

“i’m not laughing.”

you press your lips together.

he points at you immediately. “don’t laugh.”

“you are. i should web your mouth shut.”

you light up. “can you?”

“wrong thing to say to you. forget i said it.”

“move your hands.”

“you’re evil.”

“yeah.”

he does.

not all at once. not confidently. he drags his hands away like he’s physically suffering for it, eyes cutting to the ceiling, cheeks red, mouth pulled into a miserable little line.

and you look.

because of course you do.

because that is your boyfriend. the father of your child. the man who washes bottles at two in the morning and warms your cold hands under his shirt and comes home bruised and lies badly and loves you so hard he almost ruins it trying to keep you safe.

and he is standing in front of you in a suit that leaves very little to the imagination.

your throat goes dry.

“oh,” you say softly.

he groans. “see? stupid.”

“not the word i was going to use.”

“don’t get poetic about my dick. i will leave.”

“no, you won’t.”

he doesn’t.

you reach for him, and he comes closer immediately, helpless as gravity. one step. then another. until he’s standing between your knees at the edge of the bed, still tense, still trying to hold on to the last scraps of dignity while you run your fingers over his waist.

the material is warm from his body.

that surprises you.

you thought it would feel colder. more removed from him somehow. like a costume. like a wall between what he does out there and what he is in here.

but it isn’t.

under your hands, it’s just katsuki.

your katsuki.

the hard plane of his stomach under your palm. the hitch in his breath when your fingers press into the seam at his hip. the little twitch in his jaw when you look up at him through your lashes.

“i should’ve known,” you murmur.

the teasing leaves his face. “what?”

you slide both hands around him, palms flattening against his back, feeling him stiffen at the tenderness of it. “i know your body too well.”

his gaze drops to you.

you trace one of the repaired seams near his ribs. “this one. you came home with a bruise here and told me you fell at the gym.”

“i did fall.”

“off a building?”

he says nothing. you touch his shoulder. “and here. you said you pulled something boxing.”

“kind of did.”

“fighting crime is not boxing.”

“close enough.”

“you’re so stupid.”

his mouth softens. “yeah.”

“and i’m still mad.”

“i know.”

“furious, actually.”

“i know.”

“but also...” your fingers hook into the suit at his waist. “you look really good.”

his eyes flick away like he can’t bear that.

which is absurd, because katsuki is not shy. he is loud in every room he enters. he argues with microwaves. he threatens furniture when he stubs his toe. he walks around shirtless in summer like he was built specifically to ruin your life and feels smug when he catches you looking.

but this is different.

this is the secret part of him.

this is the body you know wrapped in the life he hid.

so when your hands keep moving, slower now, reverent despite yourself, his mouth opens on a breath that doesn’t become words.

“baby,” he says eventually, very low.

“hm?”

“you gotta stop lookin’ at me like that.”

“why?”

“because i’m tryin’ to be good.”

the room seems to shrink around you.

the baby monitor hums on the nightstand. somewhere outside, a car passes over wet pavement. the whole city keeps moving, completely unaware that spider-man is standing in your bedroom, asking for mercy from the mother of his child.

you lean forward and press your mouth to his stomach through the suit.

his hand flies to the back of your head.

not pushing. not holding you there.

just touching. like he has to anchor himself to you by touch alone.

“fuck,” he whispers.

you look up. “take it off.”

his thumb drags once over your hair. “thought you wanted it on.”

“i wanted to look.”

“yeah?”

“now i’m done looking.”

that does it.

something in him changes. not loud. not sudden. just a shift, like a lock turning.

his hand slides from your hair to your jaw, tipping your face up. his eyes are dark and soft and still a little scared around the edges, because this is new. not you wanting him. not him wanting you. that part is old as breathing.

this is you wanting all of him now that you know.

the liar. the hero. the idiot on the couch. the man in the suit. the father who catches aiya before she falls, sometimes before she even starts to tip.

“say it proper,” he murmurs.

you smile. “i want you.”

he kisses you.

it is not gentle for long. it starts that way, maybe. a brush, a question, his mouth warm and mint-clean from the bathroom. but then your fingers pull at the sealed edge of the suit and his control snaps with an almost audible thing, his hand bracing on the mattress beside your thigh, the other cupping your face as he bends over you.

you pull him closer until he has to climb onto the bed, one knee sinking into the sheets, the suit creaking softly with the movement.

“zipper’s in the back.”

then he stops.

you blink up at him. “what?”

you stare.

he stares back, already humiliated. then you burst into the quietest, most violent laugh of your life.

“don’t,” he hisses.

you clap a hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking.

“it’s not funny.”

“spider-man can’t get naked.”

“i can get naked.”

“not alone, apparently.”

“it’s a security design.”

“you need mommy to unzip you?”

his eyes flash. “careful.”

your laugh cuts off into something else.

he notices. of course he notices. his head tilts, just a little, interest sharpening like a blade.

“oh?” he says.

“shut up.”

“that do somethin’ for you?”

“you’re literally stuck in your superhero onesie.”

“and you’re still wet about it.”

you kick at him. he catches your ankle easily, grinning now, finally getting some of his footing back.

“turn around.”

“bossy.”

“turn around before aiya wakes up and ruins your life.”

that gets him moving.

he sits on the edge of the bed with his back to you, and you kneel behind him. the suit is even better up close, which is unfair. there are tiny scratches in the black patterning, a place near the nape that’s been torn and resewn, the faint smell of clean fabric and him. you find the hidden zipper between his shoulder blades and drag it down slowly.

too slowly, apparently, because his head drops forward.

“baby.”

“what?”

“don’t tease.”

you press a kiss to the back of his neck.

he goes quiet.

for all his strength, he is so easy there. so vulnerable when you touch the places he cannot watch you touch. your mouth at his neck, your hands on his shoulders, peeling the suit down inch by inch until his skin is bare under your palms.

you stop at the edge of a bruise blooming yellow near his ribs.

your chest tightens.

“katsuki.”

“old one.”

“how old?”

“couple days.”

“you didn’t tell me.”

“didn’t tell you a lotta shit.”

“that is not charming honesty.”

“wasn’t tryin’ to be.”

you kiss the bruise anyway. soft. once.

his breath catches.

“you’re still on the couch after this,” you whisper against his skin.

he huffs. “figured.”

“for a week.”

“three days.”

“five.”

“four.”

“six for negotiating.”

he turns his head, glaring over his shoulder. “that’s not how that works.”

“it is in my house.”

“our house.”

“my house until i forgive you.”

his mouth twitches. “mean ass woman.”

“lying ass spider.”

he twists suddenly, pulling you forward with one arm, and you squeak before remembering to be quiet. the two of you freeze, eyes shooting to the baby monitor.

static. nothing else.

katsuki whispers, “you’re gonna wake her up.”

“you just manhandled me.”

“me?”

“yeah, you.”

“quietly.”

“you’re so annoying.”

“you love me.”

“maybe a little.”

he kisses you again, smiling into it this time, and the suit gets lost somewhere around his waist, then his thighs, then the floor. there’s a clumsy, stifled struggle with one ankle that nearly makes you laugh again until he bites your shoulder through his own shirt and mutters, “one sound and i’m puttin’ it back on.”

“threatening me with a good time.”

“you’re insane.”

“you knew that before.”

“knew it before i knocked you up, too.”

heat blooms low in your stomach. his eyes catch it.

your hand tightens around his bicep. “should do it again.”

for a second, the whole room goes still.

not because he doesn’t understand.

because he does.

because aiya is asleep down the hall, and your body remembers her. the ache, the weight, the long nights, the softness of her head under your chin, the impossible terror of loving something that small. it remembers katsuki kneeling beside the bed with a newborn tucked against his bare chest, whispering promises to both of you like he could scare the world into behaving if he growled hard enough.

his hand spreads over your stomach.

careful. reverent.

“yeah?” he says, voice rough.

you nod.

he bends until his forehead rests against yours. “you sure?”

“i’m sure.”

“not just because you’re freakin’ out over the suit?”

“that is a factor.”

he snorts.

you smile, sliding your arms around his neck. “but no. not just that.”

his thumb strokes once, slow, over your stomach.

“aiya’s gonna be pissed.”

“aiya’s six months old.”

“she’s possessive.”

“she gets that from you.”

“damn right.”

you kiss him before he can say anything else stupid, and he follows you down into the bed with an instinct that feels older than the secret, older than the suit, older than the hurt still waiting for both of you in the morning.

for now, he is warm and heavy over you, bare skin against bare skin, one hand braced carefully near your head like he still thinks he might crush you after all these years. you pull him closer anyway. you always do.

“couch tomorrow,” you whisper against his mouth.

“yeah, yeah.”

“and we’re still talking.”

“yeah.”

“and you’re teaching me how the web thingy works.”

“absolutely not.”

“katsuki.”

“fine.”

“and i’m putting the suit on once.”

his head lifts.

you blink innocently.

“no,” he says.

“yes.”

“no.”

“it’s only fair.”

“you wearin’ that suit is how we end up with an army of brats.”

you gasp. “so you agree.”

“i agree you’re awful.”

the baby monitor crackles.

both of you freeze again, half tangled, half laughing, entirely caught.

aiya sighs.

katsuki lowers his forehead to your shoulder in silent, desperate prayer.

you bite your lip so hard you almost hurt yourself.

after a long moment, he whispers, “still asleep.”

“spider-sense?”

“dad sense.”

you soften before you can stop yourself. he feels it. lifts his head. the grin is gone now, replaced with something quieter. something open and tired and so painfully full of love that you almost hate him for making you feel it while you’re still furious.

“i’m sorry,” he says.

no defence. no excuse.

just that.you touch his cheek.

“i know.”

“i’ll tell you everythin’.”

“you better.”

“everythin’.”

you hold him there, fingers sliding into his hair, the city outside wet and glowing and alive around you. somewhere in it, there are rooftops he knows better than streets. alleys where he has bled alone. people he has saved without you knowing. versions of him you are only just beginning to meet.

but this version is yours.

in your bed. in your arms. warm, embarrassed, breathing hard against your throat.

“katsuki?”

“hm?”

“make another baby with me.”

he goes still for one heartbeat.

then his mouth finds yours again, and this time there is nothing funny about it.

“yeah,” he whispers.

his hand cups the back of your head like a vow.

“yeah, baby. i got you.”

Enjin’s restraint snaps, and he all but pounces on you. His mouth is on yours, hot and desperate. His hands are rough and needy, pulling at your clothes and groping wherever he can while he backs you into the bed. You fumble with his belt, and Enjin quickly kicks off his slacks. You’re just as impatient as he, already trying to pull his cock from his boxers.

“Fuck—wait a min,” Enjin pants, his hot breath against your skin as he grabs your hands. He pins them above your head, and you whimper. “Shit, babe. One sec—need to stretch you out first, and—oh fuck—“ He hisses through his teeth as you roll your hips, pressing your sweet, bare cunt against him.

“Enjin, don’t care about that,” your words slur. You hook your heels around his waist to try to bring him closer, where you’re aching to have him. “Just hurry it up already. Need you inside now.”

Enjin shudders. “Tch. Dammit.” He frees his cock from the waistband of his boxers. You practically salivate at the sight of his length. Thick and an angry red at the tip with pre drooling down the side. It’s like he was suddenly bigger than before. Then again, he was always a shower to begin with.

Fisting himself a few times, Enjin presses his tip against the entrance of your puffy folds, already glistening and wet with your arousal. “Since you won’t let me prep you,” he grunted. Enjin lets a glob of spit fall from his lips. You shiver as it lands on your clit. “Such an inpatient ass brat.”

You gasp as he tries to prod himself forward. The puffy lips of your pussy flutter and try to suck him forward. “Enjin, please!”

“Yeah yeah. Don’t need to beg princess.” Enjin kisses his teeth, letting out a shaky laugh. “It’s all yours anyway.”

The first thick inch of his cock stretches through your walls, and Enjin could nearly cum on the spot. Without the condom restricting him, your cunt feels downright heavenly around him. Was your pussy always this warm and gooey? And oh fuck—you were damn near suffocating his cock with how you clenched around him.

“Holy shit…you’re gonna snap my dick off, squeezin’ me like that,” Enjin groans.

“Ack-Enjin!” You gasp, back bowing off the bed. “S’too much. Y-you’re too—“ When you twist away, Enjin folds one of your legs over his shoulder and urges his hips forward trying to ease the next few inches in. You bite back a squeal when the bulbous head kisses against your cervix.

“Aht. Don’t go tapping out on me now. I ain’t even all the way in yet.” Biting his lower lip, Enjin grips your hips and with a final thrust, sheathes himself the rest of the way. His cock was already throbbing. He was damn near ready to blow his load just from feeling you without the condom alone, which would’ve been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good.

“Fuck.” Enjin lets out a low moan. He moves slowly, dragging his length back and forth, the thick ridges of the veins running down the side massaging against your quivering walls. You cunt spits out more of your sweet arousal, a ring of messy white coating the base of Enjin’s cock which he shoves back in with a mean snap of his hips. He presses so deep it leaves you gasping. And then he’s moving, each stroke becoming progressively harder and faster than the last.

“You feel so amazing,” Enjin grunts. He sloppily kisses your lips to drink up your squeals when his cockhead bullies against your g-spot, causing you to clench around him as your orgasm rocks through you. And Enjin’s so far gone that his orgasm sneaks up on him. Before he can even think about pulling out, he’s cumming hot, thick ropes of white, making a mess in your cunt.

“Shit.” His hips stutter through the overstimulation, trying to fuck his release deeper, filling you to the brim with him. “Never using a damn rubber again. This pussy’s too addicting.”

♥︎ —tamsy caines

“Hah—shit,” Tamsy’s breathy grunts fill your ears. The sweaty strands of his long hair stick to his forehead as he pumps his cock in and out of your gummy walls. You keen against him, tears brimming against your eyelashes. But Tamsy grabs you wrists, pinning them behind you to hold on for leverage. “Stop squirming,” he hisses.

“But Tamsy~” your words slur, delirious from the way his length continues to stretch and fill you. Your boyfriend has you pinned beneath him, hips pressed flush against your ass. In this position, the stretch of his cock feels impossibly deeper, making your toes curl. And without the condom, his throbbing length seems to nudge all your most sensitive spots. “Y-you’re too…ah…T-too deep.”

At that, Tamsy laughs.

“Too deep?” He wraps a firm arm around your waist while keeping another hand on your wrists. “No, my love. I don’t think I’m deep enough-“

You squeal into the pillows as Tamsy suddenly rams into you hard. It steals your breath when the mushroom tip bullies against your cervix with each deep stroke. Your fluttering walls quiver in response.

He traps you under his body weight. And no matter how much you push and whine against him, your weepy cunt continues to suck him in each time Tamsy ruts into you, letting out an obscene squelch whenever his hips connect.

“T-there we go,” Tamsy pants. Dipping his head into the crook of your neck, his breath tickles against your skin. His hand snakes up your body before wrapping around your throat. He squeezes ever so slightly at first, just enough to make you gasp.

“Just look at how well you’re taking me. Heh. You say it’s too much, but your body betrays you, my love.” Tamsy lets out a low his, scrunching his eyes shut as he stutters, “Your damn cunt’s trying to suck me dry, and every time I fuck against that sweet spot of yours, you tighten just a bit.”

You shake your head, but Tamsy’s hand squeezes tighter around your throat. “S’not true!” You babble, beginning to feel lightheaded. “I’m…ah, fuck. N-no…i-it’s not—“

“No?” Tamsy bemused. His grip tightens—chokes—making you cry out. “Then why are you still making such a fucking mess on my cock, huh?”

Your arousal coats his length in a filthy ring of white. Your weepy cunt damn near gushes around him when his hips snap back in, dripping down onto your thighs and the sheets below. It’s messy where you two connect, your arousal mixing with his precum, smearing down Tamsy’s cock each time his hips snap against yours.

Your puffy lips fluttered around his hard length, your slick release allowing him to slide back in with ease again and again and again.

“F-fuck…Tamsy, I’m gonna—“ you whimper.

“Go on. Cum.”

Eyes rolling back, your release hits you with such force it leaves you gasping. Your clit throbs and your entire body goes slack under Tamsy, who swears under his breath. He buried himself all the way to the hilt inside you when his orgasm hit and it hit hard.

His dick pulsated with each subsequent spurt of cum, his balls throbbing in almost relief to finally be emptying themselves. His hips still as he emptied inside you, pinning you to the mattress, or perhaps it was his strength finally leaving him.

You could feel his release trickle down your ass and thighs, over spilling from your overstimulated cunt. As you try to catch your breath, blinking the stars out your vision, Tamsy shifts ever so slightly. His lips press against the back of your throat, more gentle than he had been all night.

“Sorry for my roughness,” he murmurs. “Are you alright, angel?”

“I’m fine…just…holy shit…” Your response is met with an impassive sounding hum from Tamsy. You don’t think much of it, only focusing on how your hips ache in a good way, and that you’re exhausted.

“Good.” Suddenly, Tamsy flips you on to your back side. You blink up at him in surprise, taking in his flushed face and noticed the way his long hair had fallen out of its usual style and the strands stuck messily against his sweaty face. The thick head of his cock prods against your entrance once more, twitching to attention in his palm as he guides himself through your walls once more.

Already, he was hard again.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Tamsy says a bit breathlessly, his vision somewhat glassy. “You don’t have to do anything. Just take all of me.”

♥︎—gris rubion

“L-love, w-wait a minute.”

Gris’s breath hitches and then a low moan leaves his lips when you sink down on his cock—without a condom. He swears, trying and failing to keep his hips from bucking upwards in attempts to sheath himself deeper into your womb. You steady yourself by placing your hands on his shoulder, gritting your teeth as you take him further inch by inch.

“W-wait!” Gris gasps. He finally pulls himself together and grips your waist to stall your movements. “I’m n-not wearing any protection.” His Adam’s Apple bobs with a nervous swallow. Fuck. Did your pussy always feel this snug? You weren’t even seated all the way, still struggling to get his cockhead to breach past your gooey walls.

“So?” You reply. You roll your hips, grinding against Gris’s pelvis. He hisses, hands firm as they try to stop you.

“So, if we’re not careful, you could get pregnant, and—“

“So?”

Gris gawks at you. He tries to sputter out some half assed excuse, but you could see right through them. After all, you felt the way his cock grew harder at your words. It’s girthy base swelling try and mold your cunt into its shape. The stretch was delicious.

“You wanted to be a dad, right?”

“Y-yes.” Gris swallows. His fingers twitch, itching to grab you. “B-but we said that it would be better to wait—“

“Well, I changed my mind.”

“A-are you sure? D-don’t just say this on my account.”

“Not at all,” you interrupt, pulling him down by his collar so your lips brush. “I want a baby, Gris. Please?”

Gris kisses you before you could finish your sentence. In the same breath, he grabs your hips and slams you down on his cock until your pelvis hits his. The scream is lodged in your throat, stopped by the kiss.

“Well, if that’s what my wife wants,” he chuckles breathlessly. “Who am I to deny her request?”

Gris flips you on to your backside. You gasp in surprise. Grabbing the nearby pillow, he settles it underneath your hips. But his gentlemanly behavior is short lived, because once he ensures you’re comfortable, he has you folded in half the next second.

“Ack-Gris!” Tears clung to your eyelashes and your stomach constricted in delicious pleasure as Gris pushed your legs further against your chest into a mating press. Your husband groans, dipping his head into his valley of your breast.

Any slight breath and you could feel him nudging impossibly deeper. His cock stretched you to the brim, pressing against your womb for your lover to feel. Your pussy struggled to adjust to the girth, trying to suck him further than what was even possible. The stretch of him burned, the veins on his length dragging along your walls.

“Shit—“ Gris swears. “You want me…to fill this pussy up…” He kisses your cheek which was streaked with tears. “You want that, right? Want me to pump you full of my cum? Fuck a baby into you?”

“Y-yes!” You gasp. “P-please. W-wanna make y-you a daddy.”

“Make me a daddy, huh?”

Fuck, did he like the sound of that.

The weight of Gris’s body pressed you into the mattress as he pumps his cock in and out of your cunt. His hips almost frantically rut against yours, trying to drag his weepy cock as deep as he could through your plush walls. The thickness of his length and the blunt tip of his cock head worked in tandem to have you seeing stars as he stretched you out in all the best ways.

Gris groans. “S-shit. G-gonna cum, Princess. Gonna—fuck—make you a mommy.”

He squeezed your hips, driving himself deep as he cums thick ropes into your womb. The intensity rocks his body. His hips stutter forward, causing him to sink to his forearms. You let out a low moan.

The uncomfortable position has your abdomen constricting with pleasure. Your cunt throbs, the hot globs of Gris’s release leaking out your hole when he pulls out. There is a dull ache in your thighs, though you don’t hate it.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Gris asks, kissing your cheeks. One of his hands caress down your body, squeezing where he’d been a bit too rough. He’s gentle when he touches you.

“I’m fine,” you pant.

“Then, you’re good to go for another round?”

“H-huh?”

Gris grins. “Obviously, we have to make sure it sticks.” He wraps your legs around his waist, his grip tight on your thighs. “So you aren’t leaving the bed until I’m sure you’re knocked up.”

♥︎— zodyl typhon

Zodyl was mean.

You told him as much, and multiple times at that, babbling incoherently as tears licked your cheeks. Not that your whines or insults deterred him from drilling into you. Or from you cumming for the nth time.

“Hmm, tell me, what number was that?” Zodyl mused. You’re gasping underneath him, your pussy quivering and sloppily leaking your own release, making such a mess on his cock and the sheets. “I seem to have lost count.”

“A-ah..Zodyl please..” you’re overstimulated, legs trembling around his waist. Your swollen clit throbbed, it puffy from Zodyl teasing it with that wicked tongue of his earlier. “C-can’t cum anymore…y-you’re gonna break me.”

“Break you?” Zodyl laughed. “Please, you’re far more resilient than that, my love.” He pulls out his throbbing length, intentionally dragging it against your sensitive walls. His own cum leaks from the head, having just stuffed you with another load. Though he didn't seem the least bit exhausted. “After all," Zodyl continues, "I’ve trained this pussy to take me.”

Zodyl flips you onto your hands and knees. Your arms wobble and bend, causing your back to arch even deeper. A low whine leaves your lips when Zodyl sheathes himself to the hilt, pressing against your cervix. He bites back a groan. He could feel himself throb, his already sensitive cock spitting out more globs of cum as you squeeze around him.

But Zodyl continues to push through his own overstimulation, intent on drawing out your own pleasure.

“Shit…there you go…” the man chuckles. “And look. You’re just eagerly sucking me back in.”

You fist the sheets. It’s as if your body is hypnotized by the stretch and feel of his cock, even more so without the condom. Your hips move against your will, trying to snap back against his to take more. Zodyl slaps your ass for doing so.

“Did I give you permission to move?”

“M’sorry,” you babble. “I-it’s jus’…f-feels so-ah.”

“Use your words,” Zodyl tsks. He takes a fistful of your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp. “You know I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

He tugs harder, making you moan. “Please, Zodyl! Fuck—move. N-need…need to cum.”

Zodyl shoves your face into the pillows.

“Now you need to cum after just telling me you couldn’t?” An amused grin tugs at his lips. “But who am I to deny my wife’s request? I wouldn’t be fulfilling my husband duties otherwise.”

Gripping your hips, he begins to fuck back into you with the same, relentless pace, giving you little time to adjust to his size. The thick girth of his shaft threatens to split you open. The blunt head of his veiny length reaches the deepest parts of your womb. His heavy, aching balls nudge against your clit as he ruts against your ass, rough and needy.

Each time, there is an obscene squelch where you both connect. The sound is filthy and equally messy, your thighs slick with your own arousal and Zodyl’s cum aiding his frenzied thrusts against your ass. And fuck if Zodyl wasn't addicted to the feeling of you. His grip is bruising as he frantically chases his release, sweat clinging to his hair and pulling the strands from their usual slicked back style.

One of his thumbs finds your clit, teasing it with that slow, fluttering touch of his that makes your toes curl. Tears cling to your eyelashes as each punishing stroke kisses against your cervix, stringing you along until the pressure of your release winds so tightly that it snaps. You cry out Zodyl's name as you cream around him, your body going slack against the bedsheets.

As your cunt squeezes around him, Zodyl lets out a low moan. His thrusts grow sloppy and unrhythmic before he pins you to the mattress with his weight. His hips still as he fills you to the brim, making your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, good girl,” Zodyl groans in your ear. His lips press against the back of your neck, making you shiver.

“Y-you’re so mean,” you whimper. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Hmm, you say that, but you got several orgasms thanks to this “mean” man.” Zodyl gathers you into his arms and carries you to the bathroom, setting you on the edge of the tub. He turns the handle to run the water. Before he leaves to go back to your shared room to grab you fresh clothes, he gives you a smug grin.